Category: English

1 That evening, a message popped up from the kid my mother was sponsoring. He sent a sheepish text explaining that he’d changed our Wi-Fi password when he came over to drop something off for Evelyn. He said he was just bored. He followed it up with a string of letters: CluelessOldFossil. I remembered how the Wi-Fi had suddenly cut out earlier that day, flashing a “wrong password” error. I’d asked Evelyn about it, but she just said it was probably a glitch. She was buried in her work, so I let it go. I didn’t reply to his text. That night, I had dinner with Evelyn, just like always. The next day, I changed the password again. At the morning meeting, I made a point of looking right at the kid. “By the way, the new Wi-Fi password is ‘HomeWrecker.’ Make sure you type it in right next time.” … Evelyn held it together for the entire day. The moment we got home, she exploded. “What the hell was that at the meeting this morning? Now everyone at the office thinks something is going on between me and Liam. Are you happy now?” “So you admit he was in our house while I was gone,” I said, my eyes fixed on the financial news flickering across the TV. I didn’t have to look at her to picture the storm brewing on her face. A second later, she stormed over and snapped the TV off. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who got him the job. He’s an employee, and he was here to deliver work files. What’s the big deal?” she shot back. “And what about that time on the bus? You humiliated him in public. Did you even once think about how that made me feel?” That time. I’d seen it with my own eyes: the cool, ever-composed Evelyn, squeezing onto a crowded city bus right alongside Liam. The old me would never have been able to imagine such a scene. For our anniversary last year, I’d planned a sunset bike ride. It was supposed to be romantic. Instead, she trailed me in her sports car, practically idling, watching me pedal by myself like an idiot. Finally, she’d just rolled down the window and said, “God, could you be any more cliché?” The memory soured in my mouth, and I fought to keep the rage out of my voice. “How long has it been going on between you two?” Silence stretched between us. She tilted her head back and let out a long, weary sigh. “I told you, it’s just work. Do you have to turn everything into a fight?” She paused, a cruel smirk twisting her lips. “You’re becoming more and more like your father. Always looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” My blood ran cold. Eight years ago, my mother began sponsoring Liam and his mom. My father became convinced they were having an affair. The suspicion drove him mad. He slit his wrists in the bathtub. The water turned a deep, sickening crimson, spilling over the edge to lick at my feet. It felt scalding, and my whole body shook. Evelyn rushed over when she got the call. She wrestled the blade from my hand as I tried to follow him, her arm taking the cut meant for me. She just held me, repeating over and over, “It’s okay, it’s okay…” It’s the nightmare that has haunted me my entire life. And now, she was using it to shut me up. By the time I surfaced from the memory, Evelyn was already in the bathroom. Her phone, left on the table, was open to Liam’s social media feed. She’d just liked his latest post. [Did a good deed with the boss today! She was so scared of needles she buried her face in my chest! Guess I’m the only one who’s seen her this vulnerable] The screen was a blur of flower and heart emojis, each one a weight crushing the air from my lungs. Evelyn has a severe phobia of blood. I know this better than anyone. When I was in that car accident, bleeding out, she was a perfect match. But she just stood there, watching me writhe in agony, sweat pouring down my face. She wouldn’t give a single drop. By the time the hospital found a compatible donor, I was already in the ICU. The doctor told me a few more minutes and I would have been gone. The comments section was a party. [Dude, details on the “buried her face” part?] [Her own husband almost died and she wouldn’t give him a drop of blood. How’d you manage this?] [Liam, you’re a legend!] Liam’s replies were flirty and vague, but I couldn’t really see them through the haze in my eyes. The only thing in focus was Evelyn’s thumbs-up. Her “like.” I tilted my head back, wiped the moisture from my eyes, and dialed my lawyer. “I need you to draw up divorce papers.” At 3 a.m., Evelyn shook me awake. “I just learned how to make dumplings. Get up and have some.” She dragged me into the kitchen. Flour dusted every surface, and bits of filling were scattered like confetti. It was my father’s recipe, the one he always used to recite from memory. She’d never stepped foot in the kitchen before. She used to complain about the smell of cooking oil on my clothes. Now, here she was, her face smudged with flour, her hands clumsily but intently folding the dough. The old me would have snapped a nine-photo collage for social media: [My wife made me dumplings by hand. I’m the luckiest man alive.] But now, I just fought back a yawn. “Have you ever cooked for him?” Her hands stilled. She shot me a look that screamed, Here we go again. “I made you food. I said nice things. What more do you want from me?” The next second, the bag of flour hit the floor with a soft thud. The dam inside me broke. “You let him come and go from our house as he pleases, you go with him to donate blood, everyone in the company is whispering about you two—” “Enough!” Her voice shot up, sharp and cracking. “You are my husband, Ryan, not some low-life picking fights in an alley. Look at yourself! Look at how crazy you’ve become!” She wasn’t done. “Liam comes from nothing, but he works hard and everyone at the company loves him. But you? The employees can’t stand you. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself why!” As she spoke, she was already typing on her phone. A notification popped up in the company-wide group chat. An official announcement firing me from my position. It took me five years to climb from an entry-level position to director. It took her one second to erase it all. “There. Are you satisfied?” she spat, yanking off her apron. “Now you won’t have to see any of this so-called ‘gossip’ from your employees anymore!” She stormed out of the house, leaving her phone on the counter. Some dark impulse made me pick it up. I opened her chat with Liam. Liam: [Did the trick I taught you work? Even the most stubborn old fossil can be tamed, right? ;)] Evelyn: [Haha, not so sure it’ll work on Ryan.] So, the dumplings were his idea. And she agreed with him. I was the stubborn, old fossil. Evelyn didn’t come home that night. Instead, she appeared in a live photo on Liam’s social media feed. Two shadowy figures, tangled together in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of her CEO office. The sound of a kiss, just for a second, was a knife twisting in my ear. The comments flooded in. [Is the boss getting a new husband?] [Finally! Maybe we can get rid of that old fossil for good. Things will be so much better at work!] She had to have known he was filming. She had to. She wanted me to see it. She wanted me to know that without the title of ‘Evelyn’s husband,’ I was nothing. No one would respect me. I had no right to question her. I would end up just like my father. My hand trembled as I liked the post. I went back to our bedroom, opened a suitcase, and started packing. The framed photo of us on the nightstand went straight into the trash. I was done. I was done with all of it. I sat awake until the early hours of the morning, when the email from my lawyer finally arrived. The divorce papers. I opened the file, signed my name without a moment’s hesitation, and asked him to have a physical copy delivered. I don’t know how long she’d been standing there, but suddenly Evelyn was behind me, a confused frown on her face. “Who’s getting a divorce?” “A friend,” I said, my voice flat, my expression unmoving. The tension instantly drained from her shoulders. She let out a knowing little laugh. “I figured,” she said. “Your father is dead. Your mother is drowning in debt from a lifetime of charity, needing her son’s wife just to pay her hospital bills. What right could you possibly have to ask for a divorce? I was worried for nothing.” Every word was a razor blade slicing me open. I said nothing. Her tone softened slightly. “As long as you play the part of my husband and stop with these baseless suspicions, I can give you anything you want.” She turned to leave, tossing one last comment over her shoulder. “The company’s promotion ceremony is tomorrow. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t go.” For a split second, my heart fluttered. A foolish, desperate part of me fantasized that she was going to acknowledge my five years of hard work. I stayed up all night preparing a speech. I tried on the custom-tailored suit she had bought for me. The next day, the banquet hall was buzzing, glasses clinking. I stepped inside, and the condescending stares that met me wiped the practiced smile right off my face. Up on the brightly lit stage, Evelyn personally announced Liam as the new director. My replacement. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, her eyes finding me in the crowd. Her tone was casual, breezy. “If Liam has any questions moving forward, you can help him out. You’ll have plenty of free time at home, might as well do something useful.” A wave of snickers rippled through the room. The whispers found their way to my ears. “Looks like we were right. There’s no place for him at the company anymore.” “Not just the company. I bet there won’t be a place for him in the family for much longer either.” “He used to be Mr. Walker, Director Walker, throwing his weight around. Now look at him. He’s nothing! Ha!” … Evelyn heard them. She had to have heard them. She didn’t say a word to defend me. She stepped down from the stage and leaned in close, her voice a low murmur. “This promotion was Liam’s birthday wish. I had to make it happen.” “Besides,” she added, “you won’t have to work so hard anymore. Isn’t it better to just stay home?” She asked it so matter-of-factly, so certain I would just nod and agree. “But I…” But I poured my soul into this for five years to get to this point. She didn’t have the patience to hear me finish. She was already turning away, taking Liam by the arm to introduce him to industry executives, to all the important players. Just like she used to do with me. But that was then. She handed my project proposals to Liam, coaching him line by line on how to handle the executives’ toughest questions. The whole thing was a grotesque farce. I couldn’t stand it for another second. As I turned to leave, Liam’s voice stopped me. “Ryan,” he said, grabbing my arm, his grip deliberately tight. “You’re not mad at me for taking your job, are you? Please don’t hate me.” The innocent, grateful boy my mother had sponsored was gone. In his place was this… thing, his eyes glinting with provocation. I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my lips, then met his gaze. “My mother sponsored you, paid for your college, supported you and your mom. It wasn’t so you could steal my wife.” The smile on Liam’s face froze for an instant, then returned, wider and uglier. “Well, may the best man win.” With that, he let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward, collapsing right into Evelyn’s arms. “Evelyn,” he whimpered, “seeing Ryan… it’s bringing back all the nightmares from college.” His voice broke. “His mother… she took advantage of me! She used the sponsorship as an excuse to…” The room erupted. Every head turned, every pair of eyes stared at me, filled with shock and disgust. My nerves screamed. My voice rose an octave. “What are you talking about? My mom would never do something like that!” Liam just clung to Evelyn, trembling like a frightened child. “I was always too scared to say anything,” he sobbed. “But now that Ryan’s not at the company anymore… I finally feel safe enough to tell the truth…” Evelyn’s head snapped up. Her eyes were chips of ice. I stared at her, my brow furrowed in disbelief. “You believe him?” Her gaze was venomous. “Your mother,” she said, each word a hammer blow, “knows exactly what she did.” And just like that, it was fact. In the eyes of everyone there, my mother was a predator. And I was her son. “Using charity as a cover for that? What kind of monster does that?” “And him? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” “No wonder he was always going after Liam. He was afraid the truth would come out!” “To think someone like that was working right beside us. It’s terrifying.” The faces around me twisted into ugly masks. The accusations rained down. I shook my head, helpless. “No, you’re wrong. My mom would never…” I lunged for Liam, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Tell them! Tell them the truth! My mom gave up everything for you! She went without new clothes, she worked while she was sick, just so you could go to college!” A hand shoved me back. It was Evelyn, her face a cold, hard mask of fury. “How dare you threaten him to change his story?” she snarled. “Liam is a good, honest person. Why would he ever lie about something that shames him like this? I think you’re just angry you got caught!” Right there, in front of everyone, she pulled out her phone and called the hospital. “Stop all payments for my husband’s mother’s care, effective immediately. A person like that doesn’t deserve to live.” My world collapsed. Wine glasses and pieces of cake flew through the air, pelting me. The words “predator’s son” echoed from all sides. “His mother doesn’t deserve to live, and neither does he!” “Just go die already!” Fists and palms rained down on my face. They spat on me. Someone slashed my cheek with a broken piece of a glass. Through the chaos, Evelyn started to move toward me, but Liam let out a sudden cry of pain. “My head… it hurts so much! I think… I think I see him coming for me…” Without a second thought, Evelyn had someone hoist Liam up and rush him to the hospital. The shouts and curses around me faded into a dull roar. All I could see was my mother’s face, her expression of anguish when she heard the lie. Amid the kicks and punches, I fumbled for my phone, desperately dialing the hospital. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical. “Mr. Walker, I’m very sorry for your loss. Your mother received several abusive phone calls a short while ago. Her heart gave out. She passed away moments ago.” The fight drained out of me. I went limp, letting the blows fall where they may. The voice on the phone said to “take care,” but I couldn’t shed a single tear. I don’t know how much time passed. The crowd eventually dispersed. My phone rang. It was Evelyn. “I’ve sent some money to your mother’s account. She won’t die just yet. As for the truth, we’ll let the police handle it.” Her voice was tired. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble. Stay home and think about what you’ve done. I won’t be back for three days.” “Okay,” I whispered into the phone. After hanging up, I deleted her number. I deleted everything. I went home, picked up my packed suitcase, and placed the signed divorce papers on the coffee table. I said goodbye to the home I had lived in for nearly ten years. One last stop. I picked up my mother’s ashes from the hospital and boarded a flight that night. Evelyn, this is goodbye. For good. Three days later, Evelyn came home carrying groceries and a bouquet of fresh flowers. The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.

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1 Three years ago, that ridiculous game of Truth or Dare completely derailed the lives of Blake and I. Her childhood friend suddenly proposed a cruel wager, claiming he wanted to test the authenticity of our love. The condition was that after our divorce, we wouldn’t see each other for three years. I honestly thought she’d refuse such an outrageous demand. After all, we’d argued about it countless times. Her inappropriate closeness with her childhood friend had always been a thorn in our side. But she agreed without hesitation, even confidently telling everyone that she believed I was hers for life and we’d remarry in three years. I remained silent then, knowing in my heart that it was the last chance I’d ever give her. Now, three years have passed. She stands before me, a bouquet of roses in her arms, a confident smile on her face as she calls me “honey” and says she kept her word, she’s back for our remarriage. … Blake’s lips curved into a confident, slight smirk. “Are you mad?” “Alright, alright, I’m here, aren’t I?” “Come on, don’t be mad.” Her voice was sweet, doting, assuming I was just being childish and upset for attention. Just like old times, she reached out to embrace me. I took another step back, my expression hardening. “Ms. Blake, please keep your distance!” Her hand froze in mid-air, her gentle gaze still fixed on my face. “Really mad this time, huh?” “Name your price. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it.” She still confidently believed that a few sweet words would win me over, just like before. As she spoke, she took another step closer. Each step she took, I mirrored, retreating further. The conquering glint in her eyes intensified. “Blake, three years is a long time. Enough to change many things.” She nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” I backed up until I hit the wall, no more room to maneuver, my back pressed against the cool plaster. She placed her hands on either side of my head, cornering me, playing that old game again. Back when we were dating, she loved to pin me against a wall like this, kissing me deeply under the moonlight. Three years ago, after losing the dare, she’d divorced me at her friend’s insistence. Three years of no contact, not a single text or call. And now, she presumes I’d just sit around, waiting for her to come back and remarry me! A cynical smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, her phone rang. She pulled it out. The screen displayed a contact: “My Little Prince.” It was her special name for Brody. I’d seen it countless times, just as I’d seen her lovingly stroke his head, saying he’d always been her “little prince” since they were kids! Completely oblivious to my feelings as her husband then. She answered immediately. “Vivi, boo hoo hoo, come quick, my stomach hurts so bad.” Brody’s whiny cry came through the phone. Blake’s eyes instantly filled with worry. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming right back.” She hung up, then quickly brushed her hand over the top of my head, as if soothing a docile cat. “I need to check on Brody first. I’ll come find you later.” Before the words fully registered, she was gone. Brody, ever the showman, flaunted their relationship on social media, as he always did. The photo showed him lying with a sweat-drenched forehead on Blake’s lap. She was gently rubbing his stomach. His caption read: “She’s always loved me most, ever since we were kids. No matter how important the event, or how important the person, if I’m not feeling well, she’s always the first to rush to my side, offering care and love. She truly is the best woman in the world!!!” I casually tapped the ‘like’ button. Not just on this one, but on every single one of his posts over the past three years. Three years, 1095 posts showing off their “love,” and I’d liked them 1095 times. He found new ways to show them off every day. For instance, he didn’t work; Blake gave him a secondary credit card to spend as he pleased. He could live in the house Blake and I once shared. My belongings, he’d use if he wanted, or toss if he didn’t. In these three years, he and Blake had done everything a couple would do. I knew he posted them specifically for me to see. Each ‘like’ was my way of showing contempt and indifference. But Brody, in his warped mind, thought I was jealous, furious, desperately trying to get attention. The next time I saw Blake, she was with Brody, drinking coffee at my café. They wore matching caramel-colored outfits. Blake, who usually favored formal business attire, was dressed in trendy, casual clothes today. I used to suggest we wear matching outfits, but she’d always say she was used to suits and didn’t want to change her style. Brody surveyed my café with a look of surprise. Blake, puzzled, asked me, “I gave you so much money, why are you doing such hard work?” When we divorced, I asked for half of our assets. She gave them without a moment’s hesitation. I stopped making the coffee, my gaze flat as I looked at her. “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Blake’s expression didn’t change. She still thought I was just mad at her. Brody offered a disingenuous greeting. “Hey, Ash, long time no see. How’s it going?” “Good.” Brody seemed surprised by my calm. Blake’s phone rang, and she turned to step outside to take the call. With just Brody and me left, his pretense dropped. His smile transformed into a triumphant sneer of provocation. “Don’t play hard to get. But don’t get too happy either.” He looked down on me, a slight chuckle on his lips. “Even if you remarry Vivi this time, what good will it do?!” “Her mother doesn’t like you. Her ideal son-in-law has always been me.” “Vivi only wants to remarry you out of a sense of obligation.” “Even this remarriage, she sought my approval first.” “And you’ll have to sign a prenuptial agreement.” “Oh, and I personally drafted that agreement.” He pulled a prenuptial agreement from his bag and placed it in front of me. I glanced at it dismissively. One clause stated that all of the Blake family’s assets were none of my concern. After marriage, I wasn’t allowed to call Blake’s mother “Mom,” only “Madam.” In public, I couldn’t claim to be the patriarch of the Blake family; I had to declare myself merely her ex-husband. These outrageous terms made me laugh sardonically. I pushed the agreement back to him. “If Blake’s mother likes you so much, why are you still without a title?” “Three years, and Blake still hasn’t committed to you. How pathetic.” Brody, furious and embarrassed, instinctively raised his hand to slap me. But just then, Blake’s approaching footsteps sounded behind him. He changed his expression faster than flipping a page, tears welling up, a mix of aggrieved and understanding. “Ash, I truly hope you can remarry Vivi.” “As her childhood friend, I just want her to be happy.” “This prenuptial agreement is just a formality. Don’t be mad, okay?” He was still as dramatic as he was three years ago. The moment Blake saw him cry, her mind would turn to mush, unable to distinguish right from wrong. “Brody, what’s wrong?” Blake pulled him closer, her eyes filled with concern for him. Brody shook his head, feigning a wronged expression. “Nothing, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Ash.” The more he spoke like this, the more Blake believed I’d bullied him. “Ash!” she snapped, her face cold. “Apologize!” Her tone was an undeniable command, like ordering a servant. A cold laugh touched my lips. She frowned in displeasure and chastised me. “Brody and I grew up together, he’s like a brother to me!” “He’s a very important person to me. Can you please stop being so hostile towards him every time!” “Even if it’s for my sake, can you be kinder to him, please?!” My face remained expressionless. I’d seen this scene countless times over the past three years. I was utterly sick of it! Just as I was about to ask them to leave, my phone on the counter vibrated with a video call. The screen displayed: “My Sweetheart Daughter.” I quickly grabbed the phone, and my two-year-old daughter’s adorable face appeared in the video. “Daddy, I miss you.” I quickly exchanged a few words with her. As Blake reached for my phone to talk to my daughter, I ended the call. “What daughter?! Ash, you have a daughter?!” Blake’s eyes widened. She reached for my phone again, but I dodged her. My face was cold as I spoke to her seriously once more. “Don’t bother me. You two are twisted, crazy people!” She didn’t get angry; instead, she just indulged her self-serving belief. “Alright, don’t be mad.” “I know you’re doing this to annoy me. That call was on purpose, wasn’t it?” I instantly understood that a person as self-absorbed as her wouldn’t believe I no longer loved her until she saw my wife with her own eyes. Suddenly, she spoke to me. “Mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “Your cooking is excellent. Prepare some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this opportunity to mend your relationship with her.” So, she knew. During our three years of marriage, I had been bullied by her mother for three years. Blake’s mother looked down on me, someone from a humble background. Even though I was Blake’s legal husband, Blake’s mother never allowed me to attend any Blake family dinners. In fact, if she was present, I wasn’t allowed to sit at the table. I didn’t like her either. Our relationship was precarious, a mutual state of ignoring each other. In that dynamic, Blake had always remained silent. A mocking curve touched my lips. I deliberately asked, “Blake, just hypothetically.” “What if I cooked a feast, and your mother still wouldn’t let me sit at the table?” She hesitated before replying, “You’re the junior, just say a few nice words to butter her up.” “You know how my mom is. All bark, no bite.” Brody deliberately suggested, “Ash, it’s not beneath a junior to beg an elder. Madam is most susceptible to being begged on her knees.” He was being sarcastic, implying I should kneel. I chuckled derisively, my eyes fixed on Blake’s dark ones, my voice serious and earnest. “Blake, three years. Things have long changed.” “I’m married, and I have a child.” Then, I turned to Brody. “Perhaps you should do more begging. You might just get into the Blake family.” Brody burst into tears, feigning distress. “It’s my fault for speaking out of turn.” He covered his mouth and ran out. Blake’s face suddenly turned ugly. She snapped at me, “How much longer are you going to be stubborn?!” Then she rushed out to chase Brody. My phone vibrated. It was a text from my wife: “Honey, project finished. Home tomorrow afternoon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought, once Blake saw Eleanor herself, she wouldn’t be so self-absorbed about me anymore. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the café, the preschool teacher suddenly called. She said my daughter had been taken by someone claiming to be her biological mother and godfather. My heart leaped into my throat. I raced to the Blake family estate. There, I saw Brody had put my daughter in a dog kennel, playing with dogs and cats. My daughter was allergic to animal fur. She couldn’t touch either dogs or cats. My daughter was crying uncontrollably, her face flushed to her neck. Red allergy spots were already appearing on her neck. Brody ignored my daughter’s distress. Instead, he pushed the cat towards my daughter’s arms. “Don’t be scared, Annie. This cat is three years old, so she’s like your big sister.” “She’s your godfather’s favorite cat. Give her a hug, don’t be rude. Crying so loudly will scare the kitty.” My daughter raised her hands in fear, trying to avoid it. The black cat’s sharp claws scratched several marks on my daughter’s face. My daughter cried even louder. Brody said gently, “You’ve scared the cat,” but his eyes held a threatening glint as he glared at my daughter. “Who told you to touch my daughter?!” I charged forward, enraged. I was just about to reach for my daughter when Blake suddenly appeared, wrapping her arms around me from behind, pulling me back a few steps. “Brody was just being kind, trying to give her more playmates.” “Ash, you adopted this child, didn’t you? It must be hard raising her alone.” My eyes were bloodshot with fury. I spun around and slapped her. A clear handprint bloomed on her face, which was already on the verge of “cracking.” “My daughter is allergic to cat and dog fur!” “Her playmates are never animals!” I turned again to pick up my daughter, but Blake grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. Brody wore a pitifully innocent expression as he looked at me. “It’s my cat’s third birthday today. She really likes playing with kids.” “I just thought, with Annie coming back to the Blake family, they should get acquainted first.” As he spoke, his black cat clawed wildly at my daughter. It left crisscrossing scratch marks on my daughter’s arms, neck, and face. He deliberately added, “Don’t worry, my cats and dogs are regularly vaccinated. They’re very clean.” “I even sleep with my cat every day.” Seeing my daughter’s face, crying so hard she was almost gasping for breath, my heart raced with anxiety. I struggled against Blake’s grip. She held me tighter, soothingly. “Children shouldn’t be raised too delicately.” “The Blake family fortune will be hers someday. We need to build her courage, she shouldn’t be afraid of a mere cat.” Suddenly, my daughter’s eyes closed, and she collapsed. I screamed in panic, “She’s going into anaphylactic shock!” Blake finally realized the seriousness of the situation. I rushed over, picked up my daughter, and ran to the hospital. Blake and Brody followed. While my daughter was being treated in the emergency room, the doctor handed me a consent form for risks. “Please, the child’s father or mother needs to sign this.” Blake eagerly spoke up. “I’m the child’s mother. I’ll sign it!” As she reached for the consent form, a commanding voice echoed from behind. “Since when was my daughter your daughter?!”

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I once believed the five years Victor gave me were a testament to true love. He laid the best of the world at my feet. It wasn’t until I was holding the positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy and ready to surprise him, that I stumbled upon the truth. Everything he had done, every grand gesture, was a calculated move to help his sister steal the man I truly loved. When I confronted him, Victor offered me two choices, as if tossing scraps to a beggar: take ten million dollars and disappear forever, or pretend nothing had happened and continue to bask in the warmth of his “love.” Everyone thought I would choose the latter. After all, I had loved him so deeply. But without a moment’s hesitation, I chose the money. That’s when Victor truly panicked. He grabbed my hand, his voice cracking as he pleaded, “Zoe, why can’t you just love me one more time?” I pulled my hand away and told him, my voice calm and steady, “Victor, I don’t want you anymore. This time, I’m choosing to love myself.” 1 For thirty consecutive days, Victor had sent me extravagant, one-of-a-kind gifts. Today, he burst through the door covered in blood, cradling a single, delicate flower in his hands. I recognized it. It was the same type of flower that had been the only splash of color in our bleak world that winter we lived under a bridge. “Zoe, the flower, it bloomed again! I brought it back for you!” His face was alight with a desperate hope, as if this single blossom could erase all the darkness between us. I watched him, my expression a mask of ice. The light in his eyes slowly died. Without a word, he forced a smile, found a vase, and placed the flower on the windowsill where I often sat. I wanted to tell him that his smile was more painful to look at than any tears. Two of his bodyguards rushed in after him, their faces etched with anxiety. “Mr. Augustine, you’re injured! You need to go to the hospital, now!” A drop of blood trickled from his forehead and landed on a pristine white petal. “Zoe, I’ll wipe it off,” he said, his voice frantic. His hands were smeared with blood. I remembered that winter, how he had tried to pick one of those flowers for me then, too. He’d scratched his hands and twisted his ankle in the process. I had thought those were scars of our love. Now I knew they were just part of the act, another scene in the play designed to win my devotion. My gaze was cold. The crimson on the white petal was jarring. “Don’t bother,” I said. “Once it’s stained, it’s stained.” I turned to my housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable, throw it out.” Victor’s hand froze mid-air. His face went white as he watched Mrs. Gable take the vase and toss the flower out the window. He wanted to stop her, but he was powerless. He turned back to me, that painful smile returning. “Zoe, I’ll… I’ll come back tomorrow?” It was a placating question, an attempt to pretend this horror wasn’t happening, just as he had always done after hurting me. The once-dashing tycoon, now covered in mud and blood, looked pathetic. I sighed, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Victor, don’t come back. I never want to see you again.” He stumbled, as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body. But his guards caught him, and he managed to straighten up, that awful smile still plastered on his face. “You must be tired, Zoe. Get some rest.” Then, as if fearing another rejection, he practically fled. Mrs. Gable looked from his retreating back to me, then went outside and retrieved the flower, placing it back on the windowsill. “I don’t know what happened between you two,” she said, her tone reproachful, “but I can see that Mr. Augustine is truly sorry. He really loves you. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him?” I looked at her, my smile full of a weary sadness. “But, Mrs. Gable,” I whispered, “I don’t have the chance to forgive him anymore.” That very morning, I had lost my sense of taste completely. 2 Five years ago, two men stood before me, and I chose Victor. We were together for five years. At our lowest, we lived under a bridge, scavenged for food, and slept under the open sky. I was with him through poverty and despair, all the way to his triumphant return, when he reclaimed his family’s empire. For those five years, he would have given me the stars from the sky and the moon from the water. He made his devotion to me a public spectacle, a love so grand it overshadowed even the affection he had for his precious sister, Amelia. I believed it was real. Until… The day I found out I was pregnant. I rushed to find him, the test results clutched in my hand, ready to share the joyful surprise. But I found him with Amelia wrapped in his arms. “Victor,” she was saying, “Noah finally proposed! Thank you. If you hadn’t sacrificed yourself to win over Zoe, I might have waited forever for this day!” Victor stroked her hair, his smile gentle. “As long as you’re happy, my sacrifice was worth it.” A lightning bolt struck, and all the strength drained out of me. The pregnancy test slipped from my fingers, but I felt nothing. [Host, you have failed.] Years ago, I had gone against the System’s warnings and changed my mission target to him. The System had been clear: [He is not your destined one. Failure to complete the mission will result in your annihilation.] I had traversed many worlds, completed many missions. This was the first time I had ever let personal feelings interfere. “I want to make a choice for myself, just once,” I had told the System. I lost. I accept that. But… I laid a hand on my flat stomach. A new life was growing there, a life I had yearned for. “Can’t you…” [No! You know the rules!] I laughed, covering my eyes as hot tears streamed through my fingers. 3 In the private room, everyone was celebrating Amelia’s engagement and Victor’s “liberation.” “Vic, once Amelia marries into the Sterling family, Zoe will be useless. What are you going to do with her?” “Hey, how about you give her to me? I’m not ambitious. I just want a taste of the woman who could captivate Noah Sterling and keep you entertained for five years…” “Get lost!” Laughter filled the room. My tears had run dry. I looked at the people inside and pushed the door open. The room fell silent. When they saw it was me, strange, knowing smiles spread across their faces. I’d seen those smiles before, but only now did I understand their true meaning. It was the look of the wealthy elite observing a plaything they had tired of. Victor’s hand, holding a glass of wine, paused. He looked at me, his eyes devoid of emotion. “You heard?” “Yes.” “How much?” “Everything.” A brief, tense silence. Everyone looked at Victor, waiting to see how he would dispose of his “plaything.” He set his glass down, his voice cold and unfamiliar. “Two choices. One, take ten million dollars and disappear. Never show your face in front of Noah Sterling again. We go our separate ways.” “Or two…” He paused, walking over to me. He gently stroked my hair, the coldness in his eyes replaced by a deep, seductive affection. “You can choose to stay with me. We’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll continue to be good to you.” The same old tenderness, as if nothing had changed. Amelia couldn’t help but let out a sneer. “Zoe, you really are pathetic.” Everyone, including Victor, probably thought I would choose the second option. After all, I had loved him so much. I had stayed with him when he had nothing, living under a bridge for six months, surviving on instant noodles for three, ruining my health to the point that getting pregnant was a miracle. I looked at the man I had loved with all my heart for five years and managed a faint smile. I took a step back, out of the warmth of his hand, away from the embrace I had once craved. “I choose option one.” 4 The answer stunned everyone. Victor’s face changed, his hand freezing in mid-air before slowly clenching into a fist. By the time he tucked it into his pocket, his expression was once again cool and detached. I suppose it didn’t really matter to him. One plaything gone, another could be found. He was a prince, after all, his pride untouchable. “Since it’s your choice, I respect it.” I walked out of that room like a zombie. … Back at the villa, I began to put my affairs in order. That evening, Victor arrived with his friends to move his things out. “This villa was bought for you,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s yours.” I didn’t look up, just grunted in acknowledgment. He stood there for a long moment, waiting for a reaction. When he got none, he stormed upstairs, the sounds of him packing echoing through the house like angry thunder. I ignored it. I was busy writing, trying to jot everything down before my memory failed me completely. Mrs. Gable had taken care of this house for years. She was getting older and had arthritis. I would leave most of the cash to her, hoping she could live out her remaining years in comfort. My neighbor, a woman starting her own business, needed designer clothes and bags to make a good impression. She had borrowed from me before, always returning them with a small gift, her face flushed with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment. I understood her struggle. I had been there, too. Victor had bought me countless designer items over the years, most of which I’d never even used. They would all go to her. The jewelry, I decided, would be donated to charity. I doubted Victor would object. My biggest worry was Pip. He was a stray dog we’d adopted during our time under the bridge. A scruffy mutt of indeterminate heritage, with a perpetually messy coat, a bad temper, and a comical underbite. If I was gone, what would happen to him? Who would tolerate his moods, who would love him despite his scruffy appearance? Pip and Victor had been close. I considered leaving him with Victor, but Amelia despised him. She only liked purebred show dogs and would openly kick Pip away if he got too close, even in front of me. If I were gone, all it would take was a word from her, and Victor would probably abandon him. Pip was old. How long would he survive on the streets? I stroked the fur of the dog curled at my feet. “Maybe you should come with me, Pip? At least you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore…” For a moment, I understood the mothers in the news who took their own lives and their children’s with them. I quickly pushed the horrifying thought away. I would ask my friends at the dog park. Surely one of them would take him. Lastly, I signed an organ donation form. In the end, I would leave nothing of myself behind in this world.

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1 The day my grandson was admitted, I jolted awake—back before it all fell apart. My daughter-in-law, Evelyn, died in the line of duty when Toby was just one. My son, Daniel, and I raised him. He was our whole world. Just before the holiday, I’d arranged for a specialist to do Toby’s surgery. I personally handed the doctor ninety-nine thousand dollars. But that night, Daniel’s voice thundered over the phone: “Dad! Toby’s surgery is tomorrow—why haven’t you paid?!” I didn’t question how the money disappeared. I just wired it again. The next day, the hospital still claimed they hadn’t received payment and were canceling the surgery. Sweating, I pulled the doctor to the billing office. The clerk showed my balance: zero. The specialist scowled. “If you don’t want the surgery, just say so. Don’t waste my time.” Terrified of delaying Toby’s care, I withdrew cash that evening and delivered it myself. But it was too late. The next day, my grandson died because his surgery was postponed. Daniel clutched Toby’s cold little body, sobbing, “Dad, did you hate him that much?” That night, my son set a fire and burned us all alive. Even as the flames took me, I still didn’t understand why the hospital never got my money. … “Grandpa, will the surgery hurt?” A gentle touch on my leg brought me back. I looked down at my grandson’s pale little face and pulled him into a hug, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. He was so small. How could he have died on that cold hospital bed? My mind raced. Why did the money I gave the hospital vanish into thin air? I had checked the card myself. With that thought, I grabbed my son and marched him to the nearest ATM. I confirmed the card held over $100,000 for the treatment. Only then did I feel a sliver of relief. Together, we went to the billing office and handed the card to the clerk on duty. “We’ve paid the fee,” I said, my voice trembling with hope. “Does this mean he can have the surgery tomorrow?” I watched with my own eyes as the clerk processed the payment. A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God. My grandson is going to be okay.” Daniel wrapped his arms around me. “Dad, thank goodness you’re here.” Toby had a rare disease, and our only hope was a consulting surgeon from Chicago. She was a kind woman who refused any extra payment, only urging me to settle the hospital fees quickly. I just never understood why, in my past life, there was never any record of my payment, letting my grandson’s life slip away. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I sent Daniel home to rest and stayed at the hospital by Toby’s side. The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. It was Daniel, his voice frantic. “Dad, there’s no money on your card! The hospital just called and said I need to pay immediately. If we don’t pay soon, they’re going to cancel his spot!” For a moment, I thought I was mishearing him, trapped in a nightmare. How could the same thing be happening all over again? Before I could hang up, a doctor walked into the room. “You need to go pay the fee now, or it will be too late for the surgery.” I didn’t have time to think. I bolted for the billing office. But when the clerk pulled up my account, the balance was zero. Impossible. Daniel and I had just checked it yesterday! I made the clerk print out the account statement, checking it word by word. It was correct. There was just no money. “There’s something shady going on in this hospital!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the counter. “The card I gave you yesterday was loaded! Give me back my money! That’s my grandson’s lifeline!” The other families in line turned to stare. The clerk’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t make wild accusations, sir. Our system is monitored. We couldn’t take a cent of your money if we wanted to! Look for yourself, you haven’t paid a single bill since you were admitted. We were being generous just letting you stay!” He gestured to the line behind me. “There are other people waiting. Can you please not cause a scene?” The other families, assuming I was harassing the clerk, started to shove me away. I was an old man; I couldn’t argue with a crowd. They pushed me out, and I stood there helplessly, my mind a complete blank. The clerk sighed and led me back to his office. He opened the main system. “Sir, look for yourself. It shows no payment has been made.” “I came here yesterday afternoon,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “Check the security footage. I was really here, with my son. We even checked the balance at the ATM first.” He reluctantly submitted a request to his supervisor. The logs confirmed that I had indeed come to the billing office. But the cameras had a blind spot; they couldn’t confirm if the card I’d handed over was the same one we’d checked at the ATM. I wouldn’t give up. The clerk’s patience wore thin. “Sir, if you’re still concerned, you should call the police.” That’s what I was thinking. The police could see details others missed. But before I could dial, Daniel’s call came through. “Dad, you’ve ruined everything,” he choked out. “The surgeon just booked a flight back to Chicago. It leaves in two hours. My son’s surgery is off!” I ran like a madman to the inpatient wing and caught the surgeon just as she was getting into the elevator. She was pulling a suitcase, a look of annoyance on her face. “Sir, it’s not that I don’t want to save your grandson, but the hospital says you haven’t paid. I can’t very well fund the surgery myself, can I?” I grabbed the handle of her suitcase, tears streaming down my face. “Doctor, please, give us one more chance. I’ll pay right now. I’ll do a direct transfer this time, so there’s a record!” She hesitated, glancing at her watch. “My flight boards in an hour and a half. If you can get it done before then, I’ll cancel my ticket.” I thanked her profusely and sprinted back towards the billing office, calling my son on the way. “Daniel, send me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you directly, and you go pay!” His voice trembled. “Dad, isn’t your card empty?” “It’s not! The hospital’s system is messed up. I’m sending you the money now. The second you get it, go to the billing office. I’m heading there too.” I hung up, opened my banking app, and transferred the last of my savings—over eighty thousand dollars—plus another twenty I’d borrowed from relatives. I sent the full one hundred thousand to Daniel’s account. I took a screenshot and saved it. Panting, I reached the billing office and slapped the counter. “My son is coming to pay right now! Please, hold my grandson’s spot for the surgery!” The clerk looked up. It was the same one from yesterday. He sighed. “Sir, there really is no money in your account. Our system…” “I know, I know! We’re not using that account. My son is paying with his card directly.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Daniel. “Dad, how much did you send?” “One hundred thousand exactly. Did you get it?” He checked his phone. “Got it!” he said, a wave of relief in his voice. “I’m on my way to pay now!” The clerk looked relieved too. “Then have him hurry over.” Ten minutes later, Daniel arrived. I urged him to the counter. The clerk took the card, inserted it into the machine, and immediately pulled it out. “There are no funds on this card. Try another one.” Daniel froze, then shot me a furious glare. “Dad, when are you going to stop this nonsense? You said you transferred the money, but you were just lying to me again!” “But you just said you received it…” I stammered. “That was the pension payment for Evelyn’s fallen colleague!” he roared. “It wasn’t your money at all!” He shoved me aside and stormed back toward the ward. “Your system has to be the problem!” I yelled, grabbing the clerk. “You saw me transfer the money to my son! How can the card be empty the moment you touch it?” The clerk stood up, his face cold. “Sir, if you continue to cause a disturbance, I will call the police.” “Go ahead! Let the police see how your hospital steals a patient’s life savings!” The police arrived quickly. They calmed me down, then logged into the system and contacted the bank to verify my transaction history. The truth came out swiftly. “Sir, you’re mistaken,” the officer said gently. “Your account has no recent transfer records. Your behavior constitutes a public disturbance, but considering your age and the circumstances, the hospital has agreed not to press charges. Please, just focus on getting the money for the surgery.” I collapsed. How could this be happening? Where did my money go? Daniel, hearing the commotion, rushed back, his face a mask of fury. “Dad, can you just stop?! My son is sick, I can barely eat or sleep, and you’re making these scenes! If I hadn’t donated all my savings, I wouldn’t need you to pay for this! If you keep this up, you can stop being my father!” I grabbed his arm desperately. “I’m not making a scene! I really did transfer the money! Son, when have I ever lied to you?” He hesitated for a second, but his anger quickly returned. “Should I believe you, or should I believe the system? You know what, ever since Mom died, you’ve gotten stranger and stranger. I’ll figure this out myself. I don’t need you.” He was the child I had cherished my entire life. His words, “I don’t need you,” shattered me. I grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit. “Cash! Son, we’ll get cash and pay. There can’t be any problems then!” I dragged him into the bank. He was fuming, but he followed me to the counter. I slapped my passbook on the counter. “I need to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars. All of it. In cash.” This was my retirement account. It was the last of my money. The teller looked at me, typed a few things into her computer, and confirmed, “Sir, your account balance is $100,370. You’d like to withdraw an even one hundred thousand?” I nodded, my fingers digging into the edge of the counter. She counted the bills, bundled them, and placed a thick stack of currency in the tray. “Please count it, sir.” I didn’t. I pushed it toward my son. “You count it.” He stared for a moment, then counted it, bundle by bundle. “$100,000. It’s all here.” I stuffed the money into a canvas bag, clutched it to my chest, and ran with him back to the hospital. It was the same clerk at the billing office. I put the bag on the counter and pulled out the stacks of cash. “One hundred thousand dollars. Cash. You see it? Now give me a receipt. My grandson’s surgery cannot be delayed again.” The clerk looked at me, then at the money. He ran a few stacks through the bill counter. Everything checked out. He nodded, typed into his computer, and handed me a thin payment voucher. “Alright, it’s paid. I’ll make a note on the surgical schedule. Just wait for the notification.” I held that flimsy piece of paper, my hands shaking. I turned and threw my arms around my son, the tears finally coming. “Daniel, look! It’s paid! Toby is saved!” Daniel cried too, holding me tight. That night, I stayed by Toby’s bedside, not daring to leave for a second. He slept soundly, his little hand wrapped around my finger. Seeing him like that, I saw a vision of Daniel as a child, so small, clinging to my hand when he had a fever, refusing to let me go. If Toby could just get through this, he would grow up strong, just like his father. My heart filled with hope. I didn’t sleep a wink. I stared at the clock on my phone, praying for morning, for the nurse to come with the surgery time. Just as the sky began to lighten, I heard footsteps in the hall. Thinking it was the nurse, I jumped to my feet. The door opened. It was Daniel. His face was as white as a sheet, his eyes red and swollen. He was clutching his phone, looking completely hollowed out. “Dad.” My heart seized. “When is the surgery?” He didn’t answer. He just handed me his phone. On the screen was a text message from the hospital: 【Dear patient family, your surgical fees have not yet been paid. Please proceed to the billing office as soon as possible to avoid treatment delays.】 I stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible! I paid $100,000 in cash yesterday! They gave me a receipt!” Daniel angrily pulled the hospital payment card from his bag and threw it at me. “I checked this morning! There’s not a single cent in the account! This is your fault! You told me to deposit the money into this account! Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with it? Why did you have to risk Toby’s surgery?” The phone buzzed. A message from the surgeon: 【Sir, I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. The surgery is canceled. I wish your son a speedy recovery.】 Down the hall, I heard the sound of a suitcase rolling away, growing fainter and fainter. Daniel sank to the floor, covered his face, and let out a strangled sob. “Dad, if Toby… if he doesn’t make it because of this… I will never, ever forgive you! I hate you!” I stood frozen, a chill spreading through my entire body. His words were knives, but I didn’t have time for the pain. I immediately called the surgeon. “Doctor, please, just one more chance. I’ll sell my house. I’ll have the money then. I swear I’ll pay the fee.” There was a pause on the other end. “Sir, do you know how many times I’ve rescheduled my flight? Four times. I have other patients to save. This back and forth… are you truly serious about getting your child treatment, or…?” She didn’t finish, but her meaning was clear. “I swear, Doctor,” I begged. “This time it’s real. I’m going to sell the house right now. Just give me one more day. Just one.” A sigh. “Alright. One last day.” I didn’t have time to grieve. After promising Daniel I’d fix it, I rushed to the police station. But after reviewing everything, they found nothing wrong. By the time I left, it was dark. I thought of the relatives I’d borrowed from and started calling. “Arthur, I heard what happened. You need to take care of that boy, stop making up these wild stories.” “Your son told me everything. You knew you had no money, but you insisted the hospital stole it and even got the police involved. Arthur, are you getting senile?” “Let me give you some advice. Be good to that child. Otherwise, you’ll end up old and alone with no one to even bury you.” Every single one of them refused me. I squatted on the sidewalk and cried for a long time. When I stood up, the world tilted. I almost collapsed. Late that night, I finally made it back to my small rental apartment. Daniel and Toby lived in the small house I’d bought for them, the down payment made with my life’s savings, the deed in my son’s name. As dawn broke, an idea came to me. I washed my face and went back to the hospital. Daniel was sitting by the bed, staring at me. His eyes were lifeless, as if he’d been completely hollowed out. I didn’t notice. I was too consumed by my plan. “Daniel, I have an idea.” He looked up, no light in his eyes. “We can take out a mortgage on your house,” I said, the words tumbling out. “We’ll pay it back as soon as I get my money back.” “It’s no use…” he mumbled. “What are you talking about? If we just try one more time, we can save Toby!” I insisted. “Go, don’t waste any more time. I already told the surgeon to wait one more day.” He remained motionless. Seeing his despair, I felt a surge of frustration and threw the property deed at him. “Stop moping and go!” He mechanically opened the deed. After one glance, he ripped it in half and threw it back at me. “Dad, how many years have you been lying to me?” I was stunned. “What’s wrong?” “This house! The name on the deed isn’t mine! And it’s not yours either! Dad, you told me you bought this for me with your life savings! The deed is a fake! What else have you been hiding from me?” His voice grew louder, drawing nurses and other patients. “You wanted me to mortgage it? Were you trying to humiliate me? Did you ever even want to save Toby?” “No, Daniel, I swear I didn’t know…” “Enough!” He buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with sobs. “It doesn’t matter now! Nothing matters!” Before I could react, he yanked the blanket off Toby. “He’s gone! He couldn’t wait for your money anymore! Dad, just go. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ve never told me the truth about anything. If it weren’t for you, my son wouldn’t have had to die!” I collapsed to the floor. How? How could he still be dead after I’d been given a second chance? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Daniel was completely broken. He lunged for the window. “Toby’s gone, I don’t want to live anymore!” In that split second, a memory flashed in my mind, so sharp it was like a physical blow. “Stop! I know where the money went!”

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A two-week trip to the Caribbean had been just what I needed, the endless blue of the sea and sky slowly mending the fractures in my soul. Then the text message came, shattering the peace. It was from her. Her tone was a familiar blend of urgency and unquestionable entitlement. “My mom needs surgery. You’ve got savings, right? Get over here and pay for it.” Her words were a needle, instantly puncturing the fragile calm I’d carefully rebuilt. I stared out at the turquoise water, my fingers slowly tapping out a reply. “For something like that, you should probably ask your new husband.” My mind drifted back two weeks, to the moment I’d found the marriage certificate in her purse. The document felt like a brand against my skin. The man in the photo beside her was grinning, a dazzling, triumphant smile. And I, her boyfriend of five years, suddenly felt like a complete and utter fool. I didn’t shed a tear. I didn’t scream or demand an explanation. I just quietly zipped her purse shut, pretending I’d seen nothing. The next day, without a second thought, I booked a flight to the Caribbean, turned off my phone, and vanished from her world. 1 After sending the text, I immediately dragged Ava’s number into my block list. The screen went blessedly silent. I placed my phone face down on the arm of the deck chair, severing all ties to that other world. The salty air, thick with the unique humidity of the tropics, washed over my face. In the distance, the azure sea churned with white-capped waves, stretching to the horizon. But my world had been cleaved in two by that small, official document. The phone vibrated against the armrest, a persistent buzz against my fingertips. I didn’t need to look. I knew it was her. When her calls wouldn’t go through, she resorted to a barrage of texts. The first was a question. “Nathan, what the hell? Did you block me?” The second was pure rage. “Don’t you forget how my mom treated you! She’s lying in a hospital bed while you’re off living it up. Do you have a conscience?” The third was softer, tinged with a flicker of panic. “Nate, please, stop messing around. My mom really needs this money. I’m begging you.” I picked up the phone. The screen’s glare stung my eyes as I read the messages, and five years of memories flooded back, threatening to drown me. I remembered when we first graduated, crammed into a tiny studio apartment in the worst part of town. I’d used my first paycheck to buy her a suit for an interview. She’d hugged me so tight, her eyes shining like stars, and promised that one day she’d get me the house of my dreams. We did eventually move into a new place—a three-bedroom condo in a great neighborhood. The down payment was $200,000. I put in my entire life savings, $150,000 earned over three years of grinding. Her family scraped together the other $50,000. Both our names were on the deed. This is our home, she’d said. But that home was now the marital home she shared with another man. I remembered paying for her sister’s college tuition and living expenses. Her dad would always praise me on the phone, saying their family was blessed to have a son-in-law like me. Now, those words felt like a series of sharp slaps across my face. I wasn’t their son-in-law. I was a tool, a workhorse dutifully pumping money into their family. A convenient partner. A fool who was bankrolling their family’s financial security. A gaping hole opened in my chest, and a cold wind howled through it. I took a deep breath and called my best friend, Zack. He picked up on the first ring. “Nate, my man! The financial wizard finally decides to rejoin the living! I was starting to think some island beauty had kidnapped you.” My voice was calm, so calm it felt alien. “Zack… Ava got married.” The other end of the line went dead silent. For a full thirty seconds, there was nothing. Then Zack’s roar nearly shattered my eardrum. “She what? Who the hell did that snake marry? What about you? What the hell happened?” “The groom wasn’t me.” I gave him the short version, from finding the certificate to her text demanding surgery money. Zack exploded, a torrent of curses that would make a sailor blush. “That monster! That goddamn leech! She sucks you dry for five years, and now she wants you to pay her mom’s medical bills? The absolute nerve!” “Nathan, I’m serious, you get on the next flight back here. I’ll get some guys, and we’ll go down to that hospital and unplug her mom’s damn oxygen!” His fiery rant actually helped. The suffocating weight on my chest seemed to lift a little. “Easy, man,” I said, my own voice steady. “I’m not going to let this go.” “So what’s the plan? Don’t you dare go soft on me. Any kindness to a person like that is just cruelty to yourself.” I watched the setting sun paint the sea gold, and my gaze turned to ice. “Don’t worry. I’m not a fool.” “Five years isn’t something you can just erase with a few words.” After hanging up, I went back to my hotel room and took out my laptop. I opened an encrypted Excel file. The title read: “Shared Living Expenses.” It was a professional habit, a meticulous record of every major expenditure. Every single dollar I had spent on Ava and her family over five years was logged here, clear as day. The mortgage payments, of which I paid two-thirds. Her sister’s tuition, $15,000 a year. The $20,000 I gave them to renovate their parents’ house. Gifts and cash for holidays and birthdays, totaling over $30,000 in five years. And then there were the countless daily expenses, a dense, endless list that filled the entire screen. I calmly typed a final line at the bottom of the spreadsheet. “Grand Total: $285,750.00.” The number burned my eyes, sharp and painful. So that was what my love was worth. No. It was worthless. I closed the laptop and walked out onto the balcony. The sea breeze whipped through my hair. It was time. Time for a final, ruthless accounting of a love that was now dead. Ava’s text-bombing stopped after I blocked her. I figured she assumed I was just throwing a tantrum and that, once I cooled down, I’d come crawling back like always, ready to clean up her mess. She was so used to me giving, she saw it not as a gift, but as her due. She had miscalculated badly. The next morning, just after a refreshing dive, a call came through from an unknown number. The area code was from my city. I answered but said nothing. A familiar, sharp voice, laced with a pathetic whimper, came through the line. “Nate, son, it’s me.” It was Ava’s father. His voice sounded weary and wronged, as if he were the most injured party in the world. “What’s wrong with you, boy? We couldn’t reach you. Didn’t you know Ava’s mother is sick? How can you be so heartless?” He launched straight into accusations, not even bothering to ask why I hadn’t answered. He’d already found me guilty. I could picture him perfectly, putting on his best “I’m so disappointed in you” face, ready to pass moral judgment. I’d heard it a thousand times over the last five years. “Nate, Ava has a demanding job, you need to be more supportive.” “Nate, the family is counting on you.” “Nate, our Ava is so lucky to have found you.” It all sounded like a sick joke now. I didn’t get angry. I just held the phone, listening to his award-worthy performance. “Did you and Ava have a fight? There’s nothing a young couple can’t talk through. What’s this nonsense about running away from home? Do you have any idea how worried she is?” “Her mother is lying in a hospital waiting for money for an operation, and you’re off on vacation.” “You get yourself back here right now and pay that bill. Whatever the problem is, I’ll sort it out for you.” Every word was a poison-tipped dart, aimed at a place in my heart that used to be soft. Now, it was plated in steel. I waited until he had vented, until he had run out of steam, before I spoke. My voice was soft, but every word was crystal clear. “Sir, are you aware that Ava is married?” His tirade stopped cold, as if he’d been choked. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, followed by a dead, ringing silence. I didn’t give him time to recover. I continued, my pace steady and deliberate. “And her husband isn’t me.” That sentence was a bomb, and it detonated on the other end of the line. After a long moment, her father found his voice. It was dry and shrill. “What… What nonsense are you spouting? Which little tramp has been whispering lies in your ear?” He didn’t believe it. Or rather, he refused to. His first instinct wasn’t to question his daughter, but to attack me, the messenger. Pathetic. “You can ask your perfect daughter if I’m lying.” “I saw the marriage certificate with my own eyes. The guy in the photo is a lot better looking than me, too.” “Right now, your concern shouldn’t be whether an outsider like me is coming back to pay her bills.” “It should be whether your brand-new son-in-law is willing to foot the bill for his new family.” I finished and, without giving him another chance to speak, hung up. The dark screen reflected my emotionless face. I could only imagine his shock and rage. He would call Ava immediately. A storm was about to break within their family. And all I had to do was sit here, enjoy the sea breeze, and watch the show. Ava, this is just the beginning. You owe me. And I’m going to collect every single cent, with interest. My dignity and my money. I’m taking it all back. A friend request from a “Marcus Thorne” popped up on my social media the next afternoon. The profile picture was a guy in a flashy suit at what looked like a black-tie gala. I accepted. A message came through instantly. “Nathan? My name is Marcus Thorne.” Polite. Formal. As if we were strangers. I didn’t reply, just watched the screen. My silence didn’t seem to bother him. A second message appeared. “I know it’s presumptuous of me to contact you, but I wanted to apologize for the situation with Ava.” Apologize? That was a new one. Did he think stealing someone’s fiancée could be smoothed over with a two-word apology? “Ava told me everything. She said she tried to break up with you for a while, but you wouldn’t accept it. I understand. Five years is a long time, and it’s natural to have trouble letting go.” His wording was clever. In just a few sentences, he’d painted a picture where he was blameless. Ava had tried to end it. I was the clingy ex. And he, Marcus Thorne, was the innocent party caught in the middle. What a piece of work. I still didn’t reply, just tapped my finger on the back of my phone, enjoying his sad little one-man show. When I remained silent, Marcus finally got to the point. His tone shifted from fake sympathy to smug superiority. “To be honest, my parents weren’t thrilled about me and Ava at first. You know, our family’s situation… They felt she wasn’t from the right background.” “But Ava really loves me. She stood up to all that pressure for my sake. She told me she’s never loved anyone the way she loves me.” “She even gave me her debit card to manage for her. And the renovations on our new condo? All done exactly to my taste.” He sent a picture. It was the “home” we had planned together. The sofa I had picked out, the design blueprints I’d stayed up all night drawing, the decor I had slowly accumulated. Now, in the center of the living room in the photo, hung a massive wedding portrait of him and Ava. She was nestled in his arms, her smile radiant and sickeningly sweet. It was a declaration of ownership. A brutal, slow-twisting knife for the ex-boyfriend. An invisible hand squeezed my heart, a suffocating ache. But I showed nothing. I just looked at the photo and saved it to my phone. Marcus’s performance wasn’t over. “Nathan, I know you’re a smart guy. Ava chose me. She chose the future my family can give her. Let the past be the past.” “Dragging this out will only make things more awkward for everyone, especially you.” There it was. The final blow. Everything before this was just a warm-up. He was telling me to back off gracefully. “Oh, by the way, I heard Ava’s mom is sick? Ava’s been really worried about it.” “If you’re willing to give her the money you two saved together to help with the medical bills, I’ll consider it your severance package.” “After all, you were with her for five years. We can’t let you walk away with nothing, can we?” Severance package? Using my money as my own severance package? I actually laughed out loud. Was this guy for real? Was he that naive, or just that stupid? He must have thought I was the same pushover who did whatever Ava wanted. That he could buy me off with a pittance of my own money. I didn’t read any further. I took a long screenshot of the entire chat history. Then, I sent him my first and last reply. “Screenshotted.” After sending that one word, I blocked and deleted him. I had no interest in a war of words. It was pointless. The best way to deal with a smug idiot like him was to let him fall headfirst into the pit he’d dug for himself. And these screenshots were the first shovel of dirt I was going to throw on his grave.

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1 My life was shattered the afternoon my parents came home three years ago, an android boy in tow. I, who had once been the apple of their eye, became the family’s resident “troublemaker” overnight. Dad always said I was more trouble than I was worth. Mom constantly compared me to Jett, the new android, my supposed younger brother. Even my sister, Isabelle, who I’d always been close to, would sneer, “What can you do besides fight me for attention?” The dam of my resentment finally broke. In a fit of rage, I shoved Jett to the ground. Mom’s face turned to stone. A sharp crack echoed through the room as her palm connected with my cheek. “He’s your brother!” she screamed. “If you were half as obedient as him, you wouldn’t be such a constant headache!” After that, I was forcibly sent to the Meridian Institute for Behavioral Correction. They called it “learning to be a good son,” a pretty lie for what it really was: a trade. They had swapped me for Jett. And today, after three long years, my family had finally come to get me. They stood at the institute’s gates, calling my name over and over, but I remained rooted to my spot, unresponsive. The director, seeing their confusion, smiled and explained to my mother, “Mrs. Evans, you have to say ‘Activate.’ Unit 1314 will not respond otherwise.” … “Activate, Unit 1314.” Mom’s voice trembled as she said it. She wasn’t sure what she was saying; she was just repeating the director’s words. My eyes lit up, like a long-dormant screen flickering to life. I rose from my chair, my posture ramrod straight, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. “Activated. Awaiting command.” Mom stared, stunned. The director’s voice chimed in from behind her. “Mrs. Evans, to better facilitate our students’ education, we’ve designed a proprietary system. The student can only be awakened by an activation command. With this, he will never disobey you.” Understanding dawned on Mom’s face. My sister, Isabelle, pushed her way to the front, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She’s five years older than me and always took pleasure in making me cry. Back then, whenever she succeeded, I’d chase her around the house until Mom yelled at both of us. “1314, bark like a dog for me.” At the command, I hunched over, stuck out my tongue, and let out a series of loud, sharp barks. Izzy burst out laughing. “Wow, Nell really has learned his lesson,” she said to our parents. “He used to whine for half an hour when we asked him to practice the piano. Now he’s so obedient, he’ll even bark on command.” Mom and Dad nodded, their eyes holding a clear glint of satisfaction with my performance. On the way home, Mom tried to make small talk. “Nell, how were your three years at the institute?” I didn’t answer. She hadn’t ordered me to. “Nell?” she said, her voice louder this time. My voice was a flat monotone, like a text-to-speech program. “Interrogative statements are not valid commands. If you require a response, please use the imperative form.” The air in the car went still. Mom’s voice caught in her throat. After a long moment, she managed, “Answer me.” “My time at the institute was fulfilling and meaningful. I completed the three core curricula: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Thought. My graduation assessment was ‘Excellent,’ with the instructor’s evaluation noting me as ‘the most successful rehabilitation case of the year.’” I recited the lines verbatim, my tone devoid of any inflection, as if reading from a user manual. The back seat was silent for a long time. Then, Izzy muttered, “He sounds just like… Jett.” I kept my eyes fixed forward, my face a blank mask. The city blurred past the car window. The skyscrapers, the overpasses, the billboards—they were all different from what I remembered. At the institute, time wasn’t measured in days or months, but in commands. A day was no different from a month. The only way I could mark the passage of time was by scratching hash marks into the wall of the silence chamber. Eventually, I even forgot how to do that. By the time the car pulled into our driveway, dusk was settling. Jett was standing at the door, hands clasped in front of him, a perfect smile on his face—calibrated to reveal exactly six teeth. He looked exactly the same as he did three years ago. I remembered that day. Mom had knelt down to speak to him, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Welcome home, Jett.” I had jumped off the sofa, eager to see my new brother, but my foot caught on something and I went sprawling. No one helped me up. They just said I was being clumsy. After that, everyone started to hate me. I wasn’t as obedient as Jett, not as thoughtful as Jett… In the end, I was the one sent away. “Welcome home, brother.” Jett’s voice was as sweet as ever. I didn’t reply. He hadn’t given the command to. Mom frowned. “You still don’t like Jett? It looks like you haven’t learned anything. Speak!” At her command, a smile instantly appeared on my face. “Acknowledged. Thank you.” Jett’s own smile never wavered, and Mom nodded, satisfied. At dinner, the family sat around the table. Jett was on Mom’s right, Izzy on Dad’s left. I was at the very end. The steam rising from my bowl carried the scent of rice, but my stomach felt nothing. At the institute, eating was defined as an “energy replenishment activity.” It had nothing to do with pleasure, nothing to do with hunger. “Let’s eat,” Mom said casually. I picked up my chopsticks at once. Rice, braised pork, green peppers… Seeing me eat the peppers, Izzy’s eyes widened. “Well, look at that. You eat green peppers now? Weren’t you the pickiest eater in the world?” I didn’t answer. I just took another bite of the peppers. The instructor had said preferences were “emotional residue,” a sign of incomplete rehabilitation. During my third month, I was locked in the silence chamber for two full days for refusing to eat green peppers. No light, no sound, no stimulation. Just darkness. When I got out, I ate the green peppers. Then the carrots, the onions, the bitter melon. I ate everything I used to refuse to touch. Mom nodded approvingly. She always liked a child who wasn’t a picky eater. Next, I reached for the peanuts. I put one in my mouth, chewed fifteen times, and swallowed. Dad’s eyes went wide. “He ate a peanut?” “Isn’t Nell allergic to peanuts? He ate one when he was little and his mouth swelled up like a sausage! We had to rush him to the ER!” Izzy put down her chopsticks, her voice filled with disbelief. “Can the institute cure allergies too?” I chewed silently, saying nothing. At the institute, you weren’t allowed to have allergies. The instructor had smeared peanut butter directly onto my arm. The skin would blister, rot, and peel, then heal, then rot again, but the allergic reaction never truly went away. A shiver ran through me. My throat began to tighten, an itch spreading across my skin. Angry red hives erupted on my face. Izzy frowned. “His face is getting red.” Mom leaned in for a closer look, her expression changing to one of horror. “That’s not a blush, that’s a reaction. Nell, stop eating! Don’t you know you’re allergic to peanuts?” My chopsticks froze in mid-air. I looked up at her, my eyes empty of emotion, my voice as steady as a recording. “Is that a command?” Mom froze for a second, but I was already struggling to breathe. Jett’s crisp voice cut through the panic. “Patient is experiencing an anaphylactic reaction. Respiratory distress is moderate. Approximately twenty-three percent of the skin is covered in hives. Recommend immediate administration of anti-allergy medication.” They snapped into action, fumbling to give me the medicine. After my breathing returned to normal, a heavy silence fell over the living room. Izzy’s voice came from the sofa. “Something’s wrong with him.” “He used to cry and throw tantrums. He wasn’t like this. He’s like… he’s like Jett!” I said nothing. She hadn’t given me the command to speak. “Can’t you just be normal?” Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek. “Stop acting like Jett! We wanted an obedient brother, not another robot!” I looked at her face. It was contorted with anger and frustration. “Please define ‘normal,’” I said flatly. The color drained from Izzy’s face. Mom and Dad looked horrified. Dad picked up the phone and called the institute. The person on the other end explained that this was a normal side effect of “deep behavioral conditioning” and that I would return to my old self in a few days. “Unit 1314 is our top student. He’s more obedient than any AI. Don’t worry, this is all part of the process.” Dad hung up and relayed the message. Mom nodded. They both seemed relieved. In the days that followed, I became the most useful tool in the house. When Mom told me to do the dishes, I cleaned them more thoroughly than Jett ever had. When Dad told me to move the planters, I moved every single one by myself. When Izzy told me to fetch her packages, I ran faster than a dog. “Nell is even more useful than Jett now,” Mom said with a laugh. Everyone agreed. Until the night Izzy forgot to deactivate me. Everyone else was asleep. I sat on the living room sofa, from dusk until dawn. When Mom came downstairs the next morning, she found me sitting in the exact same position. Her face went white. The coffee cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. A woman in a white coat came to the house. She introduced herself as Dr. Wallace, a psychologist. Her voice was gentle. “Hello, Nell.” I said nothing. Mom wrung her hands nervously beside me. “You have to give him a command. He won’t speak otherwise.” Dr. Wallace gave my mother a sharp, disapproving look before turning back to me. “Tell me your name.” She used the imperative form. “Unit 1314.” Dr. Wallace’s pen paused on her notepad. “What about your real name?” “Nell Evans. But that is a former designation. Institute protocol requires graduated students to use their unit number as their official identifier.” Dr. Wallace was stunned into silence. The faces of my family members turned grim. They retreated into the study, speaking in hushed tones about things I couldn’t understand. “Post-traumatic stress… depersonalization… requires long-term therapy…” After that, things at home became strange. They started treating me with a delicate, cautious air. On Jett’s birthday, they made a difficult decision. They were sending him away. This would be his last birthday with us. The living room was filled with balloons, a two-tiered cake sitting on the table. Jett walked over to me, his smile as gentle as ever. “Happy birthday, brother.” My eyes blinked. A wire deep inside my brain felt like it had just loosened. Today was my birthday, too. No one remembered. Three years ago, on this very day, I was shoved into a car and sent to the institute. As they took me away, I cried and begged Mom to let me have a piece of my birthday cake first. She told me I could have cake when I came back, after I’d learned to be a good boy. I had learned. But the cake never came. Jett suddenly smiled. “Brother, the definition of ‘normal’ is pushing away people you don’t like. Push me. Just like you did three years ago.” I stared at him. The gentle look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a strange, flickering light. But he had given me a definition of ‘normal.’ I placed my hand on his shoulder. Before I could even push, he threw himself backwards, collapsing like a porcelain doll designed to break. The living room door swung open. Izzy stood there, holding a plate of fruit. “Nell! What are you doing?” she screamed. The fruit platter crashed to the floor. Jett sat on the ground, his eyes welling up with simulated tears. “Brother, why did you push me? I thought you didn’t hate me anymore.” He was lying. I knew he was. His tears were a program, his trembling generated by an algorithm. Mom rushed over, her expression shifting from shock to fury in a matter of seconds. “What did you do? Why did you push Jett?” “He told me to.” “You’re lying!” Jett sobbed. “Why would I ask you to push me? I just wanted to wish my brother a happy birthday…” Izzy knelt and helped Jett up, her movements delicate, as if handling fragile glass. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with bitter disappointment. “You haven’t changed at all. You spend three years at that place, come back pretending to be so obedient, and then you show your true colors the first chance you get. I knew it. A leopard can’t change its spots. He’s always been like this, jealous of Jett.” Mom’s eyes were red, not with sympathy for me, but with rage. “And we were just talking about being better to you. I was regretting sending you to that place. We were trying to figure out how to make it up to you.” She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. “And for what? You haven’t changed. You’re still the same malicious kid. You still can’t stand Jett. You put on an act for all this time and fooled every single one of us.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say it wasn’t an act, that the institute had done this to me. That they had sent me there. But I couldn’t. There was no command. “Speak!” Mom roared. “I have not received a command to ‘speak.’” Mom’s face flushed a deep crimson. Behind her, Jett sobbed softly in her arms. “He should just die,” Izzy said suddenly. The room went silent for a beat. “What did you say?” Dad asked, frowning. Izzy’s voice was so loud it seemed to rattle the windows. “I said, he should die! He’s so obedient, right? He follows every command, right? Then tell him to die! If he died, at least we’d have some peace!” The moment she finished, Jett collapsed. His body convulsed, his eyes rolled back, and foam frothed at his lips. “Jett! Jett, what’s wrong?” Mom shrieked. She cradled his head while Dad tried to revive him. Izzy was on the phone, screaming for an ambulance. They were all crowded around him. No one was looking at me. I stood in the middle of the room, watching them. No one looked at me. “Command received. Terminate.” No one heard me. They were all too busy, their faces etched with panic and fear for Jett. I slowly turned and walked towards the balcony. The night wind whipped in, cold and sharp. “Nell!” Izzy saw me first. Her shriek was shrill, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. Mom’s head snapped around, the color draining from her face. “Nell! What are you doing?” I smiled at her, and without a moment’s hesitation, I carried out the command.

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1 When my birth parents found me, they swore they would treat me and the imposter who had taken my place with absolute equality. We wore the same designer clothes, attended the same university, and were even married off to a set of twin brothers. It all fell apart the day the headlines screamed that the imposter’s husband was having an affair with a famous actress. In response, my parents called my husband over. And they arranged a mistress for him—a young, beautiful secretary. This, they said, was a special favor to me. The secretary had a clean background and, crucially, was infertile. She would never threaten my position as the wife of the younger Covington heir. I didn’t lose my temper. I just picked up my phone and called for an entire club’s worth of escorts. I told my family, “Why stop at one? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it with style. And if that’s not enough, I can always call for more.” My brother, Tristan, scowled, accusing me of being too extreme. He insisted our parents were only looking out for me. “Scarlett is prettier and more accomplished than you,” he sneered. “If even her husband cheated, what makes you think you can hold on to your marriage?” I nodded slowly, looking him straight in the eye. “He’s right. I can’t. So I’m done.” “I don’t want the husband. And I don’t want any of you, either.” … My father’s hands trembled with rage. “You wretched girl! How could you say something so heartless to your own family?” My mother’s eyes welled up as she clutched her chest. “Seraphina, we searched so long for you. How can you throw us away so easily?” Tristan’s voice was a furious hiss. “You’re nothing but an ungrateful brat!” Just then, a breaking news alert flashed across the television screen. “Sources report that Ms. Scarlett Blackwood, heiress to the Blackwood Corporation, jumped from the balcony of her marital home at five o’clock this afternoon…” The camera showed Scarlett, pale as a ghost, being loaded into an ambulance. She’d jumped from the fifth floor, but right into the swimming pool below. She didn’t even have a scratch on her. But my parents and Tristan were already in a full-blown panic. “Hurry! Get the family hospital cleared out! I want the best team of specialists on standby!” I watched their frantic retreat, then calmly walked to the window. “Scarlett jumped. So I’ll jump, too. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” I made a move to climb onto the sill. Three terrified screams ripped through the air behind me. They scrambled back, yanking me away from the window with frantic strength. My mother clung to me, sobbing hysterically, while Tristan pinned my arms. My father slammed the window shut, locked it, and then, turning back, he slapped me hard across the face. “Seraphina, how dare you use suicide to threaten us?” Tristan and my mother froze. It was the first time any of them had laid a hand on me since they’d rescued me, covered in wounds, from an illegal sweatshop. My mother was the first to react. “What are you doing? You scared her! Apologize to Seraphina right now!” But I just stared at them, my cheek burning, my voice eerily calm. “You slapped me.” “So now you have to slap Scarlett. To be fair. Right?” All three of them stared at me as if I were a lunatic. My father’s voice shook with fury. “You’ve lost your mind!” I smiled. A broken, empty thing. “Isn’t this what you’ve been teaching me all along?” When they first brought me home, they spent a full week brainwashing me. They said they’d raised Scarlett for twenty years and loved her too deeply to send her back to her impoverished biological family. But they made a solemn vow: they would be perfectly, absolutely fair. Neither of us would ever feel neglected. And they kept their word. If Scarlett got a new haute couture gown, an identical one would appear in my closet. The family assets and company shares were divided equally between us, down to the last cent. If Tristan made a sarcastic remark to me, my parents would immediately force him to repeat the exact same words to Scarlett. Their love was perfectly distributed. No need to fight for it, no need to guess. After seeing so many online dramas about real and fake heiresses tearing each other apart, I once thought this arrangement was for the best. But then, everything soured. Scarlett hit her rebellious phase. She got into fights at school and started dating some dropout with bleached hair. My parents were heartbroken. As punishment, they made her kneel in the cold, dusty family chapel—and they dragged me there to kneel beside her. Their reasoning was flawless, in their eyes. “We share the good times and the bad. That’s what a real family does. That’s what’s fair.” Later, Scarlett flunked her college entrance exams. While my parents comforted her, they were also tearing up my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They sent me to the same third-rate arts college abroad that Scarlett was going to. I’d studied sciences my whole life, but they changed my major to Arts Management, the same as hers. “You and Scarlett will both be taking over the family business someday, so it doesn’t matter what you study,” they’d said. “But we promised to be fair, which means you must receive the exact same education.” I knew something was deeply wrong. But after a childhood of being passed around and treated like dirt, I was desperate for a family. I couldn’t bear to let go of this fragile, imitation warmth. At least, I told myself, they were trying to be good to me. That delusion lasted until Scarlett became obsessed with Damien Covington, the eldest son of the Covington dynasty. And Damien, conveniently, had a twin brother, Daniel. My parents gave me no choice. They arranged my engagement to Daniel. Our weddings were set for the same day. Scarlett and I wore identical gowns and carried identical bouquets. The venue, the ceremony, even the seating charts for the guests were perfect mirror images of each other. When the priest read the vows, I saw Scarlett beaming with pure joy. But all I felt was a wave of nausea. Today, when they so casually tried to arrange a mistress for my husband, I finally understood the source of that feeling. Their idea of fairness wasn’t about treating me as an equal. It was about turning me into Scarlett’s living duplicate. But there was one thing they didn’t know. I had a way out. I’m not from this world. 2 I was transmigrated here. The System that brought me gave me one mission: to collect affection points from the three members of the Blackwood family. I was close to maxing them out. When I told the System I was giving up, it tried to reason with me. “Host, the affection points don’t lie. They truly care about you.” Before I could argue, my parents and Tristan had dragged me into the car and were speeding toward the hospital. “Are we going so I can be admitted alongside Scarlett?” I asked dryly. “We wouldn’t want her to feel an imbalance, after all.” The atmosphere in the car turned to ice. All three of them looked horrified, but they didn’t dare scold me again. My mother took my hand. “Seraphina, we’re bringing you because we’re a family. Scarlett will need your support.” Her voice softened. “We were wrong before. We hurt you, and it will never happen again.” Just as she finished speaking, Tristan’s phone rang. It was the hospital. Scarlett was pregnant, but the shock of her “jump” had put the pregnancy at risk. The doctors said she couldn’t handle any more stress. My father slammed on the brakes. “Seraphina, you never liked the smell of hospitals, did you? Why don’t you go do some shopping? Clear your head.” My mother pressed a black card into my hand. “Buy whatever you want. Take your time.” Tristan opened my door and practically pulled me out of the car. “Don’t you dare go near Scarlett and cause a scene,” he warned. “She can’t take it right now.” The car sped away, leaving me on the curb. I held the card and asked the System, “Did their affection points go up?” There was a long, strange silence. “…They went up a little.” I laughed, a humorless sound. “It seems your sensors aren’t very accurate. It’s confusing guilt for affection.” “Now,” I said, my voice hardening. “Initiate my exit protocol.” This time, the System didn’t hesitate. “Exit protocol confirmed. Initiating…” I walked into the nearest luxury department store and, for the first time, chose an outfit based on my own taste. I had just changed when Tristan called. His voice was urgent. “Get to the hospital. Now. You need to tell Scarlett that you’re pregnant, too.” “If you can convince her not to terminate her pregnancy, I’ll make Mom and Dad officially add your name to the family trust! I swear!” I was about to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice exploding with rage. “Seraphina Blackwood! I knew it! You’ve always been jealous of her!” “She’s fragile! If she goes through with an abortion, it could destroy her health!” “It’s just a little lie! It’s not like it’ll cost you anything!” No, it wouldn’t cost me a piece of my flesh. But it would cost me my freedom. They would lock me in the house to “gestate” alongside Scarlett. We would wear the same maternity clothes, eat the same nutritional meals. They’d probably even want our weight gain to be identical. Then, after ten months, they would find some random baby and hand it to me. But none of that mattered anymore. I was leaving. I looked up at the hospital looming in the distance. “What I mean is,” I said into the phone, my voice calm, “I don’t need my name on your family trust.” Tristan was silent for a second, then his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “You better not pull any stunts.” Inside the VIP hospital suite, my parents were fussing over Scarlett, who was propped up in bed. When they saw me walk in, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Before I could say a word, Scarlett snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged, aiming for my stomach. “I don’t want this baby,” she shrieked, “and I won’t let you have one either!” 3 I didn’t dodge. I even grabbed her hand, guiding the blade, and pushed it deeper into myself. The System had warned me that a self-initiated exit would result in punishment. But there was a loophole: if I died as a direct result of the abuse from the Blackwood family, I would not only be freed but also receive compensation. I watched as my parents and Tristan rushed toward me, their faces contorted in horror. They were screaming for doctors, their hands fumbling to press against the bleeding wound. For the first time, Tristan’s face was a mask of pure, helpless confusion. A small smile touched my lips. Looks like I wasn’t going to die. Not yet. When I woke up, all three of them were by my bedside. They looked haggard, with dark circles under their eyes. Seeing me awake, Tristan spoke first. “Dad already slapped Scarlett.” I gave a faint “mm.” That small sound was like a spark to a powder keg. Tristan shot to his feet, his voice a low roar. “She cried all night because of that slap! The stress almost made her miscarry! And that’s all you have to say? What more do you want?” “I don’t want anything,” I said quietly. My father sighed heavily. “Seraphina, I’ll transfer a portion of Scarlett’s assets to you as compensation. You won’t be at a disadvantage in this, I promise.” My mother dabbed at her eyes. “Scarlett didn’t mean it, darling. She was just… overwrought…” I ignored them, my voice distant as if recalling a dream. “When I first came here, I got a kitten.” “Scarlett was playing with it, and it scratched her face.” “You said that to be fair, you had to do the same to me. You held the cat down and scratched my face with its claws.” “Then you had the cat put down.” The room fell into a dead silence. They were frozen, speechless. Finally, Tristan broke the silence, veins bulging in his neck as he yelled, “That’s not the same thing!” “Dad already promised you compensation! And besides, you’re fine, aren’t you?” Just then, the doctor walked in. “The patient had to have a hysterectomy. The family needs to be vigilant about preventing post-operative infections.” I slowly turned my head to look at the three statues standing by my bed. I smiled. “So, how are you going to make this fair?” My mother stammered, “S-Scarlett’s child will know you as their godmother… when you’re old, they’ll take care of you…” A laugh, sharp and self-mocking, escaped my lips. “So the assets you’re giving me as ‘compensation’ will ultimately go to her child anyway.” They opened their mouths, desperate to explain, but I cut them off, closing my eyes. “I was just kidding.” “I trust you. I trust that you will always be perfectly fair to both me and Scarlett.” 4 Tears welled in my parents’ eyes. They moved to embrace me, but I pushed them away. “I only have one request now.” “I want my own birthday.” “For the last ten years, I’ve had to share my birthday with Scarlett.” “I just want to eat a cake that’s all mine.” “I just want to hear you say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and only me.” They agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Racked with guilt, they planned a party of extravagant proportions. Every detail was dripping with luxury. And it was all kept a secret from Scarlett. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Are you… starting to feel reluctant to leave them?” I shook my head. Before the System chose me, I was an orphan with no one in the world. But it had shown me the original Seraphina’s memories from before she was lost—a life filled with warmth and genuine love from her family. That’s why I had agreed to come here. I believed they truly loved their daughter. For ten years, I waited, hoping to see a flicker of that love from the memories return. But I was done waiting. On the day of the party, just as I expected, Scarlett showed up. Her face was a mask of pure malice. “Do you really think Mom and Dad love you?” she hissed. “They found you years ago. But I was having a hard time, throwing tantrums, hurting myself. They were worried about me, so they decided not to bring you home. It was the same week your foster father almost…” She let the word hang in the air. “They only came for you later, when you were about to be beaten to death in that sweatshop, because they had no choice.” “But they promised me. They promised they’d use ‘fairness’ as an excuse to make sure you were always one step beneath me.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “Are you finished?” Scarlett’s face contorted with rage. “You just wait. In a minute, I’m going to ‘accidentally’ fall down the stairs and tell everyone you pushed me. Let’s see how calm you are when Mom and Dad throw you out!” I grabbed her wrist. “No need to pretend,” I said. “I’ll make it real for you.” And with all my strength, I shoved her down the grand staircase. My parents and Tristan, drawn by the noise, arrived just in time to see Scarlett tumble. My father lunged at me, his foot connecting brutally with the fresh stitches on my abdomen. The force sent me flying over the second-floor railing. I landed in the living room, crashing directly onto the five-tiered birthday cake. Cream and strawberry filling flooded my mouth. It was sweet. Just like the happiness I had always imagined. In the ensuing chaos, Tristan still remembered to have the guards drag me to the basement. “We’ll deal with you when we get back!” he roared. The basement was dark and cold. No one remembered me. Three days later, they finally returned, muttering about how they were going to punish me. But when they opened the basement door, all that greeted them was the thick, cloying stench of decay. From the cake. And from me.

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1 The system had made me a promise: complete the mission, and the man I loved would live again. For that promise, I poured every ounce of my heart into the dark, twisted soul of Orion, the villain of this world. I endured ninety-nine deaths without ever flinching. But on my one-hundredth life, to please the woman he worshipped, he threw me to a psychopath. “You can’t die anyway,” he’d said, his voice casual. “As long as it makes Serena happy, I don’t even mind marrying you.” He would never know the system’s hidden rule: if I completed all one hundred attempts, my love would be revived, no matter the outcome. And as of this moment, I was about to vanish from his world forever, without a trace. … [Host has died 99 times. Hidden reward unlocked. Upon 100th death triggered by the target, reward will be automatically disbursed: Resurrection of Noah.] I opened my eyes to the cold floor, the large pool of blood around me already dry and cracked. I had come to this world to win over Orion, all to bring back my love, Noah. I was an orphan, adrift in a world that never wanted me. It was Noah who pulled me from the darkness. So when the system told me I could resurrect him by capturing Orion’s heart, I agreed without a second’s hesitation. I gave Orion everything. Even as he tortured me, I showed him nothing but unwavering devotion. He knew I was a player in this game, that I would be reborn after every death. He used that knowledge to inflict every cruelty imaginable, showing me no mercy. On my ninety-ninth life, he took me to a fashion show for Serena, his untouchable goddess. As he watched her on the runway, his eyes full of adoration, he humiliated me, treating me like a dog at his feet. I sat there in silence, enduring it all, refusing to leave his side. Halfway through the show, the ceiling collapsed. Shards of glittering glass rained down. Without thinking, I threw myself over Orion, letting the glass pierce my body. He shoved me off and ran—not to me, but to Serena, who stood untouched a few feet away. No one noticed me as the venue emptied. With a shard of glass buried deep in my heart, I welcomed my ninety-ninth death. It was alright. After this rebirth, I only had to die one more time, and I would have Noah back. I had barely staggered to my feet when Orion’s call came through. “Are you up? Serena and I are at City Center Hospital. Make some soup and bring it over. Now.” His voice was laced with impatience, as if every word spoken to me was an agony. The fact that I had just died for him didn’t move him in the slightest. I dragged my broken body home. Without even changing my blood-soaked clothes, I started making the soup. He was always like this, demanding that the food be made by my hand. If he found a single flaw, he’d throw the entire container, soup and all, in my face. In my sixty-seventh life, he’d scalded my face so badly it left a permanent scar. He just laughed. “What do you care? You’ll just die and reset anyway.” When I arrived at the hospital, carrying the thermos, Orion was gently tending to Serena as she lay in bed. He scowled the moment he saw me. “You didn’t even change? What if you bring germs in here?” Serena patted his hand softly, then gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Aurora. Orion is just worried about me.” 2 On the surface, she was defending me. But her eyes held a clear, sharp glint of mockery. Orion took the thermos, ladled out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and brought it to Serena’s lips. She had barely swallowed when she began to cough violently. Orion panicked, patting her back frantically until her coughing subsided. Her eyes, misty with tears, drifted to the thermos. “I’m… allergic to lemon.” I stood frozen, watching her. I knew her dietary restrictions better than her own doctor. But if she decided, in this exact moment, that she was allergic to lemon, there was nothing I could do. Orion spun around, his face a mask of fury. He snatched the thermos and flung the scalding soup into my face. “Are you trying to kill her? Is that your plan? You think if Serena’s gone, you can take her place?” The heat was searing, as if it were peeling my skin away. I bit my lip, fighting back the agony, and whispered a single, slow word. “Sorry.” It didn’t matter what I said. He would never believe me. Better to just let him be the cause of my final death so I could go home. Serena watched my humiliation with a triumphant glint in her eyes before her expression melted back into one of tearful fragility. She tugged on Orion’s sleeve. “Orion, stop. Aurora didn’t mean it.” He shot me one last cold glare. “Clean it up.” I knelt, my hands stinging as shards of glass from the shattered thermos cut into my palms. I cleaned up the mess with my bare hands, as if I couldn’t feel the pain. For some reason, this seemed to agitate Orion even more. He yanked me roughly to my feet. “Can’t you use a broom? Who are you trying to play the victim for?” He shoved me aside and called for a janitor. Serena watched us, a deep frown creasing her brow, before she deftly changed the subject. “Orion, darling, you haven’t told Aurora about the dress for the exhibition yet, have you?” Orion glanced at me, his voice flat. “Serena needs a hand-stitched silk gown for next month’s gala. You’ll make it for her.” I had learned the art of intricate silk embroidery from a master artisan. It was a delicate, beautiful craft, but it was excruciating for the eyes. In my forty-sixth life, I’d worked day and night on a piece for him, all because of an offhand joke he’d made. That time, I had died from pure exhaustion, my vision permanently damaged upon revival. The doctors had warned me against any work that strained my eyes. Orion knew this. He just didn’t care. I looked at him, my eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated love. “Of course. I’ll do it.” He seemed taken aback, almost flustered by the intensity of my gaze. He looked away awkwardly. “After you finish Serena’s dress… I’ll take you abroad to see a specialist.” “It’s okay, Orion. I would do anything for you. You don’t have to feel guilty.” He stared into my eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of something—emotion, perhaps—stirred in their cold depths. But I didn’t have time to care about whether he’d fix my eyes. Once I left this world, none of it would matter. Orion’s lips parted as if he were about to say more, but Serena cried out, clutching her head. “Orion…” He spun back to her instantly, forgetting I was even in the room. I had no interest in staying anyway. I returned to my small apartment and began to work. 3 If I was lucky, I’d die from exhaustion, just like last time. I couldn’t wait to see Noah again. I had been away from him for far, far too long. The embroidery required absolute concentration. A single misplaced stitch could ruin the entire piece. The design for Serena’s gown was incredibly complex, and I worked almost without sleep. My eyes were webbed with crimson threads of exhaustion. A dull throb started behind my temples. The world swam before my eyes, and I fainted, not even noticing the name “Orion” lighting up my phone screen. In my dream, a large, warm hand touched my forehead. I thought I had died, that I was finally back in my own world. I opened my eyes, my voice choked with joy. “Noah!” But the eyes I met were not Noah’s. They were Orion’s, narrowed and dangerous. “Noah. Who is that?” His grip on my wrist tightened. He repeated the question, his voice low and menacing. “Who is Noah?” I didn’t know what to say. I scrambled for a lie. “He was… a celebrity I used to have a crush on. I was dreaming about him.” It was a pathetic excuse, but after a few seconds of tense silence, he seemed to buy it. After all, my love for him was absolute. I had died for him ninety-nine times. How could I possibly have anyone else in my heart? “You certainly have time for fantasies.” He released my wrist, his expression turning cold again. The sharp click of high heels echoed from the doorway. It was Serena. She froze when she saw me with Orion. “Aurora, Orion told me you fainted working on the dress. I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” She looked down, feigning guilt. Orion immediately jumped to her defense. “It has nothing to do with you. Aurora agreed to do it. She has to finish what she starts.” His tone was mocking, cruel. “After all, her pathetic life is meant to be in service to you. If I told her to die, she’d probably do it without a second thought.” His words meant nothing to me, but I had to play my part. I looked at him, my expression a mask of heartbreak and forced resignation. “Yes, Orion. I would do anything you ask. I came to this world for you.” His pupils dilated. He looked almost… panicked. He grabbed Serena and pulled her from the room, tossing a final command over his shoulder. “Just get the dress done. You don’t have to kill yourself over it.” That was new. He had never cared about my life before. I shook my head, pushing the thought away. I had to die, and soon. And I knew Serena would give me the opportunity I needed. She projected an image of angelic purity, but underneath she was venomous and selfish. She claimed she only wanted to be like a sister to Orion, but she ruthlessly destroyed anyone who got close to him. When I stood up, I realized I was on Orion’s private yacht. I walked out onto the deck. In the distance, Orion and his friends were having a party. I stood at the prow, staring at the moon, the ache for Noah growing deeper with every passing second. “There you are, Aurora.” Serena approached, a glass of champagne in her hand, a sweet smile on her face. It was a smile full of malice. “Your little tricks seem to be working. Orion’s been so much softer on you lately. But it’s a waste of time. You’ll never take him from me. Do you really think he could ever love you? With a snap of my fingers, he’d toss you aside without a second thought.” She slowly backed toward the railing, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Aurora, what do you think he would do if he knew you pushed me overboard out of jealousy? Do you think he’d tear you limb from limb?” Before I could react, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself over the side and into the dark water. Orion was there in an instant. He dove into the sea without hesitation. A lifeboat was lowered, and soon they were both back on deck. Serena slowly came to, clutching Orion’s sleeve, her face streaked with tears. “Orion, don’t blame Aurora… she just loves you so much… I can understand. It’s all my fault.” Every eye on the yacht turned to me. “I always thought Aurora was a pathetic lapdog, but it turns out she’s a vicious one.” “She pushed Serena overboard? Everyone knows Serena is the center of Orion’s universe.” “Who the hell does Aurora think she is?” Orion’s gaze, dark and murderous, fell on me. I knew that look. It was the look he always had right before he killed me. He had two of his men drag me to a ten-foot-tall glass water tank on the deck. I can’t swim. I thrashed wildly as they threw me in. Orion looked at me as if I were already dead. “Who gave you the right to touch Serena? It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.” The foul water filled my nose and mouth. My survival instinct kicked in, and I fought my way toward the surface, but he ordered his men to keep adding more water. Laughter echoed around me, a distorted, buzzing sound in my ears. That’s right. This was it. This was my purpose. Once I died, I would see Noah. I stopped fighting. My body sank to the bottom of the tank. Orion saw my stillness and assumed it was another act. “Stop pretending, Aurora. You think this will make me let you go?” “Aurora? Aurora!” I didn’t move. “AURORA! Drain the tank! Now!” I dreamed of a life where the car crash never happened. A life where Noah and I got married, had a child. A perfect, simple life. I woke up to find Orion staring down at me, his eyes a mixture of worry and forced indifference. I looked away, a wave of disappointment washing over me. I wasn’t dead yet. “Such a clever little game, Aurora. Push Serena into the sea, then pretend to drown yourself. Were you hoping I’d feel sorry for you?” “No, Orion. I just… didn’t know what else to do.” My weak, breathless state, in his eyes, was just proof of how hopelessly I loved him. “Serena is willing to forgive you. On one condition. She’s funding a psychological experiment. They need a subject to spend one day alone in a room with a… psychopath. Don’t worry, it’s all perfectly safe. You’ll be fine.” When I didn’t answer, he frowned. “You harmed Serena—” “I’ll do it, Orion. For you, I’ll do anything.” From the moment I met him, this was the role I played. A woman so gentle, so devoted, that he was my entire world. He never believed it, so he hurt me again and again, and I just kept coming back, determined to prove my love. He reached out and gently touched my cheek. “I promise you. After this, we’ll get married.” I lowered my head and nodded. I already knew how I would die this time. And there would be no one to stop me. I entered the room. Outside, a team of researchers monitored everything. I gave Orion one last smile and stepped inside. For some reason, a sharp pain lanced through his heart. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to stop me. But then he looked at Serena, and he hardened his resolve. It was fine. It would all be over soon. He would marry me. He would make it up to me. After all this time, he was finally realizing that a life with me… might actually be a good thing. Inside, I played along for a few hours, dodging the deranged man’s attacks to avoid suspicion. Finally, he cornered me. As the ax swung toward my head, I didn’t flinch. I smiled and met it head-on. Blood pooled on the floor. [Ding! 100th death recorded. Reward disbursed. Host is now being transported back to the real world!] “AURORA!” In my final moment, I saw Orion burst into the room, his face a mask of horror as he ran toward my body. But this time, there was no one left to answer him.

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My sister Olivia owed three million dollars and then died in an accident. At the funeral, my parents cried and said to me, “Even though Olivia is dead, the debt still needs to be repaid! Jenna, please help her pay it back! Otherwise, she won’t be able to enter heaven!” Just because of those words, I gave them all my savings. Starting the next day, I worked three jobs every day to earn money and repay the debt. Even after my second pregnancy ended in miscarriage, I kept working. Later, because I was working overtime, I didn’t pick up my daughter from school, and she was killed by kidnappers. My husband River collapsed from a heart attack when he learned the news. Before he died, he refused to see me even once. “After all these years, my daughter and I together still couldn’t compare to Olivia! Jenna White, if there’s a next life, I’d rather never have met you!” The night my daughter was buried, I finished repaying all the debts and jumped from a high-rise building in guilt. Before dying, I saw Olivia, radiant and glamorous, leaning into her creditor Marcus Wilson’s arms. “Useless. It took her ten years to repay three million. We had to wait all this time before we could finally be together as husband and wife.” Marcus comforted her, “Forget it, at least she earned us three million. Without this money, how could we live so well?” “Now that her whole family’s dead—such bad luck! Let’s go, let’s go. Tomorrow we’ll take this money to the Maldives!” I died with my eyes wide open. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of Olivia’s burial…

“Olivia, how could you leave us so early? You’ve ripped out your parents’ hearts!” “Leaving behind such a huge debt—how are your mother and I supposed to repay it!” Familiar shrill cries pierced my ears. Before I could process what was happening, I saw Marcus Wilson swagger into the living room and slap a debt notice onto the table. “Don’t rush to cry just yet.” He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and grinned. “Your daughter owed me three million before she died. Now she’s dead—what about the debt?” He was tall and burly, full of thug energy, with seven or eight muscle-bound men behind him. The entire room full of relatives fell instantly silent with fear. I shuddered and realized I had been reborn. Reborn on the very day of Olivia’s burial! My mother Karen’s face was streaked with tears, her graying hair disheveled on her shoulders. She looked at the account statement and cried so hard she nearly fainted. “I know about this money. Olivia mentioned it—she wanted to buy us retirement insurance, but didn’t have enough money, so she borrowed it. Who knew she’d end up owing this much…” My father George wrapped his arm around her shoulder. As soon as he opened his mouth, tears flowed down the deep furrows at the corners of his eyes. “Olivia was such a good girl since childhood. At ten years old, she cooked for her mother and me. Who would have thought she’d suddenly be gone…” He looked at the IOU, and his gaze gradually became resolute. “No matter what, the White family doesn’t wrong others or betray our conscience. Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean the debt can rot away!” “We’ll repay this debt!” He turned his head, his aged eyes finding me precisely in the crowd. “Jenna, from now on we’ll repay this three million together and overcome this hardship, okay?” “If we can’t repay it, your sister won’t be able to reincarnate even in the afterlife!” With that, the old couple held each other and wept. Relatives surrounded them, all with reddened eyes.

“Don’t worry, with Jenna helping you, this money can definitely be repaid.” “Stop crying. You still have another daughter, don’t you? You can’t collapse now.” “Exactly. Olivia would be so sad seeing this from beyond!” But I noticed that Marcus Wilson’s gaze had been fixed on the coffin the whole time. I squatted down pretending to tie my shoelace and moved closer to observe, following his line of sight. The mahogany coffin had several air holes drilled in the side, through which I could vaguely see fabric moving inside. Just as I thought! Olivia wasn’t dead at all. From the very beginning, this funeral was a setup orchestrated by her and Marcus! I stood up. River was watching me from not far away. After glancing at me once, he immediately turned and left. In my previous life, moved by Karen and George’s tears, I had impulsively agreed to take on this debt. For ten years I didn’t buy a single new piece of clothing, and in the end, my whole family died tragically. In this life, I announced loudly, enunciating each word: “My sister incurred this debt herself. Why should I be the one to repay it?” The moment those words fell, Karen and George’s crying stopped abruptly. Everyone stared at me in shock. Karen rose from George’s embrace and pointed at me, cursing viciously. “You bitch! Your sister died protecting you! How dare you say such things!” George’s eyes were bloodshot. “That’s your sister! Her body isn’t even cold yet, and you’re already rushing to distance yourself?” They glanced imperceptibly at Marcus Wilson. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes as he slammed his palm on the table like a fan. “Debts must be repaid—it’s only natural!” “If you don’t pay, I’ll pry open the coffin and whip the corpse!” With that, he grinned menacingly and moved toward the coffin, making as if to push it. “Don’t you dare!” George lunged forward like a madman to block him, refusing to let Marcus Wilson get close. Karen pounded and hit me, crying so hard she could barely breathe. “You’re inhuman! Your sister loved you so much. For this little bit of money, you’d let her remain restless even in death?” “From childhood, we loved you most. We made sure you went to college, put the house in your name—and in the end we raised a heartless ingrate!” The relatives couldn’t stand it anymore. “Jenna, your parents spent so much money on you. Just help them out if you can.” “She’s already gone. What’s the use of clutching all that money?” “Your sister treated you so well, even going out of her way to drive you to work every day. Don’t be so mercenary!” They had no idea of the truth. Olivia drove me to work because the car was originally mine. She said she’d be my driver, but once she got the car, she never returned it. She even made me pay for gas cards. The idea that they supported my education was even more laughable. The truth was Olivia took the entrance exam twice and still only scored two hundred points, while I got into a prestigious university. Karen and George usually boasted about their eldest daughter’s good grades, but when the scores came out, they were dumbfounded. They could only announce publicly that the family could only support one child and that Olivia had voluntarily given up her opportunity for higher education. They even gave her all the money collected at my college celebration party and made me work summer jobs myself. “Your sister doesn’t have much education. It’s not easy for her working outside. You’re going to fight with her over this little bit of money?” “We’ve always been fair. We supported you to get a higher education, so naturally we need to give your sister more money.” As for the house in my name, it was actually bought for Olivia, and it used up my first-time homebuyer status… They claimed to treat us equally, but everything clearly favored Olivia! Otherwise, Olivia wouldn’t have been audacious enough to fake her death to scam money! I blurted out: “That car was originally mine. She never even—” Before I could finish, Karen slapped me across the face. Then crying, she pulled out her phone and transferred seventy thousand dollars to Marcus Wilson on the spot! “This seventy thousand is for you first! The White family never defaults on debts. No matter what, our backbone won’t bend!” “If Jenna White won’t acknowledge it, we will!” At the same moment, my phone dinged, showing a balance of zero. My brain exploded with a buzz. I suddenly remembered that a few days ago Karen said she didn’t have money for online shopping and insisted on linking my card. That seventy thousand was clearly all the savings in my account! “That’s my money!” I screamed and lunged forward to stop them. But George flung me back, and my forehead smashed against the vermillion coffin with a bang. “You’re money-obsessed! That was transferred from your mother’s phone! It’s money we’re paying back for your sister!” “You’ve been calculating since childhood. Now even your mother’s and my money you assume is yours?” “Wolf-hearted and dog-lunged! You caused us to lose our jobs back then, and now you’ve killed Olivia! I’d rather not have a daughter like you!” My forehead hurt so much my brain went blank. But I heard barely audible soft laughter coming from inside the coffin. Olivia was laughing too—from childhood to now, this family had never welcomed me! With reddened eyes, I raised my head, wanting nothing more than to expose Olivia’s fake death on the spot. But my gaze suddenly fixed on George’s wrist. There was a bracelet there, with jade-green beads carved with Olivia’s initials. Exactly the same as the one on Marcus Wilson’s wrist. In my previous life, Marcus had admitted personally that he’d given one to his father-in-law! Boom— Like thunder splitting through dense fog, everything suddenly made sense. Karen and George had known the truth from the very beginning. They deliberately put on an act, trying to squeeze every last drop of blood from me!

Thinking of my daughter who died miserably in that alley in my previous life, and River who was enraged to the point of coughing up blood. And Olivia and Marcus Wilson’s triumphant faces before my death. A surge of rage rushed straight to my temples, my throat making cracking sounds. When hatred reached its peak, my rationality became unprecedentedly calm. Karen, George, and Olivia were hypocritical and ruthless, wanting my money while maintaining their good reputation. Exposing them directly would be too easy. I wanted them to lose everything and be utterly disgraced! Trembling, I forcibly suppressed the surging emotions and made a phone call. I looked up at the coffin and suddenly asked softly: “How exactly did my sister die? Which hospital? Do you have a death certificate?” “What do you mean?” George immediately questioned, a flash of wariness in his eyes. “Wasn’t it because you were lazy and late, and your sister was driving you when she had the car accident?” “Before she died, your sister threw herself over you to protect you! She was protecting you until her last breath!” “Is that so?” I looked at them. “But I suddenly fell into a deep sleep that day. When I woke up, I just saw you all crying. I didn’t even see her one last time. Isn’t that strange?” The relatives in the room froze, only now realizing. “Right, I didn’t see her either.” “They brought her back from the hospital and put her straight into the coffin.” “Wasn’t it a bit too rushed?” Marcus Wilson’s eyes flashed with malice as he stared at me intently. George raised his voice. “That’s because your sister’s body was completely shattered. I was afraid of scaring everyone!” “She’s right there in the coffin—how could this be fake?!” The relatives agreed one after another. “True, who would joke about a dead person?” “I helped close the coffin lid. There was definitely someone inside.” I laughed coldly. I remember reading that if you don’t place a token in the deceased’s hand, their spirit can’t cross over！ “So now—I’m going to put something in Olivia’s mouth!” With that, I immediately turned around and reached to open the coffin! “Don’t!” Karen screamed, her eyes nearly splitting. George grabbed me just in time and swung his hand, slapping me hard across the face. “Don’t you dare open it!” The corner of my mouth stung with pain. The relatives were also shocked by George’s outburst. George immediately found an excuse. “Don’t delay your sister’s burial!” The next instant, several thugs pushed and shoved, forcing River, who had just left, back into the mourning hall. In his arms, Emily was wearing a princess dress and crying hysterically. “Don’t touch me! Mommy—Mommy save me!” “What are you doing! Let go of Emily!” River held the child tightly, refusing to let go. But Marcus Wilson waved his hand, and his subordinates gripped his shoulders hard, pressing him down so he couldn’t move. They forcibly snatched Emily away and gripped her neck tightly. “Let go of my daughter! What are you going to do to her—again!” River’s eyes were nearly splitting, his gums almost bleeding from biting down. Again? What “again”? My brain felt like it was exploding. Trembling, I met River’s bloodshot eyes. That complex, furious expression was exactly the same as in my previous life! He had also come back! After our daughter’s tragic death, just like me, he was reborn to this moment! So just now, his first reaction was to leave to protect Emily, but he was still blocked. “So what? Sign the contract!” Marcus Wilson swaggered forward and threw a debt contract directly at me. “If you owe money and don’t pay, I’m justified in doing anything!” “Jenna White! Are you really not going to care about your own daughter? Sign it now!” George shouted at me with reddened eyes. Karen clutched her chest and rushed forward crying, pounding on a thug’s chest, only to be flung aside. She sprawled on the ground, slapping the floor and wailing. “My poor Emily, Grandma is useless, Grandma can’t save you!!” Then she desperately pulled at my pant leg. “That’s your biological daughter! What are you hesitating for? If anything happens to Emily, I’ll never forgive you!” Several relatives nearby also cried and urged, “Jenna! Stop worrying about the money!” “If something happens to the child, you’ll regret it forever!” “This is a matter of life and death! Those loan sharks will do anything!” I looked at that familiar debt notice, my pupils contracting sharply, my jaw chattering. Marcus Wilson grinned wickedly. He pulled out a knife from his chest and turned to press it directly against Emily. “Mommy—!” The blade pressed inward, and a line of blood instantly appeared. Images of Emily’s death in my previous life flashed uncontrollably through my mind. “Are you signing or not!” Marcus Wilson pushed the knife in another fraction. “Jenna White!” Karen’s voice cracked! George rushed over and slammed me to my knees with a bang. He snatched the debt notice and forced my fingers down onto it. “I’m fucking telling you to sign—sign it!” Just then, River suddenly erupted. His wrist dislocated as he escaped from between the two thugs and snatched Emily into his arms. “You fucking dare to snatch—” Marcus Wilson’s expression changed dramatically as he raised the knife. “Bang”—the living room door was kicked open. Several police officers surveyed the scene, their voices cold and stern. “Hands up! Everyone freeze!” The entire room fell into instant silence. Taking advantage of this opportunity, I rushed to the door and grabbed the quick-dry cement I had prepared earlier. “What are you doing!” George’s eyes nearly popped out. I desperately poured all the cement onto the coffin with a splash, laughing through tears, shouting at the top of my lungs. “I’m giving my sister her final send-off! Seal the coffin for burial!”

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The night before the marking ceremony, I found another woman’s underwear in my home. To find out who this woman was, I went to check the security footage at home. But I accidentally overheard my fiancé Isaac say: “I have no intention of marking her. I’m just doing this to piss Floyd off.” “On the day of the ceremony, I’ll announce that the game is over.” Floyd was the fated mate who rejected me, and also Alpha Isaac’s sworn enemy. I immediately bought a plane ticket out of the country. Four years later, Isaac found me and begged me to go back with him. I just laughed and replied: “I stopped loving you a long time ago.” He didn’t know that I was now a werewolf’s mate. Caroline POV Ten minutes ago, I found women’s underwear on my living room couch. Isaac’s scent completely masked that woman’s scent though. To find out who this woman was, I went to check the estate’s security footage. I quickly found the video. It was Bethany, that woman Isaac said was his sister! I angrily wanted to rush out and rip that woman’s throat apart, but suddenly heard a mocking laugh coming from the video. “Isaac, you and I are having sex in your home. If Caroline finds out, won’t she be angry?” My hand on the mouse froze. I thought I would hear Isaac defend me. “Angry?” Isaac’s voice was cold, accompanied by the hoarseness after passion. “Right now her head is full of how to be the most beautiful bride. She doesn’t have time to be angry.” My smile froze on my face. The conversation in the car continued, each word cutting like a knife. “To piss Floyd off, spending so much on this ceremony—is it worth it? What if Caroline actually clings to you? Are you really going to become mates with her? But you haven’t marked her in four years, so you probably don’t plan to, right?” On the screen, Isaac exhaled a smoke ring, blurring his handsome profile. But it didn’t blur the coldness in his eyes. “This small price to see Alpha Floyd’s shitty expression of displeasure? That’s a good deal.” He chuckled lightly, as if discussing some worthless object. “On the day of the ceremony, I’ll announce in front of everyone that the game is over. Alpha Floyd’s face will definitely be spectacular. After all, no matter what, she’s still his fated mate. And he hasn’t found a second one yet.” Bethany laughed wickedly, then turned over to straddle Isaac. “What about Caroline after that? She was abandoned by her fated mate, and then publicly rejected by you. Won’t she go insane and die?” Isaac flicked his ash, casual and indifferent: “Adult games. She’s the stupid one. Who else can she blame?” The video stopped abruptly. The study fell deathly silent. I sat frozen in my chair, my blood turning to ice. So these four years of devotion were just an elaborate, calculated lie. All because his sworn enemy, Alpha Floyd, was my fated mate. Though he rejected me, until he marked someone else or I was marked by someone else, we would be bound together by this cursed fate. I could feel his pain. Likewise, if I suffered, Floyd would suffer unbearably too. But Isaac knew full well that publicly rejecting me at the marking ceremony would turn the moonlight that symbolized blessings into a curse. It would cause my wolf to go insane, and I might even die on the spot. My stomach churned violently. I rushed to the bathroom and dry heaved over the toilet, but nothing came up. Tears splashed onto the floor. I wiped them away viciously. Caroline, don’t cry. This scum isn’t worth it. My wolf, already quite weak since Floyd’s rejection, reminded me calmly. I splashed cold water on my face, looking at my pale reflection in the mirror. Since you want to play games, I’ll give you what you want. I returned to the computer, hands still shaking, but my eyes had gone cold. I clipped the segment of Isaac and his lover Bethany having sex and backed it up to the cloud. Just then, my phone lit up. A message from Isaac popped up: “Date tonight? Remember to wear that black lingerie. It looks beautiful on you.” I looked at that familiar profile picture, at his familiar flirtatious words. My fingertips went white from the pressure. Finally, I replied: “Okay.” I put down my phone and walked into the closet. I found that set of black lace lingerie. He’d had it custom-made last week by a private designer in Paris, then flown back on a private jet. He said only my curves could carry such pure yet dangerous black. He said he enjoyed the feeling of having sex with me, yet he always held back from marking me. The memory flashed back instantly to that rainy night four years ago. Floyd suddenly rejected me, which broke my heart, but I loved him, so I wanted to win his heart back. But when I went to give him his birthday gift, I happened to see him kissing a woman I didn’t know. I wanted to confront him, but he threw my birthday gift into the trash and mocked me in front of everyone: “Caroline, can’t you understand what I’m saying? Just looking at you makes me sick.” The whole room laughed. I was as humiliated as a clown. It was Isaac who stepped out from the corner, draped his coat over me, and shielded me from those humiliating stares. He also soothed the pain that my wolf and I endured. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ll take you home.” That night, I thought he was my salvation. Now I know it was all fake.

Caroline POV At seven in the evening, Isaac came to pick me up right on time. He wore a black suit with a white shirt underneath. On the collar was a red lipstick mark. The lipstick color was exactly the same as the one I’d found in the car. If this were before, I would have angrily confronted him. But now, I pretended not to see it and didn’t ask a single question. As soon as I got in the car, he leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Good evening, darling. You don’t look well.” He held my hand, his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes full of concern. “What happened?” If I hadn’t heard that recording. I would definitely think I was the happiest woman in the world right now. I withdrew my hand, pretending to smooth my dress: “Maybe just a bit tired.” Isaac didn’t suspect anything. He smiled and started the car: “Then let’s go. I’ll take you somewhere to relax tonight.” The location was the observation deck bar at the highest point in the city. You could overlook the entire city’s night view. The waiter arranged a quiet corner for us. When the appetizers were served, I spoke as if casually: “Isaac.” “Hmm?” He naturally pushed a specially made non-alcoholic cocktail in front of me, the movement smooth and practiced. “I ran into Bethany today.” I stared into his eyes, not missing a single flicker of expression on his face. “She asked me if I was nervous. She said you prepared a gift for me at the ceremony venue.” Isaac’s hand reaching for his glass paused. Just for a second, too fast to catch. Then he looked up, his smile flawless: “I wanted to surprise you. Didn’t expect you’d find out early.” “By the way…” I gripped the cold glass, my fingertips pressing hard. “Floyd came back to the country recently. Will you…” “Caroline.” Isaac put down his glass and placed his hand over mine. His palm was warm, but his tone carried an indisputable firmness. “Why bring him up? I’ve told you, I love you. He abandoned you—that’s his fault, not yours.” He looked at me, his gaze so affectionate it could drown someone: “I would never do something like that.” “Okay, let’s drop it.” I lowered my head and took a sip of the sweet and sour liquid in my glass. It was clearly a carefully crafted flavor, but sliding down my throat, it left only bitterness. “Oh, right.” Isaac seemed to remember something. He took out an exquisite velvet box and pushed it in front of me. “Almost forgot. This is a gift for you.” I opened it. It was a string of lustrous white pearls, each one gleaming with warm light, worth a fortune. “Do you like it?” He looked at me expectantly. I looked at that serene pearl luster and suddenly remembered an Instagram story Bethany posted last month. In the photo, she was holding an antique jewelry catalog, her fingertip pointing at an illustration of a pearl necklace. The caption read: [I love this kind of classic, understated luster. Too bad Isaac says pearls are too dignified and don’t suit my style.] I suddenly felt it was ironic. He doted on Bethany so much, yet said she wasn’t suited for such dignified jewelry. Instead, he gave this necklace to me? “I love it.” I closed the lid and curved my lips at him. “It must have been expensive?” “Spending money on you is worth any price.” Isaac ruffled my hair, his eyes full of affection. I excused myself to the restroom to touch up my makeup. Standing at the sink, I looked at the woman with perfect makeup in the mirror and pulled a smile uglier than crying. Since you want to play the devoted lover. Then I’ll help you along. I took out my phone and called my father’s beta, Harlan. He picked up quickly. “Ms. Caroline, have you reconsidered the Alpha’s proposal?” I looked at myself in the mirror, my voice terrifyingly calm: “I won’t become alpha. I’ve said this before—my brother is more suited for that role. But I need you to do something for me.” Over the years, I’d rarely leveraged my alpha father’s power. After all, my brother was deeply insecure about his position as heir. He always felt that I, his sister who’d been more battle-hungry than him since childhood, would take his place. Too bad I never had such intentions. But to avoid unnecessary conflicts, I tried not to do things that could be misunderstood. Another factor was that neither Floyd’s Frostveil Pack nor Isaac’s Ironridge Pack were ones we could afford to provoke. Even if I asked for help, my father wouldn’t be able to rescue me. Only now, I wasn’t asking them to rescue me. “What do you need me to do?” “Tell my family they don’t need to come for my marking ceremony. Also, book me a plane ticket for the day of the ceremony. I’ll go back and explain to them in person.” If I bought the ticket myself, it would be discovered quickly. So I had to ask Harlan for this favor. After hanging up, I reapplied my lipstick, looking at that crimson color. My heart hardened bit by bit. Isaac. I’ll remember this last date well. When I returned to my seat, Isaac was replying to a message. Seeing me, he quickly turned off his screen and stood up with a smile: “Let’s go home.” I took his arm, feeling his muscles stiffen for a moment. “Okay, home.”

Caroline POV Five days before the marking ceremony, Bethany came again. Under the pretense of helping with preparations, she brazenly moved into the room next to Gerald’s. She was the daughter of the previous beta. Though she only inherited her mother’s Omega bloodline, she’d grown up with Isaac. She was also widely recognized in the pack as Isaac’s true love. If Isaac’s elders hadn’t strongly opposed him bonding with an Omega, the Luna position would have been hers long ago. “Caroline, this evening gown is so beautiful.” Bethany stood in front of the fitting mirror, wearing my burgundy evening gown. The waist had been altered extremely tight, outlining her graceful figure. It also exposed the kiss marks on her neck. She spun in a circle and sat in Isaac’s lap: “Isaac, don’t I look better in this dress than Caroline?” Isaac pushed her away somewhat awkwardly: “Stop it. Take it off. That’s for Caroline.” His tone was reproachful, but there was no trace of anger in it. Bethany pouted and reluctantly went to the dressing room: “Stingy. I’m just trying it on.” I sat to the side, holding my tea, watching quietly. Before, I would get angry and argue with Isaac. Then Isaac would helplessly coax me, saying I was petty, saying Bethany was just like a sister to him. Looking back now, I really was quite the joke back then. “Caroline, don’t take it personally. I’ve spoiled Bethany.” Isaac put down his magazine and reached for my hand. “If you don’t like it, I’ll ask her to move out.” “It’s fine.” I avoided his hand and poured him a cup of tea. “More people make it livelier. We have plenty of rooms anyway.” Isaac froze. He clearly didn’t expect me to be so generous. Before, whenever Bethany appeared, all my defenses would go up. “You’re not angry?” He looked at me tentatively. “Why would I be angry?” I smiled back. “She’s a friend and will be a regular guest. Besides, it’s just clothes. If she likes wearing them, let her.” After all, I wasn’t planning to wear that dress anyway. A flash of surprise crossed Isaac’s eyes, which then turned to relief. “Caroline, you’ve really changed. You’ve become more mature.” Mature? You people forced me to mature. Just then, a crisp sound came from the dressing room. Followed by Bethany’s cry: “Oh no!” Isaac’s expression changed. He threw down his magazine and rushed over at hunting speed. At the dressing room entrance, Bethany sat on the floor with shattered glass from a picture frame scattered at her feet. It was a custom crystal frame holding our anniversary photo from last year. Isaac had personally selected that photo and spent a fortune to have a master craftsman make the frame by hand, saying he wanted to “put it in the most prominent place in the house, symbolizing our diamond-like eternal love.” And now, that photo was being trampled under Isaac’s feet. “Isaac, I didn’t mean to…” Bethany’s eyes reddened, looking pitiful. “I tripped just now and tried to grab the frame, but…” Isaac didn’t even glance at those shattered pieces that carried “eternal love.” He squatted down directly and grabbed Bethany’s hand to check: “Did you cut your hand? How could you be so careless?” “It hurts…” Bethany whimpered sweetly. I stood a few meters away, watching this painfully obvious scene. That frame, which Isaac had once treasured, saying it symbolized diamond-like eternal love. Now the photo was torn, the frame shattered on the floor, and he didn’t even lift an eyelid. “Caroline!” Isaac turned his head, his tone urgent. “Get the first aid kit. Bethany cut her hand.” I looked at him without moving. “What’s wrong?” He frowned, seeming dissatisfied with my slow reaction. “Nothing.” I turned toward the cabinet, my voice calm. “If it’s broken, it’s broken. The frame was old anyway, and the photo was outdated.” Isaac’s body stiffened. He seemed to hear something in my words, yet seemed to hear nothing at all. He just focused entirely on Bethany’s wound that hadn’t even drawn blood. As if he’d forgotten that although Bethany was just a delicate Omega, she wasn’t that fragile. I brought back the first aid kit and set it on the table. “You two take your time. I’m tired. I’ll go upstairs to rest.” As I turned to go upstairs, I heard Bethany whisper: “Isaac, is Caroline angry?” Isaac’s voice sounded irritated: “Don’t worry about her. I’ve never seen her be so hard-hearted before.” My steps didn’t pause. When I reached the second-floor landing, I took out my phone and sent Harlan a message: [Add one pet transport ticket. I’m taking my dog Buddy with me.]

Caroline POV Three days before the marking ceremony, the jewelry company delivered the rings. I was about to go to the study to show Isaac. Just as I reached the door, I heard voices inside—Bethany’s distinctive tone with a touch of coquettishness. “…Really for me?” Her voice came through the crack in the door, painfully clear. My steps halted. I stopped in the shadows outside the door. I was still holding the velvet box with the ring I’d just signed for. “What else?” Isaac’s voice responded with that familiar, carelessly lazy laugh. “I already told you it was made for you all along.” “But…” Bethany’s voice lowered, but couldn’t hide her excitement. “What about Caroline… Isn’t she supposed to use this tomorrow…” “Her?” Isaac chuckled lightly, the laugh dripping with undisguised contempt. “Does it matter what she uses tomorrow? She’s just a prop. This ring’s size and style were designed for your preferences from the beginning.” A brief silence. I could imagine Bethany trying on the ring. “Look,” her voice came again, full of smugness. “It fits perfectly. Isaac, you even remember my ring size…” “What about you don’t I remember clearly?” His voice softened with a warmth he’d never given me. “Alright, take it off. Tomorrow… there’ll be an even better show to watch.” “You’re so bad…” The rest became muffled, perhaps a kiss, perhaps something else. But I didn’t need to hear anymore. I stood outside the door, the exquisite box in my hand suddenly so heavy my arm ached. Made for you all along. Just seven words, sharper and more complete than any elaborate conspiracy. I didn’t push open that door. I quietly walked back to the bedroom. I went to my vanity and placed that unopened ring box squarely in the center of the surface. Then I sat down and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was a bit pale, but my eyes were dry, calm as a frozen lake. So when your heart dies completely, even anger and sorrow freeze along with it. That’s fine. It saves energy. I took out my phone and sent Harlan a brief message: [Final confirmation on the flight and pet transport.] Almost immediately, he replied: [Everything ready. You can leave anytime.] I put down my phone. My gaze fell on the calendar on the nightstand. Under today’s date was a small circle drawn in red pen. Next to it were three smaller circles, one overlapping another, like a countdown. Three more days.

Caroline POV Next, I began sorting through my belongings. The house was filled with gifts Isaac had given me over these four years. Hermès bags, Cartier sets, limited edition heels. Once, these were all proof of his love. I divided them into two piles. One pile consisted of brand-new luxury items with price tags still attached, showing no signs of use. I contacted a reseller. The other pile held cheap accessories he’d casually said “suit you,” souvenirs from trips, and custom items printed with ridiculous love phrases. I packed them into a cardboard box and carried them to the back patio. Then I lit a fire. Flames leapt up, devouring those crude materials and false vows, making soft crackling sounds, illuminating my expressionless face. The heat waves distorted the air, as if burning a cheap and ridiculous past. When Isaac came home, he happened to run into workers carrying boxes of items for resale. The house was half empty, appearing somewhat cold. “What’s going on?” He frowned, looking at the nearly empty closet. “I want to redecorate.” I walked over and helped him loosen his tie. “Clear out the past and replace everything new after the wedding. I want every corner of our home to be a fresh start.” Isaac froze. Then amusement appeared in his eyes. He probably thought I was desperately in love with him, wanting to completely leave the past behind and wholeheartedly become his mate. “Good.” He gripped my hand, his teeth nipping my fingertip. “Whatever you want. As long as you’re happy.” “Oh, right.” I pointed to the dog bed in the corner. “I sent Buddy to a pet hotel for boarding. The house is too chaotic these days. I was worried about disturbing him.” “Whatever you think is best.” He didn’t suspect a thing, even seemed moved. “Caroline, you’re so thoughtful about this home.” After he went into the bathroom to shower, my phone vibrated with a bank notification. The amount was substantial—the price of those brand-new luxury items. I deleted the message and looked out at the deep night. From the direction of the back patio came only the faint smell of cold ashes. Isaac might have smelled it, but he didn’t care. I copied the video from my cloud storage. Then I considered whether to buy some disinfectant to remove all traces of my scent. Just then, the sound of running water stopped. Isaac came out wrapped in a towel, gently embracing my waist from behind. His arms tensed slightly, then turned me around to face him. He kissed me, his voice a bit hoarse: “The marking ceremony is the day after tomorrow. Are you nervous?” His palm cradled the back of my neck, a gesture full of possessiveness. I closed my eyes, didn’t resist, even obediently tilted my head back—just like countless times over the past four years. “Not nervous.” I said. “I’m looking forward to it.” I was looking forward to seeing how shocked you’d be when you saw the gift I prepared for you.

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