Category: English

I spent three months grinding away at a ten-billion-dollar acquisition deal, and finally succeeded. At the celebration banquet, Ethan Pierce took all my credit and handed it to his first love, Lily Hayes. He said, “Lily just came back from overseas. She needs an impressive resume. You’ve always been understanding—it’s most appropriate to put this project under her name.” I looked at his matter-of-fact expression and said nothing. Five years. For five years, I’d worked myself to the bone for him during the day and warmed his bed at night, only to end up not even worthy of having my name attached to my work. At the charity gala, Lily Hayes accused me of stealing a brooch. In front of all the city’s elite, Ethan Pierce stripped me of my clothes and searched me. My belongings scattered across the floor, proving my innocence. He didn’t even apologize. He just frowned and said, “Alright, the misunderstanding’s cleared up. Don’t ruin the atmosphere of the gala.” I bent down. What I picked up wasn’t the contents of my bag, but the Pierce Corporation employee badge lying on the floor. Then, in front of everyone, I threw it into the champagne tower. “Ethan, from today on, even if you get down on your knees and beg me, I’m never coming back.”

Sophia Bennett POV The celebration banquet for the Empire Group acquisition was held at the city’s most luxurious hotel. Crystal chandeliers sparkled brilliantly overhead, while elegantly dressed guests mingled with champagne glasses in hand. I wore a well-tailored black business suit, holding a glass of champagne, standing quietly in a corner of the banquet hall. As Chief Investment Analyst at Pierce Corporation, this three-hundred-billion-dollar acquisition had taken me and my team three entire months of grinding work, countless cups of espresso, and even a trip to the emergency room for gastric bleeding before we finally closed the deal. I glanced down at the simple band on my ring finger—something Ethan Pierce had casually bought for me last month. I thought that tonight, at this celebration banquet, he would finally publicly acknowledge our five-year underground relationship. As the grand doors swung open, the banquet hall fell instantly silent. Ethan Pierce entered in a custom-tailored black suit, his posture impeccable, his features sharp and cold. However, on his arm hung a woman in a pure white haute couture gown, her smile gentle and delicate. Lily Hayes. Ethan Pierce’s first love—the woman he’d pined for, who had spent years overseas. My breathing hitched sharply, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my champagne flute. Ethan Pierce walked onto the stage with Lily Hayes, took the microphone, and his deep, pleasant voice echoed throughout the hall: “Thank you all for attending. I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce Pierce Corporation’s new Vice President of Investment, Miss Lily Hayes. The successful landing of the Empire acquisition was entirely thanks to Miss Hayes and her overseas connections.” Thunderous applause filled the room. I stood in the shadows, feeling as though all the blood in my body had reversed course, leaving even my fingertips numb with cold. Entirely thanks to Lily Hayes? In these three months, Lily Hayes hadn’t looked at a single punctuation mark of the acquisition documents. And all my sleepless nights, my effort, my dedication—just like that, in Ethan Pierce’s offhand remark, became nothing more than a stepping stone to make his beauty smile. Halfway through the banquet, I cornered Ethan Pierce on the deserted terrace. “Why?” My voice was soft, but it trembled with suppressed emotion. Ethan Pierce lit a cigarette, the blue-white smoke blurring his hard features. He looked at me, his eyes calm to the point of cruelty: “Lily just returned to the country. To establish herself at Pierce Corporation, she needs an impressive resume. You’ve always been understanding. Putting this project under her name is the most appropriate solution.” “Understanding?” I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood. “Ethan, I’ve worked myself to death for you for five years, been your underground lover for five years, and now… you’re taking the results I achieved with my life and using them to curry favor with her?” Ethan Pierce frowned slightly, seemingly displeased by my questioning. “Sophia Bennett, don’t be unreasonable.” He flicked his cigarette ash, his tone rational and cold. “Whatever compensation you want—bonuses, stock options, or that penthouse downtown—I can give it to you. But Lily is different. She’s sensitive and can’t handle being wronged. You’ve already gained enough from your position. Don’t be greedy.” Greedy. That word was like a rusty, dull knife sawing through my heart. Eight years of secret admiration, five years as his girlfriend—I thought even if I were a stone, I could eventually warm him up. But it turned out that in his eyes, I was just a tool to be sacrificed at will, a subordinate who could be bought off with money. “I understand.” I didn’t cry. I just pulled at the corner of my mouth as the light in my heart slowly extinguished. “I’m sorry. Mr. Pierce is right. I overstepped.” I turned and left the terrace, my spine straight, without a trace of lingering attachment.

Sophia Bennett POV Late at night, I returned to the penthouse apartment I shared with Ethan Pierce. The location was prime, the property worth a fortune, yet it was as cold and empty as a showroom. Over these five years, I’d tried so hard to fill it with life—buying flowers, adding soft rugs, changing to warm-toned curtains. But looking at it now, it all seemed ridiculously futile. I pulled out a suitcase and began packing my things. Actually, I didn’t own much—just a few changes of business attire and some professional books. At two in the morning, the sound of the password lock opening came from the entrance. Ethan Pierce walked in carrying the faint scent of alcohol and Lily Hayes’s floral perfume. He loosened his tie and saw the suitcase in the living room, his brow furrowing. “What are you throwing a tantrum about now?” He approached, habitually reaching out to hold me. “I already explained what happened tonight. Tomorrow, finance will transfer fifty million into your account. Sophia, don’t make me think you’re being unreasonable.” I sidestepped his touch. “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” I looked at him calmly. “Mr. Pierce, since Miss Hayes is back, it’s inappropriate for me to continue living here.” Ethan Pierce’s hand froze in midair. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms, lowering his head to kiss me. “Let go!” My stomach churned violently. I pushed him away with force. Ethan Pierce stumbled back a step, his expression darkening completely. “Sophia Bennett, my patience has limits.” He looked at me coldly. “The position of Mrs. Pierce can only belong to Lily, but I never said I was kicking you out. As long as you behave yourself, you’ll still be Pierce Corporation’s Chief Analyst, and you can still stay by my side.” I looked at this devastatingly handsome man before me and suddenly felt he was utterly unfamiliar. How could he speak such shameless words so matter-of-factly? He wanted Lily Hayes as his legitimate wife and me as his hidden mistress. “Ethan, you’re disgusting.” Leaving those words behind, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the apartment without looking back. The next morning, at Pierce Corporation’s Investment Department. I had just stepped out of the elevator when I saw that my formerly spacious and bright private office had been fitted with a new nameplate: “Vice President – Lily Hayes.” Lily Hayes was directing staff to move my files out. When she saw me, she gave me an apologetic smile: “Sophia, Ethan said I needed a quiet environment to familiarize myself with the business, so he’s letting me use this office first. I hope you don’t mind squeezing into the open office area for now. You understand, right?” Colleagues around us were stealing glances. I looked at my personal belongings being carelessly piled into a cubicle and said lightly: “I don’t mind. As long as Vice President Hayes is happy.” I walked to that cramped cubicle, sat down, opened my computer, logged into the company’s HR system, and clicked on the “Resignation Application” page. On the third day after Lily Hayes’s airborne appointment as Vice President, Pierce Corporation held an important board meeting. The core topic was a risk assessment for an overseas new energy project. This project involved five billion dollars in funding—one misstep could severely damage Pierce Corporation.

Sophia Bennett POV The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Lily Hayes stood in front of the projection screen, holding the assessment report my team had stayed up all night preparing, but her presentation was stumbling and incoherent. “Regarding this project’s internal rate of return, we estimate it to be… uh, we estimate eight percent. And the cash flow break-even period would require… require fifteen years.” The moment those words left her mouth, the room erupted. Several senior directors’ faces turned ashen. One director slammed his hand on the table: “Fifteen years to break even? Eight percent return? Miss Hayes, do you even know what the current cost of capital is? You’re actually recommending this garbage project to the board as a priority investment?!” Lily Hayes’s eyes reddened from being yelled at, and she looked pleadingly toward Ethan Pierce, who sat at the head of the table. Ethan Pierce frowned deeply, about to speak up to save her, when I suddenly stood up. Without looking at Ethan Pierce, I walked straight to Lily Hayes, took the laser pointer from her hand, and switched to a different PPT slide. “Directors, Miss Hayes just read the wrong data set.” I said, “Eight percent is the stress test result under an extremely pessimistic model. In reality, based on our calculations of local policy subsidies and carbon credit trading, the baseline IRR is above twenty-two percent, with a cash flow break-even period of four years and seven months. The detailed sensitivity analysis is on page thirty-two of the report.” In just three minutes, with extremely precise data and rigorous logic, I defused what could have been a catastrophic trust crisis. The directors’ expressions softened, and they looked at me with admiration. Lily Hayes, standing beside me, had turned pale. After the meeting ended, I was summoned to the CEO’s office. The moment I pushed open the door, a file folder came flying at me. I didn’t dodge. The sharp plastic edge grazed my temple, instantly drawing blood. “Sophia Bennett, you really showed off in that conference room today, didn’t you? Are you proud of yourself?” Ethan Pierce sat in his chair, his eyes frighteningly dark. Lily Hayes sat on the sofa, crying softly. Feeling the stinging pain on my forehead, my heart remained utterly calm: “I was only trying to save the company’s project.” “Save it?” Ethan Pierce laughed coldly, suddenly standing and walking up to me, looking down at me from above. “You knew perfectly well that Lily wasn’t familiar with those numbers. Why didn’t you go over them with her before the meeting? You deliberately embarrassed her in front of the board, deliberately used your expertise to highlight her incompetence. Sophia Bennett, when did your heart become so vicious?” I looked at him steadily and laughed. I’d stayed up for three nights straight preparing that report. Lily Hayes hadn’t even bothered to glance at it before taking it to claim credit. When she made mistakes, I stepped in to fix them and saved Pierce Corporation’s reputation. But in the end, I became the vicious one. “Yes, I’m vicious.” I closed my eyes. “Mr. Pierce is absolutely right. Every mistake is my fault. I apologize to Miss Hayes.” I turned toward Lily Hayes on the sofa and gave her a slight bow, my voice dead: “I’m sorry, Miss Hayes. It’s my fault for not covering up your incompetence well enough and letting you be wronged.” “Sophia Bennett! Get out of my sight!” Ethan Pierce’s furious voice rang out behind me. I straightened my spine and walked out of the office. My heart had completely died.

Sophia Bennett POV Friday was my twenty-eighth birthday. For the past four years, no matter how busy Ethan Pierce was, he would cancel all his engagements on this day and have dinner with me at a discreet restaurant. This was our unspoken secret, the only warmth I could draw from this hidden relationship. Last month, Ethan Pierce had kissed my earlobe and promised he would give me a huge surprise for this year’s birthday. At seven o’clock that evening, I arrived punctually at the restaurant and sat by the window. Outside, autumn rain began to fall, and the temperature dropped sharply. I wore a thin dress, looking at the exquisite cake on the table, quietly waiting. Eight o’clock. Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. The restaurant’s clientele changed wave after wave. The servers’ glances toward me gradually shifted from admiration to pity. Eleven-thirty. I picked up my phone and dialed Ethan Pierce’s number. The phone rang for a long time before someone answered, but it wasn’t Ethan Pierce’s deep voice—it was Lily Hayes’s sweet, delicate tone. “Hello? Sophia? Ethan can’t come to the phone right now.” My fingers tightened around my phone: “Where is he?” “We’re at the vet hospital.” Lily Hayes’s voice carried a hint of sweet complaint. “My Ragdoll cat suddenly got diarrhea. I was terrified, so Ethan immediately drove me here. He was running around holding the cat and got all sweaty—he left his phone in the car. Sophia, it’s so late. Is there some urgent work matter?” A cat with diarrhea. I looked at the cold rain outside the window and suddenly found it all absurd. My birthday that I’d looked forward to with such anticipation, my five years of youth—in Ethan Pierce’s eyes, they couldn’t even compare to Lily Hayes’s cat having diarrhea. “Nothing urgent.” I said, “Sorry to bother you.” I hung up, picked up my fork, and shoved a large piece of cake into my mouth. Too sweet. Sweet to the point of bitterness, so bitter my tears fell without warning. I didn’t wipe them away. I just kept eating that cake, one bite after another. After paying the bill, I walked out of the restaurant and into the cold, rainy night. Back at my temporary rental apartment, I opened my laptop and logged into Pierce Corporation’s HR system. I looked at the resignation application I’d already drafted, my cursor hovering over the “Submit” button. My phone screen lit up with a message from Ethan Pierce: 【Lily’s cat got sick. I won’t come over tonight. I’ll make up for your gift tomorrow.】 I looked at that message without replying. I opened my photo album and, without a moment’s hesitation, permanently deleted all five thousand-plus photos and videos of Ethan Pierce. Then I moved my cursor and pressed “Submit.” The system displayed: 【Your resignation application has been submitted. Thirty-day handover countdown begins.】 Eight years of foolish infatuation, five years of absurd devotion—in this moment, it all finally came to an end. After submitting my resignation application, it required approval from both the department head and the CEO according to protocol. But Ethan Pierce had recently devoted all his attention to Lily Hayes and hadn’t logged into the office system at all. The HR director sighed and simply approved it by default. The thirty-day countdown began quietly. Lily Hayes decided to host an extremely lavish charity gala in Pierce Corporation’s name. “Sophia, Ethan says you’re the most detail-oriented. I’m putting you in charge of coordinating this gala.” Lily Hayes tossed a thick planning document onto my cramped desk, her tone carrying a condescending sense of charity. “I want white roses flown in from overseas. The lighting at the gala must be warm-toned. Also, you need to personally review all the media releases—they must highlight my image as Pierce Corporation’s future mistress.” I looked at the planning document without even lifting my eyelids. “Alright.” I responded flatly. Over the next two weeks, I executed all of Lily Hayes’s unreasonable demands. I slept only three hours a night, coordinating venues, confirming procedures, verifying guest lists. I never initiated contact with Ethan Pierce again, nor did I show even a trace of grievance over Lily Hayes’s deliberate difficulties. Occasionally, when Ethan Pierce ran into me in the company hallways, he would see my gaunt face and cold eyes. The day before the gala, I compiled all my work handover documents, encrypted them, and sent them to my deputy in the investment department. I looked at the countdown calendar on my computer screen. Tomorrow would be my last day at Pierce Corporation.

Sophia Bennett POV The charity gala was held at the city’s largest estate. As night fell, luxury cars gathered. Lily Hayes wore the custom-made gown Ethan Pierce had spent a fortune on for her, her arm linked with his as she moved among the guests like a star surrounded by admirers. I wore an inconspicuous black business suit with a walkie-talkie earpiece, standing in the shadows at the edge of the banquet hall, coldly watching it all. As the gala reached its climax and the most important charity auction was about to begin, a scream suddenly came from backstage. Lily Hayes, holding up her dress, ran out of the lounge with a pale face and red-rimmed eyes, throwing herself into Ethan Pierce’s arms: “Ethan! It’s gone! The ‘Heart of the Ocean’ sapphire brooch that was supposed to be the finale auction piece is missing!” The entire venue erupted in shock. That brooch was worth nearly a hundred million dollars—Ethan Pierce had specifically acquired it to bolster Lily Hayes’s standing. “What happened?” Ethan Pierce held her, his brow furrowed. Lily Hayes trembled all over, then suddenly turned and pointed directly at me standing in the corner: “It’s her! Only Lily and Sophia knew the safe’s password! When I was changing clothes earlier, only she went into the lounge!” All eyes instantly turned to me like spotlights. Skeptical, contemptuous, eager gazes. I removed my earpiece and walked calmly into the center of the crowd. I looked at Lily Hayes’s face: “I entered the lounge to deliver tonight’s speaking notes to you. I put them down and left. I never touched the safe.” “Who else could it be but you?!” Lily Hayes cried, tears streaming down her face. “Sophia, I know you’ve always resented me, thinking I took your position, but you can’t jeopardize the company’s reputation like this!” The surrounding guests began whispering among themselves. I ignored the gossip and simply looked quietly at Ethan Pierce. Eight years. I’d known him for eight years, managed over ten billion dollars for him, and never made a single error. Yet Ethan Pierce looked at me with eyes that held no trust—only coldness and impatience. “Sophia, open your bag and let security search it.” Ethan Pierce said coldly. “If you didn’t take it, a search will prove your innocence. Don’t make things difficult for Lily.” “Search my bag?” I softly repeated those words, feeling the last trace of warmth in my chest being drained away. In this circle, being publicly searched was tantamount to having my dignity stripped away and trampled on the ground. To calm Lily Hayes’s tears, Ethan Pierce chose without hesitation to sacrifice my dignity. “Ethan, are you really going to search my bag?” I looked at him. Ethan Pierce hesitated for a moment, but seeing Lily Hayes in his arms, he frowned: “It’s just a formality. Sophia, think of the bigger picture.” Think of the bigger picture. I laughed. I didn’t wait for security to approach. I opened the zipper of my cheap black canvas bag myself and dumped everything inside onto the polished marble floor. Lipstick, a notebook, several pens, a box of stomach medicine, and a few access cards. Scattered everywhere. No sapphire brooch. Just then, a security guard ran out of the lounge, sweating profusely, holding up the brilliant brooch: “Found it! Miss Hayes, the brooch fell into the velvet gap behind the safe. It wasn’t stolen!” The banquet hall fell into deathly silence. Lily Hayes froze for a moment, then covered her mouth with a regretful and innocent expression: “Oh my, so it fell into the gap. Sophia, I’m so sorry. I was too anxious just now and spoke without thinking. Please don’t be angry with me.” Ethan Pierce also breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the mess on the floor, frowned, and said to me: “Alright, since it was a misunderstanding, that’s resolved. Sophia, pick up your things. Don’t let this affect the gala’s atmosphere.” Casual and dismissive, as though the trampling of my dignity moments ago had been nothing more than an insignificant joke. I looked down at those things on the floor. I didn’t pick them up. I slowly bent down, unclipped the Pierce Corporation employee badge from around my neck, and gently tossed it onto that pile of belongings. “I’m not picking them up.” I straightened, my gaze calmly sweeping past Lily Hayes before finally landing on Ethan Pierce’s shocked face. “Ethan, I quit.” With that, I turned and, under everyone’s stunned gazes, walked step by step out of the brilliantly lit banquet hall without looking back.

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The day before my wedding, I was driving a friend to their hotel when I ran into my fiancée and her ex-boyfriend checking into a room together. Just ten minutes earlier, she’d texted me: “Babe, can’t wait for you to make me your wife tomorrow.” I swallowed my rage and recorded a video of them kissing. The next day at the wedding, I played the video for everyone to see. The moment the cheating video started playing, the venue exploded. Michelle’s brother Anthony reacted fastest, pointing at the staff and shouting. “What the hell did you people do! Playing this kind of video at a wedding!” “You dare humiliate the Thompson family—does your event planning company have a death wish!” “Where’s your manager! Get me…” Anthony quickly fell silent, frozen like the other guests, staring at the screen. I nodded with satisfaction. “Everyone, today is Michelle’s and my breakup party. From now on, we’re done. Please, eat and drink your fill.” Michelle realized she was the star of the video and rushed over frantically, trying to grab me and explain. But I’d already dropped the microphone and walked out. The second I left the hotel, my dad called. I let my AI assistant handle him. When I’d first told him I was marrying Michelle, he’d been so thrilled he went on a three-day drinking binge. He’d told everyone he met that I was marrying a rich man’s daughter, bragging about how capable I was. Now that this marriage was falling through, he’d be the first to object. Back home, my dad kept calling non-stop. The more I looked at it, the more irritated I got. I just yanked out the SIM card. After tossing my wedding suit in the trash, I headed to a bar. With a new phone, I couldn’t see whatever chaos they were in. The bar owner spotted me and came over with a teasing smile. “Flying solo today? Where’s your fiancée?” I glanced behind me and smiled. “She’ll be here soon.” The next second, a familiar figure appeared. Michelle was frantically pushing through the crowd. Eyes on her phone, she squeezed her way toward me. A man who’d been watching me suddenly rushed toward her, but Michelle fought him off hard. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it made her face twist with resentment as she shoved him away ruthlessly and kept searching through the crowd. The man watched Michelle from a distance, his expression desolate and pained. In the flickering bar lights, I couldn’t make out his face clearly, but he looked familiar somehow. I assumed he was one of Michelle’s friends who’d spotted me and tipped her off. But thinking back, I couldn’t place him at all. Then the bar owner called out to me. “George, your fiancée’s been calling my phone. What, you two have a fight?” I looked up. The bar owner thought I wanted to answer and just picked up. Very considerately put it on speaker too. The moment he answered, Michelle’s shouts came through. “I know you’re at the bar. Please tell me where. Just give me a chance to explain.” I hung up immediately. The owner looked stunned. “Aren’t you going to find your fiancée? Aren’t you worried she might be in danger?” I glanced at the man from before—he’d already disappeared into the crowd. I muttered distractedly, “She’s not my fiancée. She doesn’t need me.”

When I got back from the bar, it was two or three in the morning. I looked up to find Michelle crouched by my door. This was always what she did after screwing up. “George, I went to the bar but couldn’t find you. Your phone’s off too.” “How much did you drink? You can barely stand.” “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up inside.” Michelle rushed up to me excitedly, acting like nothing had happened as she fussed over me. I shoved her away hard. “Get lost! Don’t touch me!” Michelle froze, her eyes wounded. “George, the event company pranked us. The video was deepfaked.” “I’ve already hired a lawyer to sue them. I’ll definitely find evidence…” “I took the video myself.” I looked at her coldly. “You were so into that kiss outside the room, you didn’t even notice I was nearby.” Michelle’s face went white. She stood there frozen and lost. My stomach was full of alcohol. The slightest stimulation made it churn. I shoved past Michelle blocking my way and dove into the bathroom, hugging the toilet as I vomited until tears streamed down my face. Michelle followed me the whole time. Handing me tissues, finding hangover medicine, cooking noodles—silently taking care of me without a word. But every second, my mind replayed the scene of her passionately kissing her ex. Seeing her meticulous care now just felt jarring and laughable. “Michelle, I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave my house right now.” Suddenly, the sound of a bowl shattering came from the kitchen. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. After a while, she placed the cooked noodles in front of me and cleaned up the broken pieces herself. “George, just calm down for now. I’ll come back in a few days so we can talk properly.” I leaned back on the couch, hand weakly covering my eyes. “Get out.” I didn’t touch anything on the table. I slept on the couch all night with my arms wrapped around myself. Early the next morning, someone pounded on my door. The moment I opened it, my dad charged in without caring if he knocked into me. “George! Did a donkey kick you in the head?” “Michelle’s a daughter of a wealthy family. Of course she has an ex—that’s completely normal. Once you’re married you’ll have everything. You’d ruin the wedding over something so trivial!” “All our friends and family were there—where am I supposed to put my face!” My head was splitting from his ranting. I said weakly: “Dad, did you not see the video from the venue?” “She was checking into a hotel with her ex the day before our wedding…” My dad waved his hand dismissively, refusing to listen. “Don’t give me that!! Michelle’s fourth-generation wealth. Men lining up to marry her. This happened because you couldn’t keep her satisfied. If you had what it takes to make her devoted to you alone, this wouldn’t have happened. You’re about to move up a whole social class. You want to just walk away? You’re 30 years old—where are you going to find another woman who can help you more than Michelle?” I wasn’t surprised at all to hear these words from my dad. He had no bottom line when it came to money, especially rich women. But I couldn’t be like that. “Dad, if you like Michelle so much, why don’t you have her call you daddy.” My dad was so furious his mustache bristled. He raised his hand to slap me. I’d drunk too much last night and hadn’t eaten a thing. With this provocation, my stomach cramped painfully and something started forcing its way up. I shoved my dad aside and rushed to the toilet, retching violently. My dad kept going, saying I didn’t know how to be flexible, had irregular eating habits and loved drinking. But every sentence ended with Michelle. “Michelle’s beautiful and considerate, with an unmatched family background. If you don’t hold onto her, she’ll immediately find someone more handsome, more capable, and more understanding than you. Then you’ll have nowhere to cry.” His words traveled down the hallway and pierced straight into my ears. I suddenly remembered that desolate-looking man from last night. The delayed realization hit me like a sledgehammer pounding my heart. “Such a grown man who can’t even clean up. Why is there blood on the floor?!” “Only Michelle would put up with you. Any other woman would’ve blown the roof off by now.” I slammed the door hard and buried myself under the covers. I curled up into a ball, wrapping myself so tightly in the blanket that no air could get through, and broke down sobbing.

How Michelle and I got together wasn’t what my dad described. It wasn’t about me wanting to climb the social ladder while she happened to be a non-assertive rich girl. We’d been together ten years. We fell in love during the craziest period when my dad controlled my life. In our tenth year together, through my own efforts, I bought a condo and a car in the district where her family lived. I teased her on purpose. “Paid off the condo and car in full, got the wedding gift ready, even bought the diamond ring in your favorite style. How much longer do we need to date before you’ll marry me?” She cupped my face and kissed me, her love consuming. When we separated, her eyes sparkled as she looked at me. “This year. Let’s get married.” “George, do you still want to marry me?” I didn’t. I should have said I didn’t want to earlier. Michelle, you said now and forever you’d only love me. I was the one who soothed your past. I was your peaceful present. I was supposed to be the one walking into marriage with you. So why, when I was closest to happiness, did you maintain this ambiguous connection with your ex? My dad clung to me, threatening and persuading by turns. All to make me reconcile with Michelle. When all his efforts got no reaction from me, he slammed the door and left in anger. I locked myself at home. Nobody came looking for me. I turned off my phone too. Couldn’t hear anything. I lay in bed like a corpse, completely lifeless. Monday, I went to the office. The moment my coworkers saw me, they congratulated me. “The wedding didn’t happen. Sorry about that.” My coworker’s face showed shock and embarrassment. “So sudden. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Let me buy you coffee. Sorry…” I cut off their apologies with a forced smile. “No need. It’s all in the past.” The busy morning helped me temporarily forget those troubles. I grabbed my mug and headed to the break room, where I found several people huddled together whispering. “Why didn’t George get married?” “His fiancée’s gorgeous and from a great family. Did she look down on him?” “Don’t talk nonsense. His fiancée treated him so well. She made him stomach-soothing soups, different ones every day of the week. Last time he worked himself into a perforated ulcer and ended up in the hospital, his fiancée never left his side. After he was discharged, she drove him to and from work for a while. She loved him to the bone—you can’t just make things up.” “Then what could it be? Don’t tell me George was cheating on his fiancée.” “There you go making things up again! We’ve been coworkers this long—don’t you know him? Capable and responsible, easygoing with a good sense of humor, very reliable. That kind of man.” I didn’t keep listening. I bought coffee from the vending machine and went back to work. As soon as I sat down, my dad called again. I didn’t answer, but his messages kept coming. 「How could you block Michelle? Are you a child?」 「Can’t you two just sit down and talk things through calmly?」 I looked at these words with detachment. I didn’t know how to respond. I felt completely empty inside. By the time I snapped out of it, my dad was already in my blocked list too.

Thunder rumbled and rain poured down. Wind howled. Watching my coworkers leave one by one, I finally headed downstairs. When I opened my bag, I remembered—I’d never been in the habit of carrying an umbrella. For the past ten years, Michelle had always reminded me. Before leaving, her eyes would hint at me repeatedly, playfully watching until I grabbed an umbrella. I’d gotten used to following her lead. As long as it was her, I’d trust unconditionally. This kind of habitual trust was truly terrifying. I held my bag over my head and ran through the rain into the parking garage, only to find my car wouldn’t start. I punched the steering wheel in frustration. It had been fine. When did it break? In the end, I had to run through the rain to the subway station. Just as I left the garage, I saw Michelle standing in the rain. The moment she spotted me, she ran over with concern. “George, why are you soaked? Let’s go home first…” “Let go!” I struggled free of her hand and kept walking without looking back. She called after me while chasing me, constantly reaching out to try to shield me from the rain. “George, I drove here. Let me give you a ride!” “You have stomach problems—catching a cold will make you miserable!” “If you won’t get in my car, at least take the umbrella. I’ll worry if you get sick…” “Get lost! Stop following me!” I stopped abruptly and broke down screaming at her. “Get away from me! Get lost!” “I don’t want to see you! I don’t want to hear another word from you! Do you hear me!” “I’ll never trust you again in this lifetime! Get lost! Get far away!” I shouted until my whole body shook. I couldn’t tell tears from rain on my face anymore. My throat felt like it was bleeding from screaming. Why? Today had been so normal. I’d finalized a project with clients and eaten properly. I’d even decided to get my long-delayed stomach issues checked out. I thought I’d moved on. Why did seeing Michelle make me fall apart again? Our only umbrella got knocked out of my hand and was immediately swept away by the wind. Michelle in her elegant dress was completely destroyed by the wind and rain. We both stood there looking absolutely wretched. Despite my harsh rejection, she stood motionless like a statue. She stared at me blankly, her mouth opening and closing as if calling my name. Seeing her so confused and dazed didn’t give me any relief. My heart only felt heavier. The scattered people nearby all turned to look at us. I didn’t want to stay locked in this standoff. After wiping the water from my face, I left with determination. After getting home and showering, I felt congested with stomach pain. After taking medicine, just as I was about to lie down, my phone lit up with an unfamiliar number. “George, you bastard! You even blocked your own father!” “I’ve been going crazy! Michelle tried to kill herself—she slit her wrists!” “Downtown First Hospital, third floor emergency room. Get here right now!”

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Caldwell crushed his cigarette butt on my dining table, looking at me with a lecherous grin. “Juliet, rent’s going up 50% starting next month. Unless you don’t want it to go up.” He leaned close to my ear, his hand landing on my shoulder. “Come to my place this weekend. We’ll have a nice little chat.” I pushed him away and grabbed my phone. “What did you just say? I didn’t catch that. Say it again?” He sneered and pointed at my nose. “What are you acting so high and mighty for? I’ve seen plenty of people like you from poor countries.” “Spend one night with me, and I’ll waive a year’s rent. That’s not a bad deal, is it?” I held up my phone. “Mr. Caldwell, say that again.” Caldwell slapped my phone out of my hand. He stepped on my phone. “Record this, bitch.” He grabbed my collar and shoved me against the wall. The back of my head hit the tile, making my ears ring. “Juliet, let me tell you something. I control the rent in this area. You’re just an immigrant working in America, making pennies a month. Without me looking out for you, you would’ve been kicked out of the country ages ago.” I stared hard at him. “Mr. Caldwell, the contract says a one-year lease. It’s only been four months. You can’t unilaterally raise the rent by 50%. That’s illegal.” “Illegal?” Caldwell laughed. He released me and pulled a stack of cash from his bag, throwing it in my face. “Here’s your deposit. Take it and get lost. If you don’t move out by tomorrow, I’ll have people help you move.” Bills scattered across the floor. I crouched down and picked them up one by one. “Fine. I’ll move.” I folded the money and put it in my pocket. Caldwell patted my face. “That’s more like it. Don’t refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit. If you change your mind, come to my place this weekend. I’ll treat you to dinner.” He turned and left. I closed the door and slid down to the floor. There was a knock on the next door. “Juliet, are you okay?” It was my roommate, Mary, who worked as a programmer at an internet company. She saw the red marks on my neck and her eyes went wide. “That old bastard came again?” “Yeah.” “Call the police!” “It won’t help. He didn’t hit me. There are no cameras, and audio recordings can’t directly convict him.” I grabbed her hand. “Mary, how long have you lived in this complex?” “Two years.” “Has Caldwell ever harassed you?” Mary lowered her head and clenched her fists. “Once. He said he wouldn’t raise my rent if I came to his place for dinner on the weekend. I bought pepper spray the next day.” “Anyone else?” “The nurse on the third floor, Niles. She moved out crying last month. I heard Caldwell knocked on her door in the middle of the night saying he was checking the water meter.” I went back to my room, opened my computer, and created a new WhatsApp group chat. Group name: Victims of Caldwell Alliance. I pulled Mary in, then added several other girls who rented from Caldwell. My phone buzzed. It was Caldwell. “Juliet, don’t take what happened earlier to heart. I was just joking with you. Come over for dinner tomorrow. I’ll make you something delicious.” I took a screenshot, then replied: “Okay.” The next evening at seven, I stood outside Caldwell’s door. I took a deep breath and knocked. Caldwell opened the door wearing a robe, reeking of alcohol. “Oh, Juliet’s here. Come in, come in.” His hand went to my waist, guiding me inside. I didn’t dodge. “Mr. Caldwell, I’ve thought it over. About the rent, can we talk about it some more?” “Talk? Of course we can talk.”

He closed the door and locked it. “Let’s eat first. We’ll chat while we eat.” The living room table was set with dinner and an open bottle of red wine. He poured me a glass, then poured one for himself. “Come on, cheers.” I clinked glasses but didn’t drink. He took a big gulp. “Juliet, you’re so pretty. You could’ve married a rich guy back home. Why come to New York to suffer?” “Mr. Caldwell, about the rent increase…” “What’s the rush?” He sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. “Come, sit here. Uncle will have a good talk with you.” I didn’t move. His expression darkened. “What? Not giving me face?” “Mr. Caldwell, I have a boyfriend.” “A boyfriend?” He laughed, stood up, and walked toward me. “How much does your boyfriend make a month? Can he buy you a house? Can he get you a green card?” He reached me and lifted my chin with his finger. “I’m different. If you’re with me, you can live in this house however you want, rent-free. I’ll give you five thousand a month for spending money.” I took a step back. He followed. “Don’t run away. You came all the way to my place just for this, didn’t you? Stop pretending.” I reached into my pocket and pressed the record button on my phone. “Mr. Caldwell, you’ve had too much to drink.” “I haven’t had too much.” He suddenly grabbed me, his mouth coming toward mine. I couldn’t hold back. I slapped him across the face. “Smack…” He froze, then flew into a rage. “How dare you hit me?!” He grabbed my hair and slammed me against the wall. “Ungrateful bitch! You should be honored that I want you!” The back of my head hit the wall. Everything went dark. “Caldwell, let me go.” “No! You’re not leaving this place tonight unless you sleep with me!” He tore at my clothes. Buttons scattered everywhere. Just then, the door was pounded. “Open up! Police!” Caldwell froze. I pushed him away and ran to the door, unlocking it. Two police officers stood outside, along with Mary and the other girls. They held up their phones, recording everything. The officer saw the bruises on my neck and my torn clothes. His expression changed. “What happened here?” I took a deep breath. Finally, tears fell. “He tried to rape me.” Caldwell panicked. “No! She seduced me! She came to my place on her own!” I pulled out my phone and played the recording. After listening, the officer looked at Caldwell. “Come with us.” “No! Let me explain!” “You can explain at the station.” As Caldwell was being taken away, he looked back at me with pure hatred in his eyes. “Juliet, just you wait. When I get out, I’ll kill you.” I leaned against the wall, trembling all over. Mary hugged me. “It’s okay now. It’s okay.” I shook my head. “No. This is just the beginning.” My phone buzzed. It was the “Victims of Caldwell Alliance” group. Someone with the name “Niles” sent a message. “I just saw Caldwell being taken away downstairs. Do you know? This building of his is illegal.” “Every room’s fire safety doesn’t meet code at all. I took photos before.” She sent over a dozen photos. Partition walls, illegally wired electricity, sealed fire exits. Looking at these photos, a thought flashed through my mind. It wasn’t about sending him to jail. It was about bankrupting him.

Caldwell was released from the police station after just one night. The reason: “Insufficient evidence, does not constitute rape.” “Insufficient evidence.” Mary slammed the table in fury. “He almost raped you! And that’s insufficient evidence?!” I said nothing, because I knew this would happen. No surveillance, no witnesses. He insisted it was “consensual.” The police could only classify it as a “civil dispute.” The first thing Caldwell did after getting out was come curse at my door. “Juliet! You bitch! How dare you call the police on me?!” He kicked the door three times. The security door dented inward. “I’m telling you, you can forget about living in this place! Get out tomorrow!” “Deposit? Not refunding a penny! Go ahead and sue me! Let’s see who wins!” A neighbor opened their door, took one look, and quickly shut it again. No one dared speak. I sat inside, listening to his cursing, my hands shaking. My phone rang. My mom was calling. “Juliet, did that Caldwell come after you again?” “Mom, it’s fine.” “What do you mean fine! I saw the bruises on your neck in our video call! Just wait, I’m coming to New York next week.” “Mom, you don’t need to come. I can handle it myself.” “How will you handle it? You’re a twenty-four-year-old girl fighting against a property owner?” I was silent for three seconds. “Mom, didn’t you teach me? When you strike a snake, strike at its vital point.” “Where’s his vital point?” “His building.” My mom’s a lawyer. She’s handled many property dispute cases. She knows these property owners’ weak spots better than anyone. “Juliet, have you checked the property rights for his building?” “I’m checking now.” “After you finish, call me. I’ll help you contact a lawyer.” I hung up and opened my computer, logging into the New York City planning and natural resources website. I searched for records on Caldwell’s building. Ten minutes later, I found it. This building had no rental registration at all. Not only that, its designated use was “commercial,” not “residential.” Converting a commercial building into partitioned rentals was illegal in itself. I screenshotted the page and saved it to a folder. My phone buzzed again. Mary sent a message. “Juliet, I just saw in the tenants’ group that Caldwell’s looking for a renovation crew to tear down all the partitions on the third floor.” “Why?” “Someone said Immigration has been checking illegal immigrants and illegal rentals lately. He might have gotten word.” A lightbulb went off in my head. This meant he knew his building had problems. I opened the “Victims Alliance” group. There were seventeen people now, all tenants screwed over by Caldwell. Girls and guys. Some had their deposits withheld, some had their rent raised, some were harassed. I sent a message in the group. “I found a way to send Caldwell to prison and make him pay up.” “What way?” “Report him for illegal rentals. Fire code violations, no rental registration.” “Then what?” “Then we collectively sue him. Those who didn’t get deposits back, those who were overcharged rent, those who were harassed—everyone can get back what’s rightfully theirs.” The group went silent for ten seconds, then exploded. “Count me in!” “I’m suing him too!” “I have evidence of him taking cash without giving receipts!” “I have chat records of his sexual harassment!” Messages came one after another, flooding the screen.

I typed the last line. “Tomorrow at 2 PM, Starbucks on Highway 1. Let’s meet and talk.” Everyone replied: “Got it.” I shut off my phone and looked out the window. Caldwell’s car was still parked downstairs. He sat in it, staring at my window. I pulled the curtains closed. Tomorrow would be the real beginning. The next day at 2 PM, Starbucks on Highway 1. Seventeen people sat in a corner on the second floor. The entire “Victims of Caldwell Alliance” was present. I stood up and looked at them. Programmers, nurses, delivery drivers, salespeople, receptionists, designers… All immigrants working in America who’d been screwed over by Caldwell. “My name is Juliet. I live in 302…” “I’m Mary, 303…” One by one, they shared their experiences. I opened my computer and projected the evidence of Caldwell’s building violations onto the screen for everyone to see. I held up three fingers. “First, everyone organize your evidence—transfer records, chat screenshots, audio and video recordings. The more detailed, the better.” “Second, collectively report to Immigration and the fire department. The more people, the more seriously they’ll take it.” “Third, find a lawyer and collectively sue Caldwell, demanding deposit refunds and compensation for damages.” Niles raised her hand. “Are lawyer fees expensive?” “My mom’s a lawyer. She helped us contact a firm that does public interest litigation. They don’t charge upfront. If we win, they take fifteen percent of the compensation.” Wallace said, “I agree. Even if we don’t get money back, I want to make him miserable.” Everyone raised their hands in agreement. After the meeting, I returned to the complex. As soon as I entered the hallway, I smelled paint. On the door to 302, someone had spray-painted “BITCH” in red. I took out my phone to photograph it, then went to property management to check the surveillance. The property manager said, “The cameras are broken.” “When did they break?” “Yesterday.” Yesterday, the day Caldwell got out of the police station. I smiled. “Right. The cameras are broken. I’ll fix them myself.” I called Mary. “Mary, do you know how to install cameras?” “Yeah. I took an elective in electronic engineering in college.” “Do me a favor.” Half an hour later, I installed a pinhole camera in the hallway fire exit. The angle was aimed right at my door. That night, Caldwell came again. He stood outside my door and cursed for ten minutes. Then he pulled out a key from his pocket. He opened the door and went inside. I was next door at Mary’s place, watching the surveillance footage on my phone. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t move. Five minutes later, he came out holding my laptop. That was my work computer. It had all my social media accounts, client information, and unpublished articles. I held back. Didn’t go out. Didn’t call the police. After Caldwell left, I returned to my room. Drawers had been rifled through, closets opened, cigarette ash on the bedsheets. My underwear was thrown on the floor. I crouched down and picked them up one by one. Mary stood in the doorway, her eyes red. “Juliet, let’s call the police.” “Not yet.” “What do you mean not yet? He took your computer! Your work is on there!” I looked at Mary and smiled. “That computer—I just replaced the hard drive yesterday. The current hard drive only has one thing on it.” “What?” “Full video footage of Caldwell breaking into my place and stealing things.” I pulled out a USB drive from my pocket. “The pinhole camera is connected to this. Him opening the door, entering, taking the computer—it’s all recorded.”

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My husband’s mistress is pregnant. My mother-in-law Mrs. Gibson urged me to be understanding: “Men will be men. It’s normal for them to stray.” My husband Calvin even ordered me to vacate the master bedroom to welcome his mistress: “If you dare hurt her or my son, I’ll kill you!” I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I smiled gently: “Sure, I even bought her new sheets.” The next day, they came home excitedly after shopping for baby supplies, only to find a pregnant stranger sitting on the sofa. Mrs. Gibson froze: “Who is this woman?” I smiled as I introduced her: “Mom, this is Dad Anderson’s mistress. You might not know this, but she’s the one who’s pregnant.” While cleaning under the master bedroom bed, I swept out a positive pregnancy test. Looking at the two red lines, I fell into deep thought. Calvin and I hadn’t had sex in over half a year. This pregnancy test wasn’t mine. Before I could throw this cursed thing into the trash, Mrs. Gibson pushed the door open. She spotted the pregnancy test immediately. First she froze, then she lunged forward and snatched it from my hand, her presbyopic eyes bulging wider than saucers: “Oh my goodness, someone’s pregnant?” I was about to explain when she shot me a look of utter disdain: “What are you looking at? I know it’s not yours. You’re a hen that hasn’t laid an egg in three years. You’d never be so lucky!” I laughed in anger: “If it’s not mine, then why are you so excited?” “Don’t be stupid! If it’s not yours, then it must belong to Calvin’s mistress!” Mrs. Gibson beamed with joy. “Men will be men. Which one doesn’t stray? As long as she can bear an heir for the Peters family, she’s done us a great service!” Just then, Calvin pushed the door open. Mrs. Gibson immediately rushed to him, holding up the pregnancy test like a treasure: “Calvin, be honest with me. Is your mistress Margaret pregnant?” Calvin glanced at me guiltily. But when he saw I wasn’t making a scene and Mrs. Gibson looked overjoyed, his spine suddenly stiffened. He nodded confidently: “Mom, since you already know, I won’t hide it. Margaret is indeed pregnant. We just found out.” Standing to the side, I almost laughed out loud. “Well done, you make me so proud!” Mrs. Gibson slapped her thigh excitedly. “Since Margaret is carrying a child, we must bring her home to enjoy her rightful status!” Calvin’s eyes reddened with emotion: “Mom, you’re so understanding! Margaret said she doesn’t need a title, she just wants the baby to be healthy.” “The poor girl.” Mrs. Gibson turned to look at me, her expression instantly changing. “Elliot, since you can’t give birth yourself, don’t be jealous of Margaret. Clear out the master bedroom right now. We’re bringing her home tomorrow to rest during her pregnancy!” Calvin chimed in: “That’s right, Elliot. Move to the guest room. The master bedroom gets better sunlight. Let Margaret have it. She’s pregnant and needs the calcium from sunshine.” He paused, then warned me viciously: “You better behave yourself. If you dare lay a finger on Margaret or touch a single hair on my son’s head, I’ll kill you!” I stared expressionlessly at this pair of despicable mother and son, hands in my pockets, quietly pressing the record button on my phone. “So what you’re saying is, as long as a mistress is pregnant with a Peters family child, she must be brought home and taken care of, never left to fend for herself?” Mrs. Gibson lifted her chin: “Naturally!” I continued: “And this child, even if illegitimate, must enjoy exactly the same inheritance rights as a legitimate child?” Calvin stated firmly: “Obviously! He’s Peters family blood. Who dares mistreat him?” “Alright, I understand.” I nodded, the corners of my mouth curving into a gentle smile. “Of course. Since she’s carrying a Peters heir, naturally we must treat her well with good food and drink.”

Mrs. Gibson snorted coldly: “Good that you know your place. Hurry up and pack your things, move all your junk out. Don’t bring us bad luck!” For the next two hours, I leaned against the doorframe like an idle bystander, watching Calvin and Mrs. Gibson gleefully throw my belongings out. “Change these sheets. Margaret likes pink!” “Move this vanity too. Make room for the baby crib!” Calvin was all smiles. “Mom, let’s go to the mall tomorrow and buy Margaret the best bird’s nest soup!” Mrs. Gibson grinned from ear to ear: “Yes, I’ll pay! As long as her belly delivers, I’ll buy her anything!” I watched their busy backs, nearly laughing myself to tears. Oh Calvin, since you’re so happy, I won’t show you the azoospermia diagnosis report I just picked up from the hospital. Let you enjoy yourselves for a couple more days. Early the next morning, Mrs. Gibson and Calvin left the house in high spirits. They said they were going to upscale baby boutiques to stock up, preparing to welcome the “great contributor” Margaret home. Before leaving, Calvin didn’t forget to warn me viciously to clear out the last bits of trash from the master bedroom so it wouldn’t offend Margaret’s eyes. After the door closed, I unhurriedly took out my phone and dialed a number. “Hello? Is this Ms. Hill? Yes, I’m Calvin’s wife, Elliot. I saw the pregnancy test you left under our master bedroom bed yesterday.” There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. I laughed lightly, my tone gentle. “Don’t be afraid. Mrs. Gibson and Calvin have spoken. Since you’re carrying Peters family blood, you absolutely cannot be left to fend for yourself. Pack your bags. I’m sending a car to bring you to the villa to rest during your pregnancy.”

At three in the afternoon, the villa gates opened. Mrs. Gibson and Calvin walked in carrying bags of imported bird’s nest, luxury baby cribs, and a mountain of other baby supplies, their faces beaming. “Margaret said she’s suffering from morning sickness today and needs to wait a couple more days before moving in. I feel so bad for her.” Mrs. Gibson muttered as she changed her shoes. Calvin agreed: “Mom, Margaret is carrying a boy. It’s normal for him to be demanding. Please take extra care of her, and I’ll make sure she treats you well later.” The two were chatting and laughing as they turned into the living room, then the smiles on their faces instantly froze. On the leather sofa sat a woman in her thirties, still attractive and well-maintained. She wore loose maternity clothes and was using a toothpick to eat the strawberries I had just washed. Seeing the mother and son laden with packages, the woman also froze, somewhat awkwardly putting down the fruit plate. “Who, who is this?” Mrs. Gibson’s eyes widened as she looked the woman on the sofa up and down. “Elliot, what are you playing at? Why are strangers coming into the house? Is this some poor relative of yours?” Calvin also frowned: “Elliot, are you sick? I told you to make room for Margaret, and you invite your relatives over? Get her out of here now!” I walked out of the kitchen carrying a glass of warm milk, handed it to the woman on the sofa, then turned around with a beaming smile. “Please don’t be angry. If you get upset, how will you take care of the pregnant woman?” I walked to the woman’s side and patted her shoulder affectionately, introducing her with great ceremony: “This is definitely not my poor relative. What’s in her belly is genuine Peters family blood.” Mrs. Gibson’s mind hadn’t caught up yet. She thought it was another of Calvin’s affairs. “Calvin, besides Margaret you got another woman pregnant? This woman looks well into her thirties. You could actually bring yourself to sleep with her?” Calvin’s face turned green, frantically waving his hands: “Mom, I don’t know her! I swear I’ve never touched even a finger of hers! Why would I have a lover this old?” I pretended to be shocked, covering my mouth. “Calvin, that’s not right. How can you shout at your elders like that?” I looked at the two confused people with a smile. “Oh my, did I forget to tell you? The pregnancy test swept out yesterday really wasn’t mine, but it wasn’t Calvin’s mistress’s either.” “Mrs. Gibson, let me formally introduce you. This is Ms. Hill, the mistress Anderson keeps on the side. Yesterday, while you were out, Anderson brought her home to get something and accidentally dropped the pregnancy test under the bed.” “Originally, I wanted to pretend nothing happened. But yesterday, you swore that Peters family blood couldn’t be left outside, that illegitimate children must also enjoy inheritance rights. So I brought Ms. Hill home.” “You won’t mind, will you?”

The air froze in that instant. Mrs. Gibson’s face, which had been glowing with health just moments ago, visibly turned the color of liver. Her lips trembled as she pointed at the woman on the sofa, unable to squeeze out a word for a long time: “You, what did you say?” I blinked innocently and took out my phone, pressing play on yesterday’s saved recording. Mrs. Gibson and Calvin’s full-throated voices immediately rang out: “As long as she’s carrying Peters seed, she absolutely cannot be left outside!” “Even if it’s an illegitimate child, they must enjoy exactly the same inheritance rights!” “We must bring her home and treat her well! If you dare touch a hair on their head, I’ll kill you!” After the recording finished, I spread my hands, smiling virtuously. “Mom, Calvin, your words yesterday really opened my eyes. Our Peters family values bloodline. Since Ms. Hill is carrying Anderson’s child, that makes it Calvin’s little brother or sister!” “Such precious Peters family offspring, how could they be left outside? So I immediately brought her home to take good care of her.” I pointed at the pile of upscale baby supplies on the floor, full of admiration: “You two were so thoughtful, even buying bird’s nest and maternity clothes. Ms. Hill, see how much they care about you!” Mrs. Gibson stood stunned for a full half minute before suddenly erupting in a piercing shriek. “That’s bullshit! Elliot, you bitch, stop trying to drive a wedge between us!” She pointed at the woman on the sofa, trembling all over. “Her? Anderson is well into his fifties. How could he do something so disgusting outside! Anderson would never be that kind of person!” “That’s such an ugly thing to say.” Ms. Hill, who had been silent until now, timidly put down the cherries in her hand, her eyes watery and full of grievance: “Anderson said he’s most annoyed by the old woman at home nagging about everything. He said I’m gentle and understanding, that I know his heart best. If he hadn’t insisted on dragging me to the bedroom yesterday for some excitement, the pregnancy test wouldn’t have fallen under the bed.”

“Ahh! You shameless slut, I’ll tear you apart!” Mrs. Gibson completely lost it. The woman who had been putting on airs as a wealthy matriarch just moments ago now lunged at the woman with her teeth bared and claws out. I reacted quickly, grabbing her and pushing her back into Calvin’s arms. “Mrs. Gibson, please calm down!” I urged her. “Didn’t you just teach me yesterday that men will be men. Which one doesn’t stray? Anderson is in his prime. It’s perfectly normal for him to have affairs. This shows Anderson has charisma. You should be more understanding!” “Shut your mouth. How is that the same?” Mrs. Gibson’s chest heaved violently, nearly coughing up blood. “How is it different?” I widened my eyes in feigned confusion. “Oh right, you also said yesterday that as long as it’s a Peters child, they absolutely cannot be left outside. Look, I’m just following your orders, bringing Anderson’s true love home to treat her well with good food and drink.” I turned to look at Calvin, who was still in a daze: “Calvin, you personally made a vow yesterday. If anyone dared touch a pregnant woman’s hair, you’d kill me. Now your mom wants to attack her. Are you going to do something about it?” Calvin finally snapped back to reality. But what concerned him wasn’t Anderson’s affair, but something far more critical. “Wait!” Calvin’s face turned deathly pale as he stared at Ms. Hill’s belly, his voice cracking. “The baby in your belly is my dad’s? Then, then won’t he have to split our family fortune?” I nearly laughed out loud. This scumbag’s thought process was truly refreshingly unique, always fixated on money. I clapped my hands in loud praise: “Calvin, you’re so smart! Yesterday you said emphatically that even illegitimate children must enjoy exactly the same inheritance rights!” I walked to Ms. Hill’s side and raised an eyebrow at Calvin: “Since your mistress’s child can split your fortune, naturally Anderson’s mistress’s child should also split Anderson’s fortune. By calculation, whether Ms. Hill’s baby is a boy or girl, they can split away exactly half the family assets!” “No way! Absolutely not!” Calvin completely broke down, stamping his feet and cursing. “My dad’s money is all mine. Why should it go to this bastard child from who knows where! Elliot, get her out of here right now!” I crossed my arms, took a step back, and watched coldly as this mother-son pair jumped around anxiously. “Get her out? Too late.” I spread my hands. “When Ms. Hill came in, I already sent Anderson a message saying I brought his sweetheart home to rest during her pregnancy. By my calculation, he should be arriving home any minute now.” As soon as I finished speaking, the sound of urgent car brakes came from outside the villa. Then the front door was pushed open. Anderson, usually stern and rigid, rushed in breathlessly. As soon as he entered, his gaze fell on the woman on the sofa. His usually stern face instantly softened with tenderness: “How did you end up here? Did anything happen to the baby?” In the living room, Mrs. Gibson’s face finally changed from liver-colored to deathly pale. And Calvin looked like he had swallowed a live fly.

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After my roommates found out I was the daughter of the richest man in the country, their attitudes toward me changed. Every month when my dad transferred me a hundred thousand dollars for living expenses, my roommate would make snide remarks. “Why does a girl need so much money?” “The company will end up in your brother’s hands anyway. With how recklessly you spend now, don’t be surprised when they kick you out of the family!” As everyone knew, my dad only had one daughter—me. When she demanded I hand over my allowance yet again, I finally snapped: “Are you insane? I’ll spend my money however I want. It’s none of your business!” Who knew my roommate would smirk with contempt. “Of course I can tell you what to do. After all, I’m pregnant with your dad’s child. By family standing, you should obey me!” But my dad had a testicular removal surgery two years ago. How could she possibly be pregnant with his child?! The hundred thousand dollars in living expenses had just hit my account, and I went straight to the boutique to buy their limited edition handbag. I was in a pretty good mood until I got back to the dorm and heard my roommate Yasmin’s sarcastic voice. “Oh, Sophia’s back. What nice things did you buy today?” Ever since finding out I was the daughter of the richest man in the country, Yasmin’s attitude toward me had completely changed. She constantly took the lead in isolating and ostracizing me. When I went to the cafeteria to eat, she would deliberately start trouble. “How can the daughter of the richest man sit and eat with us commoners!” When I returned to the dorm to rest, she would force the other roommates to act like servants. “Don’t you guys have any sense? The princess is back. Everyone better serve her carefully!” At first, I would try to explain, but every time Yasmin would jump out to sabotage me. Over time, everyone avoided me like the plague. Only Yasmin, the instigator of it all, put on the act of being my savior. “See? I’m the only one who can tolerate your bad temper.” But I couldn’t stand her petty behavior. I ignored her and walked straight past. To my surprise, Yasmin snatched the bag from my hand and examined it carefully. “So this is what a designer bag looks like. The texture really is different.” Seeing the greedy look on her face, I said irritably, “Give it back!” “You already have so many bags. You don’t need this one. Why don’t you just give it to me?” Before, I just thought Yasmin had no sense of boundaries. Now I realized she not only had no boundaries, but was also incredibly shameless. “If you want one, buy it yourself. Why should I give you my stuff!” I snatched it back from her hands. Yasmin’s expression darkened frighteningly. She glared at me. “Does having money make you so great? Don’t think that just because you have some money you can insult people however you want!” Her eyes suddenly reddened, and she collapsed on the desk crying. I was completely bewildered when my roommates came back from outside. They must have heard what was just said, because they looked at me disapprovingly. “Sophia, we know your family is rich, but you can’t use your wealth to trample on others’ dignity.” I almost laughed from anger. “She didn’t want to pay a cent and tried to take my bag. What, should I have gotten on my knees to thank her?” I pulled out the recording from earlier and exposed Yasmin’s true face. The roommates realized they’d been deceived and immediately distanced themselves from her. After being set up by her so many times, I’d finally won one back. Seeing her lie exposed, Yasmin dropped the act. “Was I wrong? Can you even use all those bags? I was helping you lighten your load!” “No need to worry about me. If I can’t use them all, I can sell them for charity. Either way, I’m not giving them to you!” Yasmin’s face turned livid with rage. She couldn’t say a word. After suffering in silence for so long, it felt great to finally see her lose. After this incident, I figured she wouldn’t dare provoke me again!

Yasmin seemed frightened by the recording incident. She stopped making sarcastic remarks and even deliberately kept her distance from me. Without her interference, the air felt much fresher. I gradually let my guard down, thinking she had finally learned about boundaries and stopped looking for trouble. The month passed peacefully. Until the day of the holiday, I packed my suitcase and walked out of school to find William’s black Bentley already parked at the school gate. He wore a pressed dark suit, his posture upright. He looked nothing like a driver. “Sophia, let me take that for you.” William smiled as he took the suitcase from my hand and expertly placed it in the trunk. Just as I pulled open the car door to get in, Yasmin’s voice suddenly called from behind. “Sophia, wait!” I turned around to see Yasmin pulling her suitcase, jogging toward me. Her eyes glanced at William and the car, and she was still catching her breath. “My parents are working overtime on a construction project and can’t pick me up. Plus, I bought a lot of study materials this month, so I don’t have enough money for a cab.” “Sophia, could you give me a ride?” She looked at me expectantly, her tone cautious. I frowned. Honestly, I didn’t want any more entanglement with her, but seeing those yellowed canvas shoes on her feet, and considering she really hadn’t bothered me this past month. I couldn’t help but relent. “Get in.” “Thank you so much! Sophia, you’re the best!” Before I could react, she had already walked to the passenger side, opened the door, and got in. Her movements were so natural, as if it were her designated seat. I froze for a moment, frowning. Usually when William picked me up, I put my bag or files in the passenger seat. No one else ever sat there. But then I thought, it was just a seat. No need to make a big deal out of it. So I opened the back door. As soon as the car started moving, Yasmin began chatting with William. “Sir, this car is so comfortable. It must be expensive, right?” Her voice was sickeningly sweet, completely different from her sharp and bitter tone in the dorm. William smiled politely. “It’s alright. Just for transportation.” “You look so young, sir. You must take really good care of yourself, right?” Yasmin rested her chin on one hand, staring straight at William. “Do you focus a lot on health maintenance? My mom always says men need to take care of themselves as they get older, or they’ll age fast…” She babbled on and on, every topic somehow circling back to William, every word dripping with deliberate flattery. One moment she’d praise his suit fabric, the next she’d say his voice was magnetic, and she even meaningfully mentioned: “My dad works construction year-round. His hands are covered in calluses. Not like you, sir. You look like someone who does important things. Even your fingers are so long and elegant.” I got goosebumps listening to her and couldn’t help glancing at her. But she acted as if she didn’t notice my gaze and continued chatting animatedly with William. William clearly sensed something was off and his responses became increasingly perfunctory, mostly just “Mm” and “I suppose” to brush her off. But not only did Yasmin not hold back, she intensified her efforts. As we passed a dessert shop, she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! This place has such famous mousse cake! I’ve always wanted to try it, but it’s too expensive…” As she spoke, her eyes drifted toward William, her tone taking on a wheedling quality. “Sir, have you tried it? I heard rich people have personal pastry chefs at home. Is that true?” “I’m not rich…” “You’re too modest, sir. If you don’t count as rich, then what are we? Beggars?” Yasmin chattered nonstop the entire way. It was incredibly annoying. I tried to interrupt her several times, telling her to stop. But she’d stay quiet for less than a minute before finding another topic to discuss with William. Thoroughly irritated, I simply put in my Bluetooth earbuds to block out her voice. It was just a short ride anyway. Once we dropped her at the subway station, we’d never cross paths again. No point getting into another conflict over such a small thing. However, when the car approached the subway station, Yasmin suddenly said: “Sir, actually my home isn’t near the subway station. It’s in the suburbs. Could you drive me a bit further?” Then she turned to wink at me. “Sophia, you don’t mind, right?”

Before I could answer, she had already turned back to William. “My parents are working overtime today. I’m a girl carrying luggage and walking alone at night—it’s kind of scary…” William didn’t respond this time. He looked at me through the rearview mirror, waiting for my decision. Looking at Yasmin’s entitled expression, that uncomfortable feeling finally crystallized into clear disgust. Give her an inch and she’ll take a mile—that was her true nature! My patience finally ran out. When she emphasized taking her home yet again, I refused sharply. “No! We agreed on the subway station, so it’s only to the subway station.” The smile on Yasmin’s face instantly froze. She hadn’t expected me to reject her so firmly. She paused for two seconds, then her eyes suddenly reddened and her voice became choked with sobs. “Sophia, I shouldn’t be so demanding, but my home really is far away. Even after getting off the subway, I still have to walk for over two hours. By the time I get home, it’ll be dark.” “My parents work so hard to save money. They haul bricks during the day and watch warehouses at night. They won’t even buy themselves decent clothes. I really don’t want to trouble them to pick me up.” She cried while wiping her tears. “I’m not afraid of walking alone at night for any other reason, just afraid of running into bad people… If something happens to me, how will my parents survive…” The atmosphere in the car grew heavy. William glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes showing some sympathy. “The suburbs aren’t that far by car. Maybe we should…” I cut him off. “This isn’t about distance.” But Yasmin grabbed onto it like a lifeline. “Sir, you’re such a good person! Sophia, I know you’re still angry about before. I’ll apologize, okay?” “I promise, this is the last time I’ll trouble you. After this, I’ll stay far away from you!” “She’s just a young girl. It really isn’t easy for her. Let me take her.” Seeing the sincerity in William’s eyes, and glancing at Yasmin’s pitiful tear-streaked face, I finally closed my eyes. “Take me home first, then you can drive her.” Yasmin immediately broke into a smile through her tears. “Thank you, Sophia! Thank you, sir! You’re both such good people!” For the rest of the drive, she was much more subdued, only occasionally glancing at William with a smile she couldn’t quite hide. When we arrived at my villa, William was about to get out to help with my luggage, but Yasmin had already jumped out first and eagerly opened the trunk. “Let me, let me! Sophia, you live here? This house is gorgeous!” Her eyes were filled with undisguised envy, and her attitude became much more fawning. I ignored her and took the bag William handed me. “Drive safely.” “Don’t worry.” As the car started up again, I looked back. Yasmin was sitting in the passenger seat, saying something to William that made her face flush with shyness. I felt an uneasy feeling, but quickly dismissed the thought. I must be overthinking it. After all, William was old enough to be her father. Yasmin had such high standards. How could she possibly be interested in William?

After the holiday ended, Yasmin had visibly changed. She no longer wore faded T-shirts, but had switched to designer clothes. Within a few days, she’d gotten the latest iPhone. Someone who used to be too stingy to even buy a cup of iced latte was now treating the other roommates to upscale Japanese restaurants averaging over a hundred dollars per person every few days. Roommate Lily couldn’t help asking curiously, “Yasmin, did you win the lottery? You’ve been so generous lately.” Yasmin smiled with pursed lips. “It’s nothing. Just my boyfriend’s gifts. He’s worried I won’t eat well at school, so he gave me some spending money.” “Your boyfriend must be rich! He’s so generous.” When asked about her boyfriend’s identity, Yasmin became evasive. “I’ll introduce you to him when there’s a chance.” I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but when Yasmin said this, her eyes seemed to deliberately glance at me. I had no interest in other people’s private lives, especially Yasmin’s. Where her money came from, who she was dating—none of it concerned me. My phone suddenly vibrated. It was the hundred thousand dollars in living expenses my dad had transferred. I had just opened my phone to look when Yasmin immediately leaned over. “Did your dad transfer your living expenses? He’s really generous.” I turned my phone face-down on the desk and gave a noncommittal hum. “Sophia, don’t you think it’s unsafe for a girl to keep so much money on hand?” I frowned. “What do you mean?” Yasmin smiled very sincerely. “Look, this hundred thousand dollars—you’ll spend it all in no time. Why don’t you let me hold onto it for you? I’ll save it.” “If you want to buy something, just tell me. I’ll check it for you, so you don’t waste money.” This was absolutely absurd. I couldn’t help but snap. “Yasmin, who do you think you are? My money is none of your business!” The smile on her face froze, and a flash of resentment appeared in her eyes, but she quickly suppressed it. “Sophia, how can you say that? I’m doing this for your own good.” “Do I need you to teach me?” I cut her off. “My dad is happy to give me money to spend. I’ll spend it however I want. You have no right to tell me what to do!” Yasmin’s face turned red and white. Just when I thought she’d explode with anger, she suddenly showed a strange smile. “Sophia, you’re so arrogant now just because you’re the only child of the Sterling family. But have you ever thought about what happens if your dad has a son?” I frowned, completely unable to follow her logic. “What nonsense are you talking about? My dad only has one daughter—me. Where would a son come from!” “Why not?” Yasmin raised an eyebrow. “Men, you know, they always have that old-fashioned thinking. No matter how big the family business, there has to be a son to inherit it. Your dad treats you well now because he has no other choice.” She paused, then continued, “Once your dad has a son, do you think you’ll still get a hundred thousand dollars a month in allowance?” This made me furious. Forget that my dad couldn’t have more children. Even if he could, why shouldn’t I inherit my family’s business? “Yasmin, have you been watching too many TV dramas? My dad’s company will definitely be left to me in the future. Stop worrying about things that don’t concern you!”

I’d said as much, and I thought Yasmin would finally know to back off and stop bothering me. But that evening, I was studying in the dorm when Yasmin suddenly ran up to me and opened with: “Sophia, where’s your living expenses?” I looked up at her. “How is my living expenses any of your business?” Yasmin raised her voice. “Of course it’s my business. Didn’t I tell you last time? From now on, hand all your living expenses to me. When you need to spend money, submit an application. Once it’s approved, I’ll transfer it to you.” “Of course, if you behave well, I’ll give you an extra five hundred dollars each month as a reward.” Watching her get more and more excited, I almost thought there was something wrong with my ears. My fingers tightened slightly around my phone. I looked up at her, my eyes cold enough to freeze: “Yasmin, what did you just say? I didn’t hear you clearly.” “I said, hand over the hundred thousand your dad gave you. I’ll manage it. If you behave well, I’ll reward you with an extra five hundred each month.” I laughed coldly. “Yasmin, who do you think you are to demand my money over and over again!” Yasmin’s voice suddenly rose. “Of course I’m qualified.” She gently caressed her abdomen. “Because I’m pregnant with your dad’s child. Once I marry into the Sterling family on the strength of my child, by family standing, you’ll have to obey me.” At those words, the dorm fell instantly silent. The roommates’ gazes bounced between me and Yasmin, too shocked to speak. Yasmin looked at me triumphantly, as if certain I would break down over this. But I just looked at her calmly. Yasmin pregnant with my dad’s child? That had to be the most ridiculous joke I’d ever heard. Two years ago, Dad was diagnosed with a testicular tumor. For complete treatment, he’d already had testicular removal surgery. The doctor had explicitly stated that he had zero chance of having children after the procedure. This was kept strictly confidential within the family. Almost no one besides Dad and me knew about it. If Yasmin had really investigated my family, she would never have fabricated such a flawed lie. I could guess what Yasmin was thinking. After finding out I was the daughter of the richest man, she’d gotten greedy ideas, even trying to use pregnancy to latch onto a wealthy family, and wanted to manipulate me in the process. How stupid and greedy! “Sophia, be smart and hand over the money.” Yasmin threatened in a low voice. “Otherwise, once I marry into the family, you’ll regret it. By then, forget a hundred thousand in living expenses—whether you can even stay in the Sterling family will be questionable!” Watching her spittle fly everywhere, I suddenly had a new idea. Since she wanted to put on a show, I’d play along!

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On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband took me to see the ocean. We were caught in a maritime disaster. In my dying moments, he used his last bit of strength to hold my hand. “Thank you. I’m so lucky to have you.” Through tears, I squeezed back the hand of my dying husband. A few breaths later, I followed him into death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my junior year of high school, studying day and night. All so I could go to Harvard with him and make up for the regrets of my past life. At the post-SAT party, he walked toward me holding roses, just like in my previous life. “I want to tell you—I like you.” My heart swelled with sweetness as I stood up, about to say: I like you too. But he walked past me and handed the roses to Mia, who stood beside me. Suddenly, I understood. He had been reborn too. He had always loved Mia. In this life, he wanted a different future. I decided to grant him that wish. When applying to colleges, I chose Stanford University, three thousand miles away from him, to pursue my own dreams.

Everyone in the private room was looking at me. I forced my voice to sound light and natural. “I was just about to say—you came so late, I almost couldn’t help but tell Mia early.” The atmosphere relaxed instantly. Everyone started cheering. “Kiss! Kiss!” Ethan lowered his head, gazing at Mia with tender seriousness. “May I, Mia?” Mia nodded, her joy overflowing. I turned my face away, retreating to a corner, slowly drinking my iced Coke, trying to keep my breathing steady. Someone from the table in front leaned over. “Don’t you like Ethan? You two walk to and from school together every day. Everyone thought you’d end up together.” I forced a smile, acting as naturally as possible. “We’re neighbors, of course we walk together. He’s like my brother.” Even though this “brother” had hooked pinkies with me just yesterday, promising to go to Crystal Lake together. He wanted to make eternal vows under the witness of snow-capped mountains and sacred lakes—promises for this life and the next. I could feel an oppressive gaze falling on me. He wasn’t the eighteen-year-old Ethan whose eyes held only me. He was the forty-eight-year-old Ethan, also reborn. So I instinctively applied the social rules of forty-eight-year-old Rebecca Lynn. As the wife of the CEO of Wright Corporation, no matter how humiliating the situation, I had to maintain dignity first and not affect the company’s stock price. My hand gripping the cup suddenly tightened. I snapped back to reality. Damn it. I’m broke right now. What Wright Corporation stock price? The person in front was about to say more when Ethan walked over with his arm around Mia. He smiled brightly, but his eyes held no warmth when he looked at me. “Becca, from now on, when you see Mia, remember to call her Mia.” “Mia wants to go to Alaska for her graduation trip. I have to go with her. You’ll have to go to the plateau by yourself.” I stared at the rose pinned in Mia’s hair, saying nothing. Mia playfully swatted him, her eyes full of disdain and triumph as she looked at me. “Aren’t you worried about Becca going so far alone?” “How about I introduce her to some of my childhood friends as boyfriends? They’re all rich kids.” Of course she was triumphant. A year ago, she cornered Ethan to confess, but he publicly rejected her, citing his studies. She could see that he and I were always together. She’d planned to come tonight to ruin Ethan’s confession to me. She never expected the confession would suddenly be directed at her instead. What she didn’t know was that in my past life, tonight, she had burned the roses Ethan gave me. If I hadn’t stopped him, the furious Ethan would have nearly slapped her across the face. Later, she pursued Ethan for eight years, only to be coldly rejected each time. I once nestled in his arms and asked: “Mia is so beautiful, and her dad is a major shareholder in your company. Aren’t you even a little tempted?” He snorted. “I can’t afford to mess with that kind of princess.”

Later, he went to Germany on a business trip. The next day, Mia followed him there and was caught in a plane crash. When I heard the news, my heart tightened. I instinctively looked at Ethan. His face was pale. He said nothing. But that night, he cried in his sleep. “If I had said yes to you, you would have flown with me and wouldn’t have died. It’s my fault…” After waking, he never mentioned it again. I thought it was just guilt. Until now. Looking at the pain and tenderness he couldn’t hide in his eyes, I finally realized belatedly that it wasn’t guilt that night—it was love. Ethan tucked a strand of hair behind Mia’s ear, not even glancing at me. “What’s there to worry about? She’s an adult. She won’t get lost.” “If your friends like her, Mia, that’s her good fortune. Just send them her Snapchat.” He turned to me, his tone commanding as if it were obvious. “Mia and I are going to Harvard together. With your grades, just apply to a community college nearby.” Mia and the others looked at him in surprise, but he remained oblivious, still arrogant. “You’re a good cook and attentive. Help me take care of Mia, and later she’ll introduce you to a good boyfriend.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to tell him things had changed. Then I heard him add casually: “Come to think of it, you took good care of your dad’s health. You do have experience in that area.” I looked at him in disbelief. In my past life, my dad was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis five years later, surviving each day on expensive imported medication. All my salary went to medical bills. He accompanied me between home and the hospital, never complaining even when important clients were stolen by colleagues. Everyone said I was dragging him down. He held me as I cried and broke down, gently patting my back. “He’s my dad too. Without them raising me all those years, there would be no Ethan today.” His parents had gone to work elsewhere and started new families. His grandmother died when he was twelve. My parents raised their neighbor as their own son, always cutting him the biggest piece of steak. But now, he was using my dad’s illness as leverage, forcing me—his wife from a previous life—to care for his new love. My throat tightened. Looking at his familiar yet strange face, I suddenly found it absurd. Was he really the Ethan who had shared my bed for thirty years? Meeting his cold eyes, I took a deep breath. “My mom wants me home early. I’m leaving.” As I passed him, I turned my head slightly to look at him. “By the way, that thing you asked me to hold for you last time—come get it sometime.” There was no such thing. It was just the usual social phrase for “let’s talk privately.” If he really was the forty-eight-year-old Ethan, with years of marital understanding, he would get my meaning. When I got home, Dad frowned seeing only me. “Why didn’t Ethan walk you back?” I stared at him. “Did you go for your physical today?” He waved his hand. “What’s the point? It’s a waste of money. I ranked 48th in the state on the SAT. The school gave me a hundred thousand dollars. I have money.” He was silent for a moment, his rough hand touching my head. “Alright. Our Rebecca has grown up. I’ll go tomorrow.” I leaned against Dad watching TV, so happy I nearly cried. 2 In my past life, he ultimately suffocated to death. His last words were that with Ethan taking care of me, he could rest in peace. Back then, Ethan and I were known as a loving couple. Childhood sweethearts, from school uniforms to wedding dress. In the morning, he needed a hug from me before leaving for work. After work, he always brought me a rose. When it was hot and we took walks, he fanned me. When it was cold and I was weak, he warmed my feet. After his business grew, beauties swarmed around him, but he never gave them a glance. “My wife is waiting for me at home.” He was afraid childbirth would hurt me, so he suggested we not have children. “Just the two of us, living our whole lives together. Is that okay?” But why, after being reborn, did he cast me aside like trash? The more I thought about it, the less I understood. Did Mia say something? Remembering the truth about Mia’s death that I’d uncovered in my past life, I decided to wait for Ethan to return and have it out with him. At midnight, I finally heard the sound of keys turning next door, then my phone vibrated. [Ethan: Come over.] I closed my eyes. He really was the reborn Ethan. I went next door and got straight to the point. “Why?” He was silent for a moment. “I think of you as family.” I laughed through my tears. “You slept with me for thirty years and now you call me a sister? Are you crazy? What are you yelling about? Mom and Dad are sleeping next door.” He released his hand, stepped back, and looked me up and down with disgust. “Let me be honest. I’ve slept with you for thirty years. I’m really sick of it! Kissing you is like kissing myself.” “Look at you. Average intelligence, no ambition, going to community college.” “After I became successful, you did nothing but beauty treatments with the other wives and stayed home like a parasite. You can’t do anything.” His eyes suddenly lit up, filled with ambition and longing. “But Mia is different. You know who her dad is. With her, I can cut ten years off my struggle!” “I’m choosing her not because you’re bad, but because—” He paused, his eyes shifting away for a moment as if he couldn’t bear it, then immediately returning to casual arrogance. “You’re not good enough. You can’t help me. It’s not your fault, but it’s the truth.” He grabbed my hand, his expression sincere. “I know you love me and can’t leave me. I love you too.” “But not right now. Let’s be just friends for now.” “You obediently take care of Mia, and when I succeed, I’ll give you a better life than the last one.” “You help my future now, and I’ll secure yours. Okay, Becca?” Shock, anger, humiliation, disgust… Even though I’d been reborn for a year, I felt like I was suddenly plunged back into the day of the maritime disaster. Countless emotions surged at me. I struggled desperately, but could only let myself be swallowed. His hand gripping mine was as cold as it had been on the day of the disaster. I quietly heard my own heartbeat pounding frantically, then gradually weakening, falling into deathly silence. He didn’t love me anymore, but he didn’t want to let me go either. Those promises of eternal devotion in the next life were just my one-sided joke. Rebecca Lynn, you’re such a fool! I swallowed the truth about Mia’s death and laughed coldly as I slammed the door on my way out. “Fine. I wish you both a hundred years of happiness and good health.” When filling out college applications, I directly chose Stanford University. It had the best game design program—my dream that I’d discovered at age forty-five in my past life. And it was a full three thousand miles away from Ethan. As soon as I finished, Ethan’s message came. [Did you finish filling it out?] [Yeah.] [Good job.] 4 He immediately followed up with several instructions. [Mia said you ignored her friends. Good job.] [But you’re not Mrs. Wright anymore, your grades are mediocre, and your background is ordinary.] [When you meet those rich boys, don’t give them attitude. Be polite to them and don’t make me worry.] I sneered. Seems like his precious Mia never mentioned my grades to him. 48th in the state on the SAT—my phone had just been bombarded with calls from admissions offices, promising scholarships up to five hundred thousand dollars. Where would I have time to deal with those shady friends? Exiting the chat, I opened my friend requests. [Heard from Mia that you’re obedient? I happen to need an obedient follower. Let’s chat.] [Your boyfriend’s sister? What kind of sister?] [You look decent in your photos. Want to have some fun with me? I’ll make it worth your while.] I frowned in disgust. Ethan’s message popped up again. [Mia and I are going to Alaska in a few days. Those cookies you brought back last time were delicious. Where did you buy them? I’ll get you some.] Get them for me, or take Mia to eat them? [Mrs. Lynn’s exclusive recipe. Not for sale.] After a while, he replied: [Okay, I trust you.] I gripped my phone, anger rushing to the top of my head. [Believe whatever you want!] Before sending, I deleted it. Forget it. Talking to a deaf person is just a waste of time. I got up and started packing the things he’d given me over the years. Pens, bookmarks, notebooks, snow globes… Odds and ends filled an entire box—childish and cheap. But it was a box full of what was once sincerity. Ethan, how did you become so unrecognizable? I carried the box next door and threw it in a corner of the storage room, turning to leave. Draft papers on the desk were blown everywhere by the wind. I sighed and picked them up one by one to put back. But on the open notebook, I saw a few words pressed hard into the paper: [Whisper Bay, Sacrifice True Heart, Start Over] All the blood in my body instantly turned cold. Whisper Bay was where we encountered the maritime disaster. Sacrifice—what did that mean? Was our rebirth his arrangement? My hair stood on end. I carefully restored the room to its original state and took the box back, pretending I’d never been there. During the five days of college application submissions, Ethan and I didn’t see each other. He was busy dating Mia, fantasizing about traveling around the country together during their four years of college. I was busy searching online and at the library… looking everywhere for legends about Whisper Bay. Every day he shared dating stories with me, subtly mocking my dullness, and ordered me to plan their travel itinerary. Unwilling to alert him, I did everything he asked. He grew increasingly entitled. July 7, 4:54 PM. I finally saw a post on an obscure forum. [Want to restart your life? Welcome to my hometown. We have a sea called Reincarnation Sea.] [It swallows several people every year, but my grandma says they don’t die—they’re reborn.] [Long ago, there was a fisherwoman whose husband went to sea and never returned. She waited thirty years.] [Then one full moon night, she rowed out alone and never came back.] [After that, people passing by that sea at night heard a woman crying and a man answering.] [My grandma said that as long as you truly love someone and are willing to die for them, Reincarnation Sea will send you both back to the past.] The replies below were all mocking: [I love money above all else. Let me memorize lottery numbers and I’ll find the poster.] [Too cliche. Why not say going there together lets you cycle through ten lives together? Better for tricking people in love to travel, right?] I stared at the screen, trembling uncontrollably.

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I was the eldest child in my family, but the third born. The first two were girls. Because they were the “wrong” gender, my parents got rid of them before they were even born. The shady clinic doctor swore up and down that I was a boy. Unfortunately for them, when I came crying into the world, I was still a girl. 1 I was a girl. My parents were bitterly disappointed. But they didn’t give up. Hiding like fugitives from the authorities, when I was five years old, my mother finally gave birth to my little brother. Because they had exceeded the legal child limit, my father lost his job. The authorities came and emptied our house of anything valuable to pay the fines. My mother lay on a makeshift bed of two wooden doors pushed together, looking at my baby brother in his swaddling clothes and laughing. “At least I don’t have to get pregnant ever again.” My grandmother held my brother, beaming from ear to ear. “Another son! Now when our little Precious grows up, he’ll have brothers to back him up.” “Precious” was the name they picked out while I was still in the womb. Now, they finally got to use it. Overjoyed at finally having a grandson, my grandmother carried him all around the village to show him off. After showing him off, she dumped him back with my mother. She had bullied my parents into having a son, but she refused to help raise him. With my father out of work, money was incredibly tight. During my mother’s postpartum recovery, my father snuck into my grandmother’s chicken coop to steal two eggs for her to eat. My grandmother chased him around the yard, screaming at him all day. “You think she’s some delicate princess?! When I had you, I was back in the fields working three days later! I lived on watery porridge every day, and I turned out just fine…” My father sheepishly put the eggs back. My mother cried as she nursed my brother. I walked over to wipe her tears, but she just stared at me blankly and muttered, “If only you had been a boy. I wouldn’t have had to suffer through this.” The next day, I went to the barber shop at the edge of the village and had my long hair shaved into a buzz cut. I ran home happily and told my mother, “Look, I’m a boy now.” My mother and grandmother took turns screaming at me. “Your hair was so long! I could have sold it for twenty bucks! Are you stupid?!” “Even if you shave your head bald, you’ll never be a boy.” After cursing me out, my grandmother stormed off to the barber shop to demand the hair I had cut off. After a loud argument with the barber, half the village knew what happened. The kids my age mocked me: “Not a boy, not a girl. Maya Miller is a little freak.” After the New Year, my brother turned six months old. My parents decided to move to California for work, leaving me behind with my grandmother. Right before they left, my mother held my hand, looking guilty. “I can’t let your dad go out there alone, I’d worry. And your brother is too young; I don’t trust your grandmother to take care of him.” “You be a good girl at home. When I come back, I’ll buy you candy.” 2 I cried and begged her to let me come, promising I would never eat candy again if she just didn’t leave me alone with my cruel, vicious grandmother. She grew impatient, frowning deeply as she shook off my hand. “Why are you being so disobedient!” “There’s no time, I have to go.” I ran after the old, beat-up Greyhound bus for as long as I could. In the thick cloud of dust kicked up by the tires, I lost sight of my parents. There were a lot of “left-behind” kids in our village whose parents worked out of state. But I was probably the most miserable one. I took over all the household chores. Cooking, washing clothes, feeding the pigs and chickens, cutting grass for fodder… I even had to wash my grandmother’s underwear. I walked on eggshells, terrified of provoking her. But if she lost at bingo with the neighbor ladies, she’d still take it out on me. She poured scalding hot water from the kettle over my head. She stripped me naked, shoved me out into the yard, and beat me viciously with a bamboo broom. On freezing winter days, she made me wash her feet with ice-cold water scooped straight from the outdoor rain barrel. … After she finished torturing me, she’d go back out to play bingo. I slept alone in that massive, drafty brick house. The night wind howled through the trees on the hill behind us, sounding like a low moan. I wrapped myself tightly in two heavy quilts. Curled up into a tiny ball. Fighting against the pain, the loneliness, and the fear. At first, my mother would call the neighbor’s landline every Saturday night around 7:00 PM. I would finish my dinner by 5:00 and go wait at Mrs. Davis’s house. I could never get out more than a few words before I started crying, asking when she was coming back. She always said, “Be sweet and work hard. Don’t make your grandmother angry.” Maybe she found me annoying. Gradually, the calls went from once a week to once every two weeks. When the weather turned cold, it became once a month. But she still promised that she’d come back for Christmas and buy me new clothes. She also promised to bring me the best candy from California. I counted the days and nights until Christmas Eve arrived. My mother finally called. My heart was bursting with hope. “Uncle Tommy and Uncle Dave already came back! When are you coming home, Mom?” “Maya, tickets were too expensive and sold out too fast. We couldn’t get any. We’ll come see you after the holidays.” The freezing winter wind outside seemed to travel through the phone line, drilling straight into my ear and freezing my heart. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I yelled, “You promised! You said you would…” My mother offered some half-hearted comfort. In the background, my brother started crying and fussing, slurring, “Milk, want milk…” I heard my mother’s voice instantly soften. “Be a good boy, sweetie, don’t cry. Mommy will buy it for you in a second.” I called out, “Mom…” She was already impatient. “If we can’t get tickets, we can’t go back! Your dad and I have no choice! Do you think we want to spend Christmas away from home? “Can’t you just grow up and be a little understanding! “Alright, your brother is hungry. I have to hang up.” Mom, I actually wanted to say: It’s okay if you don’t buy candy or clothes. You and Dad work so hard. But. You didn’t care at all. After Christmas, when tickets were easy to get, they still didn’t come back. Since the holidays were over, coming back probably seemed pointless to them. I wasn’t a priority they kept in their hearts. My grandmother lost money at bingo every day during the holidays and cursed me for being a jinx. She hit me hard over the head with an iron spatula. The lump on my head took over ten days to go down. The swallows returned in the spring and built a nest under my window. While cutting grass for the pigs, I found an abandoned black puppy. I fed him scraps and leftovers, and he slept faithfully by my bed every night. In the mornings, he would wag his tail and walk me to the school bus stop. After school, he’d be waiting for me exactly on time at the edge of the village. My life was full of sadness and misery, but there were also these small, fragmented moments of warmth and discovery. But. I no longer looked forward to sharing them with my mother. Two more years passed. They finally managed to get tickets home. Everyone in the village asked me. “Your mom, dad, and little brother are coming back! You must be so happy, right?” 3 No. Perhaps my hopes and joy had been ground down to dust a long time ago. A few days before Christmas, my parents arrived lugging huge bags and suitcases. She bought me a bag of candy. I had just opened it and taken one piece when my brother ran over and tried to snatch the bag. I gripped it tightly and refused to let go. My mother said, “You’re the older sister. Let your brother have it.” “He won’t even eat yours; he’s sick of candy anyway.” Sure enough, after he snatched it, he ate one piece and threw the rest on the floor. The reward I had waited years for was just garbage to my brother; something he wouldn’t even look twice at. I also saw a photo album in my mother’s suitcase. I thought it was a book she had bought for me. When I opened the cover, inside was a photo of my parents and my brother, smiling happily and leaning against each other. Oh. It was a family portrait. A family portrait without me. My mother bought me a red winter coat and couldn’t wait for me to try it on. It was huge. The hem went down to my ankles, and the sleeves hung past my hands like a costume. My mother looked a little embarrassed. “Mary’s daughter is eight too, and it fits her perfectly. Why haven’t you grown at all?” My grandmother happily tried on her own new clothes and shot me a dirty look. “It’s good to buy kids’ clothes big. They can wear them for a few more years.” On New Year’s Eve, wearing my new coat with the sleeves rolled all the way up my arms, I tripped over the raised threshold. I busted my lip open, bleeding everywhere. My grandmother immediately started screaming: “Are you blind?! Tripping and bleeding on New Year’s Eve is terrible luck! Are you hoping I die early?!” My brother jumped up and down, laughing hysterically. “You’re so stupid…” He stepped over the threshold, squatted in front of me, pointed at the blood on my face, and kept laughing. “Stupid, stupid…” My mother looked at him affectionately. “No one even taught you that. Where did you learn to curse at people?” My dog, Shadow, had been sleeping quietly in the corner. Suddenly, he charged out, baring his teeth and barking furiously at my brother. My brother was terrified. He jerked backward, hitting the back of his head hard on the wooden threshold. He started bawling, snot and tears running down his face. My parents panicked, rushing over to comfort him, calling him their precious baby. My brother pointed at Shadow, crying hysterically. “Kill it! Kill it!” Terrified, I quickly locked Shadow in the woodshed. He didn’t understand what he had done wrong and kept barking confusedly. A few days later, several uncles and cousins came over to drink with my dad. Shadow smelled strangers and started barking again. My brother got scared and hid in my mother’s arms, crying. My dad pointed at the woodshed and laughed. “That dog is too annoying. Let’s catch it and make dog stew today!” 4 The men laughed and started walking toward the woodshed. The blood rushed straight to my head. Where the cowardly me found the courage, I don’t know, but I flew out of the house and pressed my back tightly against the woodshed door. “Dad, please don’t kill Shadow.” “Please don’t kill him!” Shadow sensed my panic and barked louder: “Woof! Woof! Woof!” My dad got impatient. “Move out of the way. Stop being annoying.” “Dog stew is the best thing to eat in the winter. I’ll save you a leg later!” He reached out to shove me aside. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably as I screamed at my dad: “For the last few years, you bought my brother milk, candy, and clothes, and took him to take family portraits. “But you left me alone at home. Shadow is the only one who kept me company.” I grabbed an axe resting nearby and shoved it into my dad’s hands. “You might as well kill me too! You and Mom don’t want me anyway!” The uncles looked awkward. “Forget it, forget it…” My dad’s face turned beet red. He raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about? Who doesn’t want you?” “If it weren’t for you and your brother, do you think your mother and I would willingly go so far away to work?!” Hearing the commotion, my mother came over to break it up. My grandmother spat out sunflower seed shells. “This daughter of yours has a terrible temper. If I hadn’t beaten it out of her normally, she’d think she owns the place…” She rambled on and on. My dad looked at me with pure disgust. My mother also muttered, “It’s just a dog. It scares your brother every day. Why are you defending it so hard…” The winter wind cut to the bone. No one supported me. No one cared about me. I pressed my back tightly against the woodshed door. I felt a furry paw reaching through the crack in the wood, pawing at my palm. It was Shadow. Through the old wooden door, he let out a low whimper. I held his paw, feeling like I was holding the only warmth left in the world. Shadow survived for the time being. But in my parents’ eyes, I became the disobedient child. My mother scolded me. “Is a dog’s life really more important than your brother’s? How can you be so cold-blooded?” My dad was disgusted. “No one to discipline you every day, you’ve gone wild.” … But why did I have no one to discipline me? I thought Shadow was safe. But a month later, on the day of the Lantern Festival, I went to the village square to watch the parade. When I came back, I saw the local dog catcher dragging Shadow away on a three-wheeled cart. His legs and paws were bound, and he howled in despair. I chased the cart for as long as I could. But eventually, his cries were drowned out by the deafening sound of drums and firecrackers. I went home crying, screaming, and demanding answers. My dad said lightly, “It’s just a dog. Next time we’ll get you a more obedient one!” My grandmother rolled her eyes. “Should have killed it a long time ago. It was so annoying. Good thing we still got twenty bucks for it. At least we didn’t lose money.” It was in that exact moment. I finally woke up. They didn’t love me. No matter how docile and obedient I was, no matter how well I did. They would never love me the way they loved my brother. So… Why was I still hoping? Why was I still trying to please them? The next day, my parents took my brother back to California. They wanted him to attend an expensive private preschool there. Before they left, my mother gave me money for school fees and living expenses. She counted out fifty dollars, thought for a second, then pulled a ten-dollar bill back and handed me the rest. “Your dad and I work hard for this money. You need to be careful how you spend it…” As soon as they left, my grandmother showed her true colors. Over the slightest disagreement, she grabbed the fire tongs to hit me. 5 This time, I didn’t just stand there and take it. I fought back, wrestling her to the ground. I grabbed the fire tongs and, imitating what I’d seen on TV, pressed them hard against her neck. I glared at her fiercely: “I will never let you bully me again. “I’m going to keep growing, and you’re only going to get older. “If you hit me once, I’ll hit you three times. If you strip my clothes off, I’ll tear yours off too! “When you’re old and bedridden, I’ll feed you shit and piss!” … The old hag was terrified. She let out a wail and started crying. She went around the entire village broadcasting my evil deeds. The older women and grandmothers lectured me from their high horses: “She’s your grandmother. Being this disrespectful will bring down the wrath of God.” I remained expressionless. “Well, I haven’t been struck by lightning yet. Doesn’t that mean God thinks I’m right?” They were speechless. That summer, there was a huge celebration in the village. Mr. Smith’s daughter, Dawn, got into a very prestigious university. She had a younger brother, and her father favored him, refusing to pay for her education. She had fought tooth and nail just to be allowed to go to high school. The day her acceptance letter arrived, Mr. Smith paraded around the village showing it off. Us kids went to see the commotion too. I touched the gold-foiled envelope. The university buildings printed on it looked ancient and grand, making my heart yearn for it. I asked foolishly, “If you go to college, does that mean you’ll make lots and lots of money?” Dawn patted my head. “Not necessarily, but if you go to college, you won’t have to be like a lot of girls in the village, getting married and having kids super early.” She crouched down and looked gently into my eyes. “Maya, you’re only in fourth grade. If you start working hard now, it’s not too late.” She planted a seed of hope in my heart. I stopped zoning out in class and started listening attentively. After school, I stopped running around playing and started reading properly. The old hag laughed at me. “With your pig brain, you think reading is gonna make you bloom into a flower? Once you finish middle school, hurry up and go find a job in a factory. “Getting married early and collecting a dowry is the only proper path. A girl reading too many books is just a waste of money for her future in-laws!” … I snapped back at her. “The more books I read and words I know, the better I’ll be able to personally carve your name onto your tombstone when you die.” The old hag almost had a heart attack. Back then, for kids in the village, studying mostly relied on natural talent. Not many worked as hard on their own initiative as I did. Most just drifted along, graduating in a daze. When I took the middle school entrance exam, I ranked first in my class. By that time, the population was already migrating toward bigger cities. The middle school in our township had been merged with the one in the larger town. Because it was far, boarding was mandatory. While other kids cried about it, I couldn’t have been happier. The old hag cursed and swore, saying I shouldn’t go at all, that I should just go work and earn money now. 6 She got chewed out by the town mayor. “The state requires nine years of compulsory education. If you stop her from going to school, you could go to jail. Do you want to go to jail?” The old hag instantly caved. My parents didn’t care about my grades; they barely ever asked. But they specifically paid to get my brother into a good elementary school in California. They had to pull strings and pay bribes to get him in. “Precious is so smart, we have to nurture his potential!” I entered middle school with excellent grades, thinking I could really show what I was capable of. But the midterm exams in seventh grade dealt me a heavy blow. I only ranked fifteenth in my class, and over a hundredth in the grade. It was from that moment on. I realized that studying really did involve a degree of natural talent. My desk-mate slept through class every day and played basketball after school. But no matter what math problem he looked at, he only needed to see it once to grasp the underlying concept. I needed to recite an ancient poem fifty or a hundred times to memorize it, while he could basically repeat it after reading it three times. For a kid with no money, focusing on studying was exceptionally difficult. My mother gave me very little for living expenses. She was even more unwilling to spend money on study guides or prep books. I could only save money by cutting back on my meals. I bought fifty-cent packets of pickled vegetables and three one-dollar steamed buns from the cafeteria. A dollar fifty was enough to survive a whole day. Sometimes at night, I was so hungry I just guzzled tap water. Water was free. I bought a pair of fake designer shoes at the flea market for ten dollars and wore them every single day. When the soles cracked, I bought superglue to stick them back together. I glued them repeatedly until one day, during gym class, the entire sole completely fell off. My toes and the holes in my socks were exposed to the air. I finally had to throw those shoes away. I was already going through puberty. But my mother refused to buy me a bra. “Little girls wearing grown-up clothes, looking like sluts.” So I could only sew and re-sew cheap, two-for-five-dollar camisoles, making them tight enough to bind my chest so nothing would bounce when I moved. Compared to the embarrassment in my daily life, the struggle with my studies made me even more desperate. Maybe I just wasn’t born to be a scholar. I just couldn’t grasp concepts quickly like other people. I couldn’t memorize a text after reading it seven or eight times. Even though I never slacked off for a second, my grades were stagnant. I frequently dreamed I was in an exam hall. Unable to solve the problems. And then I would wake up, drenched in sweat. By the time I reached eighth grade, some classmates were already coming back to the village pregnant. The outside world was too big, and the temptations too many. They had never been deeply loved by their parents, so when they suddenly stepped out into society, they were easily seduced by a few sweet words from boys. They had kids and got married in a haze. Living out their lives in a daze. I was so terrified. So afraid that I would turn out like that too. I went to my homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison. I shamefully admitted my struggles, unable to lift my head. But he didn’t scold me. He just asked, “Do you have any extra money for living expenses?” I waved my hands frantically. “I still have twenty dollars. It’s enough for next month.” Mr. Harrison’s hand paused, his gaze turning serious. “You only spent twenty dollars last month? Less than a dollar a day?” “So you’ve never eaten meat? Never been full? Never had a snack? Never bought any clothes or shoes?” “It… it doesn’t matter. I’ve lived like this for three years.” “Of course it matters!” Mr. Harrison’s voice rose. “You’re growing. Studying burns a massive amount of calories. If you don’t have enough nutrition, your brain can’t keep up. “Saving this tiny bit of money now is destroying your future. “Starting next month, you must have meat for at least one meal a day. You have to eat an egg and drink a glass of milk every day. “And you need to buy the clothes you need to buy.” He gently patted my back, lowering his voice: “Like bras. If you don’t take care of it now, you won’t be able to fix it later in life. “Don’t feel guilty about spending money now. Because this is an investment in your future. “You deserve it, and you should spend it.” After winter break, I went back to school. I went to buy milk. After comparing prices, I ended up buying powdered milk. It was cheaper than cartons. Every morning, I ate a meat bun and a hard-boiled egg. Sometimes I had soy milk. For lunch and dinner, I had one meat dish and one vegetable dish. Before bed, I drank a glass of milk. Every weekend, I went to the bakery to buy the leftover crusts—they were very cheap—so I could fill my stomach if I got hungry between meals. My body was no longer in a constant state of starvation like before. About half a month later, I felt my mental energy was much better. I was originally one of the shortest kids in the class. Barely five feet tall. But during that time, I felt like bamboo, shooting up section by section. My pants were visibly getting shorter. Perhaps because my nutrition was keeping up, my mind was also clearer than before. Wearing clothes that fit properly, I no longer had to hunch over and slouch like I used to. I gathered my courage and started asking teachers and classmates how to solve problems. I tried my hardest to find patterns between different types of questions. I stopped sacrificing sleep to study. I told myself not to be anxious. You can’t become a genius overnight. By the final exams of my sophomore year, I ranked six hundredth in the grade. There were over eight hundred students in our grade. Even though it was still a below-average score, at least it wasn’t at the very bottom. I was pretty happy. But when my brother found out, he scoffed. “Six hundredth? That’s garbage! “Is your brain full of shit?” My parents also frowned. “You’re really not cut out for studying. Maybe you should just quit.”

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When my biological parents finally tracked me down, I had already joined the neighborhood aunties’ line-dancing squad at the local community center. They stared at me—dressed in a bedazzled, loud floral knit set—with expressions of pure, unadulterated disgust. 01 “Are you… Maya? This outfit…” The well-dressed woman before me hesitated, her gaze raking over my “Blooming Florals” knit tracksuit. Ignoring the flicker of disdain in her eyes, I dropped the heavy bag of rice and the gallon of cooking oil I was lugging on my shoulder. I pulled a scratched thermos from my shopping bag. I took a slow sip of tea before looking at the group. “So, you’re the biological parents?” Mr. Sterling frowned but eventually nodded. “We are.” “And who’s she?” I looked at the fragile-looking girl standing behind them. Her eyes welled up instantly. The two men flanking her—one older, one younger—immediately stepped in front of her like human shields. “Don’t you dare bully Serena,” the younger one snapped, his impulsiveness getting the better of him. I looked at her face. We shared about sixty percent of the same features. Then I looked at the way the Sterling family reacted to his outburst. This family was going to be interesting. I leaned back against my dilapidated sofa and watched them like a spectator at a play. Perhaps realizing his tone was inappropriate, the older brother explained, “We know you’ve suffered these past years, but none of this was Serena’s fault. She’s innocent…” Before he could finish, the door to my cramped apartment was shoved open. A mob of neighborhood aunties, all wearing the same bedazzled floral tracksuits as me, swarmed my biological parents. They started shouting over one another, airing my grievances: “So you’re Maya’s real parents?” “What took you so long? Do you have any idea what this girl has been through?” “Let me tell you, that foster mother of hers was a monster! You see those heavy wooden laundry rollers? That woman would beat her with them for no reason!” “Exactly! Half the time she wasn’t even allowed to eat. In the dead of winter, that woman purposely shredded Maya’s school jacket and made her go to class in a torn T-shirt! During her SATs, she locked her in a room so she couldn’t take the test!” “We always knew no real mother could be that cruel. Turns out she wasn’t the real one!” “You better have that woman arrested. And that fake daughter of yours? You better check her, too. I bet she knew her mother swapped the babies on purpose…” “Wait, who’s crying?” Auntie Sarah, the leader of the squad, froze. The group of women looked around for the source of the sobbing, finally landing on the girl in white. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” the girl sobbed, her shoulders shaking. “I didn’t mean to steal your life. I…” “And who might this be?” Auntie Sarah narrowed her eyes, making a ‘shushing’ gesture to the group. I nodded. “That’s Martha’s biological daughter. Serena Sterling.” 02 “Maya, Martha is Martha. What she did has nothing to do with Serena.” My “big brother,” Marcus Sterling, spoke up. The rest of the family nodded in agreement. But these were the South Side Line-Dancing Aunties. They had seen every trick in the book. A few looks exchanged between them, and they had the whole situation pegged. Before the Sterlings could say another word, Auntie Bev—who hadn’t even pampered her own son this much—cut them off. “Oh, please. Give me a break.” “Whether she’s ‘innocent’ is one thing, but her crying like this? What is Maya supposed to do? Comfort the girl who’s been living her life?” Bev reached out and yanked up my sleeve, exposing the jagged scars on the back of my hand. “Look at this. Her ‘mother’ did this with a red-hot set of fireplace tongs.” “Then look at this girl. Dressed in designer labels, skin as soft as silk.” “And you want Maya to apologize to her? To comfort her? Does that sound right to you?” Bev turned her glare toward Serena. “Listen, kid. Maybe you can’t be blamed for what your mother did, but Maya lived through hell for eighteen years because of it! Have some decency. Stop the crocodile tears. You’re just stabbing Maya in the heart.” With that, Bev wiped a stray tear with her sleeve and pulled me into a hug. “My poor, silly girl. You always keep everything inside. No one loved you before, but now that your real parents are here, surely they won’t be biased against you, right? These are your parents. If you’ve been wronged, you speak up!” “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, am I right?” The squad’s eyes were all locked on the Sterling parents. They smiled awkwardly. “Yes. Of course. Maya, tell us if anything is bothering you.” Serena, choked into silence by Bev’s bluntness, could only stare at the family with wide, red eyes, biting her lip. 03 Before I got into the Sterlings’ car, Bev shoved a shopping bag into my arms. She said it was the new “team uniform.” Inside was a high-end, trendy athletic set. I knew the aunties were worried I’d have nothing “classy” to wear at the Sterling estate, so they had pooled their money to buy it for me. I whispered a thank you and handed over the discounted eggs I’d fought for at the supermarket earlier. I locked up my new oil and rice. Marcus reminded me I didn’t need to lock them up—I wasn’t coming back. I tilted my head, glanced at the parents and the younger brother who were currently whispering comforts to Serena, and smiled at Marcus without saying a word. Marcus looked back, unable to help himself. “Maya, Serena didn’t do it on purpose. She feels truly guilty. She’s cried about this multiple times at home…” “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” I brushed him off, clutched my new clothes and my backpack, and slid into the car. During the drive, I looked at my phone. The family looked at me. Auntie Sarah sent $500 to the group chat: [A little something from the squad. Don’t you dare refuse it!] Bev messaged me privately: [Maya, if it’s not comfortable over there, just come home.] The others echoed her. We lived in a rough neighborhood. Most of these women were retired on tiny pensions. Bev and Mrs. Higgins still worked stalls at the flea market to make ends meet. Every cent they had spent on me over the years was money they had saved by skipping meals. They were sending me this money now because they saw my “real” parents were biased. They were terrified I’d be mistreated in that mansion. “Maya, that outfit…” Eleanor Sterling, my mother, looked at my bedazzled tracksuit with a furrowed brow. She finally couldn’t help herself. “From now on, you are a Sterling. Your clothes and behavior must be appropriate.” “And at your age, you should be making friends your own age. Expand your horizons, socialize. Don’t spend all your time with… those community center ladies.” “Serena can help you with that. It’ll be a good way for you two to bond.” Eleanor spoke with such “sincerity” that Serena immediately played along. She reached for my hand, her intimacy making my skin crawl. “Mom’s right. I’ll teach you everything, Maya.” “Sister, when we get home, I’ll pick out some things from my closet for you. As for what you’re wearing… we’ll just have the maid throw it out.” “Exactly,” said Leo, the younger brother. “I don’t even know what that trashy set is. It’s hideous. If you keep dressing like that, don’t tell people you’re a Sterling. It’s embarrassing.” I paused my typing—I was in the middle of thanking my dear aunties—and looked at them with a bright smile. “Do you know why I always wear these ‘auntie’ clothes?” 04 “Because her mother—Martha—shredded every piece of clothing I owned to keep me from going to school. Not just that, but when the neighbors felt bad and gave me hand-me-downs, she burned them or cut them up.” “Eventually, those ‘trashy’ ladies you look down on found a way. They recruited me to help with their dance squad. They told Martha that the clothes I wore were team property—the squad’s assets. They told her if she destroyed them, she’d have to pay the community center back. That was the only way I was allowed to leave the house looking like a human being.” “By the way, Serena, do you know why your mother didn’t want me going to school?” I stared directly into Serena’s eyes. “It was because of that regional academic competition in eighth grade. She realized we were assigned to the same testing center. She realized that if I kept going, someone might eventually see us together and notice the resemblance.” “Oh, and one more thing. The aunties were too polite to say it earlier. Do you know what Martha did on the day of the SATs? She locked me in my room.” “She let a local creep into the house. She told me she’d sold me to him for three hundred dollars so he could ‘make me his wife’…” “Stop! Stop talking!” Eleanor went pale, clutching her chest as if she couldn’t breathe. The rest of the Sterling men looked sick, unable to meet my eyes. “Heh.” I let out a sharp laugh, ignoring their discomfort. “So, you should actually be thanking those aunties. If they hadn’t broken down the door, dragged me out, and personally driven me to the exam site, I’d either be dead or I’d be the mother of three kids in some shack in the woods by now.” The car went deathly silent. I curled my lips into a smirk, leaned back against the leather seat, and closed my eyes to rest. Maybe my little story was too much for them. As soon as we reached the Sterling estate, the parents made excuses about work and fled the scene. Serena and Leo also couldn’t handle my gaze and scurried upstairs. Only Marcus remained to lead me to my room—a converted guest bedroom on the first floor. I watched Serena and Leo run up to the second floor, then looked at Marcus and smiled. Marcus looked awkward. “This is just temporary. I’ll have the contractors renovate the spare room on the second floor. You can move up there once it’s done.” I just kept smiling. His face darkened. “Maya, we know you’ve been through a lot, but that’s in the past. Mom, Dad, and I are going to make it up to you. There’s no need to cling to the past and make everyone uncomfortable.” “Is it uncomfortable?” I asked, walking around the room. “Didn’t you see Mom and Dad’s faces?” His tone was accusatory. “And Serena. How do you think she feels, hearing those things while trying to live in this house…” I saw a heavy, long decorative brass statue on the nightstand. My eyes lit up. I grabbed it and swung it with everything I had, slamming it into Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus grunted in pain, clutching his arm and glaring at me. “Are you insane?!” I weighed the statue in my hand and grinned. “Does it hurt?” “What do you think?!” He looked at me like I was a maniac. “Maya, apologize to me right now!” “But that hit happened in the past,” I said, mimicking his tone perfectly. “And compared to what I’ve endured over the years, that little tap was nothing. Why are you clinging to what just happened? Why are you trying to make me feel uncomfortable, Brother?” Marcus choked on his words. I just waved him away and slammed the door. “Bye-bye, Brother.” 05 At dinner, perhaps out of a sense of guilt, my mother specifically asked what I liked and had the cook prepare a feast. When she saw me eating without a fuss, the tension on her face eased slightly. “Maya, you’re a Sterling now. Tomorrow, I’ll have my lawyer take you to change your legal name,” my father said. I looked around the table, my gaze lingering for a second on Serena’s puffy eyelids. “And what about her? Is she changing her name back to Miller?” The parents froze. Serena’s expression faltered. She bit her lip. “If Maya really dislikes me that much, I can move out.” She looked at my parents with eyes full of tears. “Maya, don’t be a bitch!” Leo shouted, jumping to his feet. “I just asked if she was changing her name to her biological mother’s name,” I said, glancing at Leo with indifference. Hearing that I didn’t explicitly demand she move out, the parents visibly relaxed. I couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. “But since she brought it up.” “Let’s go with her plan. Have her move out. She’s right—I really don’t like her.” “Maya!” Leo glared at me. “How can you be so vicious? Serena even offered to give you her bedroom! She’s doing everything to accommodate you, and you just keep attacking her!” “It’s okay, Leo. I know she hates me. I should give everything back to her anyway,” Serena sobbed quietly. “Maya…” Eleanor looked at me, torn. I didn’t say a word. I simply pulled a photo from my pocket—one I’d prepared long ago—and tossed it onto the table. The family stared at the face in the photo, then instinctively looked at Serena. Serena looked exactly like her biological mother, Martha. “Now do you understand why I don’t like her?” I rolled up my sleeves, resting my chin on my hands, exposing the criss-crossing scars on my forearms for the whole table to see. My parents had seen the scars on my hands, but they hadn’t seen the rest. I turned my arm over, showing them the words Martha had carved into my skin with a knife: BITCH DOG. The Sterlings finally went silent. 06 I happily helped myself to two large pieces of steak. Serena, stuck in limbo, looked at the Sterlings for help. Marcus finally let out a sigh, attempting to “reason” with me. “Maya, we know it’s been hard. But Serena grew up with us. She’s family. We aren’t going to just throw her out. We hope you won’t take your anger toward… that woman out on her. You need to learn to get along.” I put my fork down. I didn’t address Marcus. I looked at Serena with a mocking smile. “What about you? Do you want to get along with me?” Serena blinked, immediately putting on her tragic, misunderstood mask. “Sister, even though I know you hate me, I’ve wanted to be your friend from the very beginning.” “So, you never actually intended to leave the Sterlings, did you?” I said. “In that case, why do you keep offering to move out? Just to make me look like the villain?” Panic flashed in Serena’s eyes. “I didn’t… that’s not…” I didn’t stay for the rest of her performance. I stood up and said, “I’m done,” and started walking toward the stairs. Leo realized what I was doing and blocked me. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Serena offered me her room, didn’t she? I’m accepting the offer.” I narrowed my eyes, giving them a pleasant, terrifying smile. “That wasn’t a lie, was it? You weren’t just saying that to mock me because I was put in the guest room, were you?” Serena stammered, “No… no, I really wanted to give it to you, it’s just…” “Good.” I looked at the housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable, please move Serena’s things to the guest room immediately. If I have to do it myself and things go missing, I won’t be held responsible.” Mrs. Gable looked at my parents, unsure. “What? Serena agreed to it. Does anyone have an objection? Or do you think I don’t deserve it?” I asked. “No, Maya. Don’t overthink it,” my father told Mrs. Gable. “Do as she says.” “Dad…” Serena looked at him, her world crumbling. My father guiltily looked away. He told Marcus to speed up the renovations on the other upstairs room. They hadn’t been in a rush to renovate a room for me before I got back. Now that Serena was displaced, they were frantic. How poetic. But even more poetic was the flash of pure venom in Serena’s eyes. She was finally losing her cool. Good. That looked much more like the girl who had “accidentally” dialed the wrong number and vented to a “stranger” (Martha), subtly hinting that Martha needed to keep me away from my real family. 07 I first found out about the swap on the day Martha’s nephew got into a decent college. Martha had gotten blackout drunk. She spent the whole night laughing and bragging. She talked about how her parents had always favored her brother. To pay for his house, they had sold her to an old cripple for thirty thousand dollars. After the cripple died, they stole her insurance payout to give to their grandson. “But look at me now. Their precious grandson worked himself to death and only got into a state school. My daughter? She’s a princess. She’ll always be a princess.” “As long as this jinx is out of the way! Yes, as long as you’re gone.” She had tried to find a stick to beat me with, but she was too drunk to stand. Usually, Martha was a quiet drunk. But that night, she kept rambling about how her “princess” was living the high life with my parents, and how her princess was cleverly guiding her to keep me far away from the Sterlings. The aunties from the community center heard everything. They took me to the police station immediately. Afraid of what Martha might do next, they pooled their money to buy me a burner phone. But by the time we got back from the station, Martha had vanished. … Serena’s things were moved out. I had to admit, she had a lot of stuff. Her clothes and jewelry alone filled two guest rooms. Compared to her, my single backpack and shopping bag looked pathetic. Eleanor Sterling stood in the middle of the empty, massive master suite, watching me hang my two outfits in a walk-in closet the size of a bedroom. The annoyance she’d felt over me “stealing” Serena’s room turned into sharp guilt. “Maya…” she began. I ignored her, putting on my cheap Bluetooth headphones and FaceTimeing the aunties to check in on their line-dancing progress. She stood there, hovering, before turning to leave. I turned my head. “Mom.” She looked at me, eyes instantly filling with tears. It was the first time I’d called her that. “Maya.” She rushed over and grabbed my hand. “Maya, I’m so sorry. I’ll make everything up to you. I promise you’ll never be hurt again.” For a second, my heart actually twinged. “If I told you Serena and Martha have been in contact this whole time, would you believe me?” I asked. The silence was deafening. The tears stayed in her eyes, but the emotion vanished. Just as I thought. From the first moment I saw how they looked at Serena, I knew. “Even if you don’t believe me, will you investigate it?” “Maya… that’s… that’s impossible,” she stammered. I smiled—the same flat, indifferent smile I always wore. “Fine. I get it.” I pushed her gently toward the door. “I need to rest, Mrs. Sterling.” I shut the door. And I shut the door to my heart, too. I pulled out my phone and messaged a contact: [Let’s do it.] If the Sterlings wouldn’t give me justice, I’d take it myself.

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Toby stared into his bourbon glass, his voice thick with a reverence I had rarely heard. “She’s worth it. Daphne is worth it.” His friend pressed him. “And what about Caitlin?” Silence hung in the air for a long, agonizing moment before Toby’s voice returned, noticeably colder. “Caitlin already has the world at her feet. But Daphne… Daphne only has me.” I was standing just outside the door when I heard it. There was a time, years ago, when I swore to myself that if the girl who had silently orchestrated my high school hell ever stepped foot into Hollywood, I would crush her. I would make sure she never booked a single commercial, let alone a film. But reality has a funny way of making a mockery of our vows. Somehow, she always managed to snatch roles right out from under me. They weren’t blockbuster leads, but they were the kind of prestige indie darlings that let her shine. The kind that built a reputation. It wasn’t until much later that I realized who was playing god behind the curtain. It was Toby. My husband was the one building Daphne’s pedestal, brick by agonizingly painful brick. … The after-party for the Academy Awards had barely wrapped up. Toby poured me a glass of Cabernet. “Congratulations, my love. Best Actress.” I slipped my silk shawl off my shoulders, tossing it carelessly over the back of an armchair. I raised my glass, letting the crystal clink sharply against his in the flickering candlelight. “And congratulations to you,” I said, my voice smooth as glass. “For using the scraps from my table to buy your untouchable muse a Best Newcomer award.” Toby froze. The proud smile on his face cracked, stiffening into something ugly. A heavy silence stretched between us until he finally let out a long, exhausted exhale. “So, you know.” “It’s not what you think,” he started, the practiced lie rolling off his tongue. “We were all high school classmates. She’s been having a rough time in the industry lately, and I just pulled a few strings. A minor favor. Don’t overthink it.” I stared at the face I had known for nearly twenty years. In the dim light, he looked like a stranger. “A minor favor that lands her a golden statuette? You must be quite the Hollywood heavyweight now, darling.” He rubbed his temples, a gesture of profound fatigue. His patience for my sarcasm was visibly wearing thin. “Caitlin, please. Can we not do this tonight? Can we not fight? I am so incredibly tired.” Of course he was tired. He had just rushed from the ceremony where he personally escorted Daphne—showering her with orchids and borrowed diamonds, playing the white knight to make her smile. After playing his part in her victory lap, he had raced back to my agency’s event, putting on a spectacular show as the devoted, doting husband for the paparazzi. And now, he was playing chef. Candlelight. Red wine. Filet mignon. The steak on my plate was practically bleeding. The candles cast dancing shadows across the sharp, handsome angles of his jaw. A year ago, I would have thrown my arms around his neck. I would have spun around the kitchen, giddy with the intoxicating high of winning the biggest award of my life. Tonight, all I felt was a rising tide of nausea. He was a fraud. I hadn’t actually planned on bringing this up tonight. It was my night, my victory, and I didn’t want the stench of his infidelity ruining it. But he had served himself up on a silver platter, and to bite my tongue now would just make me look like a fool. “Toby, let’s just end it. Let’s walk away before it gets uglier.” I reached into my clutch and pulled out the divorce papers I had meticulously prepared weeks ago. I slid them across the marble island. “Sign them.” Toby stared at the thick stack of legal documents. The exhaustion on his face finally fractured into genuine shock. “What is this? What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” I actually laughed. A dry, hollow sound. The thought of leaving him had been a parasite in my brain for years, slowly eating away at my sanity until I finally took the leap. And he thought this was a tantrum. He forced his features into a mask of patronizing calm. “Caitlin, stop it. Like I said, I’m exhausted.” “And whose fault is that? Did I ask you to run yourself ragged?” He flinched. A flicker of unease crossed his eyes. He genuinely thought his little disappearing act to pick up Daphne had gone unnoticed by the press. He had no idea that high-res photos of them looking intimately intertwined in the back of his Maybach had been sitting in my inbox for hours. Price tag: a cool million. Clearly wanting to drop the subject, he picked up his fork and knife. “Just eat your dinner.” Always this. Always the avoidance. Always retreating into cold silence when I was standing on the precipice of a breakdown. I grabbed the edge of the table and shoved. Plates shattered. The Cabernet splashed violently across his crisp white shirt, blooming like a bloodstain. Toby sprang up, his face livid. He lost his iron grip on his temper and roared, “Are you out of your mind?!” “Yes! Yes, I am crazy!” I screamed, the years of suppressed rage finally clawing its way out of my throat. “I lost my mind a long time ago, comparing myself to her, playing this twisted game! So let’s get a divorce. Do us both a favor. I’ll give you to her, and you give me my life back.” I was hysterical. My chest heaved. This was supposed to be the best day of my life. After years of bleeding for this industry, I had finally won the only award that truly mattered. My team had ordered a cake taller than I was. I had been drinking champagne straight from the bottle with my best friends, surrounded by directors and producers who finally saw me as a titan. And it all came crashing down the second Toby walked through the door. Toby scowled, his lip curling in disgust. He grabbed his ruined jacket and headed for the stairs. “You’re hysterical. I’m not talking to you when you’re like this. We’ll deal with your little meltdown tomorrow.” I slumped back, staring at his retreating figure. I stepped over the ruined steak, my heels crunching on broken glass, and picked up the divorce papers. Why was leaving the man who destroyed you always the hardest part? I collapsed onto the living room sofa. This massive, multi-million dollar mansion was as silent as a tomb. The graveyard of our marriage. I pulled out my phone and wired the million dollars to the account the paparazzi had provided. I had a reputation to protect. I couldn’t bear the thought of the internet dissecting my humiliation, mocking the oblivious A-lister whose husband was funding his high school crush. But this was the last time. The absolute last time I was cleaning up his messes. Every cent I had spent keeping their dirty secret out of the tabloids, I was going to bleed out of them. I tossed my phone aside. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Standing on my porch was Daphne. She wore no makeup, and God, she didn’t need it. The barefaced vulnerability only made her look more ethereally beautiful, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight, looking desperately fragile yet defiant. She was shivering in a thin, white silk slip dress. She tilted her chin up, looking down her nose at me like a proud swan. “Where is Toby?” I leaned against the doorframe and jerked my thumb toward the second floor. “Taking a shower.” “Can I help you?” Daphne’s face twisted in disgust. “Are you two animals? Is sex all you think about?” She scoffed. “Oh, right. You won an award today. What, is letting him use your body his way of rewarding you? You’re exactly the same as you were in high school, Caitlin. Pathetic. You can’t survive without a man validating you.” Looking at the raw, venomous jealousy burning in her eyes, I couldn’t help it. I smiled. “What’s the matter, Daphne? Jealous? Jealous that I have a thriving, record-breaking career and a husband waiting in my bed?” I tilted my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Does he only sleep with me and not you?” “Shut your mouth, you psycho! Don’t you dare ruin my reputation!” Daphne hissed, her face draining of color. “He and I are strictly professional. I didn’t want him back then, and I don’t want him now. Only a woman like you would treat a charity case from the gutter like he’s a prize.” I couldn’t argue with that. Back in high school, Daphne had made her disdain for Toby abundantly clear. “Get to the point. Why are you here?” Daphne practically threw a cell phone at my chest. I caught it clumsily. “He left his phone at my place. It’s been ringing off the hook, it’s driving me insane,” she snapped. “I couldn’t put it on silent, so I was forced to bring it here.” Of course she couldn’t put it on silent. It was a custom-made phone. Toby had a tech guy disable the silent switch entirely—just so he would never, ever miss a call from Daphne. I had asked him once why he needed a phone that couldn’t be muted. I was a notoriously light sleeper, and the late-night buzzing often triggered my insomnia. His excuse? He said he was terrified of me not being able to reach him in an emergency. It wasn’t until a year later that I learned the truth. Daphne had been tricked by a sleazy producer into going to a “private audition” that was actually a predatory hotel room setup. She had called Toby in a panic, but he hadn’t answered. Because that night was our wedding anniversary. For once, Toby had put his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ to focus on me. The next morning, Daphne had called him and screamed at him for abandoning her. The sheer terror of almost losing her had completely rewired him. He had the custom phone made the very next week. He even set her ringtone as a blaring emergency alert. I closed the door, gripping the phone and the divorce papers, and walked upstairs. Toby was just stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in fresh sweatpants. I walked right up to him and slammed the divorce papers against his chest. “Sign.” “Are you still doing this?” He was vigorously towel-drying his hair, clearly treating me like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I slammed the papers against the bathroom mirror. I hit it with so much force that a spiderweb of cracks splintered outward from beneath my palm. “I am not stopping until you sign.” Toby narrowed his eyes, truly looking at me for the first time all night. He was calculating, trying to read if I was bluffing. “Caitlin, is this really all over an award?” “Yes. It’s over an award.” He chuckled, a condescending sound of relief. “You’re jealous.” He said it with absolute certainty. I laughed back, matching his tone. “You really think you’re something special, don’t you? Jealous of you? You’re not worth the energy.” I stepped closer, dropping my voice to a lethal whisper. “You are going to sign this right now, and we are going to walk away clean. Because if you don’t, I cannot promise what I’ll do. But I will tell you this: I am the biggest actress in this town right now. Crushing a D-list nobody who survives on my leftovers would be as easy as stepping on an ant. Do we understand each other?” At the mention of Daphne, the arrogant smirk melted off his face. “Don’t you dare touch her. She has nothing to do with this.” “Then sign the damn papers.” “Caitlin.” He ground out my name, his eyes dark with warning. I casually raised my hand, dangling the custom phone in front of his face. “Oh, by the way. Daphne dropped by. She said you left this at her place.” I gave him a mock-sympathetic pout. “You really are a busy man, Toby.” Panic—raw and unadulterated—seized him. He bolted for the stairs. “Where is she?!” “Gone.” I said it lightly, but he reacted like a bomb had gone off. He frantically grabbed the phone, dialing her number over and over. Straight to voicemail. His breathing turned ragged. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me violently. “How long ago did she leave? Was she alone? How the hell could you let her walk away in the middle of the night? It’s pitch black outside!” He shoved past me, frantically pulling a sweater over his head. I casually dragged a vanity chair over and sat right in the doorway, blocking his exit. “Caitlin, move!” “Sign.” He looked at me like I was a monster. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea what time it is? We live in the hills! The roads are completely unlit. What if something happens to her?!” “I don’t care. Let her get eaten by coyotes for all I care.” I examined my manicure. “Oh, and you’ll be thrilled to know she was wearing a very sheer, very white slip dress. Looked absolutely tragic and breathtaking. I can see why you’ve spent ten years obsessed with her. Did you buy it for her?” Toby’s fists clenched at his sides. The edges of his eyes rimmed with angry red. “You know what, Caitlin? This right here,” he spat, pointing a shaking finger at me. “This cold-blooded, heartless bitch routine. It’s what I hate most about you.” I smiled, though it felt like swallowing glass. If I were truly cold-blooded, I never would have saved him. Toby grew up next door to me. He was the golden boy—wealthy family, stunningly handsome, straight A’s. The textbook definition of perfection. Our families were casual acquaintances, mostly business rivals. We hated each other. From elementary school through junior high, we existed in a state of cold war, ignoring each other even when we were assigned seats at the same desk. Everything shattered the summer we were fourteen. His parents were driving him up the coast. A drunk driver crossed the median. His father died on impact. His mother, shielding Toby with her own body, bled out before the ambulance arrived. Toby walked away with broken ribs and a shattered collarbone, but he lived. After the funeral, the vultures descended. Aunts, uncles, cousins he had never met swarmed the estate, circling the massive inheritance. They dragged a traumatized, grieving fourteen-year-old into back rooms, screaming over trusts and assets. It was my father who finally had his security team throw them all out. I remember walking into his empty, echoing living room. I asked him, “Do you want to come home with me?” Toby just looked at me with hollow, dead eyes. And then, he nodded. My parents were deeply against it at first. Taking in a rival’s teenage son was complicated, legally and socially. But I went on a hunger strike. I refused to eat until I collapsed and was hospitalized with an IV in my arm. My parents finally caved. Toby moved into the guest wing. He became my shadow. I pitied him. I fiercely protected him from anyone who dared whisper about him at school. But boys grow up fast. Somewhere along the line, his shoulders broadened. He shot up past six feet. He didn’t need me to fight his battles anymore. Instead of me walking him to school, he started driving me in his restored vintage Mustang. A subtle, electric shift started happening between us. And then, one day, he packed his bags and moved back into his empty mansion. No warning. No explanation. Whenever he looked at me after that, there was a new guard in his eyes. A profound wariness. I wasn’t heartbroken then. I just assumed the universe was righting itself. We were back to being strangers. Back in the present, Toby’s face was flushed dark crimson with rage. He snatched a pen off my vanity, viciously scrawled his name on the divorce papers, and threw them directly at my face. I didn’t flinch. I just let out a long, shuddering breath, stood up, and moved out of the doorway. The next morning, the sun barely up, I had the locks changed. I hired a premium moving company to come in and strip the house of everything that had his touch. Every piece of furniture we picked out together, every rug, every painting. Thrown out. By noon, the massive house was a cavernous, echoing shell. The only thing left was the cat. We had adopted Bandit together. He was a temperamental, standoffish rescue who adored Toby but hissed and swatted at me if I even breathed too loudly near him. When Toby finally came back, Bandit sensed him before I did. The cat trotted to the front door, meowing frantically. Outside, the electronic keypad beeped loudly. Passcode denied. Fingerprint unrecognized. The beeping turned into aggressive, violent pounding on the heavy oak door. Bandit, terrified by the noise, scattered. When I finally swung the door open, Toby practically fell inside. He stumbled past me, ready to yell, and then froze. “Where is everything?” His voice dropped to a stunned whisper. “Where is our stuff?” His expression morphed from blank shock to boiling fury. I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “Dumped.” “Dumped? What the hell gives you the right to throw my things away?” “Because I paid for every single piece of it. That’s what gives me the right.” Toby choked on his words, running his hands frantically through his hair. “What is wrong with you?! What are you trying to prove?!” Before I could answer, a slender figure slipped through the open door, shivering in an oversized men’s blazer. Daphne. She immediately crouched down, her face lighting up. “Oh my god, kitty!” I fully expected Bandit to bolt—he hated strangers. But to my absolute shock, the cat practically purred, rubbing his head aggressively against Daphne’s calves before rolling onto his back, exposing his belly like a desperate sycophant. Daphne looked up at Toby, a rare, genuine smile softening her features. “You actually kept him? Why didn’t you tell me? I was worried sick about him back then.” The sheer aggression in Toby’s posture melted instantly. He looked down at Daphne, his eyes impossibly soft. He opened his mouth to reply, then caught me staring. He shut his mouth, suddenly looking incredibly trapped. “Go ahead,” I prodded, my voice dripping with venom. “Tell her. Tell her how you literally begged me on your knees to adopt this stray.” I turned my gaze to Daphne. “So, this is a little piece of your shared history, huh? God, I am so incredibly stupid. No wonder this feral little beast never let me touch him. He was already spoken for.” Toby’s face drained of color. A month before our wedding, Toby had taken me back to our old high school campus for a nostalgic walk. In a quiet corner by the old bleachers, a scrawny stray kitten had darted out of the bushes. Toby had scooped it up, his eyes entirely too frantic. He begged me to let us keep it. I was severely allergic to cats. I was terrified of them. I tried to say no, but looking at his desperate face, my heart broke. I gave in. I suffered for it. I broke out in agonizing hives. The rashes were so severe I spent weeks scratching until I bled, suffering through countless sleepless nights. He used to stand in the doorway of our bedroom, holding the kitten, looking at me with such profound, tortured guilt. Eventually, my body built up a tolerance, aided by heavy antihistamines and a small army of housekeepers who vacuumed twice a day so not a single hair was left on the rugs. I thought our marriage was solid. I thought we were building a life. And then, Daphne made her grand debut in Hollywood. She had this icy, untouchable aura that instantly set her apart from the cookie-cutter starlets. To seem more “relatable” to her new fans, she went on a late-night talk show and told a touching story about feeding a scrawny stray kitten behind the bleachers in high school. She described the cat perfectly. The torn left ear. The white patch over the eye. It was the exact feral beast that was currently shedding all over my Prada sofa. In that moment watching the broadcast, the world completely tilted on its axis. The memory of Toby finding the cat replayed in my mind like a horror movie. His desperation wasn’t about saving an animal. It was about rescuing the last living piece of Daphne he could find. I was the punchline to a sick joke. I had spent years of my life, compromising my own health, carefully preserving the shrine to his first love. Pathetic. Tragic. Disgusting. Toby lurched forward, instinctively reaching for my arm. “Caitlin, what are you talking about—”

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On the day the college acceptance letters arrived, my mom made three phone calls in a row. The first was to my grandmother: “Did the Carter family tombstone explode yet? …Ah, it didn’t? Then it must be emitting holy light! Go check it out right now!” The second was to my dad: “My daughter got into Columbia University! Near perfect SATs! Did your son even graduate? Oh, I almost forgot, your son couldn’t even get into a decent high school, he’s graduating from some trade school this year, right? Found a job yet? Ahahahaha.” The third was to the town mayor, asking him to hang 100 banners across Main Street and broadcast the news over the town’s radio system for three days and three nights. She also told him we were coming back to our hometown in a few days to throw a massive block party for everyone. Right now, I’m watching the town dogs feast on the leftovers from the party. I take a photo, post it on Facebook, and tag my half-brother. “Who says girls are worse than boys?” 1 My dad and mom came from the same small, rural town in the Midwest. They didn’t have much education. First, they worked on an assembly line in a factory for two years—he was screwing in bolts, she was welding parts. Later, they started working on construction sites, installing aluminum windows. They had to find their own clients. Whether it was the scorching heat of July or the freezing cold of January, my mom and dad were always out on construction sites. It was exhausting. But those were the years they loved each other the most. They had goals. They had a shared future. They agreed that once they opened their own shop, they would start a family. A few years later, they saved up some money, opened a shop in a booming commercial district, and finally owned something of their own. My mom didn’t care about skincare. She thought carrying an umbrella was a hassle, and she was too frugal to buy sunscreen. You know how it is. UV rays severely damage the skin. When other people look 19 at 24, my mom looked 30 at 24. When her skin looked 31 at the age of 24, she had me. The whole family was thrilled. My grandpa and grandma even came up with over 100 names for my parents to choose from. Unfortunately, they were all boys’ names. My dad’s favorite name was Hunter. Hunter Carter. He said he didn’t have an education, so he wanted a son who would be an educated man. Nine months later, my mom gave birth to me. My grandpa and grandma’s faces fell lower than a mule’s. They stayed at the hospital for less than half a day before leaving. Before they left, they even took the roast chicken they had brought as a gift. My dad sighed heavily and stood on the hospital balcony, chain-smoking. When my mom told me this part of the story, she choked up several times. She said she suggested giving me the name Hunter anyway, that a girl could use that name too. My dad refused. 2 When did my mom realize my dad had a problem? Maybe it was when he started coming home very late, or not coming home at all. Maybe it was when he brought his buddies over, and every single one of them brought a mistress, but none of them brought their wives. Maybe it was when the wives of other construction bosses hinted, “That group of guys, not a single one is decent.” In my memory, from a very young age, my mom was always depressed. She was a shrewd businesswoman, knowing exactly what to say to different people, always keeping clients happy. But when it came to her marriage, she was insecure yet fierce. The only times she and my dad could have a normal conversation were when they were doing the books and making money. At all other times, they couldn’t stand the sight of each other. My dad complained that my mom wasn’t feminine enough, her voice was too loud, she wasn’t gentle, she liked making her own decisions, and she had an “old” face. My mom called my dad a cheating bastard who messed around outside and would eventually get what was coming to him. The conflict finally erupted when I was 5. One night, I suddenly ran a high fever, burning up until I started convulsing. My dad wasn’t home, and he had taken the car. My mom called him, wanting him to come back and take me to the hospital, but he didn’t pick up. Back then, Uber didn’t exist. To get around at night, you had to rely on cabs. But the area we lived in was an undeveloped suburb; it was desolate at night, and you couldn’t flag down a cab to save your life. Eventually, my mom had to call her friend. The friend and her husband drove over and took me to the ER. My mom didn’t give up. She stayed by my hospital bed, calling my dad off and on all night. It was as if my dad was dead. Every call disappeared into the void. The next morning, my mom finally gave up. She put her phone down, grabbed her purse, and went to buy breakfast. Coincidentally, as soon as she left, her phone rang. The caller ID showed my dad. I answered the phone. Before I could even say “Dad,” a female voice on the other end unleashed a torrent of rage: “Over a hundred calls in one night!” “Mary, will you die without a man?! What the hell are you calling for?” “Your husband didn’t even answer your calls, don’t you get the message? Let go already, honey. Forcing it won’t make you happy!” I frowned, considering my words: “Ma’am, I’m sick.” The other side froze for a second, then continued the barrage: “Oh, it’s the money-losing mistake! Where’s your mom? Did she jump off a building because your dad didn’t answer her calls?” “Let me tell you something! Your dad stopped loving your mom a long time ago, and he doesn’t love you either!” “Right now, he only loves me and your little brother. All the money, the houses, the cars in your family—they all belong to me and your brother now.” I was young, I didn’t fully understand, and I spoke with the unfiltered innocence of a child. “So, Ma’am, are you a robber?” “Only robbers steal other people’s things, and robbers get beaten up by superheroes!” She sneered: “Where in the world are there superheroes?” I cried: “But there are police officers! You’re a bad lady, the police will lock you up!” … Later, my mom came back. Seeing me sulking, and noticing the call log showing my dad’s number had called back, she asked me several times what happened. I burst out crying. “There’s a bad lady who said Daddy doesn’t love us anymore!” “She said Daddy only loves her and my little brother, and she said everything in our family belongs to her!” I cried so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. My mom hugged me, patting my back, and stayed silent for a long time. “Mommy is going to divorce Daddy. Sweetie, will you stay with Mommy?” “Yes.” 3 During the few days I was in the hospital, my dad didn’t come to see me once. My mom called him often. Although she deliberately avoided me, when she couldn’t suppress her temper, phrases like “bastard,” “I’m taking two-thirds of the assets or I’ll drag this out until you die,” and “you’re worse than a dog, go to hell” still reached my ears. I secretly cried. How could a child my age understand a mother’s pain? I was terrified of not having a father anymore. This was the first time I experienced loss, but I didn’t tell my mom, and I certainly didn’t cry in front of her. I vaguely knew what divorce meant, knew that between my dad and mom, I could only choose one, and knew that my mom loved me more. I don’t know what my mom and dad discussed, but she was always fuming. Seven days later. My mom discharged me from the hospital. She marched out proudly, like a warrior… but we could never return to our old home. My grandma was standing on the balcony. Seeing us walking up to the building, she threw open the window. “Sarah, come here quick!” My mom froze and looked up. A few seconds later, a familiar woman appeared in our line of sight. It was my mom’s cousin! She smirked triumphantly at my mom, then joined my grandma to haul two unzipped duffel bags and throw them down. Toothbrushes, slippers, clothes, bras, sanitary pads… Clattering and fluttering down, scattering everywhere. I saw my mom’s jaw clench tight, her face flushed with embarrassment. A moment later— Her anger overpowered her embarrassment. She put her hands on her hips and screamed up at the balcony: “Sarah, are you even human? Are all the men in the world dead? You actually stole your own cousin’s husband!” “Robert and I haven’t even signed the divorce papers yet! And you just couldn’t wait! Shameless! Spit!” “When I go back, I’m telling your mother! I’m telling the whole town! You homewrecker!”… Sarah and my grandma tag-teamed their response: “Ugly bitch, look at your face! Robert says he wants to puke just looking at you!” “You useless cow who can’t even produce a son! Get the hell out! If it weren’t for Sarah, our Carter family bloodline would have ended with a jinx like you!” “Someone like you still has the nerve to talk about going back to the town?! Go back and ask around, if you can’t have a son, shouldn’t you be dumped?!”… Amidst the screaming match, a little boy about my age ran out of the living room. Holding a toy submachine gun, he stood on a small stool and fired a barrage of pellets right at us. Back then, the bullets in toy guns weren’t water beads; they were hard plastic BBs that hurt like hell when they hit you. My arms and neck were hit several times. My mom shielded me and we ducked under a low tree. “Where are they? Where did they go?” “Over there!” “I see them! Old hag! Money-losing mistake! I’m gonna shoot you dead!”… With the leaves buffering the impact, the bullets didn’t hurt as much. The leaves rustled and fell. My mom ground her teeth in rage. “You little bastard, if you’ve got the guts, get a real gun and shoot us!” The toy gun could only hold so many bullets. When the magazine was empty, it had to be reloaded. My mom took advantage of the reloading time upstairs, grabbed a rock from the ground, and charged upstairs like a hurricane. I copied her, picking up a rock and following right on her heels. 4 The front door was a heavy security door. Made of steel. That bastard of a dad had actually changed the locks. My mom couldn’t open the door with her key. She dropped the rock, hitched up her skirt, and delivered a vicious kick right at the lock. The steel door let out a deafening “CLANG.” Then came the second kick, the third… The clanging echoed endlessly, feeling like an earthquake. My grandma and Sarah were cursing from inside; my mom was kicking from outside. Neighbors upstairs and downstairs kept opening their doors, asking loudly, “What’s going on? What’s going on? Are you going to let people live in peace?” “Nobody’s living in peace today! The older cousin stole the younger cousin’s husband and brought him right into the house! They even changed the locks! Have they no shame?” “That is shameless,” someone upstairs agreed. Eventually, the local police arrived. My mom tearfully complained to the officers. After calming her down and ensuring she was stable, the police knocked on the door. My mom was fierce. The moment the door cracked open, she bolted inside, grabbed a stool, and smashed it right at Sarah. “BANG!” The plastic stool shattered, and a jagged gash appeared on Sarah’s arm. Blood dripped down onto the floor. Everyone froze. A second later, Sarah bent down, snatched up a heavy glass ashtray, and charged at my mom, screaming “Go to hell!” My mom swung the stool again. The police officers quickly split up—half restraining my mom, half holding back Sarah. I took advantage of the chaos, grabbed the rock I had picked up, and charged at the little boy. That little brat had just shot me, and it still hurt! I was covered in welts! Desperate to protect her grandson, my grandma shoved the boy aside, snatched his toy gun, grabbed me with one hand, and swung the heavy plastic gun down hard on my arm with the other. “Smack! Smack! Smack!” The violent impact on my arm knocked the magazine loose, sending BBs scattering all over the floor. My arm felt like it was broken. My grandma struck me three times in the exact same spot. It hurt so much I could only inhale, forgetting how to exhale. My face spasmed, and it took a long time before I could finally cry out. I don’t know where my mom found the strength, but she broke free from the cops, shoved my grandma aside, rushed over, grabbed me, and carefully checked my arm. “Sweetie, are you okay? Can you move it? How about this? How about this?” “It hurts…” I burst out crying, “Mommy, it hurts so much!” The police told my mom to stop moving my arm. Without professional training, she might make the injury worse. Getting to the hospital immediately was the priority. My mom’s eyes were like daggers, violently glaring at my grandma. “Martha! She’s your own granddaughter! If there’s any permanent damage, I’ll kill you!” My grandma had never seen my mom like this. She involuntarily shivered, then stiffened her neck: “She deserved it! She started it! She was trying to hit my precious baby!” “A grandson is a precious baby, and a daughter is just weeds?! Martha, you’re a woman yourself, why don’t you go jump off a bridge?! You better pray she’s okay, otherwise…” Before my mom could finish her threat, the police urged, “Enough talking. Get to the hospital first. We’ll give you a ride!” 5 In just one day, I had left the hospital only to return to it. My bone wasn’t completely broken, but it was fractured. The doctor put a cast on my arm and told me to rest. My dad still hadn’t shown up. My mom was furious, crying and cursing over the phone. I kept hearing the word “animal.” My mom couldn’t understand how a man could be so ruthless. His own biological daughter had suffered such a severe injury, and he completely ignored it, refusing to even come take a look. “Mommy, our clothes and shoes are still downstairs at the apartment. Should we go get them?” “Yes,” my mom said. “If we don’t, people will scavenge them or throw them away as trash.” As she spoke, her eyes reddened. A mix of stubbornness and grievance wove into suppressed anger. “We’re poor now. We don’t have extra money to buy everything new. You stay here in the hospital and be good. I’ll get our things and come right back.” I nodded, telling her not to worry. My mom was gone for a long time that day. Or maybe it just felt like a long time because I was alone in the hospital. I was terrified… Terrified she would go looking for my grandma for revenge, terrified she couldn’t fight them all off alone, terrified she’d be at a disadvantage, terrified she’d get hurt. I was also terrified she didn’t want me anymore… If I hadn’t tried to hit that little boy, my arm wouldn’t have been fractured, we wouldn’t have had to spend money. I was afraid she’d think I was a burden and just leave me in the hospital alone. The massive anxiety made my whole body tense up. Like a frightened quail, my eyes stayed glued to the hospital room door. If only I were a boy. Then my grandparents wouldn’t despise me, my dad wouldn’t find another woman to have kids with, my mom wouldn’t be abandoned… We’d be like the happy families on TV. Thankfully, my mom finally returned, carrying two large duffel bags. The bags were filthy, and the things inside were dirty too. My mom said we lost some things, but it didn’t matter. Being able to salvage most of it was lucky enough. I noticed my mom’s eyes were much redder than when she left. I guessed she had cried outside. “Mommy, I’ll be good.” I said it out of nowhere, but my mom understood. She walked over to the bed and hugged me. “Things will get better.” “We won’t live like stray dogs forever!” From that day on, my mom changed. She stopped calling my dad, stopped screaming hysterically. She took a pen and paper and calmly calculated all of our family’s assets. She started smoking. In the dark, I often saw her standing on the hospital balcony, her hair blowing in the night breeze, the ember of her cigarette glowing and fading between her fingers. Her loneliness was just like the cigarette in her hand. 6 In those days, in the eyes of rural country folk, divorce was a disgraceful thing. “Don’t wash your dirty linen in public.” If someone had to divorce, the best option was to do it quietly. The couple would quietly sign the papers, and no one besides their parents would know. My mom insisted on suing for a contested divorce. She demanded that the husband leave with nothing, and she gets full custody of the daughter. My dad completely lost his mind. Previously, he wouldn’t call for weeks; now, he called several times a day. He played the good cop, talking about the bond they shared over the years, telling my mom not to go too far, that everything was negotiable. He even said he wanted to come see us and asked where my mom was staying. My grandma played the bad cop. She called my mom a shameless bitch, saying she couldn’t give birth to a son, couldn’t keep her man, and was useless! She asked if my mom was trying to take my dad’s money to find another man. She said all the money in the family was earned by my dad, implying my mom would do anything for cash… My mom unleashed her fury: “Son, son, all you care about is a son! Are you running a royal dynasty?” “Your ancestors worked the dirt for generations, your family is dirt poor, and you still want multiple wives and a male heir! Let me tell you, the 1800s are over!” “The government has been saying for decades that boys and girls are equal. Are you deaf? Monogamy is written into the law! Are you trying to break the law?” “Every cent Robert Carter owns is marital property! Every cent he spent on Sarah is also marital property!” “Robert is the at-fault party in this marriage, and he deserves to be punished! The money, the house, they’re all mine! If you dare harass me again, don’t blame me for going after every single dime he spent on Sarah!” My mom used to act very submissive in the Carter family. Though she had stood up for herself once, it always seemed forced. This time was different. With the law backing her up, my mom spoke on the phone with incredible confidence. I was young and barely understood, but I thought my mom was shining brightly. My grandma was probably terrified by my mom. She stopped calling and instead reached out to my great-uncle and great-aunt. Sarah’s parents. They kept emphasizing that we were all relatives, telling my mom not to be so ruthless! They said my maternal grandparents still lived in the same town, and everyone saw everyone else eventually, their words carrying a veiled threat. My mom sat on a folding stool on the balcony, took a drag from her cigarette, and slowly exhaled the smoke: “Sure. Have Sarah write a 10,000-word apology detailing exactly how she seduced her cousin’s husband, how she got pregnant with a married man’s child, and how she used her status as a mistress to kick the legal wife out of her own home…” “When she’s done, show it to me. If I’m satisfied, have her go to the town’s radio station and read it ten times a day for a whole month. If she does that, I won’t go after the money Robert spent on her!” My great-uncle and his wife had no idea that “reclaiming marital assets” was a legal possibility. On the other end of the line, they screamed in panic: “What?!” “You want the money Robert already spent? You love money so much, why don’t you just go rob a bank?” “Sarah is the hero who gave the Carter family an heir! All the Carter family’s money belongs to her! We earn our living with honest work, why should we do whatever you say?” “You can’t even keep your own man, and you have the nerve to fight for the assets? How did our family produce such a disgrace like you?” My mom laughed coldly: “Exactly. How did our family produce disgraces like you? You act like thieves and homewreckers, and you’re proud of it!” “Let me tell you, I won’t give up a single cent that belongs to me! Your daughter and grandson can prepare to sleep under a bridge!” 7 To win this lawsuit, my mom hired a lawyer and prepared meticulously. This included recording their phone calls over the past few weeks, gathering evidence of my dad’s long-term infidelity, and documenting my grandma assaulting me and kicking us out of the house… On my dad’s side, whether it was overconfidence or just no lawyer wanting to take their case, they represented themselves the entire time. Their core argument was singular: Everyone in the country town does this. Assets should go to the son. Continuing the family line is more important than anything else. They caused a huge scene in the courtroom. One minute they were calling my mom a jinx, saying she didn’t dress up or look pretty, ruining my dad’s luck, so she deserved to be thrown out. The next minute, they called me a money-losing mistake, demanding to know why I should get any of the money my dad earned. My dad was legally the at-fault party to begin with, their arguments were completely absurd, and on top of that, the judge that day was female, and the court clerk was also female. The outcome of the lawsuit was obvious. Whether it was the business, the real estate, or the savings, it was all awarded to my mom. My grandma refused to accept it. She threw herself onto the floor, kicked her legs out, and rolled around like a dying bug. “This is an outrage! The judge was bribed! Where can an old woman like me find justice?” “My son worked hard his whole life, and now he doesn’t get a single penny. Aren’t you trying to kill us?” “Waaah, if you don’t change the verdict, I’ll never get up! I’m going to stay right here!”… The judge stopped, gave her a long look, and walked right out. A few moments later, the bailiffs “escorted” my grandma out. She howled the whole way, vowing to protest outside the courthouse every single day. My mom and her lawyer were talking nearby, looking at my grandma like she was an absolute idiot. “You jinx! Don’t think just because you won the lawsuit that the house is yours! If you want that house, you’ll have to step over my dead body!” My mom smiled and said she wouldn’t dare. My grandma felt triumphant again and threw another tantrum right outside the courthouse doors. After the bailiffs gave her another stern lecture on the law, she stopped causing a scene, dragged my dad over, puffed out her cheeks, and sat right in the middle of the main entrance in silent protest. “What do you plan to do?” the lawyer asked my mom. “Help her out, of course,” my mom said, still smiling, her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t read. “The old lady has it tough.”

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