Category: English

1 I offer a seven-day free trial to every new family I join. On the first day, I showcase my culinary skills. On the second, I demonstrate my ability to generate income. By the third, I prove that I can take a hit without making a scene. After seven days, if the clients aren’t satisfied, I pack my own bags. I leave quietly, ensuring I don’t damage my “resale value” for the next placement. No social worker taught me this. It was a professional standard I developed myself after being bounced back to the system four times. When my biological parents finally tracked me down, the first thing I did was hand them a trial agreement. “If you find me defective, return me at any time,” I told them. “No restocking fee, no depreciation costs.” My mother burst into tears right there in the hallway. I immediately pulled out my pen and added a rider to the contract: For employers prone to emotional outbursts, complimentary soothing services will be provided. Once I moved in, I began conducting secret daily satisfaction surveys. My mother gave me a 99. My father gave me a perfect 100. But my older brother, Ethan, never filled out a single form. At 3:00 AM on the seventh day, I was at the airport, dragging my suitcase toward the terminal. Ethan caught up to me at the security gate. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving. “Why are you leaving, Summer? Why now?” I looked down at my scuffed sneakers, my voice level. “You never submitted your application for permanent status. According to the terms, silence is a rejection. I’m initiating the return myself.” Ethan stared at me for a long time. Then, without warning, he wrenched the handle of the suitcase from my grip. “Who made that rule?” he demanded. “I did.” “On what grounds?” “Experience,” I said. “Four failed placements taught me that seven days is enough time to spot most defects. Better to cut the cord early so both parties can move on.” Ethan’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the suitcase. He looked like he wanted to scream, but instead, he just turned and started dragging my bag back toward the parking garage. I hurried after him. “Listen, the return-to-sender service is only free once. Next time, you’ll have to reimburse my travel expenses.” “Shut up,” he snapped. I shut up instantly. My first foster father used to say that. When he said shut up, it was best to make even your breathing as quiet as possible. When we pulled back into the driveway of the Shen estate, my mother, Eleanor, was standing on the porch barefoot. The moment she saw me, her face crumpled. My chest tightened. In my experience, a crying client meant a catastrophic failure in service quality. I immediately initiated my “Soothing Protocol.” “There was once a lonely sandwich,” I began, my voice robotic. Eleanor stared at me, bewildered. “It started walking down the street. It got so hungry that it eventually ate itself.” The yard went silent. No one laughed. Eleanor rushed forward and pulled me into a suffocating hug, sobbing harder. “Summer, baby, I’m not unhappy with you. My heart is just breaking for you.” I didn’t quite understand. My second foster mother had cried, too. She cried while telling me they were too poor to keep a “useless mouth” fed. The next day, I taught myself how to do the laundry and cook for six people. I pulled out my notebook and made a mental entry: Mother is highly emotional. Crying does not necessarily indicate a one-star review. Joke failed; use caution with humor in the future. A girl in a white silk dress stepped out from the foyer. That was Pearl. She was the daughter the Shens had adopted after I went missing. She took my hand, her eyes glistening. “Summer, did you leave because of me? Did I make you feel unwelcome?” “No,” I said, flipping through my logbook. “You gave me a 97. You are currently my highest-rated client.” Pearl’s expression flickered. “I never gave you a score.” “Yesterday, I asked how your coffee was. You said ‘fine.’ In my metric, ‘fine’ is an 85. But you finished the whole cup, which earned you a twelve-point bonus.” Ethan snatched the notebook from my hand. He flipped to the first page, where the Seven-Day Plan was laid out in clinical detail: Day 1: Culinary demonstration. Day 2: Income generation proof. Day 3: Obedience and resilience testing. Day 4: Maintenance and repair services. Day 5: Emotional support and companionship. Day 6: Household conflict resolution. Day 7: Final hand-off and exit interview. He stared at the last line. “What do you mean by ‘hand-off’?” I looked at the ground. “If the family isn’t satisfied, I compile a dossier of everyone’s habits—how they like their eggs, their dry cleaning schedules, their favorite brands—to hand over to my replacement. It ensures a seamless transition.” “There is no replacement,” Ethan said. He ripped the page out and shredded it. “This is your home.” I watched the scraps of paper flutter into the trash can, but I didn’t argue. My fourth foster mother had said the same thing. Six months later, I had a fever for three days and couldn’t get out of bed to prep the lunches. She threw my clothes onto the lawn and told me they didn’t raise “dead weight.” The expiration date on a “home” usually isn’t much longer than seven days. That night, I pushed my suitcase under the bed. Inside were two sets of old clothes, a folder of certifications, and four formal “Termination of Placement” notices. I didn’t unpack. As long as the Shens didn’t find out about my past, I thought I might actually make it through the rest of the trial. Then my phone buzzed. It was a message from Mrs. Gable, my fourth foster mother. Don’t think just because you found your rich parents you can stiff me on what you owe. You’re a debt that can never be paid. At 4:00 AM the next morning, I was in the kitchen. By 6:30 AM, the roar of the industrial range hood woke the house. When Ethan burst in, I was finishing the third tray of homemade breakfast sandwiches. The table was a mountain of food: pancakes, avocado toast, three types of omelets, and a dozen side dishes. He stared at the spread. “There are five people in this house, Summer. Why did you cook for an army?” “I was afraid it wouldn’t be enough.” “Twelve plates of food isn’t enough?” “In the past,” I said, turning down the heat on the stove, “someone told me I could ‘eat whatever I wanted.’ I ate two rolls instead of one. The next day, I was back in the social worker’s car.” Ethan went dead silent. He walked over and clicked the stove off. My heart sank. “Is the flavor profile wrong?” I asked. “No.” “Not enough variety?” “Go to sleep,” he said, his voice thick. I blinked. “I can sleep? Without finishing the shift?” He looked at me, his eyes reddening. “Yes.” “Does this count as a paid break?” My father, Arthur, let out a choked laugh and turned away. Eleanor covered her mouth, her tears falling into her coffee. I quickly offered her a napkin. “Should I tell the sandwich joke again?” She shook her head, weeping. The culinary demonstration was forcibly terminated. I marked it as Requirement Met and moved on to Phase Two: Income Generation. Arthur tried to hand me a credit card that afternoon. “This is your allowance, Summer.” “What are the deliverables?” I asked, looking at the card warily. “Nothing. It’s just for you.” I took a step back. High pay with no job description usually meant high risk. “Do you… do you need an organ? A kidney? I’m O-positive.” Arthur dropped the card on the floor. It took the family thirty minutes to convince me they didn’t want my organs. I heard the words, but I didn’t take the card. Free things are always the most expensive. I couldn’t afford the debt. That afternoon, I grabbed my tool kit and slipped out. I fixed the neighbor’s central air unit for $300. I delivered flowers for a local shop for $200. I set up a small folding table near the park and repaired three cracked iPhone screens and a set of keys. By dusk, I handed an envelope containing $2,100 to the house manager. “This covers my room and board for the week, with a surplus for utilities.” The manager looked at Ethan, terrified to touch it. Ethan’s eyes fell on my heels, which were rubbed raw from walking. His face darkened. “Where were you?” “Generating revenue.” “Who told you to do that?” I apologized immediately. “I’m sorry. I should have reported my freelance hours in advance.” “Do you think this family needs your five hundred dollars?” he shouted. I winced. I’d undershot the target. “I can take on more shifts tomorrow. I can double it.” “Summer!” He slammed his hand onto the mahogany dining table. The sound triggered a reflex. I hit the floor, crouching low, hands protecting the back of my head. The room went tomb-silent. I waited for the blow, the kick, the scream. But it never came. Ethan slowly knelt in front of me. “Look at me,” he whispered. I looked up. His hand reached out, then stopped mid-air, trembling. “I wasn’t going to hit you,” he said. “I know.” “You don’t know,” he countered, his voice cracking. “You were gone all day. You didn’t pick up the phone. I was terrified. I just got you back eight days ago. I thought I’d lost you again.” I froze. No one had ever looked for me when I went missing. I thought only the person being sent away felt fear. It never occurred to me that the people left behind could be afraid of my absence. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t know the words. I just held out the envelope again. “You can deduct emotional distress fees from this, too.” Ethan closed his eyes and didn’t speak for a long time. That night, I passed his study. On his desk lay a new evaluation form with my name at the top. Underneath, there was only one sentence: Do not recommend continuing the trial. I stood in the hallway for a long time, the cold floor biting into my feet. My brother had reached his verdict. On the third day, I prepared for the Obedience Test. I walked into Ethan’s office and handed him a wooden yardstick. He was drinking coffee and nearly choked. “What is this for?” “Test equipment.” “Testing what?” “Resilience,” I said, turning around and pointing to my shoulder blades. “Aim here. It’s the safest spot. It won’t interfere with my ability to perform manual labor.” The coffee cup slammed onto the desk. Ethan’s face was a mask of horror. “Who told you I was going to hit you?” “Since you aren’t satisfied with my performance, you’re entitled to move to the disciplinary phase,” I said, pointing to the form on his desk. “‘Do not recommend continuing the trial’—that’s your handwriting.” He glanced at the paper, then his brow furrowed. “That sentence isn’t finished.” A spark of hope lit up in my chest. “Does the rest say ‘needs more observation’?” “No.” The spark died. “I understand. I’ll begin the hand-off procedure by the seventh day.” Ethan grabbed my wrist—gently, but firmly. “Summer, what do you think a ‘home’ is?” I didn’t answer. Home was a luxury brand I couldn’t afford. Eleanor came down the stairs then, carrying my old suitcase. It must have popped open when she moved it, because four sheets of paper—my rejection certificates—were scattered across the floor. Age 5: Excessive appetite, incorrigible behavior. Age 8: Habitual theft. Age 12: Aggravated assault. Age 16: Arson, malicious intent. Each one bore my signature and a thumbprint. Eleanor’s hands were shaking so hard the papers rattled. “Summer… what does this mean?” “Client feedback,” I said. “You… you stole things?” “Yes.” In my first home, the biological son stole $300. The mother told me that if I confessed, she’d give me two extra rolls of bread. I was starving. I took the deal. “You hurt someone?” “Yes.” My third foster brother tried to push me down the stairs. I grabbed him to stop him from falling, and in the struggle, I dislocated his wrist. He told his parents I attacked him. “And the arson?” I went silent. That fourth certificate was the one thing I could never explain away. Ethan stared at me. “Why aren’t you defending yourself?” “A one-star review is a one-star review,” I said. “Explaining looks like I’m dodging accountability. It’s bad for the brand.” Eleanor suddenly grabbed the papers and ripped them into a thousand pieces. “They weren’t ‘clients’! They were monsters who hurt you!” I looked at the confetti on the floor. I didn’t feel relieved. I felt exposed. Ripping the paper doesn’t erase the history. Eleanor pulled me into her arms. “You don’t have to prove anything anymore. Even if you can’t cook, even if you can’t work… you are my daughter.” I stood there, paralyzed. It was a beautiful lie. The others had said they’d keep me “forever,” too. I eventually learned that forever meant as long as you are perfect, as long as you are useful, and as long as you are never a burden. Later that night, Pearl knocked on my door. She sat on the edge of my bed while I was tightening a loose screw on my suitcase wheel. “Summer, Mom and Dad really love you,” she said softly. “Ethan doesn’t,” I replied. “He gave me a failing grade.” Pearl was quiet for a moment. “Maybe Ethan just thinks you aren’t a good fit for this family.” My screwdriver stopped. “I’m not trying to push you out,” she added quickly. “I just… I feel bad for them. Since you got here, Mom cries every day. Ethan has stopped going to the office to fix your paperwork. The house feels heavy.” I nodded. “My presence has increased the household’s emotional overhead. I’ve noticed.” Pearl looked at my packed bag. “Are you going to leave?” “When the hand-off is complete.” She looked relieved. I didn’t blame her. She’d given me a 97. That was the highest score I’d ever received. On Day 4, I fixed the garden fountain. On Day 5, I stayed up until 3:00 AM with Eleanor when she couldn’t sleep. On Day 6, I spotted a fraudulent clause in one of Arthur’s business contracts, saving the company millions. They all praised me. But the better they treated me, the more anxious I became. In the past, the “kindness” always came right before the end. My first foster mother boiled me an egg before the social worker arrived. My second foster father bought me a candied apple. Kindness is the final stage of the exit process. I knew the drill. On the morning of the seventh day, Eleanor made me a glass of warm milk. I drank half and stopped. She asked if I didn’t like it. “I’m saving the rest for tonight,” I said. “There’s plenty more in the kitchen, honey.” “Will there be more tomorrow?” I asked. She froze. I looked down at my plate. I’d asked too much. I was being greedy. That evening, the satisfaction surveys came back. Eleanor: 99. (She deducted one point because I “always seem like I’m about to run.”) Arthur: 100. The staff: All 100s. Ethan’s column was blank. I went to his study. He was on the phone with an assistant, his desk covered in files about my past foster homes. “It’s the final day,” I said from the door. “Are you submitting your evaluation?” He covered the receiver, looking exhausted. “Summer, I don’t have time for this game right now.” “Understood,” I said. He went back to his call. “Find every record from the 2020 fire. I don’t care what the police report says; she didn’t start that fire.” I went to my room and pulled my suitcase from under the bed. Before I could reach the front door, the doorbell shrieked. A woman pushed her way past the house manager. It was Mrs. Gable. She had three people behind her, all holding up iPhones, livestreaming. “Where is she?” Mrs. Gable screamed. “Where’s the little arsonist who thinks she can just run back to her rich family and forget what she did?” Eleanor blocked the stairs. “Who are you?” Mrs. Gable pulled a stack of photos from her bag and threw them onto the coffee table. They showed me covered in soot, standing in front of a charred house, my hands in zip-ties. “I’m the woman who raised her for three years and almost died when she set my house on fire!” The room went cold. Ethan stepped out of the study, his face like stone. “Explain yourself.” Mrs. Gable pointed at me, her voice shrill. “She stole money when she was sixteen. When I caught her, she poured gasoline in the kitchen while we were sleeping. My son is crippled because of her! Do the Shens really want a felon in the house?” Every eye in the room turned to me. Eleanor’s hand, which had been resting on my arm, instinctively let go. It was only for a second. But I felt it. The last spark of hope in my chest flickered out. Mrs. Gable was right. Some products, once people see the defects, can never be sold. I turned toward my suitcase. I didn’t need to wait for them to say it. A four-time return should know when to initiate the process herself.

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Julian, my forty-year-old Councilman husband, fell madly in love with a twenty-seven-year-old masseuse. He was so obsessed that he was willing to throw away his political career just to divorce me. At the time, my family begged me to endure it for the sake of our young son. Looking at my little boy, I gritted my teeth and refused to sign the divorce papers. Seeing no hope of marrying into the family, the mistress quickly dumped Julian for a wealthy businessman. Devastated, Julian blamed me for his heartbreak and refused to contribute a single penny to our household expenses for the next ten years. To give my son a better life, I worked myself to the bone, pulling endless overtime. The exhaustion eventually triggered ovarian cancer, and I died before I even turned fifty. Yet, barely after my funeral service ended, Julian brought that same masseuse back into our home. My son even sweet-talked her, calling her “Mom.” Julian handed her his debit card and said, “Ten years of my salary is in here. I didn’t spend a single dime on that old hag!” “From now on, our family of three can finally live happily ever after!” My son grinned widely. “That ugly monster is finally dead! Only someone as beautiful as you, Serena, is worthy of being my mom!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day Julian demanded a divorce.

“I’m sorry, Valerie. If you agree to the divorce, I’ll walk away with nothing. Is that okay with you?” I froze, looking at Julian’s slightly younger face in front of me. I realized I had been reborn. On the TV, the rerun of the Christmas Parade was playing. The cheerful holiday music felt incredibly mocking. My hands were still covered in flour. Our son, Leo, had begged for homemade pizza, so I had been kneading the dough since early morning. I was about to speak when Julian’s phone rang. He answered it, his voice dripping with a tenderness I hadn’t heard in years. “Okay, babe. Wait for me. I’ll be right over.” He hung up, looked at me, and said coldly, “I’m going with Serena to meet her parents today. Think about it. Give me your answer later.” With that, he hurriedly turned and left. The front door slammed shut. I walked to the bathroom and washed my hands. In the mirror, I saw the tired, sagging face of a middle-aged woman. I opened the cabinet. The shelves were filled with expensive toiletries for Julian and Leo. I only had a single, cheap jar of drugstore moisturizer. I unscrewed the lid. The cream inside was already dry and cracking. I scooped some out, rubbed it onto my hands, and walked back to the living room. I picked up my phone, opened Amazon, and ordered a premium skincare set. Then, I dialed a number. “Hi, Mr. Davis? I’d like to consult with you about getting a divorce…”

In my past life, when Julian asked for a divorce, I slapped him across the face and made a massive scene, exposing his affair to everyone. Because of the scandal, Julian was disciplined by the city council and faced countless warnings from his superiors. Yet, he still insisted on marrying her, even if it meant losing his career. Julian didn’t get elected until he was thirty-two. For the past eight years, I was the one carrying the financial burden of our home. My parents were retired, and they occasionally helped us out. But how could I keep taking their money? I took on freelance consulting gigs on the side. Overworked and exhausted, my body fell apart before I even reached forty. Julian’s political seat was hard-won. Yet, he was willing to throw it all away for a masseuse who barely finished middle school. How ridiculous. Back then, my relatives urged me to stay for the sake of our child. I listened to them and refused to sign. Eventually, Serena saw she couldn’t climb the social ladder through Julian, so she ran off with a guy in the construction business. Julian was completely broken. He hated me for driving her away. For the next ten years, he subjected me to giving me the cold shoulder. He never contributed to our expenses again. To give Leo a good life, I worked myself to death. My health deteriorated rapidly, and at forty-eight, I was diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer. I survived for only three months. But before my ashes were even cold, Julian brought Serena back. He proved his undying love by giving her all his savings. “Ten years of my salary is in here. I didn’t spend a single cent of it.” “All these years, I lived off that old hag’s money.” “Serena, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.” With tears in her eyes, Serena embraced him tightly. As a ghost floating in the air, I stared at them, shocked. Then, I burst into hysterical laughter, blood-red tears streaming down my face. I laughed at my own stupidity. I laughed at how I had wasted my youth and love on a stray dog. Since he wanted his “true love” so badly… In this life, I would gladly hand him over.

I went to my parents’ house alone. As soon as I walked in, the rich aroma of roasted turkey filled the air. My parents were usually very thrifty and only made feast meals when we visited. Seeing me alone, my mother asked, “Where’s Julian? Didn’t he come with you?” “He had some urgent work. Let’s talk inside.” I put down my coat and changed into my slippers. My son, Leo, was playing on his Nintendo Switch in the living room. Hearing my voice, he didn’t even look up. “Grandma, is my pomegranate ready yet?” Leo yelled. “Hold on, sweetie. It’s a bit hard to peel…” My mother was struggling with the fruit, her hands shaking slightly. Her arthritis had been flaring up lately, making her fingers stiff. I heard Leo mutter under his breath, “Useless old woman.” “What did you just say?!” I snapped. I marched over, snatched the Switch from his hands, and threw it onto the couch. Leo froze, then burst into loud tears. My mother rushed over from the kitchen and pushed me back, complaining, “Valerie, what are you doing? It’s the holidays! Just talk to him nicely!” Realizing he had a shield, Leo wiped his tears, glared at me with pure hatred, and ran into his room. My father walked in carrying a cardboard box. “Valerie, Julian brought this gift basket over a few days ago. It looks expensive. He has a lot of people to please at work, so why don’t you take it back for him?” Looking at the familiar packaging, I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. That was a luxury gift basket a client had given Julian last year. None of us liked it, so it had been sitting in our pantry, completely expired. And he gave this to my parents? I remembered how, every Christmas, I would spend nearly three thousand dollars buying premium gifts for Julian’s mother. Yet, for my parents, all he offered was a box of expired trash. The signs were always there. Julian had never respected me or my family. My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat message from my best friend, Chloe. “Valerie, I just saw Julian at a Tiffany & Co. store with another woman. After they left, I asked the sales associate. She said Julian bought two gold bracelets. He put one directly on the girl, and said the other was a gift for his mother-in-law. What’s going on?” Just last month, I asked him for five thousand dollars to treat my herniated disc, and he claimed he was completely broke. Yet, he could easily spend over ten thousand dollars on jewelry for another woman. I took a deep breath. “Dad, Mom, I have something to tell you…”

My mother seemed to sense something, and her eyes welled with tears. My father put down the expired gift basket, his face full of worry. “Did you and Julian have a fight?” “He’s cheating on me. I want a divorce,” I said directly. My mother broke down sobbing. “Oh, dear lord… Why is this happening? You had such a good life…” My father gritted his teeth and ripped off his kitchen apron. “I’m going to go find him and beat some sense into him!” “Dad, stop.” I grabbed my father’s arm. “It’s useless. His heart is already gone.” My mother choked out, “But what about Leo? He’s so young. What will happen to him if you divorce?” I looked at the tightly closed bedroom door. “He’s eight years old. He’s old enough to make a choice. I’ll let him decide who he wants to live with.” … “Serena, when are you going to pick me up? You have no idea how annoying that old woman is…” I pushed Leo’s door open, and he immediately hid his phone behind his back. His face flushed red. “Why didn’t you knock? And you’re the one who always lectures me about manners…” Looking at this child—the boy I almost died giving birth to—my heart felt incredibly hollow. “I’m divorcing your father. Who do you want to live with?” Leo didn’t even hesitate. “With Dad, obviously! Do you even have to ask?” My mother rushed in, raising her voice at Leo for the first time. “You ungrateful little brat! Do you have any idea what your mother went through to give birth to you? She—” “Mom, don’t,” I interrupted her quietly. There was no point in arguing. In his heart, he had already accepted that young, beautiful masseuse as his real mother. That was fine. Without him holding me back, I wouldn’t have to work myself to death anymore. I could finally live for myself. I called Julian and told him my decision. There was a long silence on the other end of the line before he finally spoke. “Valerie, I’m so sorry. If you…” “When are you coming home? We need to discuss the division of assets. The sooner we settle this, the better.” I cut him off, unwilling to listen to his fake remorse. Julian hesitated. “Okay… I’ll be back as soon as I’m done here.”

“Serena said she wants the house we’re currently living in. What do you think?” Julian spoke with difficulty, his expression extremely tense. I had already guessed that his promise of “walking away with nothing” was just a dramatic gesture to show his devotion to his mistress. So, I had no intention of fighting him over it. “Sure. But the savings account goes to me,” I replied calmly. Fearing I would blow up, Julian quickly agreed. “Of course, of course!” I nodded, keeping my face blank. “Fine. What about the commercial retail property in the North District?” “You can have it if you want.” He agreed so easily because that retail space was currently worthless and sat in a run-down area. But he didn’t know that in six months, a major tech developer would buy out that entire block. The compensation buyout would be worth five million dollars. In my past life, Julian’s mother fell severely ill right after they got that money, and every penny of it went into her medical bills, leaving them with almost nothing in the end. Once the assets were divided, Julian let out a massive sigh of relief. He looked at me with a complicated expression. “Valerie, thank you for letting me go.” “Don’t mention it,” I said flatly. My calm demeanor made Julian uneasy. He probably thought this was just the calm before the storm. He couldn’t help but add, “This is all my fault. Please don’t go looking for Serena to cause trouble…” “Don’t worry, I won’t.” I didn’t even look up as I calculated the total value of the assets on my phone. Julian choked on his words. Seeing me completely absorbed in my own business, he opened his mouth several times but said nothing. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. A woman with heavy makeup pushed open the door, dragging a suitcase. “Serena!” Hearing her voice, Leo dashed out of his room and threw his arms around her waist. “What took you so long? I missed you so much!” “Serena, you have to pick me up from school from now on! If my classmates see I have such a beautiful mom, they’ll be so jealous!” “Leo!” Julian’s face tightened. He turned to me, attempting to explain. But seeing my cold, indifferent expression, he shut his mouth in embarrassment. Serena patted Leo’s hair, smiling sweetly. “Of course, sweetie.” Julian walked over, took her suitcase, and asked softly, “I told you I’d pick you up. Why did you come by yourself? Are you tired?” Watching Julian’s tender care, I felt a sudden pang of irony. In all our years of marriage, Julian had never spoken to me with such warmth. Even when I had a difficult labor and almost died on the operating table, he never gave me a single word of comfort. It turned out he wasn’t incapable of showing love; he just didn’t love me. I smiled bitterly at myself. “Thank you, Valerie, for giving me such a wonderful husband and son,” Serena said, her eyes flashing with a smug, mocking glint. “You’re welcome,” I smiled back. “To be honest, I never wanted to ruin your marriage,” Serena chuckled, resting her white hand on Julian’s shoulder. “But Julian insisted he didn’t want me to feel hidden.” “And well, men are visual creatures after all…” She looked me up and down with blatant disgust. “Looking at how bloated and wrinkled you are, I don’t blame Julian for losing his appetite. No wonder he couldn’t wait to divorce you.” The air went still for a second. Julian pulled her sleeve gently, but he couldn’t bring himself to scold her. I smiled, took a slow step forward, and looked her over. Youth was indeed a beautiful thing. Her skin was tight and glowing, barely needing any makeup. But she was dripping in designer clothes and carrying a luxury bag. Her entire outfit easily cost over fifteen thousand dollars. A simple masseuse making barely two thousand dollars a month? Who paid for all of this? I thought of my cheap drugstore moisturizer. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. Smack! Serena’s head snapped to the side, her left cheek immediately swelling up. I shook out my wrist. Even if I had given up on this pathetic excuse of a family, it didn’t mean I would let a cheap homewrecker insult me in my own home. Julian quickly rushed to cup her face. Serena’s eyes filled with tears, looking utterly victimized. “Did I say anything wrong? Is she really that sensitive to the truth?” Julian marched up to me, raising his hand. His palm trembled in the air, but he didn’t dare bring it down. I raised my chin, staring him down. Ultimately, Julian dropped his hand, but his eyes were filled with disgust. “Get out of here! Serena is right. Looking at you makes me want to throw up!” Even though I had prepared myself for this, hearing those words so plainly still felt like a dagger to my chest. Before I could speak, I caught a sudden movement in my peripheral vision. I dodged instinctively, but scalding hot liquid still splashed across my forearm. A searing, blinding pain shot through my arm. Leo stood behind me, holding a hot water kettle with a ferocious glare. “You ugly old monster! Don’t you dare touch Serena!”

I was thirty-four when I had Leo, making me a high-risk geriatric mother. During labor, I had a severe hemorrhage. When the doctor asked whether to save the mother or the child, I insisted on saving the child. When Leo was a baby, he cried constantly. Julian couldn’t sleep, got annoyed, and even suggested giving the baby sleeping pills to quiet him down. So, I slept in a separate room with Leo, holding him through the night. That was when my health first started to fail. By the time Leo was two, he still couldn’t speak, and Julian’s mother suspected he was autistic. Under his mother’s pressure, Julian actually suggested abandoning him. It was me who fought the entire family. I dragged Leo to every hospital in the state until he was finally diagnosed with conductive hearing loss. Before his final surgery, I walked up the steep stone steps of a mountaintop chapel on my knees, praying for his safety. When I came down, my knees were soaked in blood. And now, this same boy was throwing boiling water at me to protect his father’s mistress. My skin was already red, angry, and bubbling with blisters. My heart died completely. Clutching my arm, I walked out without looking back. Julian stared at my retreating figure, a sudden tightness in his chest. He instinctively took a step to follow me, but Serena grabbed his hand. “Julian, my head hurts so much…” He immediately turned back to comfort her, completely forgetting about me. When my best friend Chloe heard about the divorce, she practically threw a party. “Good riddance! I’ve hated those two for years! So, what’s your plan now?” I looked at her perfectly maintained skin. “I want to get a membership at your medical spa. Can I get a discount?” I touched my dull, sagging skin and smiled bitterly. “I don’t know if this old face can still be saved.” “There are no ugly women, only lazy ones,” Chloe said warmly. “Honestly, your features are beautiful. If you lose some weight and pamper yourself, you’ll be a total knockout.” I accepted her compliments and started planning my new life. After the divorce, I only had to pay Julian two thousand dollars a month in child support. The rest of my income was entirely mine to spend. Shopping, yoga, luxury spa treatments… For the first time, I realized life could be so vibrant outside of cooking and cleaning. I started eating healthy and used my free time to work out. Three months later, I lost twenty pounds.

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The company decided to implement a brutal stack ranking system. Despite generating over $500 million in revenue for them, I was the one who received the termination notice. I marched straight into the HR director’s office to demand an explanation. She leaned back in her ergonomic office chair, casually shrugging her shoulders. “Chloe, your signature fragrance line did bring in massive revenue, but the production cost for your formula exceeded the budget. When we run the numbers, there’s barely any profit margin left for the company.” Only I knew the truth. The raw materials I used for my custom blend only exceeded the internal budget limit by a mere three cents per bottle. Holding the financial cost report, I went straight to my direct supervisor, Marcus. “Look, Chloe, I know you feel wronged,” Marcus said, placing his hands on his desk. “But this company doesn’t need a rogue genius who brings in cash. We need cogs that follow the rules. If everyone acted like you, how would we keep this place running?” He put on a show of being caught in a difficult position, pretending to offer me a favor. “How about this? I’ll personally plead with HR to keep you on as a basic perfumer. However, your base salary will be slashed from five grand a month to a measly five hundred dollars.” I didn’t say a word. I silently handed him my letter of resignation, walked out, and booked a flight to the Maldives for a vacation. Within just three days, my Snapchat and WhatsApp were blasted with over a hundred frantic messages. “Chloe, get back here right now! If you delay any longer, the company is going to go bankrupt!”

To cut costs, AromaLux decided to launch a ruthless stack ranking assessment. Every perfumer was evaluated on a comprehensive scorecard: production cost, client retention, and total revenue generated. Anyone who ranked at the bottom of the scoreboard for three consecutive months would be fired immediately. Amber, the apprentice I had personally trained and mentored, walked up to my desk with a miserable face. “Chloe, I’ve been at the bottom for the past two months. What am I going to do this month?” Looking at her anxious face, I silently reached into my drawer and handed her a thick, leather-bound notebook. Amber flipped it open, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears. Inside were the contact details and scent profiles of the premium clients I had cultivated over the past ten years. “Chloe… thank you! I promise I will work my ass off to stay in this company.” I nodded, my fingers pausing over the preliminary assessment data on my screen. Since the stack ranking system was implemented, all perfuming costs had to be strictly kept under $10,000 per batch. My custom formula had gone over budget by exactly three cents. At that moment, Amber leaned in, saying cheerfully, “It’s only three cents over, Chloe! That shouldn’t be an issue at all. Your sales performance is still number one in the entire company anyway!” Believing in transparency, I submitted the exact, unaltered data to the system. That afternoon, a company-wide notification popped up on WhatsApp: “Announcing this month’s terminated employee: Chloe. Let us reiterate: the formulation cost for anyone must be strictly under $10,000. Anyone who exceeds this limit—regardless of their revenue or seniority—will be fired immediately. Consider this a warning to all.” Immediately after, a private message from my supervisor, Marcus, lit up my screen: “What this company needs is not a self-centered artist, but a reliable cog that fits the machine. A person who refuses to blend into the team is far more dangerous than a lost $500 million.” Though he didn’t name me publicly, everyone in the office instantly turned their heads to look at me. I had always been the “weird one” in the office. I didn’t do corporate happy hours, I didn’t go to company dinners, I skipped the team-building trips, and the second the clock hit five, I vanished. I didn’t even reply to clients’ messages outside of work hours. The only things I brought to the table were my top-tier perfuming skills and flawless client relationships. But my refusal to flatter him or play corporate politics had made Marcus despise me more and more. As it turned out, this so-called “stack ranking” was just a targeted campaign to push me out. I calmly typed a reply in the chat: “Understood. I will report this situation to headquarters.” After a long silence, Marcus tagged me in the main WhatsApp group, clearly losing his temper: “Chloe, out of respect for your years of service, the management has reconsidered. You can start over as a junior perfumer. Your base salary will be $500 a month. This is the company giving you one last chance. Make it count!” Instantly, the corporate kiss-asses in the group started brown-nosed Marcus. “Marcus is absolutely right. No matter how much money someone makes, they’re useless if they don’t fit into the company culture.” I ignored them entirely. Instead, I gathered all my major clients into a single Snapchat group. “Due to internal changes, I will no longer be able to collaborate with you all.” Mr. Pendelton and Mr. Carter, two of my closest clients, immediately shot me private messages. “Chloe, what’s going on? Is there trouble at work?” “Do you need me to have my assistant talk to Marcus?” My heart warmed. I politely replied, “No, thank you. I can handle it.” After a brief pause, they replied with the same sentiment: “We only buy scents blended by you.” The moment I locked my phone, Marcus burst out of his office, his face red with rage. “Chloe! What the hell did you do? Why did half of our VIP clients just cancel their contracts?!”

I didn’t even look up. “Marcus, according to company policy, a junior perfumer is only allowed to manage five basic accounts.” Marcus’s face turned a brilliant shade of purple. “The rules are there for structure, but you have to be flexible! Why are you so incredibly stubborn?!” I ignored him and continued drafting an email to headquarters. Seeing that I wasn’t taking the bait, Marcus’s voice grew louder, drawing everyone’s attention. “Chloe, is this your attitude toward work? Do not bring your personal petty drama into this office!” I unlocked my phone, pulled up his WhatsApp message, and pointed directly at the words “‘reliable cog.’” Marcus choked on his words, glared at me, and slammed his office door shut. Less than thirty seconds later, my phone rang. It was Mr. Vance, an executive from headquarters. It seemed Marcus knew he couldn’t bully me on his own, so he had gone running to upper management to apply pressure. “Chloe, I’ve heard about the situation,” Mr. Vance’s voice was smooth and patronizing. “I know you feel slighted.” I gripped my phone tightly. For years, I believed that hard work was all that mattered. When I first joined AromaLux, the very first perfume I created became a global sensation, single-handedly launching the company’s IPO. Back then, Marcus was so thrilled he wired me a $50,000 bonus on the spot and told the entire company: “We need real talent like Chloe. Everyone needs to learn from her!” But as the company grew and hired more people, Marcus became obsessed with “corporate culture.” He started favoring those who flattered him, while making life miserable for those who actually did the heavy lifting. If I hadn’t been keeping their profit margins afloat, this branch would have gone under years ago. Before I could speak, Mr. Vance continued in a grave tone, “But the company’s rules cannot be broken. While your revenue is impressive, you did exceed the cost limit. Therefore, we have decided that for every project you close moving forward, you will receive a 0.1% commission.” I almost laughed out loud. My original contract gave me a 1% commission. Under the guise of “helping me,” they were slashing my earnings by ninety percent. And they expected me to thank them for their generosity. What a textbook corporate play. “Chloe, we still have high expectations for you,” Mr. Vance added smoothly. “We want to see you create brilliant revenue while staying within the rules. Do that, and the Senior Perfumer position will be yours again.” The moment I hung up, I drafted my formal resignation letter. But before I could send it, Marcus suddenly called an emergency all-hands meeting in the conference room. With headquarters backing him up, Marcus walked in looking like a king. “Everyone has been working incredibly hard lately, so we’re holding an impromptu award ceremony!” The room erupted into cheers. I sat silently in the back, watching his ridiculous performance. “In third place, Jason! You brought in $100,000 in revenue, and you only used a third of your $10,000 budget! The company is awarding you a $2,000 bonus!” I let out a silent, mocking smile. Jason used cheap, synthetic chemicals that caused severe allergic reactions in customers. The company was currently fighting three different lawsuits because of his “budget-friendly” formulations. Throughout the meeting, people kept glancing at me. Some looked sympathetic, but most eyes were filled with mockery. Amber shot me a worried look from across the table. I gave her a reassuring, silent nod. “And in first place…” Marcus paused for dramatic effect, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Amber. “…Amber! She just secured a massive investment contract from Mr. Pendelton himself! The company is awarding her a $10,000 bonus!” Marcus smirked at me, expecting to see me fly into a rage over losing my biggest client. Instead, I remained completely expressionless. Amber stood up awkwardly to accept the envelope of cash. When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with guilt and fear. She let out a forced chuckle and stammered, “I… I couldn’t have done it without Chloe’s guidance.” Dissatisfied with her giving me credit, Marcus cut in, “Amber, don’t be too modest. Your talent speaks for itself. In this company, we don’t care about seniority—only results.” This time, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Marcus’s double standards were truly a work of art. A few colleagues seized the opportunity to throw salt on the wound. “Exactly! Amber earned this fair and square. No need to be humble!” “Some people think they can walk around like they own the place just because they have a few big clients. Let’s see how she acts now.” “She’s been here for ten years, and now she can’t even keep her own clients. If I were her, I’d have packed my bags and left a long time ago.” Just as the mocking reached its peak, the receptionist knocked and stepped into the room. “Marcus, Mr. Pendelton is here in person. He wants to discuss a $10 million contract, and he specifically asked for Chloe.” The joyful atmosphere instantly froze. The smiles on everyone’s faces vanished.

Marcus reacted instantly. He hurried to the door, his face twisting into a sycophantic grin. “Mr. Pendelton! What an honor. What brings you by today?” Arthur Pendelton walked in, looking impeccably sharp in a tailored charcoal suit, flanked by two assistants. He possessed an effortless authority that commanded the room. Ignoring Marcus entirely, Arthur looked straight at me, his eyes filled with genuine concern. “Chloe, you sent a message this morning saying you couldn’t work with us anymore. Did something happen?” Marcus quickly interjected, shoving his way between us with a greasy smile. “Mr. Pendelton, let me explain. Chloe has been violating company protocols recently, so she’s been demoted. In fact, we are currently reviewing her employment. She’s been gatekeeping clients and bullying the newer perfumers.” Marcus gave a subtle nod to the room, and several colleagues immediately chimed in. “Yes, Mr. Pendelton! Marcus is right. Chloe hoarded all your account info and never let any of us get close to you!” “We’re all perfumers here. Why does she get to work with premium brands while we get the leftovers?” “Honestly, Mr. Pendelton, you partner with us because of AromaLux’s reputation, right? Our skills are just as good as Chloe’s, if not better!” Arthur didn’t say a word. He calmly sat down in one of the conference chairs. Sensing an opening, Marcus quickly pushed Amber forward. “Mr. Pendelton, look at Amber. She was personally trained by Chloe. Her work is just as good, if not better!” Amber stepped forward, trying to look confident, and extended her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Pendelton. I’m Amber. I know the exact formulation for your signature “Deep Ocean” line. In fact, I can offer you a much better rate on our partnership.” I raised an eyebrow, exchanging a brief, knowing look with Arthur. So, Amber becoming my apprentice wasn’t an accident after all. No wonder she was struggling so hard despite my intense training over the past three months. She was playing dumb to get me to hand over my client list. She and Marcus had planned this backstab all along. Arthur let out a soft, cold chuckle. “Ms. Amber, when you reached out to me, you claimed you were acting under Chloe’s direction. That is the only reason I agreed to sign that preliminary contract.” Amber’s hand froze in mid-air. Her face drained of color, and the entire conference room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Marcus, ever the politician, was the first to recover. He laughed nervously. “Chloe, see how much Mr. Pendelton trusts you? Don’t let him down. Moving forward, you’ll be personally handling his account.” He was trying to corner me in public. He knew I wouldn’t want to embarrass a long-term client by refusing him to his face. In the end, the company would still walk away with the profit. I calmly pulled up my phone, looked Marcus dead in the eye, and said, “I’m sorry, Marcus. But I have officially resigned. I can’t take Mr. Pendelton’s order.”

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Ethan missed Lily’s kindergarten Thanksgiving pageant. I was about to explain things to our daughter when a parent sitting next to me suddenly nudged me and showed me her phone. “Chloe, isn’t this your husband? He’s at the mall right across the street.” In the video, Ethan—the man who claimed he was currently handling an emergency at his factory—was carrying a four-year-old boy on his shoulders. Right next to him, walking so close their shoulders touched, was the single mother he claimed he was only “charitably supporting.” The color drained from my face. Before I could even process the sight, the teacher on stage asked the children if they had anything they wanted to say to their parents. Lily raised her chubby little hand, her voice loud and clear through the microphone. “I want to give my daddy to Miss Maya!” The parents in the audience burst into laughter, whispering about how cute and innocent kids could be. But Lily pouted her lips, looking dead serious. “I mean it! Miss Maya said that if daddy sleeps over at her house more often, little Leo will grow taller.” “Every time daddy comes back from Miss Maya’s house, he’s too tired to even hold me.” “Mommy always says good girls should share their toys. So, I’m sharing daddy with them!”

After Lily finished, she turned around and hugged me with a bright smile. “Mommy, don’t be sad! I’ve already given daddy away to Miss Maya.” The laughter in the room died down instantly. The parent who had just shown me the video awkwardly pulled her phone back. Her eyes darted around, pretending to be deeply interested in the ceiling pattern. Several parents in the front row exchanged knowing, silent glances. The teacher on stage let out a forced chuckle, quickly raising her microphone to break the ice. “Haha, our little Lily is so sweet and generous! Alright, let’s move on to the next activity. Shall we give these beautiful flowers to our mommies?” But Lily stood her ground, clutching her sunflower stubbornly. “I’m not lying. I really want to give my daddy to them.” I took the microphone from the teacher, knelt down, and looked Lily in the eyes. “Lily, you did a great job. When we don’t need something anymore, we should be generous and give it away.” I took her little hand, gave a polite nod to the stunned parents and teachers, and walked out. As soon as we reached the lobby, the phone in my pocket began vibrating violently. It was Ethan. I picked up, and the loud roar of factory machinery filled the background. “Hey, babe. There’s a huge issue with this batch of products at the factory. I’ve been stuck on the workshop floor. Is Lily’s show over yet?” “I’m almost done here. I’ll drive over right now and take you guys out for a big steak dinner.” His voice was as gentle and caring as always. If I hadn’t seen that video, I probably would have spent the last six years worrying about him and telling him to stay safe. “No need,” I said. “What’s wrong? Are you mad?” Ethan softened his tone, sounding a bit desperate to please. “I promise this is the last time. Once this busy season is over, I’ll take time off and we’ll go to Miami…” “Ethan, check the parents’ group chat.” I cut him off and hung up. In the short time it took me to walk off the stage, some parents had already recorded Lily’s speech and posted it in the school’s WhatsApp group. Someone else had posted a candid photo taken at the mall across the street. In the photo, Ethan was wearing a light gray casual jacket, and Maya was wearing a dress of the exact same color. They were holding hands with Leo on either side of them, looking like a perfect little family of three. I led Lily out of the kindergarten gates. My phone rang again. I didn’t answer. I threw it into my bag and led Lily to the car. Our car was parked on the second basement level of the mall across the street. We were bound to run into them anyway.

Ethan came running over, panting heavily, his face pale and tense. Maya stood beside him, holding her son’s hand. Her eyes were red, making her look incredibly fragile and wronged. The moment Ethan reached me, he started pointing fingers. “Chloe! How on earth are you raising our daughter?” “You let Lily say those ridiculous things on stage? Everyone in the school group is laughing at me now! How am I supposed to show my face?!” I pulled Lily behind me and took a step back, looking at this man. This was the man I had loved for eight years. “Which part of what she said was wrong?” Ethan choked on his words, his eyes darting away. Still, he forced a defense. “I only help Maya because it’s not easy for her as a single mom! I was just helping her out!” “Fixing a leaky pipe, changing a lightbulb—how did that turn into something so disgusting in Lily’s mouth?” “Chloe, please don’t be mad at Ethan.” Maya stepped forward, wiping her tears. “Leo saw other kids with their dads and wouldn’t stop crying for one. Ethan just felt bad for him, so he brought him out to buy a toy.” “If you want to blame someone, blame me. I’m just useless. I can’t give Leo a real family.” She certainly knew how to play the victim. Before I could speak, Lily peeked out from behind me and pointed at the massive box Leo was holding. “Mommy, why did daddy have money to buy him a giant Transformer?” “Last week, when I wanted that Barbie doll, daddy said it was too expensive and that kids shouldn’t be greedy. He didn’t buy it for me.” Ethan froze. Leo clutched the box tightly, hiding behind Maya, and yelled loudly: “My daddy bought this for me! You don’t have one!” Maya quickly covered Leo’s mouth, looking at me with an apologetic expression. “He’s just a child, Chloe. Kids say the craziest things, please don’t take it to heart.” “Ethan only bought this toy to calm Leo down because he felt sorry for him.” Ethan’s face turned bright red. He tried to grab my hand. “Babe, let me explain. I only lied because I didn’t want you to worry…” I stepped back, avoiding his touch, and clicked my car keys to unlock the doors. “Shut up, Ethan.” “Whether you did this out of pure charity or because you have feelings for her, you know the truth in your heart.” I opened the car door and buckled Lily into her car seat. Ethan rushed over, grabbing the edge of the door, his voice dropping into a low, threatening hiss. “Chloe, don’t push it.” “I’ve already swallowed my pride to explain this to you. Do you have to make such a scene in public?” “I’m not the one making a scene.” I shoved his hand off the door and slammed it shut. As I drove out of the garage, I saw Maya standing next to Ethan in my rearview mirror, gently patting his arm to comfort him.

At 9 PM, Ethan came home. He was holding a beautifully wrapped, limited-edition Barbie set. The shiny packaging felt like a pathetic attempt to buy his way out of trouble. I sat on the living room sofa, focusing on the latest financial reports of our company. After Lily was born, I had stepped back from the day-to-day operations to focus on our family. I left most of the company’s management to my partner, and handed a small portion over to Ethan. Looking back, it was a total joke. Ethan walked over to Lily’s bedroom door and knocked gently. “Lily, look what daddy got for you!” The door remained closed. Only Lily’s loud voice came through. “I don’t want your toys! Give them to Leo!” Ethan’s patience wore thin. He walked over to me and tossed the Barbie box onto the coffee table. “Chloe, how long are you going to keep this up?” “I already explained everything to you. You need to tell Lily to stop acting out. Don’t bring your petty drama into our kid’s head.” “Do you really have to be this cold and heartless?” Seeing that I didn’t even look up at him, Ethan grew even more frustrated. He yanked at his tie, his voice dripping with self-righteous anger. “Maya’s ex-husband was a deadbeat gambler who ran off and left them with a mountain of debt! She’s raising a sick kid all by herself and can barely afford rent!” “I’m just lending her some money and helping her out around the house.” “You’ve lived a privileged life, Chloe. You have no idea how hard it is for people at the bottom!” I closed my laptop and looked at him blankly. “If you understand her so well, why don’t you just hand over your entire paycheck to her?” “You are completely unreasonable!” Ethan raised his voice. “You sit there with a cold face all day long. This house feels like a freezer! Even when I hand over my salary, you never smile.” “But Maya is always sweet and warm. When I go over to help, she always hands me a glass of warm water, and her kid calls me daddy.” “I just wanted to feel a little bit of warmth in a home. What did I do wrong?!” Unbelievable. He actually managed to paint his emotional affair as a search for “family warmth.” Looking at this complete stranger, I didn’t even have the energy to argue. “Are you done? We have the company’s annual VIP gala tomorrow. I need to sleep.” Ethan was completely enraged by my cold shoulder. He pointed a finger at me, his voice carrying a blatant threat. “Chloe, don’t think you can boss me around.” “Tomorrow’s gala is huge. A lot of major industry leaders are coming, and they’re all coming to see the new projects and patents that “my” team developed.” “If you keep up this attitude, I won’t show up tomorrow. Let’s see how you explain that to the investors!” The gala was for our company’s fifth anniversary. The guests were our key suppliers and investors. It was a crucial event to maintain our business relationships. He thought he could use his leverage to force me to back down. But I have never been someone who takes threats lightly. “Do whatever you want.” With that, I walked into my bedroom and locked the door. Outside, I heard Ethan kick the trash can over with a loud crash, followed by the heavy slam of the front door. The next morning at 10 AM, Ethan showed up anyway. He couldn’t bear to miss an event where he could network and show off his status as a successful businessman. Ethan walked up to me, smiling warmly at a group of executives. “Good morning, gentlemen. Chloe worked sleepless nights preparing for this gala. I was honestly so worried about her health.” The executives praised us for being such a supportive couple. Soon, they started discussing the upcoming projects for the second half of the year with Ethan. Ethan couldn’t hide his smugness. He leaned in and whispered in my ear: “See? Without me, you wouldn’t even have a seat at this table. Let’s forget about last night. I’ll cook you a late-night snack when we get home.” I maintained my perfect smile but said nothing. Half an hour later, my business partner, Liam, walked through the crowd with a frown and pulled me into the VIP lounge. “Chloe, is there something going on with Ethan?” “He just used your digital company credentials to request an urgent wire transfer of two million dollars. He claimed you approved it as an advance payment for a new materials supplier.” He showed me his tablet. The recipient was “R-M Trading Corp.”

My heart sank. “I didn’t sign off on that, and I definitely didn’t approve it.” “Call finance immediately. Halt the transfer under the pretext of a flagged suspicious transaction.” Liam nodded and immediately stepped aside to make the call. I turned around to look for Ethan, but he was no longer in the ballroom. As I walked down the quiet hallway of the lounge area, I heard familiar voices coming from a slightly ajar door. It was Ethan and Maya. Today, Maya wore a simple white shirt, looking pale and vulnerable. She was clutching a hospital bill, her voice cracking with tears. “Ethan, I really didn’t want to bother you today.” “But the hospital said if I don’t pay the deposit for Leo’s bone marrow treatment by noon, they’ll give his spot to someone else. I had no other choice…” Ethan looked around nervously, patting her shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you I’d handle it? Why did you come here? What if someone sees you? The money will hit your account in ten minutes. Go back to the hospital now.” But Maya wasn’t intimidated. Instead, she leaned closer to him, speaking softly. “I’m just so scared.” “No one cares about us except you.” Her act worked perfectly. Ethan’s tense face softened. He wrapped his arm around her, speaking in a gentle, comforting tone. Right then, one of our major investors, Mr. Vance, walked out of the restroom at the end of the hall. Seeing me, he smiled and walked over to say hello. Since the lounge door wasn’t fully closed, Mr. Vance easily spotted the two people cuddling inside. The smile faded from his face. Frowning, he pushed the door open and pointed at Maya. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the woman who threw a screaming fit at our branch office last month, begging us not to sue your husband for fraud?” The air in the hallway turned dead cold. Every drop of color drained from Ethan’s face. He violently pushed Maya away, rushed to my side, and grabbed my wrist tightly. “Chloe! Why is the cleaning lady you hired last month showing up here to beg for an advance on her paycheck?” He leaned in close, whispering in my ear with a desperate hiss: “Play along with me! If Mr. Vance pulls his investment, the company is finished!” He was threatening me.

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To celebrate my younger brother getting into a prestigious private academy, my parents took him on a lavish island vacation, pampering him for a whole week. They completely forgot that a week ago, they had locked me in the dark basement to “reflect on my behavior.” When the door finally opened, my parents expected to find me starving, weak, and begging for their forgiveness on my knees. Instead, they found me wearing a beautiful new dress, eating a slice of expensive chocolate mousse cake. My mother froze. “Chloe, who gave you that cake? Where did you get the money?” I pointed to the broken, unplugged old refrigerator in the corner. “My other mom and dad inside the fridge gave it to me. They said they’re taking me away tomorrow.” My father flew into a rage, kicking the old fridge hard. “Lying brat! You’re just jealous of your brother, and now you’re losing your mind!” He had no idea that through the crack of the fridge door, a pair of cold eyes was staring right back at him.

“Dad, Chloe must have hidden some allowance in there to buy that cake. She’s just pretending to be miserable to guilt-trip you guys.” Leo peeked out from behind Eleanor, a smug smirk on his face. Eleanor frowned. She marched over, snatched the mousse cake from my hands, and threw it right into the trash can. “Chloe, you are such a disappointment. We locked you in the basement to teach you a lesson about lying. And now you’re making up stories about having parents inside a fridge just to spite us?” I looked at the ruined cake in the trash can, feeling a pang of sadness. The parallel-universe mom had handed me that cake just half an hour ago. But she had warned me not to pick fights with this family yet. So, I turned my face away, pretending I didn’t care. A week ago, my brother, Leo, was playing soccer in the living room and shattered Richard’s favorite antique vase. Hearing the crash, Leo immediately sat on the floor, crying hysterically. He pointed at me, fresh home from school, claiming I had pushed him and knocked the vase over. Richard didn’t even listen to my explanation. He grabbed me by my collar and shoved me into the damp, dark basement. “Since you love lying and bullying your brother so much, stay in there and think about what you did! Don’t come out until you apologize!” With the harsh click of the lock, I was completely abandoned in this cold, damp corner. For the next seven days, the three of them flew off to an island resort to celebrate Leo getting into the prep school. They left so quickly and callously, never once stopping to think that there wasn’t even a drop of water for me in the basement. On the first night, the hunger pains in my stomach were so sharp that I curled into a ball, breaking out in cold sweats. It wasn’t until the second night that the old, broken fridge—which had been unplugged for three years—suddenly hummed to life. A warm, golden light seeped through the door crack, and a plate of piping-hot beef stew and mashed potatoes was gently pushed out by a pair of hands. Those hands were pale, but incredibly gentle. A woman’s choked-up voice drifted from deep within the fridge. “Eat up, sweetie. Don’t starve.” From that day on, I received delicious food and clean, beautiful clothes from the old fridge every single day. They claimed to be my real parents from a parallel world, promising they would fully open the portal and take me away tomorrow. Thinking of this, I looked up, staring directly into my furious biological father’s eyes. “I’m not lying. My other parents in the fridge are picking me up tomorrow.” Richard let out an angry laugh, pointing a finger at my face. “Still talking back! That piece-of-trash fridge has been unplugged for three years. There’s nothing in there but cockroaches!” “You’re just jealous of your brother’s new school, so you’re acting crazy to get our attention, aren’t you?” Eleanor sighed beside him, her voice filled with exhaustion. “Chloe, when will you stop throwing these tantrums? We feed you and clothe you. Your brother is younger than you—what’s wrong with letting him have his way? Do you have to ruin the family mood by acting insane?” Looking at my mother’s accusing face, my mind drifted to the gentle voice of the fridge-mom, who reminded me to eat well every day through the crack of the door. I shook my head and replied quietly. “I’m not acting crazy, and I don’t want your attention. You can go back to pampering Leo. You don’t have to worry about me.” My calmness completely set Richard off. He yanked me by my arm and dragged me brutally out of the basement. “Fine! Let’s see if those imaginary fridge-parents of yours can save you once you’re out of this basement!”

Richard dragged me all the way into the living room. The coffee table was piled high with expensive souvenirs they had brought back from the island. Leo squealed with joy, tearing open box after box of imported toys. Eleanor sat on the sofa, holding a pearl necklace against her neck, admiring herself. They were a picture-perfect, happy family. No one cared about what I was going through. I stood by the edge of the table, watching them silently. Eleanor seemed uncomfortable under my gaze. She put the necklace down and cleared her throat. “Chloe, don’t look at us like that. We took Leo on this trip to reward him for his excellent grades. Your grades are always mediocre. Taking you would have been a waste of money.” She dug through a pile of snacks, pulled out a half-eaten bag of dried mangoes, and tossed it to me. “Here. Your brother didn’t finish this on the plane. Taste it, and you can pretend you went on the trip too.” I looked down at the spit-covered bag of dried mangoes and took a step back. “I’m not hungry.” “Why are you always so ungrateful?!” Eleanor’s face darkened instantly. Leo suddenly dropped his toys, ran over to me, and eyed me suspiciously. “Chloe must have hidden some good stuff in the basement! If she could buy a mousse cake, she definitely has other secrets!” Without warning, he reached out to search my pockets. I instinctively tried to dodge, but he grabbed the edge of my pocket and ripped it. A silver pocket watch fell out, hitting the hardwood floor with a sharp clink. That was the token my parallel-universe dad had handed me last night. He said as long as I kept it on me, they could pinpoint my exact location when the portal opened. Leo’s eyes lit up at the sight of the silver watch, and he immediately lunged to grab it. I threw myself over it, shielding it with my body. “Give it back! That’s mine!” Seeing he couldn’t grab it, Leo let out a malicious laugh and stomped his foot hard onto my hand. A searing pain shot up my arm. I gasped but didn’t let go. Seeing this, Leo threw his entire weight onto my hand, grinding his shoe into my flesh while screaming at the top of his lungs. “Mom! Dad! Chloe is hitting me! And she stole money to buy a gold watch!” Hearing the noise, Richard stormed over. He grabbed me by my hair and yanked me off the ground. “Chloe! Not only are you a liar, but now you have the nerve to hit your brother!” Ignoring the blood dripping from the back of my hand, he pried the silver watch from my grip. “Where did you get this? Did you steal money from us?” I stared at him coldly, the blinding pain in my scalp making it hard to breathe. “My dad from the fridge gave it to me.” “You dare mention that damn fridge again!” Infuriated, Richard hurled the watch against the wall with all his strength. The silver casing shattered instantly, and tiny gears scattered all over the floor. Looking at the broken pieces, tears finally welled up in my eyes. Leo hid behind Eleanor, sticking his tongue out at me triumphantly. Eleanor patted Leo’s head lovingly, then turned to me and said the words that shattered any remaining hope I had in them. “Chloe, you are so selfish. Fighting with your brother over a cheap toy watch? Starting today, you don’t eat in this house until you learn how to be a good sister.”

I didn’t throw a tantrum. I silently knelt down, picked up the scattered gears and broken pieces one by one, and carefully tucked them into my pocket. Seeing me so quiet and unresponsive, Richard scowled even harder. “What are you standing there playing dead for? Apologize to your brother right now!” I stood up, looking Richard straight in the eye. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” “You—” Richard raised his hand to strike me. Eleanor quickly held him back, whispering urgently. “We’re hosting a congratulatory party tomorrow, and all our relatives will be here. If you bruise her face, how are we going to explain it? Send her back to the basement. Out of sight, out of mind.” I complied without a word, dragging my bleeding hand back downstairs. The basement was freezing and damp. I leaned against the old fridge, holding the shattered pieces of the watch in my hands. In the dead of night, the basement was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat. Suddenly, the old fridge beside me let out a deep, heavy rumble. The metal frame began to vibrate violently, and a blinding blue light pierced through the rusty door cracks. I quickly rushed over and whispered. “Mom? Dad?” The door cracked open slightly, and an icy fog rolled out, carrying a strange metallic scent. Those pale hands reached out again, this time holding a bottle of warm milk and a roll of bandages. My parallel-universe mom’s voice sounded frantic and slightly distorted. “Chloe, what happened to your hand? Who hurt you?” I took the milk, and my tears finally spilled over. “They broke the pocket watch you gave me. Is the portal broken? Can you still take me away?” An angry growl echoed from the depths of the fridge—it was my parallel-universe dad. “They’ve gone too far! Chloe, don’t be afraid. Even without the token, we will forcefully break through the spatial coordinates to get you tomorrow at noon.” “Tomorrow at noon, exactly twelve o’clock. Just stand by the fridge, and we will take you home. No one will ever hurt you again.” Hearing those words, the heavy weight on my chest finally lifted. I drank the warm milk while clumsily wrapping the bandage around my wounded hand. Just a few more hours. Once tomorrow morning passed, I would leave this suffocating house forever. The next morning, the basement door was kicked open violently. Eleanor stood at the top of the stairs, throwing a dirty rag at my face. “Stop sleeping! The relatives are coming today. Get upstairs and clean the living room and kitchen. You’re not living here for free.” Without protesting, I picked up the rag and walked upstairs. Because I knew this would be the very last time I ever cleaned for them. As noon approached, the relatives began to arrive. The house quickly filled with laughter and chatter, with everyone crowding around Leo to praise him. “Oh, Leo is so smart! With grades like that, he’s definitely going to an Ivy League school!” “You guys are so lucky to have such a brilliant son.” I walked out of the kitchen carrying a platter of sliced fruit, which immediately caught the relatives’ attention.

Aunt Clara glared at me, her voice dripping with judgment. “Why does Chloe look so gloomy and awkward? She didn’t even greet the guests. Eleanor, you really need to teach this girl some manners.” Eleanor laughed awkwardly, seizing the opportunity to complain. “Clara, you have no idea. This girl has the strangest temper lately. She lies constantly and always bullies Leo.” “Just a couple of days ago, she insisted that her real parents live inside that broken old fridge in the basement. Can you believe it? She’s losing her mind.” The moment Eleanor said this, the relatives started looking at me with weird, mocking expressions. Uncle Thomas shook his head, looking at me with disapproval. “Chloe, your parents work so hard to raise you. How can you be so ungrateful? Your brother is successful, and you should be happy for him, instead of making up these ridiculous stories to steal his spotlight.” I stood frozen in the middle of the room, holding the fruit platter with a blank expression. Seeing all the adults siding with him, Leo’s ego inflated even more. He jumped up from the sofa, pointing a finger at me. “Chloe is a total liar! She’s still claiming her parents are in that broken fridge! If you don’t believe me, I’ll drag that fridge out right now and show everyone!” With that, Leo rallied a few cousins around his age and dashed down to the basement. A few minutes later, the kids managed to drag the small, single-door, rusty old refrigerator into the center of the living room. The outer shell was completely rusted, and even the power cord had been cut off at the base. It looked like nothing but a piece of scrap metal. Richard felt embarrassed by the scene and barked at Leo. “Alright, Leo, that’s enough. Why did you drag this junk up here? Get it out of here!” But Leo refused to back down. He walked up to the fridge, giving me a smug, challenging look. “Chloe, didn’t you say your real parents are in here? Call them out!” The relatives burst into laughter. Aunt Clara covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh, Leo, stop teasing your sister. She’s just a little liar making things up. How could a real person fit inside a broken fridge?” I ignored their mocking laughter and kept my eyes glued to the wall clock. One minute left until noon. Seeing that I remained silent, Leo assumed I was scared. To completely humiliate me in front of everyone, he grabbed the handle of the fridge door. “Watch closely, everyone! I’m going to expose this liar once and for all!” Leo yanked it open. With a loud, rusty screech, the door swung open. It was completely empty. Leo pointed inside, laughing hysterically. “Hahaha! What a fraud! There’s nothing in here!” The relatives shook their heads. Richard’s face was pitch black as he stood up, marching toward me with his hand raised, ready to slap me. “How much longer are you going to embarrass us? Go back to your room right now!” Just as his hand was about to strike my face— Twelve o’clock sharp. The unplugged, broken old fridge suddenly erupted with a blinding, piercing white light. Instantly, the temperature in the living room plummeted to sub-zero. A thick, visible wave of freezing white fog surged out from the depths of the fridge, instantly covering the entire living room floor. The laughter died instantly. Richard’s hand froze mid-air. Leo, who was closest to the fridge, let out a terrified shriek and tried to stumble backward. But in that exact millisecond, a pair of pale, frostbitten hands shot out of the blinding white light, locking tightly around Leo’s neck.

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My stepbrother framed me for causing his allergic reaction. So, my three older sisters stuffed me into a narrow, airtight basement, locking the door with heavy chains. I banged on the metal door, begging them to let me out. Victoria, the eldest and a cold-hearted business mogul, turned her back on me. Her voice was icy as she barked: “We tolerated you targeting Miles before, but you knew he was severely allergic to seafood. You fed it to him anyway. You did this on purpose! Rot in there and think about what you’ve done!” Melanie, the rising pop star, and Serena, the prodigy painter, sneered in unison: “A wicked person like you still tries to play the victim. You deserve this!” With that, they shielded the shivering Miles and rushed him to the hospital. In the sealed basement, the oxygen slowly ran out. Every breath became a suffocating agony. I died in there. Three days later, when they returned with Miles, they finally remembered me. They had no idea that I had already suffocated to death in that dark, cramped space.

I died of suffocation in that sealed basement. When I opened my eyes again, my soul was floating right next to my three sisters. They had just brought Miles back to our family estate. Victoria and Melanie were gently guiding him, their voices filled with relief and indulgence. “Thank God we got you to the ER in time. You’ve recovered so well, Miles.” Serena, the artistic genius, chimed in, her eyes full of affection: “The doctor said you’re still weak. You need to eat well to recover.” She placed a tender cut of meat onto Miles’s plate. Our housekeeper hesitated before gathering the courage to speak up: “Miss Victoria… Ethan has been down in the basement for three days now. There’s been no sound…” Victoria cut her off with a cold, disgusted glare: “Today is the day Miles comes home. Why bring up that pathetic loser?” The housekeeper wanted to say more, but Melanie and Serena shut her down with freezing glares. “He knew Miles was highly allergic to seafood, yet he still made a seafood dinner. That’s attempted murder.” “I actually thought Ethan was finally accepting Miles. Turns out it was a trap all along.” Miles played his part perfectly, shrinking back with a terrified, timid expression: “Ethan is being punished because of me. He’s been down there for so many days… will he be mad at me when he gets out?” Victoria patted his back comfortingly: “Don’t worry, Miles. We spoiled Ethan too much in the past, which is why he became so reckless. This punishment will teach him to never bully you again.” As she spoke, she instinctively pulled out her phone, refreshing her chat history with me. It was empty. The last message was from three days ago. Over the last three days, I hadn’t sent her a single message, let alone called. Victoria’s eyes flashed with anger. “It’s been three days, and he hasn’t even sent a text to check on Miles. He is incredibly cold-blooded.” Miles took Victoria’s hand, squeezing it as he whimpered: “Don’t blame Ethan. I just wanted to be part of the family. I never wanted to take anything from him…” Victoria quickly put down her phone and stroked Miles’s head. “You’re too kind, Miles. Unlike him. He’s nothing but an ungrateful snake.” Melanie sneered, her eyes dripping with disdain: “To fight for our attention, he tried to kill his own brother. How evil can one person get?” Serena nodded in agreement. “He’s been locked up for three days. Unless he gets on his knees and begs Miles for forgiveness, I’m kicking him out of this house!” I floated in the air, watching this absurd scene. I felt nothing but a hollow, tragic amusement. But as a spirit, none of them could see me. Our parents died early, and my three sisters used to be my entire world. When I was younger, I was lonely. I wanted a companion, so they went to the orphanage and adopted Miles. I treated Miles with nothing but kindness. I shared everything with him. But in return, I got framed, lied about, and slowly alienated from my sisters. And this time, they locked me in the dark basement without even asking for my side of the story. I had fought so hard. But the air in the tiny cellar grew thinner and thinner. I had banged on the door, screaming and begging them to let me out. But they only showed cold indifference. “Stop screaming! You brought this on yourself! If it weren’t for you, Miles wouldn’t be in the hospital!” “We’ve been too soft on you. You’ve been bullying Miles for too long. Stay in there and reflect!” Melanie had personally wrapped the heavy iron chain around the lock. Serena had piled heavy crates against the door, sealing my last hope of escape. Now, looking at Miles’s fake, smug smile, I let out another bitter laugh. Sisters, the brother who loved you more than anything in this world is dead. And you killed him.

Miles tugged at Victoria’s sleeve, looking pitiful: “Don’t be mad, Victoria. It’s my fault for having this stupid allergy. Ethan didn’t mean to do it. Please don’t blame him.” Victoria’s face hardened. “We’ve let him get away with too much. We turned him into a spoiled, malicious brat.” Melanie’s eyes flared with rage: “His mind is twisted. If he hadn’t targeted Miles on purpose, Miles wouldn’t have suffered like this.” At that moment, Miles intentionally shifted, letting his sleeve slide up to reveal the fading red hives on his skin. Serena gently brushed her fingers over the red marks, her face filled with pain. “Does it still hurt, Miles?” Miles lowered his head, his shoulders trembling as if he were about to cry: “No… it doesn’t hurt…” Melanie’s temper finally blew. “If we had been a minute later, he would have died! And Ethan? It’s been three days, and he hasn’t even called. He is utterly heartless!” Victoria stood up, her voice sharp and commanding: “Drag him up here! I want him on his knees, apologizing to Miles! Let’s see if his bones are as tough as his attitude!” Melanie and Serena joined in: “We’ve been too lenient. He made his bed; now he has to lie in it!” They turned to the housekeeper and snapped: “What are you standing there for? Go bring him up! And fetch the riding crop. If Ethan hadn’t put seafood in his food, Miles wouldn’t have suffered in the hospital for three days. It’s time to beat some sense into him!” The housekeeper didn’t dare argue. She hurried toward the basement. I laughed bitterly. My sisters didn’t even bother to investigate before accusing me. Three days ago, Miles said he wanted porridge. Eager to please my brother, I happily went to the kitchen to cook for him. He gave me a small packet of seasoning, claiming it was his favorite. I tasted it—it was just basic seafood powder. How could I have known it was his trigger? Victoria was a brilliant businesswoman, yet she couldn’t see through such a basic, childish trap. Or maybe, she just chose not to because of her favoritism. To my sisters, I was never as important as Miles. My heart felt hollow. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was already dead. They could give all their love to Miles now. Suddenly, the housekeeper ran back, pale and trembling. “Miss Victoria… we called out to him, but there’s no response. There’s… there’s no sound of breathing at all.” Victoria frowned, standing up abruptly. “What kind of stunt is he pulling now? Is he too proud to apologize to Miles?” “Does he even realize he almost killed his brother?” Miles pulled on Victoria’s hand, pretending to be sad: “It’s fine, Victoria. I’m just an orphan. I don’t deserve an apology from Ethan anyway.” That was the final straw for Victoria. “Does he think playing dumb will save him? He thinks silent treatment works? We’ve been too soft!” “Come on, let’s drag him out myself. Let’s see how long he can play this game. He “will” kneel and beg for forgiveness today!”

I floated behind my three sisters, feeling nothing but a cold numbness. Furious, they marched down to the basement door. “Ethan! Stop hiding in there! You can’t escape your punishment!” Victoria yelled. Inside, there was only dead silence. Melanie’s face darkened. “Ethan, stop acting! Get out here and kneel!” “Don’t think turning off your phone and ignoring us will make this go away!” Serena was practically vibrating with rage. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Ethan. You hate seeing us nice to Miles so much that you’d rather rot in there to spite us? Do you honestly think we’ll beg you to come out?” Still, silence. Victoria turned to the shivering servants, her voice dripping with ice: “Why are you all shaking? Tell me the truth. Did this brat bribe you? Did you let him out behind our backs?” Melanie sneered: “With his weak character, he probably couldn’t handle the cold basement for more than an hour. He definitely paid them to let him out.” Serena looked thoroughly disgusted. “He almost killed Miles, and now he won’t even face the consequences. Is this the brother I grew up with? Does he think he’s our only brother?” Finally, the housekeeper stammered: “No, Miss Victoria… we wouldn’t dare disobey you. Master Ethan… he really has been inside for three whole days.” Serena looked at the silent basement door, and a sudden flicker of unease crossed her eyes. She stepped forward and yanked on the latch, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Ethan, enough! I unlocked the chain! Stop holding the door from the inside!” I looked at the warped, dented metal door and smiled sadly. When I was suffocating, I had thrown my body against that door, desperate to survive. But it was too solid. I couldn’t even make a crack. I was left to suffocate in the dark. Sisters, once you see my body, will you show me a shred of love? Will you bury me next to our parents? Victoria grew impatient. She raised her foot and kicked the door hard. The warped door bent further, leaving a gap. Suddenly, a horrible, sickening stench wafted out. The housekeeper gagged, trembling violently. “That… that smells like a corpse!” Melanie and Serena marched up, still angry. “What corpse? He probably escaped and left a dead rat in there to scare us!” “Ethan, do you think we are fools?” Furious, the three sisters kicked the door together. With a loud “CLANG”, the door flew open. A wave of putrid, suffocating rot blasted out, exposing the dark, cramped basement to the light.

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I found a strand of white dog hair in the car right after Julian and I had sex in the back seat. Julian Vance was a notorious neat freak. He never allowed any pets in his car. I remembered the night Sugar, my Alaskan Malamute, was dying. I had knelt on the cold floor, begging Julian to drive her to the vet, but he didn’t even blink. He refused. Yet right now, that soft, white strand of hair on the passenger seat was glaringly obvious. It felt like a silent, mocking slap in the face. He didn’t hate dogs. He just hated my dog. Right then and there, I asked Julian for a divorce. He spared a bored glance at the hair in my hand, his voice dripping with impatience. “You’re throwing a tantrum and asking for a divorce over this?” I looked at him calmly and nodded. “Yes. Over exactly this.” “Go sit in the front,” Julian said, adjusting his collar. His tone was perfectly businesslike. But the dark hickeys covering his neck told a completely different story about the passion we had just shared. The back seat was still a total mess. I fastened the last button of my shirt, only to realize my dress had been completely ripped when I reached for it. Julian glanced at me, draped his suit jacket over my shoulders, then got out of the car to carry me to the passenger seat. He took his jacket back and handed me a plush pink blanket. I looked up, confused. “Since when do you keep stuff like this in your car?” And by the look of it, it was definitely meant for a girl. Julian’s hand paused on the steering wheel for a split second, but his voice remained smooth. “I figured it would come in handy sooner or later, so I bought it.” I stared at the blanket in my lap, freezing. There was a clump of dog hair on it. Julian had never let Sugar near his car. When Sugar was on the verge of death that midnight, I had begged him on my knees, crying, but he wouldn’t budge. But now, this dog hair was resting peacefully on his expensive leather seat. “Julian, did you have someone else’s dog in your car?” I clenched my fist around the dog hair, holding back my tears. Julian glanced at me sideways, completely unfazed. “Yeah. A friend’s dog.” His casual answer sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my chest. He didn’t hate dogs. He just hated my dog. And this blanket was bought for someone else, too. My nails dug deep into my palms. My voice shook. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” Julian slammed on the brakes. He looked at the dog hair in my hand with sheer annoyance. “Over this?” I nodded, tears finally slipping down my cheeks. “Yes. Over this.” “Chloe, stop making a scene.” Julian snatched the dog hair from my hand and tossed it out the window. In the past, if he ever accidentally touched Sugar’s hair, he would spend hours in the shower out of disgust. Yet now, he touched that dog hair so naturally. A friend? They must be incredibly close. Julian started the car again and drove us home. The moment we walked through the door, Sugar rushed over to greet me. But when she saw Julian walking in behind me, she cowered and shrank back against my legs. She was a good girl. She never went near Julian. She knew Julian hated her. My mind was consumed by the blanket and the dog hair. I followed Julian toward our bedroom, but he slammed the door shut right in front of me. I couldn’t stop in time. My nose collided hard with the heavy wood. Nosebleed immediately gushed out. The pain was so intense that tears welled up in my eyes. From inside the room, Julian’s cold voice drifted out. “I told you, you have to take a shower after touching that dog before you can come in.” With blood smeared all over my face, I washed myself up in the guest bathroom. The pain of his double standards cut deeper than the physical blow. When I finally walked into the bedroom, Julian was on a Zoom meeting. He glanced at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Let’s wrap up today’s meeting here.” “But Mr. Vance, this is urgent—” Before his employee could finish, Julian shut his laptop. He stood up and walked toward me. His tall figure cast a long shadow over me, blocking out the light. He reached out to touch me, but I instinctively flinched away. “I’m sorry.” Julian’s hand froze in mid-air. He lowered his eyes, looking genuinely apologetic. I walked past him and lay down on the bed, the image of the dog hair in his car playing on a loop in my head. After a long silence, the other side of the bed dipped. “The bakery you like just released some new pastries. I’ll take you there tomorrow if you’re free, okay?” I knew this was his way of offering an olive branch. But I didn’t want to talk to him.

By the time I woke up the next morning, Julian was already gone. There was a freshly made breakfast on the table, just like every other day of our one-year marriage. Thinking back to last night, my head throbbed. Maybe I was being petty. How could I have brought up divorce so easily? After breakfast, I decided to take Sugar out for a drive to clear my head. On my way back in the afternoon, I stopped to pick up a birthday gift for Julian’s mother. As I was driving safely in my lane, a car suddenly rear-ended me. Hard. I got out of the car to check the damage. The driver of the other car stepped out, looking aggressive. “How the hell do you drive?” “There are traffic cameras here. You hit me on purpose,” I said, calmly pulling out my phone to call the police. But the man slapped my phone out of my hand. Sugar barked protectively from inside the car. “Typical female driver. Can’t drive for shit and now you’re blaming me,” the man sneered, scanning me up and down. “Driving such a nice car… who’s your Sugar Daddy?” I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. “Sir—” “Chloe.” I turned around. Julian was walking toward us. Given the distance, he must have heard everything. Suddenly, I felt a surge of confidence. “Oh, look, your Sugar Daddy is actually here,” the man mocked. Because of the massive class disparity between Julian’s family and mine, there had been plenty of nasty rumors when we got married. But Julian had always defended me publicly. He used to say, “I was the one who chased my wife. I belong to her. There is no such thing as a mismatch.” But now, Julian didn’t even take my hand. He didn’t even ask what happened. He simply pulled out a thick stack of cash from his wallet and handed it to the man. His voice was laced with irritation. “Is this enough?” The man’s eyes lit up. Before leaving, he didn’t miss the chance to throw one last insult. “See? I told you she was bought.” I wanted to speak up, but Julian silenced me with a cold, warning glare. It felt as if my attempt to stand up for myself was nothing but an embarrassment to him. My car was badly damaged. It was clearly undrivable. “Come with me,” Julian said, grabbing my hand and leading me to his car. He glanced at Sugar, who was sitting by my feet. “Call a pet taxi to take the dog back. You’re coming with me.” I pulled my hand out of his grip. “No need. Sugar will be scared in a stranger’s car.” Julian let out a cold laugh. “Chloe, do you seriously have to pick a fight with me over this dog?” I held onto the leash tightly, refusing to back down. As we stood in a tense standoff, the passenger window of his car rolled down. A beautiful, elegantly dressed girl was sitting inside, holding a large dog in her arms. She flashed a sweet, innocent smile. “Hi, sweetie. I’m Vivian Thorne. There have been rumors about a stalker on my way home lately, so Mr. Vance was kind enough to give me a ride.” The girl in the passenger seat, the dog in her lap… everything felt like a physical blow. The cautious, tiptoeing life Sugar and I had lived under Julian’s roof suddenly felt like a massive joke. “Julian, what is the meaning of this?” My nose burned, but I refused to let my tears fall in front of them. “She’s the new assistant at the company, Vivian,” Julian said, his expression completely blank. To him, a girl sitting in his passenger seat with a dog was perfectly normal. “Mr. Vance, why don’t you let her get in? She just got into an accident. She must be terrified.” Julian’s expression softened slightly. He pursed his lips. “Get in.” I froze. I had crawled on my knees begging him to let Sugar in his car, and he had refused. Now, with just one word from another woman, he agreed. How pathetic. I pulled open the back door and got in. Throughout the ride, Vivian’s dog kept barking aggressively at Sugar. Sugar just tucked her tail and curled up in my lap, trying to disappear. For the past year, whenever Julian was around, Sugar never made a sound. She had been suppressing her own nature, trying her best to minimize her existence. Julian drove Vivian home. As she got out, she smiled sweetly at him. “Mr. Vance, thank you so much for the new bag. I absolutely love it!” The bag in her hand was the exact new release from my favorite brand. So, he had already gone shopping with someone else. My heart felt hollow.

When we got home, I brought the gift inside. Julian glanced at it. “What’s that?” “A birthday gift for your mother.” His mother refused to accept me, and Julian never allowed me to call her “Mom.” I could only address her as Mrs. Vance. “You didn’t have to do that. I’ll handle the gifts,” Julian sighed, looking exhausted. “It’s our first year of marriage. I just wanted to be polite. If you think it’s inappropriate, I won’t give it to her.” Seeing the disappointment on my face, Julian walked over and kissed my forehead. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just bring it tomorrow.” The next day, Julian took me to the Vance family estate. I presented the necklace I had carefully chosen to Mrs. Vance. She looked at it with pure disdain, then sneered. “Some people really don’t know their place. Copying someone else’s gift. How tacky.” I was completely confused. Julian’s grip on my hand tightened. Suddenly, Vivian walked in. Mrs. Vance immediately pulled Vivian into a warm embrace. “Julian, Vivian told me you’ve been driving her home every day.” Julian nodded. So that was why he had been coming home late. I forced a bitter smile. “Vivian, dear, I absolutely love the gift you gave me. I had no idea this woman would buy the exact same thing. Did you secretly tell her?” Mrs. Vance asked Vivian affectionately. Vivian feigned shock. “Oh, maybe Chloe and I just have similar taste! Mrs. Vance, that necklace looks stunning on you. You look absolutely gorgeous.” Mrs. Vance beamed. “You always know just what to say, Vivian. If only you had returned to the country earlier, Julian wouldn’t have been snatched away by some gold digger.” Julian made no reaction. He didn’t say a single word to defend me. My heart grew cold, and I quietly walked away. A few minutes later, Vivian approached me. She still had that sweet, innocent smile on her face. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I only found out it was his mother’s birthday when I was chatting with Julian last night. Our families have been friends for generations, so I didn’t know what to get. I asked Julian what he was planning to buy.” “He sent me a photo of a necklace. I must have misremembered the style and bought the exact same one.” I took a slow sip of my champagne and looked at her. “Right. You must be really stupid then.” Vivian’s smile faltered, and she walked away. I looked around the room for Julian. As I approached him, I overheard one of his friends asking him, “Do you regret marrying her?” Julian looked a bit drunk. He didn’t notice me standing nearby. He swirled his glass, his eyes misty. “Regret?” That single word echoed in my ears. It felt like a total erasure of all the happiness we had shared. Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the spotlight hit the stage. Mrs. Vance stood there, holding Vivian’s hand. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday party. I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce someone very special. This is Vivian Thorne, my choice for my future daughter-in-law.” Whispers erupted through the crowd. Everyone in their social circle knew Julian was already married. “Isn’t Julian married? I bet that woman has some kind of dirt on him.” “Or maybe she just used her body to climb up.” “Julian didn’t even deny it. It must be true.” “Are they already divorced?” I hid in a dark corner, downing glass after glass of champagne. The burning alcohol temporarily numbed the agonizing pain in my chest. Julian walked up to the stage to cut the cake with Vivian. Mrs. Vance watched them with a proud, satisfied smile. They looked like a real family. I tilted my head back, my eyes burning. After the party, Mrs. Vance insisted that Julian and Vivian stay the night. Julian glanced at me. “Chloe should stay, too.” Mrs. Vance glared at him, but Julian ignored her and led me to his room. Before a relationship completely falls apart, the first sign is always silence. I lay on the bed and fell asleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night, Julian was gone. Feeling restless, I decided to go get a glass of water. But as I passed the courtyard, I overheard a conversation. “You don’t have to divorce her right now. Just have her get pregnant first. Vivian keeps saying she’s terrified of the pain and that pregnancy will ruin her body. “ “Once that woman gives birth, you and Vivian can raise the child together.” My entire body began to shake. It wasn’t until I heard that familiar, deep voice that I realized how utterly pathetic I was in this relationship. “I know, Mom.”

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A gold-and-silver Rolex was dangling from my dog’s collar. A fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex, shining brightly around Buster’s furry neck. When my wife, Chloe, came home that night, I placed the watch on the coffee table right in front of her. She was glued to her phone, laughing and typing away on Snapchat. She glanced up, saw the watch, and smirked. “New watch? Your taste is getting better.” I didn’t say anything. I just pushed the watch a little closer to her. “Chloe, let’s get a divorce.” She finally looked up from her phone, her eyes filled with confusion. “What is that supposed to be? Why are you bringing this up out of nowhere?” I looked at her, my voice completely flat. “That watch isn’t mine.” I never wear anything on my wrists. She didn’t even remember that. “If it’s not yours, whose is it?” Chloe put her phone down and picked up the watch. My eyes fell on her screen, which was still lit. Message notifications from Julian Vance were popping up one after another. Now, I knew exactly who the watch belonged to. Julian Vance was the regional president of a partner company. He and Chloe had been doing a lot of business together lately. I had met Julian twice. The first time was a month ago at Chloe’s corporate anniversary party. That day, Chloe’s mom, Helen, fell suddenly ill. I rushed her to the hospital, stood in line for hours, handled the insurance, and made sure she was admitted. By the time I finally made it to Chloe’s party, the celebration was already in full swing. Chloe was cutting the cake, and a man in a perfectly tailored suit was standing right next to her. I stood near the entrance where the light was dim. I overheard two of her employees chatting nearby. “Oh my gosh, Chloe and Julian look so good together!” “Right? Power couple goals. They look like they walked straight out of a billionaire romance novel.” “Totally. Unlike her husband. He looks like a total freeloader living off her.” “Yeah, her husband is honestly so—” They stopped mid-sentence when one of them noticed me. They looked panicked and quickly walked away. I swallowed my pride and looked back at Chloe and Julian. After cutting the cake, Julian helped Chloe hand out slices to the staff. Suddenly, he dipped his finger in some frosting and playfully wiped it on the tip of her nose. Instead of getting mad, Chloe let out a bright, beautiful laugh. She dipped her own finger in the frosting and swiped it across his cheek. They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes. In that moment, my heart sank into a frozen abyss. I remembered our wedding three years ago. When we cut the cake, I playfully tried to put a little frosting on her face, too. But back then, her face instantly turned ice-cold. The cheerful atmosphere had died instantly. Chloe grabbed a napkin, wiped her face, and hissed, “I’m a germaphobe. I hate when people do that.” Then, she walked out. She left me standing there, humiliated, in front of a room full of awkward guests. For the next three years, I walked on eggshells to accommodate her “germaphobia.” But seeing her laugh with Julian made me realize the brutal truth: she didn’t hate the frosting. She just hated that it was me doing it.

Noticing where I was looking, Chloe calmly locked her phone screen. She turned the watch over in her hands. “You’re right, it’s not yours. You couldn’t afford a fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex even if you drew illustrations for ten years,” she said. Her voice was calm, but the insult cut deep. She put the watch into her bag. “Julian came over yesterday. He must have left it here by accident. I’ll return it to him tomorrow.” I stood there, watching her quietly. The watch had been clipped to Buster’s collar. That was no accident. We are all adults. I wasn’t blind to the lust and possessiveness in Julian’s eyes whenever he looked at Chloe. Leaving his expensive watch on my dog was a blatant power move. He was marking his territory. He was telling me that he had been in my house, played with my dog, and left a piece of his wealthy life behind to mock me. I couldn’t gaslight myself anymore. Seeing me stand still, Chloe finally seemed to remember my mention of divorce. She sighed with annoyance. “Look, Julian and I were discussing a deal at the coffee shop down the street yesterday. It started pouring rain, and his clothes got soaked. I brought him here to change into one of your dry shirts. That’s probably how he dropped the watch.” She finished her explanation and glared at me, her patience running thin. I looked down at the floor and repeated, “Let’s get a divorce.”

Even before we got married, I knew I wasn’t Chloe’s dream guy. But I was the most convenient option. Chloe had always been a high-achiever. In college, she was always the group leader, the straight-A student, the star presenter. Right after graduation, she started her own marketing agency. In just a few years, she turned a five-person studio into a successful firm with over a hundred employees. She once told me she wanted a “power couple” relationship. Her ideal man was an alpha, a corporate elite who could match her drive. Meanwhile, I was just a freelance illustrator. I spent my days sitting in front of a drawing tablet, editing sketches. I was about as far from “corporate elite” as a man could get. Yet, somehow, she married me. Because she hadn’t found her dream guy, Chloe had remained single. But her traditional mother, Helen, couldn’t stand it. She pressured Chloe to settle down by the time she turned twenty-seven. When Chloe approached me with a marriage proposal, I thought I was dreaming. I had been secretly in love with her all through college. “The way you look at me is different from other guys,” she had told me back then. ” And since my mom is forcing me to marry someone, it might as well be someone who actually loves me, right?” With just those two sentences, she captured my heart. We got our marriage license that very day. She left all the wedding planning to me. I poured my heart into organizing a beautiful wedding, only for her to humiliate me at the reception. But back then, I foolishly believed that even if she didn’t love me yet, she chose me. I thought my warmth would eventually melt her cold heart. But looking at that watch today, I realized I was just exhausted. Chloe was a woman with a high IQ and EQ. She could read my feelings instantly. How could she possibly be blind to Julian’s obvious advances?

“You want a divorce over this?” Chloe slammed her hand on the table and stood up, looking at me with pure disbelief. “Julian is my biggest client! His clothes got wet, so I let him change. What is the big deal?” “If you’re going to pick fights over nothing, maybe you should get a real job. You’re clearly just bored from staying home all day.” Her face was twisted with disgust. But she seemed to forget that I had a job. Sure, I didn’t make as much as her, but over the years, my illustration contracts had brought in a very comfortable, steady income. She always looked down on my career. But deep down, I knew she just looked down on me. Because Julian could paint, too. That was the second time I saw Julian. He was standing right next to Chloe at an art gallery. I was standing a few feet behind them. I heard Julian talking about how he had studied fine arts for over a decade. He went on and on about the brushstrokes, the inspiration, and the history of the painting in front of them. Chloe’s eyes were shining with admiration. She was so captivated by him that she didn’t even notice me standing right there. She probably forgot, but that wasn’t the first time she had seen that painting. During our first anniversary, I tried to plan a romantic date to bring us closer. I asked her if she wanted to go out, and she told me to just plan whatever. So, I bought two tickets to that exact art exhibition. When she paused in front of this very painting, I excitedly started telling her about the artist’s background and the story behind the piece. But halfway through my sentence, I realized she was just scrolling through her phone. My feelings were deeply hurt, and it showed on my face. Noticing my mood, she offered to buy me dinner. I thought she was finally starting to care about my feelings. Instead, she coldly told me: “Justin, I’m just too busy for this. Let’s not waste time on dates anymore.” I ate that dinner in silence. And I never planned another date. So, seeing her gaze so passionately at Julian at the same gallery broke my heart. Even then, my foolish heart tried to make excuses for her. I kept telling myself they hadn’t actually slept together, that they were just business partners. But now, I was done lying to myself. I was done torturing myself. As Chloe herself said, if you’re going to marry someone, you might as well choose someone who actually loves you—even if you don’t love them back.

“I’m not picking a fight,” I said quietly, taking a deep breath.. “There’s no need to split assets. I brought nothing into this marriage, and I will leave with nothing. We keep our own bank accounts. Also, Helen just got discharged from the hospital a couple of days ago. If you have time, you should go visit her.” My voice was calm, and my heart was even calmer. I wasn’t telling her to visit her mother out of spite. Helen had been genuinely wonderful to me. My parents passed away when I was young, and most of the maternal warmth I experienced in my adult life came from Helen. As I spoke, Chloe’s face grew darker and darker. Finally, she sneered, “You are losing your mind.” She grabbed her coat and walked toward the door. But after a few steps, she suddenly turned back. She grabbed the fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex from the table. It was obvious who she was running to. But to me, it didn’t matter anymore.

I went back to our bedroom and started packing. Since I worked from home, my wardrobe was incredibly simple. A few lounge sets and two or three casual outfits took up just a tiny corner of the walk-in closet. It took me less than five minutes to pack them all. Chloe said Julian had borrowed one of my shirts. But looking at my closet, not a single hanger was empty. I slowly zipped my suitcase, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. Julian probably thought my clothes were too cheap. He would rather wear a damp designer shirt than put on my “garbage.” As I emptied the last drawer, my hand brushed against a suit bag at the very bottom. My body froze. I bought this custom suit for our second anniversary. Chloe always said she loved men in sharp suits. I’m not a bad-looking guy, so for our anniversary, I went to a high-end salon, got my hair styled, and put on the suit. Looking in the mirror, I felt confident. I was genuinely excited to see her reaction, thinking she would appreciate me dressing up to fit her standards. But she only met me with humiliation. “What a waste of a good suit,” she had said, barely looking at me. “Justin, don’t you think you look completely ridiculous trying to play dress-up? No offense, but you just can’t pull it off.” Even though a year had passed, remembering those words still felt like a rusty knife twisting in my chest. That suit had cost me three thousand dollars—a whole month’s worth of illustration royalties at the time. I pulled the suit bag out of the closet and threw it straight into the trash can. I would never wear it again anyway. And I would never bend over backward to please someone who would never love me.

I dragged my suitcase out of the house. My parents had died in a plane crash when I was seventeen. They left me two properties and a decent inheritance. I used that money to get through college. After marrying Chloe, I moved into her luxury townhouse. People used to whisper behind my back, calling me a trophy husband or a gold-digger. But I didn’t care about the rumors, nor did I care whose house we lived in. Having lost my parents at a young age, all I wanted was to be close to the woman I loved. But now I realized that my devotion was just a joke to her. I moved back to my own apartment and had a lawyer draft the divorce papers. Then, I couriered them directly to Chloe’s office. If I sent them to her house, she’d just throw them in the mail pile. But she’d definitely open them at her desk. Sure enough, the next afternoon, my phone rang. Chloe’s voice blasted through the speaker the second I answered. “Justin, are you kidding me? You’re a grown man! Throwing a tantrum is one thing, but this is ridiculous!”

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At a dinner party with my boyfriend’s frat brothers, his female best friend, Veronica, started talking loudly about sex toys in front of everyone. “Every time Austin buys me a new toy, he always gets a duplicate one for Chloe. Honestly, those two are probably VIPs at the adult store by now.” Noticing the look on my face, one of Austin’s friends quickly tried to smooth things over. “Oh, you mean that was for Veronica’s birthday last time, right? We all got her gifts. It was just a friendly gesture.” My face went cold, and I slammed my fork down onto the plate. “You guys gift that kind of stuff for birthdays?” Veronica shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “That model feels amazing. Austin and I tested it out together. Don’t be so narrow-minded, Chloe. Women should embrace their bodies.” She smirked. “Besides, he only dared to buy it for you after testing it. It’s because he loves you.” Austin leaned in and whispered harshly in my ear, “Can you stop making a face? Be a little more open-minded. Everyone put this dinner together to celebrate our engagement.” I glared at him. “So your idea of ‘open-minded’ is messing around with someone else’s boyfriend?” Veronica glanced at Austin, her tone playful and teasing. “Do we really have to explain such a tiny thing? You’re not even married yet, and she already has you on such a tight leash. If you actually get married, you won’t have any freedom left.” “No way, how could he ever forget about you?” the guys around the table immediately chimed in, sharing knowing, dirty smiles. “That ‘coming-of-age’ gift you gave him back in college? No guy would ever forget that for the rest of his life.” I had known Austin’s circle of friends for a long time. Yet, at every single party, they would always drown themselves in their shared past and inside jokes, completely shutting me out. I had tried to join their conversations a few times before, but realized I could never fit in. Eventually, I just chose to sit quietly in the corner like a mute. But this time, I couldn’t hold back. “What gift? Why have I never heard about this?” “Oh, that’s his private treasure. Of course he keeps it to himself,” someone laughed and egged them on. “It’s nothing. Just a regular silicone intimacy doll,” Austin said, trying to brush it off with an easy smile. Hearing this, Veronica reached over and pinched Austin’s inner thigh hard. “Stop playing dumb. That doll was custom-made, a 1:1 replica of my exact body shape. If you don’t want it, give it back to me.” “Damn! Everyone knows Veronica has a killer body. Austin, if you don’t appreciate it, the rest of us are literally lining up for it,” the guys’ laughter became even more vulgar. Austin grabbed the drink from Veronica’s hand and downed it in one gulp. “My bad. Let me make it up to you, okay?” The alcohol spilled down Veronica’s arm. She frowned and whined, “Ugh, clean it up for me then. Don’t leave me sticky.” Austin glanced at me to check my reaction. I forced down my burning rage and warned him with my eyes. As he hesitated, one of his bros mocked him. “Seriously, dude? A few years ago when your family went bankrupt and everyone cut you off, Veronica was the one who dragged you back into our circle. You’re seriously going to let someone else dictate your life over something this small?” A cold laugh bubbled up in my chest. These people didn’t care about Veronica’s “favor.” They only accepted Austin back because his family’s business had recently crawled its way back to the top. Austin stopped looking at me entirely. He leaned down and gently licked the spilled drink off Veronica’s arm. “You’re still such a messy girl.” Veronica laughed, completely unfazed. “I’ve always been like this. Good thing I have you to take care of me.” She turned to me and winked. “I’m just super chill. I’m not like other girls. All the guys treat me like one of the bros. You won’t overthink this, right, Chloe?” I smiled back at her. “Of course not.” Austin let out a sigh of relief. “Chloe didn’t go to an elite prep school like us, so she’s not from our world. But since she’s been with me for so long, she’s not as conservative or sensitive as you guys think.” I nodded in agreement, quietly filled my glass to the brim with red wine, then stood up and cleared my throat. Once everyone’s eyes were on me, I spoke with a calm, sweet smile. “I totally get it. You guys are just in a very normal…” I paused, dragging out the words, “…friends-with-benefits relationship.” “I guess since I didn’t go to your fancy prep school, I just don’t know how to act as trashy as you guys.” With that, I tipped my glass and poured the red wine straight over Austin’s head. “This is my toast to you two. Cheers to the ultimate douchebag and his trashy hoe.” I turned and walked out of the VIP room. Austin rushed out after me and grabbed my arm. “Are you done yet? Did you really have to ruin everyone’s night?” I looked at him and suddenly laughed. “Do you really think I’m an idiot? Three years ago, you told me Veronica was just your ‘bro’ and there was absolutely nothing going on between you two. And I believed you.” “Now you guys are practically ready to crawl into bed together. Who are you trying to disgust with that lie?” He groaned impatiently. “You saw her. That’s just her personality. She acts like that with everyone. You’re just overthinking.” I yanked my hand back. “If I did those things with another guy, what would you think?” Austin opened his mouth, but no words came out. Over the years, he had crossed the line countless times in the name of “friendship.” Every year on Veronica’s birthday, he would make sure to text her right at midnight. Even when I was burning up with a fever and woke up wanting a glass of water, he would shush me and whisper tenderly into his phone, “Happy birthday, Veronica.” And when I was stranded in the pouring rain, unable to get an Uber, and begged him to pick me up, his voice would crackle over the phone: “The storm is too bad. I have to drive Veronica home first. Don’t wait up for me for dinner.” Time after time, he used “friendship” and “bros” as excuses to enjoy his emotional affair with Veronica, while I tolerated it. My patience only resulted in him pushing my boundaries further and further. I couldn’t tell if I pitied my past self more, or if I hated the man standing in front of me more. Through tears that blurred my vision, I told him, “I’m done, Austin. We’re over.” Just as Austin was about to speak, Veronica walked out of the room. She naturally wrapped her arm around Austin’s neck. “Can’t calm your fiancée down? Want me to bail you out?” I didn’t give them another look. I got into my car and drove away. That night, as I was packing my bags in the bedroom, Austin’s voice drifted in from the living room. He was speaking in a gentle, almost begging tone. “Veronica, babe, don’t be mad. I’ll make Chloe apologize to you in a few days.” “You know that exclusive, members-only spa you couldn’t get into? I’ll go line up there personally tomorrow morning to secure you a spot. Just let me make it up to you, okay?” Listening to his pathetic begging through the door, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Cancel the wedding. Also, pull all of our family’s investments out of the Miller Group.”

The next morning, before the sun was even up, Austin was already up and active. He had to rush to that high-end spa to stand in line, keeping his promise to Veronica. I blocked him right before he could walk out the door. My voice was dead calm. “I’m moving out today. We are officially done.” Austin reached out and gripped my wrist tightly, his eyes filled with a panicked desperation. “Chloe, please don’t leave.” He cupped my hands and pressed them against his face, whispering, “We’ve been through so much to get here. I will explain everything to you, I swear.” But the next second, his alarm went off. He let go of my hands instantly and rushed out. “I have something urgent to handle. We’ll talk when I get back.” To Austin, anything involving Veronica was “urgent”—from a spa reservation to driving her to the hospital when she had period cramps. Everything of hers was a priority he couldn’t refuse, while my needs could be delayed indefinitely. I didn’t have much stuff in this apartment. One suitcase was enough to fit everything. I had once tried to decorate this place to make it feel like a cozy home. But when Veronica visited, she had simply frowned and said: “Why is this place so cluttered? I hate it.” That very same day, Austin made me throw everything away. I called Austin because I wanted to end things face-to-face. I have my principles. I believe in proper endings, and that goes for breakups too. Austin was driving when he answered. “Oh, forgot to tell you. The guys are throwing me a pre-wedding pool party today.” He paused, then added, “Veronica is coming too. But don’t worry, none of us see her as a girl.” Veronica’s giggling voice drifted through the speaker. “Screw you, Austin! I’m a solid C-cup. You think I’m just gonna wear swim trunks like you guys?” I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “I don’t think I can wait for you to come home. If you have time, let’s meet up somewhere.” “Sure. Actually, I forgot my swim trunks. Can you bring them over to the pool club for me this afternoon?” Then I heard Veronica’s voice again. “Please, I’ve seen every inch of your body anyway. Why are you acting shy now?” She then let out a dramatic “Oh!” as if she had just realized the phone was on. “My bad, Chloe! I didn’t know the call was still active. Don’t get the wrong idea!” After hanging up, I drove over to the private pool club they booked. There, standing in the middle of a crowd of men, was Veronica, wearing a skimpy string bikini. “Damn, Veronica! You’re really feeding the bros well today with this look.” Veronica smiled cutely, playing along with the flirtatious vibe. “Shut up. Just treat me like one of the bros and we’re good.” Austin’s eyes were locked onto her like a starving wolf, filled with a raw, predatory desire. Veronica dove into the pool. She surfaced, her wet hair dripping water down her pale chest. “Are you coming in or what?” Even from a distance, I could see Austin swallow hard. “Chloe hasn’t brought my trunks yet.” One of his so-called frat bros groaned. “Man, that good-girl fiancée of yours is so slow. It’s practically midnight, is she still waiting at every red light like a good little citizen?” “Seriously. I still don’t get what you see in her. I bet she’s like a dead log in bed!” “Totally. She can’t even compare to our girl Veronica.” Veronica looked up at Austin, her eyes full of temptation. “Do you remember back in high school, when we snuck into the school pool at night without swimsuits? What did we do then?” With that, she turned her back to the crowd, unclipped her bikini top, swung it over her head, and threw it right at Austin. “Do you still dare?” She swam deeper into the pool, completely ignoring the wild cheers of the guys behind her. Austin’s eyes went completely red. Without even taking off his clothes, he jumped into the water and swam furiously toward Veronica. He threw his long arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. Then, he yanked off his wet shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders, his voice thick with possessiveness. “Don’t do that again. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this, got it?” Veronica leaned into his chest, blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Oh, come on, Austin! Even Veronica isn’t shy. Why are you acting like a prude?” “Looking at you two, you should honestly just marry Veronica. Why bother with Chloe? Didn’t you guys have a thing back in high school anyway?” It was true. Austin and Veronica did date in high school. But after graduation, Veronica went abroad for college as planned, while Austin had to stay because his family’s business was on the brink of bankruptcy. They naturally drifted apart. That was the only reason I had believed Austin wouldn’t go back to the girl who had abandoned him. But I hadn’t realized how pathetic he truly was. Austin let go of Veronica and sighed. “You guys think I haven’t thought about that?” “On the night of my engagement to Chloe, I almost lost my mind.” “I actually went to Veronica and asked her if she would run away with me if I threw everything else away.” He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “But she told me she only saw me as a brother.” Austin raised his glass. “To our brotherhood.” I felt a wave of intense nausea hit me, like I had just swallowed a fly. On our engagement night, Austin had come home incredibly drunk. He had wrapped his arms around me, his stubble scratching my face, smelling heavily of alcohol. He had mumbled, “I promised I’d make you happy for the rest of your life. Do you believe me?” I had laughed and tried to push him off, but he only held me tighter. “I do. Why else would I get engaged to you?” “Then why won’t you run away with me?” his voice had cracked with tears. “I don’t care about anything else. I just want you, please.” My heart had ached for him back then. I ignored the smell of alcohol and held him close, promising him everything. I never could have guessed that the person he had wanted to run away with was actually Veronica. Under the moonlight, Veronica’s eyes shined as she stared at Austin. “What if I say I’m willing now?”

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The day Ethan cheated on me, I slapped him twenty-two times right outside the hotel room door. Wrapped in a single bath towel, he knelt before me. His voice was chillingly flat. “Are you done? If you are, I need to go back inside. Aria is scared.” Twelve years of marriage shattered into dust at that very second. On the day we were supposed to meet at our lawyer’s office to sign the divorce papers, the unthinkable happened. No one saw it coming. A horrific car crash happened on the freeway. To protect Aria Sterling, who was in the passenger seat, Ethan took the brunt of the impact. He suffered severe brain trauma. But when he finally woke up in the ICU, his eyes were clear, innocent, and terrified. He grabbed my sleeve like a scared little boy. “Chloe, please don’t ignore me.” Ethan was having an affair. When my best friend, Rachel, first told me, I just shook my head and laughed. “Not Ethan. We’ve been married for twelve years. You’ve seen how much he adores me. Rachel, today isn’t April Fool’s. That’s not funny.” Frustrated by my denial, Rachel slammed her phone in front of my face, playing a video she had shot at a VIP lounge. In the dimly lit bar, a young girl with a flushed face took a sip of tequila, straddled Ethan’s lap, and fed it to him mouth-to-mouth. Then, they fell into a passionate, breathless kiss. Around them, a crowd of wealthy heirs cheered and hollered. The noise was deafening. If I didn’t know the girl, I could have lied to myself. I could have said she was just some party girl, or that it was just a stupid game of Truth or Dare. But I knew her. Aria Sterling. She graduated from college last year. After joining Vance Global, she was promoted five times in a single year, eventually becoming Ethan’s executive assistant. When those rumors first reached my ears, I only thought she was a hardworking, talented young girl with a bright future. Ethan had mentioned her to me before. He said Aria came from a broken home—a gambling father, a paralyzed mother, a younger brother in school, and her, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “You should help her out, Chloe. It’s not easy for a young girl to make it in the city all on her own.” Yes, it wasn’t easy. Perhaps I should have noticed it sooner—the pride in Ethan’s voice and the spark in his eyes whenever he spoke of her.

When Ethan came home smelling of cheap whiskey, I was curled up on the sofa watching TV. Seeing me there, he instantly sobered up. He froze at the entryway for a long time. After a heavy silence, he turned and walked straight into the bathroom. On the screen, the lovers were sharing a tender, sweet moment. Outside the screen, the air between us was freezing. I didn’t call him out on his guilt. I just sat on the couch, waiting quietly for an explanation. I watched him walk out of the bathroom. He was six-foot-two, with a sharp jawline and a brilliant mind that made him the most sought-after man in the corporate world. At thirty-four, he was the youngest CEO Vance Global had ever seen. Time had been generous to him. After more than a decade, he was still dazzling. Perhaps the only sign of aging was a slightly softer frame. But time had been cruel to me. I was thirty-nine this year. Biologically speaking, I wasn’t young anymore. The endless dermatologist visits, the Botox injections, and the faint lines at the corners of my eyes constantly reminded me that I needed to sleep by ten. Clubbing and partying all night were meant for the young. “Why are you still up?” Ethan asked, drying his hair with a towel, trying to sound casual. “I couldn’t sleep. I realized I haven’t seen you in forever. I wanted to wait up so we could go to bed together.” When your schedules don’t align, this is what happens: I hadn’t seen Ethan in two weeks. Before, I thought he was just working hard, leaving early and coming home late. I trusted him completely. But now… “The company’s been crazy lately…” Before Ethan could finish his sentence, his phone buzzed violently. He took the call, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out the door without even drying his hair. He left me with a single sentence: “Chloe, something came up at the office. I’ll be back late.” I squeezed the medical report in my hand until it was a crumpled ball, then tossed it onto the sofa. Then, I dialed the private investigator Rachel had set up for me. Four hours later, I received a hotel room number.

In our twelve years of marriage, Ethan and I had never had a single fight. Everyone called us the golden couple. It wasn’t until I brought Ethan’s parents to the hotel to catch him in the act, and saw him standing there in a bath towel, desperately locking the door behind him and kneeling before me, that I finally saw the truth. The dream was over. It was shattered. “Chloe, I…” “Ethan, you make me sick!” I slapped him across the face. He didn’t flinch. “Is this the ‘hardworking girl’ you wanted to mentor? Did you think I was some kind of idiot?” We had been married for twelve years and had known each other for twenty. Every look, every gesture of the man in front of me was carved into my brain. He was nervous. He was terrified. But not for me. His hand gripped the doorframe tightly, bracing himself. He was terrified we would barge in. Through the crack in the door, I caught a glimpse of Aria frantically putting her clothes back on. My stomach churned with pure disgust.

I slapped him twenty-two times. I slapped him until my hand went numb and I couldn’t lift my arm. I slapped him until his parents, who had always adored me, grabbed my hands. “That’s enough, Chloe. Every man makes a mistake or two.” “Ethan knows he messed up. He’ll cut things off with that girl the second we get home. Chloe, sweetheart, I promise you, his father will keep an eye on him. If he ever does this again, we’ll disown him.” Ethan didn’t say a word. Until… He heard Aria sobbing inside the room. He snapped his head up to look at me. “Aria, I’m so sorry. Let’s go home and talk about this, okay?” “Chloe, I’m sorry. Do whatever you want to me, I’m a monster. But please, let’s go home first.” “Are you done? If you are, I need to go back inside. Aria is scared.” Before he could even finish, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I turned around, gripped the trash can in the hallway, and threw up. Cold sweat poured down my forehead. A sharp, violent pain in my abdomen almost made me collapse. My legs were shaking uncontrollably. If anyone had cared enough to look closer, they would have noticed how deathly pale I was. I stumbled out of the hotel and called Rachel. “Come pick me up. I can barely stand.”

“The fetus isn’t in good shape. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn’t recommend trying to save the pregnancy. But Mrs. Vance, since you’ve worked so hard for so many years to conceive, we will do everything in our power to help you.” “Don’t bother. Abort it.” I didn’t need it anymore. I touched my belly, trying to feel a heartbeat, but there was nothing. For all these years, Ethan and I had wanted a child. But because of my fertility issues, we could never get pregnant. “It’s okay, Chloe. We don’t need kids to have a perfect life. Having you is enough for me.” How could it be enough? We both loved children so much. At our business partner’s daughter’s baby shower, Ethan had looked at the baby girl with eyes full of longing. I had endured countless hormone injections and swallowed endless pills to finally get pregnant. But Ethan’s betrayal made me realize one thing. He didn’t deserve to be a father. I grew up wrapped in love. My parents were high school sweethearts, and we were incredibly wealthy. But if my child couldn’t be born out of pure love from both parents, and if she couldn’t have a whole, happy family… Then there was no point in bringing her into this cruel world.

I was hospitalized for a week, and Ethan didn’t send a single text. During my weakest moments post-miscarriage, I would open my phone, only to find a blank screen. My last text exchange with Ethan was from the night before I caught him. He had written: “Go to sleep first, Chlo. I’m drowning in work here.” Rachel had to call him over a dozen times before he finally picked up. The background noise of blasting club music and girls laughing clashed violently with the quiet of my hospital room. “Ethan, have you lost your mind? Chloe has been in the hospital for days! Do you even care?” “Hospital?” Ethan’s voice sounded heavily intoxicated. The noise on his end quieted down for three seconds, and then a chorus of drunk laughter erupted. “Hey CEO Vance, why is your wife in the hospital? Did she get too much filler? Hahaha!” “That’s what happens when they get old!” Rachel’s eyes went red with fury. She almost smashed her phone, screaming the vilest insults she knew. In contrast, I, the actual victim, was incredibly calm. I took a sip of water, took the phone from Rachel, and spoke in a cold, steady voice. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” “Stop throwing a tantrum, Chloe. I’ll come home and make it up to you once I’m done with this project. We’ve been married for twelve years. I admitted I was wrong, so drop it. Don’t make things difficult for me.” “Divorce.” “I already told Aria it was a one-time mistake because I drank too much. It won’t happen again.” “I’m not going to repeat myself a third time.” A long silence followed. “Fine, Chloe. If you want a divorce, fine. We’ve been married for so long, I highly doubt you’ll find anyone better than me. I made one mistake, and you’re holding a knife to my throat. Fine. Tomorrow at eight, at the lawyer’s office. If you don’t show up, you’re a coward!”

I hung up without shedding a single tear. He wasn’t worth it. The next morning, I put on my best makeup and my favorite designer dress. But I didn’t see Ethan at the lawyer’s office. Instead, I got a call saying he and Aria had been in a horrific car accident. To his credit, Ethan had acted like a man. To protect his precious little assistant, he had taken the brunt of the impact. He was now in the ICU, comatose. His parents were practically crying themselves blind. While Ethan was in a coma, I went to the hospital several times with the divorce papers, but he never woke up. Aria, however, was always by his bedside. I had no desire to look at those two, nor did I want to speak to the girl, so I usually turned around and left immediately. But today was my unlucky day. Aria saw me and blocked my path. “Are you happy now? You miserable old hag. All you do is nag and whine. Thanks to you, Ethan might never wake up. You’re his wife, but you don’t care about him at all!” “I heard Ethan took the hit to save you. Is that true?” “At least you know! It was so terrifying. Thank god Ethan pulled me under him. He is such a good man. It’s a shame he ended up with a wife like you.” Rachel, who was standing behind me, couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped up. “You realize he’s in this mess because of you, right? They’re getting a divorce, and you’re still playing the devoted little secretary. Honestly, I think your bad juju is the reason he’s lying there.” Rachel snickered. “Actually, maybe it’s just karma. The bastard brought this on himself.” “Who are you calling karma? You bitch, I’ll rip your face off!” Aria, triggered, tried to lunge at Rachel, but a passing security guard shoved her back. “This is the ICU hallway, not a playground! You want to fight? Take it outside!” I watched Aria’s hysterical tantrum with a cold smile. I didn’t expect this young girl to play the innocent victim so desperately. Just then, a nurse ran out. “The patient is awake. Who is Ethan Vance’s family?”

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