Category: English

1 My nephew was diagnosed with leukemia, and my daughter was the only one in the family who could save him. To save the only male heir, the only one to carry on their precious family name, my in-laws forced my frail daughter to donate her bone marrow. In the end, my brother-in-law’s son lived. My daughter died on the operating table. Lost in a haze of grief, I clutched her cold, lifeless body and threw myself from the 18th floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Three days before my nephew’s diagnosis was even known. … In my first life, when my nephew, Ted, was diagnosed with leukemia, my daughter, Amy, was the only match. But Amy had been sickly since birth. The doctors explicitly advised against the donation. To protect the family’s “golden boy,” they all insisted. They drugged me, knocked me unconscious, and dragged my little girl to the operating room. When I came to, the whole family was celebrating. Ted’s transplant was a success. And my Amy… my Amy was lying in the room next door, her small body still and cold. My father- and mother-in-law looked at me with faces full of false sympathy. “Don’t blame us, Lily,” my mother-in-law had said, her voice cloying. “If it had been Amy with leukemia, we would have made Ted donate for her, of course.” “She just wasn’t strong enough to survive,” my father-in-law added with a sigh. “It was her fate. She was just unlucky.” I was drowning in a sea of rage and despair, screaming for justice for my daughter. But they all pointed their fingers at me, calling me hysterical, irrational. Even my husband, Mark, stood by silently, his face a mask of indifference. Utterly broken, I carried Amy’s body to the highest floor and leaped. I never expected to open my eyes again. But here I am, three days before it all began. “Mommy? Why are you crying?” A small voice pulled me back to reality. “Was it because I kicked off the blankets last night? Are you mad at me?” I turned, my vision blurred with tears. My daughter, Amy, fresh from her nap, was looking up at me with wide, worried eyes. She was only seven, but her gaze held a wisdom that broke my heart. A fresh wave of grief and love washed over me. I pulled her into a fierce embrace, burying my face in her soft hair. This time, Mommy won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it. I packed a bag, and the first thing I did was drive Amy to my mother’s house. Later that afternoon, when I knew Mark would be off work, I called him. “Mark,” I began, my voice thick with feigned anguish. “I took Amy for a check-up today… The doctor said… he said she has leukemia.” I let a sob escape my lips. Last time, you all said you’d make Ted donate if Amy were the sick one, didn’t you? Let’s see how you react to the news now. After hanging up, I drove home alone. When I walked in, my in-laws were fawning over Ted, the picture of domestic bliss. My arrival shattered the cozy atmosphere. The smiles vanished from their faces, replaced by annoyance. Before I could even step fully inside, my mother-in-law rushed forward. “Mark already told us about Amy,” she said, her tone sharp and devoid of any sympathy. “We heard that even if you treat this disease, she’ll be on medication for life. So, we’ve discussed it, and we’ve decided… it’s better not to treat it.” “Besides,” my father-in-law chimed in, not even looking at me, “you know our financial situation. We just enrolled Ted in that expensive advanced STEM camp. There’s simply no extra money for Amy’s medical bills.” “If you insist on treating her,” my mother-in-law finished, “you’ll have to get the money from your own family.” One by one, they all nodded in agreement, sighing about Amy’s terrible luck, her unfortunate fate. 2 Their callousness didn’t surprise me. I kept up my act, my voice trembling with a desperate plea. “Mom, Dad… my family will cover the costs. But the doctor said she needs a bone marrow transplant. The success rate is highest with a close relative. I came back to ask if Ted… if he could just get tested to see if he’s a match.” The air in the living room went still. “Are you trying to ruin your nephew?” my father-in-law slammed his hand on the table, his voice a low growl. “Ted is our precious grandson! I will not allow anyone or anything to harm him!” “That’s right!” my mother-in-law shrieked, as if I’d suggested feeding her grandson to snakes. She threw a dish on the floor, where it shattered. “Ted is your nephew! How can you be so heartless?” The hypocrisy was so thick I could taste it. When their grandson gets sick, they’re willing to sacrifice their granddaughter. But when their granddaughter is the one dying, they won’t even spare a dime. I let my shoulders slump in pretend defeat. “But Mom, Dad… Amy is your granddaughter too. Can you really just stand by and watch her die?” Seeing my agitation, Mark pulled me aside. “They’re right, Lily,” he whispered, refusing to meet my eyes. “It’s not our fault she’s sick. If… if she doesn’t make it, we can always have another kid. Maybe a boy next time.” Even though I thought I was prepared for anything, hearing those words from her own father felt like a physical blow. “Fine,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “I understand.” “You won’t save her. So I will.” I turned and walked out, leaving them all standing there in stunned silence. What they didn’t know was that my phone had been in my pocket the entire time, its microphone recording every last, venomous word. The next morning, I was woken by a flood of notifications on my phone. My father-in-law had pinned a message in every single family group chat. 【Effective immediately, Lily and Amy are no longer part of this family. Their lives, and their deaths, have nothing to do with us. This notice is final.】 Every group had 99+ new messages. I opened one and saw the conversation. He’d written: 【Amy has leukemia. It’s bad enough she’s going to die, but now her mother is trying to guilt-trip her cousin into donating his bone marrow.】 Immediately, a few relatives jumped in to my defense. 【Donating marrow isn’t that big a deal, is it? You can’t just let Amy die.】 【I don’t think Lily is trying to guilt-trip anyone. She’s just a mother trying to save her child.】 【Poor Amy. To get such a terrible disease at her age… what awful luck.】 Seeing the conversation shift toward sympathy for Amy, my father-in-law quickly typed again. 【I’m just warning everyone. Donating marrow is risky. It can permanently damage your health.】 He followed up with: 【If she comes asking any of you for a donation, it’s on you. We have nothing to do with it.】 The relatives who had just been expressing their sympathy went silent. No one wanted that kind of risk falling on their own family. I looked at the chat log and smiled. It was like they were handing me the ammunition themselves. I was just wondering how to expose their ugliness to the world, and here they were, doing the work for me. I typed a quick reply into the group. 【But Amy is part of this family, isn’t she? Dad, Mom… I can understand if you don’t want to help, but why are you stopping others from helping? It’s like you want her to die.】 A moment later, my sister-in-law, Ted’s mother, replied. 【It’s human nature to avoid risk. Everyone has their own family and career to think about. An injury could be a disaster for a household.】 3 【If it were my Ted who had leukemia, I would rather give up on treatment than burden the rest of the family.】 【True family doesn’t burden each other.】 The chat was flooded with praise for her, calling her noble and selfless. I had to laugh at her grandstanding. I wondered if she’d feel so selfless tomorrow, when she received her own son’s diagnosis. Ignoring the barrage of insults that followed, I closed the app and saved the entire chat history. Back in the Harrisons’ living room, my father-in-law decided that simply kicking me out wasn’t enough. “Mark, you should divorce her,” he said, his face grim. “A disease like that is a money pit. We can’t let one girl drag the entire family down into poverty.” My mother-in-law quickly agreed. “A divorce would be for the best. All these years, and she couldn’t even give you a son. Just one sickly, worthless girl who’s now dying of a terminal illness.” “You’ll be dragged down if you stay with a woman like that!” she insisted. “Once you’re free, Mom will find you a much better wife!” Mark just nodded. “You’re right. We can’t let one girl ruin our whole family. We have to get a divorce.” A moment later, my phone buzzed with a text from him. 【If you insist on trying to save Amy, then we’re done. Let’s get a divorce. Meet me at the courthouse tomorrow at 10 a.m. I’ll give up my parental rights. From now on, Amy is your problem, not mine.】 A wave of relief washed over me. I hadn’t expected them to move so quickly. “Amy, my love,” I whispered to the empty room. “No one can ever hurt you again.” I calmed my racing heart and replied with a single word. 【Okay.】 The next day, at ten in the morning, I was standing in front of the courthouse. The entire Harrison clan was already there, waiting. They stood in a tight, defensive cluster, as if they were afraid I’d change my mind and cling to them. My father-in-law shoved a divorce agreement into my hands. “Don’t think we’re being cruel,” he said, his face a mask of solemn duty. “No one in their right mind would choose to save her. It’s leukemia. If you won’t give up, then you can’t be part of this family.” His righteous act was so absurd I almost laughed out loud. Always so fake. But it didn’t matter anymore. The terms of the agreement were harsh. Not only was Mark giving up all custody of Amy, but they were also demanding she be stripped of the Harrison name. They wanted us cut off, erased from their lives, forever. As I read, Mark leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. “If you give up on Amy now, if you promise to give us a son, I’m willing to give you one last chance to change your mind.” I resisted the urge to slap him again. Without a moment’s hesitation, I uncapped the pen and signed my name. A few minutes later, Mark and I walked out of the courthouse with our divorce certificate. The Harrisons huddled together, their faces beaming with relief, celebrating as if they’d just won the lottery. “We’re finally free of that jinx!” “Yes! And that sickly Amy is gone, too. I was afraid to even let Ted get near her. What if he caught it?” “A sick kid, and a girl at that. What was the point of treating her anyway?” They were all breathing a collective sigh of relief, savoring their freedom. But in the next second, a text message alert chimed on my former in-laws’ phones. I knew what it was. Ted’s diagnosis had arrived.

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I am the only daughter of the Blanchett family, raised since birth to be its heir. If the students of Northwood Academy are the elite of society, then I am the apex of that pyramid. Before the school started admitting scholarship students, there was a delicate balance. No discrimination, no mockery—just pure, unadulterated ambition in everyone’s eyes. Until the first scholarship girl arrived. And just like that, I knew the plot had begun to turn. You see, I was reborn into this world. In the original story, my character was the villainess. The heroine was the new scholarship student, a resilient little flower who endured a year of torment from the villainess’s friends without ever breaking. The funny thing is, the villainess never directly participated. Yet the heroine blamed her for everything, convinced that without the villainess’s tacit approval, no one would have dared to touch her. Later, the villainess’s parents died in a car crash. Spurred on by the heroine’s “encouragement,” the villainess’s brother schemed to usurp the family inheritance. Her supposed friends, moved by the heroine’s “unbreakable spirit,” all turned against her. Ultimately, the villainess was cast out by her family and died a miserable death on the streets. 1 It was the kind of cliché, tropey story that was so full of melodrama it made you sick. And if you ask me, the original villainess was far too kind. I strode into the classroom, arms crossed. The air was buzzing with chatter about the new scholarship student. I kicked a desk, hard, and the noise died instantly. If we’re talking about being a villain, I’m a hell of a lot better at it than she ever was. I scanned the room, my irritation simmering, and dropped into my seat. I never liked school to begin with. I’d finally graduated, only to die on my way to work when a rogue plastic bag flew into my face, blinding me just long enough to get into a fatal car accident. Then I was reborn, only to end up as a villainess in a cheap novel. The one silver lining was that fate had finally answered my prayers: this time, I was rich. So, as a sort of repayment, I would protect everything the original villainess had lost. I would save her parents from that car crash. With that thought, I let out a heavy sigh. The boy behind me tapped my shoulder. “Aria, the new girl is coming soon. Should we give her a proper Northwood welcome?” I was already in a foul mood. The thought of someone stirring up trouble for me, for no reason, made me whip my head around to glare at Mason. He and the original Aria were childhood friends. In the story, he was the first to betray her. A dog that can’t be tamed. The most disgusting kind. The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “If you mess with her, you can get the hell out of Northwood.” The classroom was silent. Everyone heard me. Mason stared for a second, then gave a helpless shrug. “Whoa, what’s with you, princess? I was just asking. Didn’t want you to be unhappy.” I twisted the cap off a bottle of water on my desk and poured it over his head. “Keep your bright ideas to yourself. Don’t pin them on me.” Mason shot to his feet, roaring, “Aria! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?” I crossed my legs, my eyes raking over him. “Do you have the right to yell at me? Are we that close?” I wasn’t the original Aria, that bleeding-heart who would help her friends unconditionally. In my eyes, they were worse than dogs. For years, the Thorne family had been mired in internal conflict. Though Mason and I grew up together, I never once lifted a finger to help him. Compared to his two older brothers, Mason was painfully incompetent and on the verge of being disowned. About a year ago, it must have dawned on him that if I put in a good word, the position of head of the Thorne family would be his. But why should I help him? Still, I did need a dog. I could string Mason along with a few scraps, and he’d do anything for me. But now, the heroine was here. It was time to defuse this ticking time bomb before it blew up in my face. 2 I stood up and grabbed him by the collar. “Who the hell do you think you are, screaming at me? From now on, stay out of my sight. You’re an eyesore.” Mason’s face froze, then he quickly stammered, “Aria, I was just joking.” I stared at him, my voice flat. “I wasn’t. Get lost.” Stanley, sitting nearby, had been enjoying the show. Realizing I was serious, he tugged at my arm. “Princess, come on. Mason didn’t mean it.” I smirked and slapped him across the face with my left hand. “Then you can get lost with him.” Stanley touched his cheek in disbelief. “You hit me?” I met his gaze, and my right hand followed, striking his other cheek. “And? What are you going to do about it?” Seeing him just stand there like a statue, clutching his face, I rolled my eyes and walked out of the classroom. “When I get back, I don’t want to see either of you.” Did Stanley really think he was any better than Mason? They were both pathetic. One took everything Aria gave him, then led the charge to isolate her. The other had a lifelong crush on her, but let the heroine’s whispers turn him against her, even handing her over to a pervert. If it weren’t for Stanley, the original Aria might not have died on the streets. If I wasn’t worried about derailing the plot too soon, I would have dealt with them long ago. The fresh air improved my mood considerably. Before I could even make it down the stairs, a girl’s voice called out from behind me. “Excuse me, could you tell me where Class A is?” I turned to face her. One look was all it took. This was the heroine, Stella Chad. Stella clenched her fists, a smile plastered on her face as she asked again. “Hi, I’m a new transfer student, so I’m a little lost. Your pin says Class A. Could you show me the way?” I couldn’t be bothered. I looked away. A frown creased Stella’s brow, and her eyes flashed with anger. “Hey! Did you hear me? We’re both students here. You can’t just bully me because I’m new, can you? Getting into this school means I’m on the same level as you. Can’t you help with something so simple?” I had to laugh. “If you’re blind, go see a doctor. You just threw a massive accusation at me without a second thought. What, are you right just because you’re poor?” Stella’s eyes widened in fury. She stormed over and grabbed my uniform. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with being poor? I got into Northwood on my own merit. How dare you, who rely on your parents for everything, say that to me?” 3 I glanced down at her hand, my voice dripping with disdain. “I was just going to tell you to get lost. But now, I’m not letting you go.” I looked at her still-dry hair, grabbed a handful, and yanked. Stella screamed, trying to break free. I let go, then immediately kicked her to the ground. The commotion brought everyone from the classroom rushing out. Stella was on her knees, looking pathetic, but her mouth was as sharp as ever. “Don’t think you’re so great just because you have money! Without your parents, you’re nothing! I earned my place here with my grades! I’m going to the principal! You just wait!” Mason, despite the humiliation I’d just put him through, had benefited greatly from being my dog this past year. Hearing someone talk to me like that, he kicked Stella, sending her sprawling. Her head hit the wall, and blood started to trickle down. Stanley, seeing this, quickly stepped in to stop Mason from doing anything further. I didn’t even bother giving them a second glance. I went straight to the headmaster’s office. “Old man! Move Mason Thorne and Stanley Armitage to Class D.” Headmaster Phillips sighed, looking weary. “My dear girl, what did they do to upset you this time?” I collapsed onto the sofa and picked at my nails. “They’re disgusting to look at.” I was always polite with Headmaster Phillips. First, he was my father’s good friend. Second, he always indulged me. He’d never refused any of my requests. He nodded, indicating he understood. Satisfied, I grabbed a bottle of water, took a sip, and put it back. “Aria, the common folk have a right to climb the ladder too, don’t you think?” I looked at him, my expression unreadable. Was this old fool trying to lecture me? I smiled and pulled out my phone to make the choice for him. “Stella Chad is Northwood’s first scholarship student, and she will be its last. Old man, you know I’m already giving you face by not doing more.” Headmaster Phillips eyed me, then quietly opened a drawer by his leg. I rolled my eyes and walked out. Hearing the sound of him using his personal oxygen tank, I scoffed. Climb the ladder? With what? Grades? Thinking of Stella, I leaned against the wall, my gaze turning cold. After a moment, I went back in and grabbed the half-finished bottle of water. “Aria, dear, remember to close the door on your way out.” I chuckled. I didn’t listen. Close the door for him? Who did he think he was? Water bottle in hand, I sauntered to the nurse’s office. Stella was lying on a cot. When she saw me, her eyes burned with hatred. “What are you doing here? If it’s to apologize, don’t bother. I don’t accept!” 4 Seeing the look in her eyes, I couldn’t help but laugh. The school nurse, sitting beside her, trembled and scooted his chair away. Stella seemed to realize I wasn’t there to apologize, and her expression hardened with anger. “Hey! Do you really think you’re all that? Let me tell you, I’m injured. You’re going to have to pay for my medical bills and for emotional distress. If you don’t, I’ll sue you!” Before I could even speak, the nurse couldn’t take the pressure anymore. He scurried over to me and whispered, “Miss Blanchett, I have a few small things to attend to, could I possibly…” I nodded. He fled without a backward glance. As the door clicked shut, I twisted the cap off the bottle and poured the remaining water over Stella’s head. “I don’t think I’m all that. I am.” Stella shrieked, trying to fight back, but even uninjured she was no match for me, let alone now. I slapped her hard across the face. “Stella Chad, you’ve made an enemy of me at Northwood. You’re in for a world of pain. But I’ll give you one chance. Kneel, apologize, and get the hell out of this school.” Stella’s face was a mask of disbelief. She glared at me, her teeth gritted. “You think I’ll surrender? I’m telling you, it’s impossible! Go ahead, kill me if you have the guts! You think you’re an empress? The students at Northwood are all from noble families. They’ve had a proper upbringing. They won’t just stand by and watch you bully me!” All things considered, I genuinely believed Stella had a future in comedy. How else could she make me want to laugh every time she opened her mouth? A proper upbringing? Did she mean being taught how to backstab your siblings to come out on top? I clicked my tongue. I didn’t slap her again. Instead, I patted her cheek lightly. “Stella, my dear, I truly look forward to our next meeting. I hope you’ll have a noble knight by your side to protect you then. Promise me, okay?” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. If someone was actually willing to stand up to me for Stella, I would have to admire their courage. An egg trying to smash a rock. The thought was exhilarating. School was already a bore. If someone was going to offer up their face for me to slap, I certainly wouldn’t refuse. 5 Stella’s hands were trembling with rage. “Do you dare tell me your name? I will not let you get away with this!” I covered my mouth, feigning fear. “Really? You promise you won’t let me go? My name is Aria Blanchett. I hope you’ll remember it. Maybe get it tattooed.” Stella spat at me in disgust. “You pretentious bitch! Without your parents, you wouldn’t even be able to get into Northwood! I got in with my own two hands, with my grades! When we graduate, I will grind you into the dirt!” My eyes darkened. Disgusted, I took off my soiled jacket and threw it on the floor. “Fine. I’ll be waiting.” Seeing her disdainful expression, I looked away and left. Boring. It was always the same line. Her own two hands? Her grades? Let’s see how those “grades” of hers hold up at Northwood. At Northwood, exams determined class rankings. Students in lower-ranked classes fought tooth and nail to get into Class A. The only reason Stella was placed in Class A right away was because it was the only class with an empty seat. And as luck would have it, the placement exams were tomorrow. Her precious grades wouldn’t mean a thing here. The next day, I arrived at the classroom just as the bell rang. The teacher, seeing me take my seat, began to hand out the exam papers. Mason and Stanley were gone. I twirled my pen, my gaze falling on Stella. “Good luck, everyone. I hope to see you all in Class A again.” Stella was fired up. The moment she got the paper, she started poring over it. I rested my chin on my hand and watched her for a while. She chewed on her pen, then on her nails. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at my own blank paper. With two seconds left on the clock, I finally wrote my name on the sheet. Stella had been watching me throughout the exam, so she knew I hadn’t written a single word. She shot to her feet, pointing at me righteously. “Teacher, Aria Blanchett didn’t write anything! Isn’t that a form of deliberate provocation? Even if her family is rich, she should still have a proper attitude towards school exams! I demand that you punish her severely.” The entire class turned to look at her. Stella lifted her chin. “Being rich doesn’t give you the right to disrespect school rules! She’s a terrible example for other students. The school should issue a strict reprimand to curb this kind of behavior!” She expected her righteous speech to be met with approval. Instead, she was met with laughter. “Who let this charity case in?” “Is she declaring war on Miss Blanchett? Does she even have the right?” “Everyone knows the rules at Northwood. Aria Blanchett is the rules.”

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I am Adrian Sterling’s most treasured little snake. As I was lounging contentedly on his chiseled abs, a series of pop-up comments suddenly materialized before my eyes: 【The main couple is finally going to meet! Go, brooding Adrian, love her fiercely!】 【Here it is, here it is! The heroine gets scared by the hero’s snake, and it’s love at first sight for him. He plays it cool and drops that classic line: ‘Is that all it takes to scare you?’】 【But it’s a shame about the little princess snake. In the end, to win back the heroine, the hero sends her to the fighting pits, where she gets eaten by the second male lead’s snake.】 This snake: ?! I looked up and saw the two of them staring at each other, just as the comments described. And so, this snake decided to run away from home. 1 No sooner had the text faded than the handbag in Sophia’s hands clattered to the floor. Her face was a mask of terror. Adrian scooped me off his stomach and placed me into my cold, sterile terrarium. He tossed in a baby mouse for good measure. Tying the belt of his silk robe, he drawled, “Is that all it takes to scare you?” “Your job is to raise the mice and feed the snake according to her requirements. If you can’t handle that, you can leave.” Sophia’s eyes reddened, a picture of pitiable beauty. “No, Mr. Sterling, I can do it. I can.” I’m scared! I can’t handle it! I’m just a lazy, spoiled little snake who does nothing but cause trouble. For dinner, I only eat live, mini-mice. For snacks, I only eat the tiny worms from inside fresh fruit. I’m the kind of useless snake whose only real skill is coiling prettily around Adrian’s wrist. Sending me to a fighting pit is no different from sending me to my death. Didn’t he hire Sophia because I was being too picky with my food, and he was too busy to raise the mice himself? Why did he have to go and hire the Grim Reaper for me? Suddenly, the baby mouse didn’t look so appetizing anymore. “Fine,” Adrian said. “The specific feeding instructions are in the snake house. Just follow them. But every six days, you must bring me a live, five-gram baby mouse. It must be every six days, five grams, and alive. I feed her this one myself.” He pointed at me. “Yes, Mr. Sterling,” Sophia replied. And just like that, he agreed. I panicked, darting back and forth inside the glass box. Adrian glanced down and noticed I wasn’t eating. His voice softened with affection. “What’s wrong, not eating again, hm? Should I switch to the peach worms for you?” He reached in, his fingers stroking my scales. The thought that this same hand would one day send me to my doom filled me with rage. I struck, sinking my fangs into the back of his hand. Adrian just laughed. “What’s this? Trying to eat me now, are you? You ungrateful little thing, my dear Lyra.” He’s the one who’s ungrateful, ditching me for a pretty face! 2 Adrian still doted on me. For the entire week, aside from delivering my mice, Sophia barely crossed paths with him. I was starting to doubt the truth of the pop-up comments. But then, they hit me with a bombshell: 【It’s happening! The drama starts today. The hero is meeting the second male lead and runs into the heroine, who’s working part-time at a bar. The love triangle begins!】 What? How many jobs does this Sophia have? Before I could even process my complaint, Adrian had grabbed his car keys and was heading for the door. I thrashed around in my heated terrarium, desperate. He was just about to leave when he turned back. “Lyra, what’s wrong with you?” I slithered back and forth, flicking my tongue out frantically. “You want to go out with me?” He shook his head. “No, it’s too crowded, too dangerous for you.” I was not happy. I coiled into a dark, dramatic spiral. Adrian sighed. “You usually won’t even see strangers. Why are you so desperate to go out today? Don’t blame me if you get scared.” But he couldn’t resist my pleading. He opened the terrarium. Overjoyed, I wound myself around his wrist and gave him a little lick with my tongue. Adrian pouted. “This happy just to go out? You’re even willing to lick me now.” … The bar was packed. I shrank back, a little scared. Adrian chuckled. “Scaredy-snake. And you were the one who insisted on coming.” He dared to laugh at me! Indignant, I let out a few hisses and bit the back of his hand again. Adrian poked my head gently. “You little princess. The moment you’re unhappy, you bite me. Who else in the world would dare treat me like this, hm?” I didn’t care. I turned my head away haughtily. 3 “Adrian, is your hand okay?” John asked him. He’d met Adrian through the snake fighting circuit. He was supposed to be something of a friend, but now, he was probably my potential rival’s owner. He had brought a massive python with him. I got even more scared and hid myself inside Adrian’s collar. “It’s fine. Just a love bite from my little princess,” Adrian said, frowning at John. “Cover that thing up. You’re scaring her.” John draped a cloth over the python’s cage. “What made you bring your precious treasure out today?” “The treasure wanted to go out. What could I do?” John stared at me for a long moment. “She really is beautiful. No wonder you treasure her so much. How about we make her the stake for our next bet?” Adrian cursed at him. “Get lost.” Just as he said that, the comments appeared again: 【Here comes the classic scene! The heroine gets scared by the snake and drops the tray of drinks. The hero asks her bluntly, ‘Why are you working so many jobs?’】 【Then the second male lead feels sorry for the heroine and plays the hero, paying for the drinks for her.】 【And thus, the love triangle is complete.】 I turned my head towards the door. Sure enough, there was Sophia, holding a tray of drinks. The moment our eyes met, the glasses crashed to the floor. Oh no. It seemed the pop-up comments were real after all. My world went black, and I went limp. My whole body hung limply from Adrian’s wrist. He panicked, cupping me in his hands. “Lyra, what’s wrong? Lyra!” Without even glancing at the door, he snapped, “What is the meaning of this? If you can’t even carry a tray of drinks, what are you doing working here?” Sophia stood at the entrance to the private room, looking pitiful, tears welling in her eyes. No, I couldn’t let them interact. Thinking fast, I slithered over to John, trying to draw Adrian’s attention. 4 It worked. Adrian’s gaze was glued to me. I ducked into John’s jacket, poking my head out to hiss at Adrian twice. “This little one is quite lively,” John laughed. Adrian’s brow furrowed into a deep knot, his voice tinged with hurt. “Lyra, have you no conscience? Where do you think you’re going?” “Don’t call her Lyra Sterling anymore. Call her Lyra Stone,” John teased, scratching under my chin. I played along, rubbing my head against his palm. No one was paying any attention to Sophia at the door. I did it! Just kidding. Adrian, green with jealousy, snatched me back. “You little thing. So heartless.” After he said that, he still looked towards the doorway and delivered the line from the pop-up comments: “Why are you working so many jobs? If this affects your work at my snake house, you’re fired.” Sophia looked like she was about to cry. “It won’t, Mr. Sterling. I promise it won’t affect my work.” Seeing this, John immediately stepped in to mediate. “Hey, it’s no big deal. You can go. I’ll cover the cost of the drinks.” After Sophia left, he said cheekily, “Adrian, why don’t you hire me to take care of your snakes? I’m an expert. I guarantee I’ll keep little Lyra looking beautiful.” Adrian shot back, “Get as far away from me as possible.” It seemed there was no changing this plot at all! 5 So I decided to run away. That night, to keep Adrian from putting me back in my terrarium, I was incredibly clingy. Every time he put me down, I would crawl right back onto his hand, my tail wagging nonstop. He was completely exasperated. “Lyra, why are you so clingy today? I usually have to beg you to come out for a little while.” Helpless, Adrian took me to bed with him. He looked at me seriously. “You have to be good, you hear me? The terrarium is safer.” I flicked my tongue out, trying to look cute. That did it. Adrian was completely defeated. “Alright, alright, I get it. But if you feel uncomfortable, you have to wake me up, understand?” Adrian fell asleep quickly. By the moonlight, I began to survey the bedroom. The doors and windows were shut tight, very secure. The only possible escape route was the crack under the door. Goodbye, Adrian. You were really good to me, but I have to save my own skin first. I took one last look at him, then started slithering towards the door. I was halfway out when the door suddenly swung open. A firm grip seized the back of my neck, and I was lifted into the air. Adrian and I were face to face, his eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t understand. “I knew something was off with you being so clingy today. Turns out you were planning to run away, you little liar. I take you out just once, and now you can’t get enough of the outside world?” I flicked my tongue out guiltily. Adrian was unmoved. “Acting cute won’t work. Since you won’t listen, your punishment is to sleep back in the terrarium.” 6 Damn it. I had lost my snake-rights to free movement. Unless Adrian was watching me, I was to be locked in the terrarium. I protested by lying on my back, belly up, and not moving an inch. Adrian was busy cutting open peaches for me nearby. “Don’t be difficult. This is your punishment for being naughty, you understand?” Peach worms were hard to find. He had already gone through a whole pile of peaches without finding a single one. This was, in fact, because I was on a hunger strike. He felt so bad that he was trying to tempt me with my favorite treat. “There, now be good and eat.” He tossed a fresh little worm into my terrarium and went back to his task. My mouth watered. But a snake must have dignity. Adrian chuckled. “Alright, my little princess, I’m begging you. Please eat.” On the surface, I remained stoic, but inside, I was just putting on a show. He brought his hand close to me. “Here, you can bite me as an apology. I’m sorry, Lyra. I shouldn’t have kept you locked up.” That was a sincere enough gesture. I gave his hand a gentle nip and then began to feast happily. Full and satisfied, I stretched out on my back. I was feeling a little protein-drunk (not really). I was enjoying Adrian’s gentle pets when the doorbell suddenly rang. It was John, saying he had a new snake to show him. Adrian tucked me into his pocket and led John into the snake house. Sophia was there too, and the pop-up comments flared to life: 【The second male lead is definitely here for the heroine, right? He’s going to ask her to come work at his snake house soon.】 【That means the snake fight isn’t far off. Poor Lyra. Actually, if the hero gets the heroine, it wouldn’t be so bad if the second male lead got the snake.】 I thought that was an excellent idea. If I became John’s snake, surely I couldn’t be eaten by his other snake. So, I quietly wriggled out from the edge of his pocket and, with a swoosh, launched myself into John’s arms. John jumped, then laughed. “Lyra?” Adrian’s face instantly darkened. He reached out to grab me back. I deftly dodged his hand, wrapped myself around John’s wrist, and nuzzled my head into his chest, acting as affectionate as possible. Adrian’s hand froze in mid-air, his eyes looking like they wanted to devour me. “Lyra. Come back.” John gave an awkward smile. “Come on, little princess, go back to him.” I just coiled around John tighter. “Put her back in the terrarium,” Adrian commanded, his voice tight. “Alright.” John carefully began to pry me off, ignoring my writhing. He still dropped me back into the terrarium. I was furious. I slapped my tail against the glass over and over. Adrian’s voice was stern. “Lyra, what exactly are you trying to do?” He was raising his voice at me! I hissed at him, whipping my tail even harder against the glass. “You want to go with him that badly, is that it?” Adrian spoke each word slowly and deliberately. “I’ll open the terrarium. If you still choose him, I’ll let you go.”

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1 Every fight triggers my boyfriend’s social media countdown—a relic of our dumb “three-day silence equals breakup” rule. For ten years, he’s weaponized it. When he skipped our 67th courthouse wedding date to help his “just-divorced” childhood friend—then posted their marriage certificate—I finally snapped. I liked the post and wished them well. His rage exploded: “Mandy accidentally clicked ‘share’! Must you be so petty? She’s fragile right now!” “It’s just paperwork. I’ll marry you when she’s stable. Apologize now.” This time, I hung up. The countdown began again. But no desperate texts. No begging outside his door. Just my resignation submitted. Done. After I hung up on a dozen of his follow-up calls, he finally sent a text, his patience worn thin: “Merrin, you’ve got some nerve. Hanging up on me? You think you’re in the right here?” “You have five minutes to post an apology, or we’re through.” Ten years together, and I’d heard threats like this a hundred times. Every single time, I was the one to cave, to plead for forgiveness. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up. When I didn’t respond, Steve started the countdown on his social media feed. He knew how much I loved him, and he used it. Every fight, he’d start the clock, piling on the pressure. For ten years, that stupid rule was his leash, and I was always the one to come crawling back just before time ran out. But now, I’m tired. I’m so tired of being played. Not long after Steve’s post, Mandy, the childhood friend, posted one of her own, tagging me specifically. “Just a little joke with Steve that I accidentally made public. I didn’t realize Merrin would get so upset. I guess I shouldn’t even talk to her anymore, I’m so afraid of setting her off.” Steve, who rarely even looks at his feed, was the first to like it. “It’s someone’s own issue, Mandy, don’t blame yourself. And why should you hide it? If you want to post something, post it.” “Someone,” of course, meant me. Our mutual friends, whose businesses relied on Steve’s law firm, quickly followed suit. “Merrin is so petty. Don’t let someone like her get you down, Mandy.” “No wonder Steve won’t marry her. I wouldn’t marry a woman that insecure either.” I let out a bitter laugh. He would bend over backwards to defend Mandy, terrified of her feeling even a sliver of discomfort. But me, his girlfriend of ten years? I was always met with cold indifference. Mandy could sneeze, and he would ditch our appointment at the courthouse. I’d complain, and he’d get angrier than I was, accusing me of being controlling and petty. But now that I’d finally let go and congratulated them, he was back to his threats and countdowns, demanding I apologize. It was never about right or wrong. The scales of his affection had tipped long ago. “Ma’am, the man whose ID you provided is already married. Would you like to change the applicant?” The clerk looked at me with pity. I took the ID back and smiled. “That’s something to consider.” The young couple behind me cheered as I stepped out of line. It was Valentine’s Day, and appointments at the clerk’s office were a hot commodity. I had waited for hours just to get this spot. But now, looking at the registration form in my hand, I ripped it to shreds without a second thought and tossed it in the trash. I had filled out that form 67 times. I had given him 67 chances. Every time, I would show up early, full of hope, watching the happy couples while I waited for him to arrive. And every time, just before our appointment, he would call with an excuse. The firm was busy. A client was in crisis. “Merrin, these are people’s lives on the line,” he would say, his voice dripping with self-importance. “You want me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” He never knew that after he ditched me for Mandy, she would send me texts, gloating. “Steve’s cooking is amazing. I bet you’ve never had it, have you?” “I walked a little too far today, and Steve was so worried he bought me a luxury car. You’re still using a bike share, right?” And now, he’d even gotten a marriage license with her. It was time for our story to end. 2 The moment I stepped out of the municipal building, I got a notification. My resignation request had been rejected. HR told me Steve hadn’t been in the office for days and couldn’t approve it. They gave me an address and told me to find him myself. Gritting my teeth, I went. The address was a pool hall. Mandy had posted that she wanted to learn to play pool, and Steve, the workaholic, had apparently skipped work for days to teach her. When I found him, he was leaning over Mandy, guiding her shot, their bodies pressed close. The moment she saw me, a contemptuous smirk played on her lips. A few of his office sycophants saw me and swarmed over. “Well, well, look who’s here for Mr. Big Shot.” “Told you. The three-day countdown wouldn’t even last one. She came crawling back.” “Our boss really has her whipped. One word and she’s on her knees.” “Alright, alright, pay up. A bet’s a bet.” I frowned. I’d heard their taunts a million times before, but it never stung like it did now. “I’m not here to make up.” My words sent them into a fit of laughter. “Don’t pretend, Merrin. Everyone knows you’re Steve’s number one groupie. You wouldn’t leave if he set you on fire.” I ignored them and slapped my resignation papers on the table. “Steve, sign it.” He was about to look at the papers when Mandy whined, “Steve, honey, how do I make this shot?” He immediately dropped the papers, pulled his personal seal out of Mandy’s pocket, and tossed it to me. “Sign it yourself. And don’t bother me while I’m teaching Mandy to play.” Steve was obsessed with his privacy. He never let me near his safe. He’d shield his phone like it held state secrets when he typed in a password. And his personal seal? He never let it out of his sight. But now, he had just given it to Mandy. He was so wrapped up in their “date” that he couldn’t even be bothered with official company documents. I clutched the stamped resignation letter, my heart feeling like a cavern with the wind howling through it. I turned to leave, but Steve called out to me. “Mandy’s busy for the next few days. Can you handle her caseload?” He tossed a thick stack of case files at me, each one with nothing but a title. I’d lost count of how many times he’d asked me to do Mandy’s work. Every time, she would take the credit. But if I made a single mistake under the crushing workload, the blame was all mine. Sometimes I’d refuse, but then he’d accuse me of not caring about him or the firm, of letting him down. He’d say if I didn’t do it, he’d have to do it himself. And I, worried about him overworking himself, would always give in. All my sacrifices just earned me his contempt and the right to be ordered around. But I was an ex-employee now. The firm’s problems weren’t mine anymore. “No, I already qui—” My words were cut off by Mandy’s pathetic whimper. “Steve, it’s okay if Merrin doesn’t want to. I can do it myself.” “You just got divorced,” Steve cooed, full of sympathy. “You’re in no state to work. Go have fun. Don’t worry about it.” He turned back to me, his tone glacial. “You know, you’ve already upset Mandy enough with that stunt on your feed. I’m giving you a chance to make it up to her, and you’re refusing? If you keep this up, in three days, you could be on your knees begging, and I still wouldn’t take you back.” I laughed bitterly. When my mother died unexpectedly, I had collapsed from grief multiple times. All Steve had said was, “Pull yourself together and get to work on time. The firm needs you.” But Mandy, who had been divorced for two years, could still use “not feeling up to it” as an excuse to skip work. “Fine by me. I don’t care.” I turned to leave. Steve’s face was a mask of shock. The colleagues were stunned too. “Is she really leaving?” Mandy just chuckled. “Oh, Merrin, if you don’t want to do the work, just say so. No need to play hard to get.” At her words, Steve’s brow smoothed, his confidence returning. His tone softened. “Alright, Merrin, I know I’ve been neglecting you. Be a good girl and finish Mandy’s work, and in three days, we’ll go get our license, okay?” Another empty promise. But this time, I had no appetite for it. I didn’t answer. I just walked away. The colleagues started their snide remarks again. “Look at her, pretending to be tough. Just wait. By tomorrow, she’ll be back, begging for forgiveness.” A wicked thought crossed my mind. I wanted to see them lose. I smirked and looked back at them. “Fine. Then you just wait and see.” 3 Once my resignation was finalized, I went straight to my best friend’s company. In the legal world, clients follow the lawyer, not the firm. My friend was so thrilled to have a top-tier lawyer like me join her team that she practically bowed at my feet. She offered me ten times my previous salary and a villa. I finally moved out of my shabby little apartment. Many of my old clients had been shocked to learn that a “gold-medal lawyer” lived in such a rundown place. I’d always just brushed it off, saying I wasn’t materialistic. The truth was, I’d willingly taken a junior-level salary for years to help Steve’s firm grow. At first, he was grateful. Then, he started to take it for granted. When the heat broke in my apartment one winter, and I asked for money to replace it, he called me extravagant, accused me of being a gold-digger. But for Mandy? He’d buy her a mansion without a second thought. Even Mandy’s dog had a heated doghouse. On the day I moved, I ran into Steve and Mandy. His parents were with them. The four of them were having a happy family dinner at a high-end restaurant. I froze. I remembered the first time I went to Steve’s house. I came bearing gifts, but his parents served me a table full of leftovers. When I awkwardly suggested we all go out to eat, they accused me of being a leech, a spendthrift living off their son. In the end, I cooked for the whole family. After I’d prepared a feast, Steve’s mother slammed her chopsticks down and declared my food too salty. “Only peasants who do manual labor eat like this,” she sneered. “Just what I’d expect from someone with your background.” The gifts I brought them ended up with the building’s cleaning staff. The contrast made me feel like a clown. Steve’s parents were eagerly piling food onto Mandy’s plate. “Mandy and our Steve are just perfect for each other,” his mother gushed. “If only you hadn’t been tricked by that other man, you two would have been together years ago. I think the time is right. You should be together.” His father chimed in, “Yes! Mandy landed several big clients for Steve as soon as she joined the firm. Her future is limitless. Not like that useless Merrin, who can only cook and clean.” Hearing this, I trembled with rage. I was the one who landed those clients. Steve just credited them to Mandy. The money I earned practically supported the entire firm, but Steve never once praised me. Instead, he constantly belittled me, saying I only got cases because of the platform his firm provided. Now, listening to his parents’ slander, he didn’t even try to correct them. He just sighed. “Well, we’ve been together for so long. It’s comfortable.” My heart plummeted. All these years, to him, I was just… comfortable. His mother was not satisfied. “Steve, I’m telling you, that Merrin girl is bad luck. Just look at how her parents died so young. Marrying her will bring you nothing but trouble.” Steve didn’t respond, but I was already in tears. My parents had died giving blood to save his. After a car accident, Steve’s parents were in critical condition. My parents, who had a matching blood type, donated without a second thought. But it wasn’t enough. Steve was a mess. My parents, knowing how much I loved him, secretly donated more blood than their bodies could handle. Steve’s parents were saved. Mine were gone. At first, his family felt guilty. They promised to compensate me, to take care of me. But the compensation never came. Instead, I became the “bad luck” they talked about. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned to leave.

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On the day of my birthday gala, the pink Rolls-Royce my father gave me was smashed into a twisted wreck by my stepsister. When the paramedics arrived, my stepsister, Sylvia, was clinging to life, her voice a desperate whisper. “Claire… I’ll never dance again, I promise! Please… don’t crush my legs…” In that single moment, I became public enemy number one. My stepmother fell to her knees, begging me to spare them. My father, his face a mask of pure disappointment, disowned me on the spot. And my fiancé, Carlisle, didn’t just call off our engagement—he dragged me into his car, shattered my ankle with a golf club, and personally delivered me to the police station. “You monster,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Why don’t you just die!” The police arrested me for aggravated assault. Five years in prison. I was beaten more times than I could count, until there wasn’t a single inch of my skin left unmarred. They even forcibly removed one of my kidneys. Just as they’d wished, I was finally dying. And only then did they regret it. They came to me, weeping. “Claire, we’re so sorry. Whatever you want, we’ll give it to you. Anything.” 1 Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. I stood outside the prison gates, wearing the same sweater I had on the day I was incarcerated. It hung on me like a burlap sack, a hollow shroud over a body that was nothing but sharp bones and a tapestry of scars. The world outside felt vast and terrifying, and I was frozen, unsure of where to even take my first step. Before I could process my freedom, a dark car screeched to a halt beside me. Hands grabbed me, a cloth bag was thrown over my head, and I was shoved inside. The car sped off, eventually delivering me to an exclusive, dimly-lit lounge. The bag was ripped from my head, the sudden light stinging my eyes. Before I could get my bearings, a slick voice cut through the haze. “Well, look who’s awake.” I looked up. CRACK. A man’s hand connected with my cheek. The pain was a searing flame, but it was nothing compared to the cold, predatory gaze I felt boring into me from a shadowy corner of the room. The man who’d slapped me grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “Tsk, tsk. Dressed so heavily in the middle of summer?” He leaned in, his breath foul. “Ugh, you’re hideous. Where did they even find you?” He then spat on my face. “Disgusting.” With a final shove, he sent me sprawling to the floor. I swallowed the pain, scrambled to my knees, and hid my face in the high collar of my sweater. My voice came out as a raw, panicked rasp. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. It was my fault.” I thought if I begged, if I groveled, they would let me go. “Miss Evans,” a voice, cold as a tombstone, echoed from the dark corner. “I must say, five years have certainly changed you. The notoriously arrogant Claire Evans has learned to kneel.” The entire room fell silent, all eyes turning to watch the unfolding drama. My body trembled uncontrollably. I tried to shrink further into my collar, to disappear. The figure in the corner rose and walked toward me, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly on the marble floor. He stopped a single foot away, and the very air around him seemed to drop ten degrees, a chilling frost that threatened to suffocate me. I forced myself to look up, my gaze meeting his. It was Carlisle. His eyes, once warm, were now pits of black ice, filled with nothing but disgust and a deep, simmering hatred. “Long time no see, Miss Evans,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You’ve… changed.” The formal address sent a shiver down my spine, draining the blood from my face. Suddenly, his hand shot out, his fingers clamping around my jaw. I flinched, my eyes wide with terror, but it was too late. I was trapped in his unyielding gaze. “Tsk. This face of yours… it’s truly repulsive,” he sneered, his grip tightening, his thumb digging cruelly into my cheek. “But you deserve it. You’re a viper, Claire. To do that to your own sister… After what you did to Sylvia, a ruined face is the least you deserve.” A murderous glint flashed in his eyes, and for a moment, I thought he would crush my jawbone. I didn’t hurt Sylvia. I didn’t do it. The words burned in my throat, but I choked them back. I had screamed them a thousand times five years ago. No one believed me then. No one would believe me now. “Cough…” Carlisle stared at me, his expression cold and unforgiving. Then, he abruptly released me, letting me collapse onto the floor like a discarded doll. 2 Carlisle pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and meticulously wiped the fingers that had touched my skin. He tossed the soiled cloth onto my body with contempt. “She’s all yours,” he announced to the room with a light, dismissive laugh. “Have fun.” And with that, he turned and walked out of the suite without a backward glance. In the dim, amber light, hands grabbed me again, dragging me toward a large, circular sofa where several men were lounging, each with one or two women draped over them. “Lift your head,” one of them commanded. I remained still, my face hidden. A hand tangled in my hair and yanked my head back, forcing my face into the light. It was a gaunt, sallow mask, crisscrossed with scars. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” the man barked. “Whoa! She’s terrifying! So damn ugly,” another man exclaimed. “Who’d want to touch that? Seriously, what was Carlisle thinking? You wouldn’t even pick this up off the street.” My shoulders shook, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Please, sir, just let me go,” I pleaded. “I’m filthy. You don’t want to dirty your hands on me.” “At least she knows her place,” a portly man with a greasy face chimed in. He squinted at me. “You’re Claire Evans, aren’t you?” The room went quiet for a beat, then erupted in whispers. “Claire Evans… the one who went to prison.” “That’s her? The spoiled heiress of Ashton City?” “Damn, time is a cruel mistress. Look what it’s done to you, Miss Evans.” “Mr. Wallace, how can you even tell it’s her when she looks like… that?” So, the portly man was Mr. Wallace. “The way Carlisle treated her, but still called her ‘Miss Evans’… it has to be her,” Wallace said, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He rose slowly and walked toward me. He reached out as if to pat my head, and I instinctively recoiled. His other hand shot out, grabbing my hair and forcing me to look at him. “Well, Miss Evans,” he purred. “This just got a lot more interesting.” He gestured to a full bottle of whiskey on the table. “Here. Drink this whole bottle, and maybe… just maybe, I’ll let you walk out of here.” I stared at the bottle. I couldn’t. The empty space where my left kidney used to be screamed a silent warning. If I drank that, I would die right here. If I refused… maybe I’d have a chance to live. “No, please, I can’t,” I begged, dropping to the floor and bowing my head frantically. “Mr. Wallace, I’m begging you, please let me go. I can’t drink it, please, I’m begging you…” “Alright, alright, we won’t drink,” he said with a sickening smile. “If you won’t drink, we’ll just have to find another way to have some fun.” He waved a dismissive hand at the others. Understanding the signal, they quickly and quietly filed out of the room. Soon, it was just me and Mr. Wallace. He began to laugh, a low, guttural sound, as he stripped off his jacket and tie. His eyes, alight with a feverish glow, fixed on me as he advanced. My blood ran cold. I scrambled backward, using the arm of the sofa to pull myself to my feet. “Stay away from me!” “Oh, I love it when you struggle, Miss Evans,” he sneered. “Come on, show me some of that fire you had when you turned me down all those years ago.” In a panic, I grabbed anything I could reach—glasses, ashtrays, coasters—and hurled them at him. But it was useless against a healthy man. In three long strides, he was on me, pinning my arms. I opened my mouth and sank my teeth into his fleshy, oily hand. He roared in pain and flung me away. My body slammed against the cold marble floor. Before I could even try to get up, he was on top of me, his weight crushing me, his hands tearing at my clothes. I went feral, scratching, clawing, biting, fighting with the last vestiges of my strength. Enraged by my resistance, he grabbed a nearby wine bottle and brought it down hard on my head. The world exploded in a flash of light, then spun into a nauseating vortex. I went limp, feeling my life slipping away. But I can’t die, a voice screamed in my mind. Not until I’ve cleared my name. I can’t die! Just as my eyes were about to close for good, the suite door burst open. A blinding light flooded the room, and a silhouette rushed in, sending my attacker flying with a single, brutal kick. 3 I woke up in a sterile white hospital room. Sylvia was beside my bed, sitting in a wheelchair. Carlisle stood protectively behind her. Noticing I was awake, Sylvia leaned forward, her face a perfect portrait of concern. “Claire, you’re finally awake! How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” If I hadn’t lived through the hell she’d created, I might have actually believed her performance. “I heard you were released and I rushed to find you,” she continued, her voice soft with fake sympathy. “I can’t believe they took you to a place like that… to hurt you.” “Claire… why aren’t you saying anything?” I just stared at her, my gaze unwavering. “Sylvia,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I gave you everything you ever wanted. I treated you like a real sister. Why did you frame me?” “Claire, what are you talking about?” she said, feigning shock. “It’s all in the past. It’s okay, sister. I’ve already forgiven you.” I wasn’t asking for forgiveness. I was demanding an answer. “Why,” I repeated, my voice rising with an anger I couldn’t contain, “did you frame me?” Sylvia flinched as if I’d struck her, and tears immediately welled in her eyes. “Claire, I can forgive you for the harm you caused me, but why can’t you just let it go? Why do you have to keep insisting on this?” Carlisle immediately stepped forward, shielding her. “Claire, that’s enough! Don’t push your luck. Sylvia is willing to forgive and forget, and you’re still trying to force her to admit to something she didn’t do?” He glared at me. “The evidence spoke for itself. Did five years in prison teach you nothing?” Sylvia tugged on his sleeve. “Carlisle, please, just stop. It’s okay. I… I just want to be alone for a while. Let’s go.” … That evening, Sylvia returned, alone. She wheeled herself to my door, glanced down the hallway, and then quietly closed the door behind her. In her lap was a container of food. “Sister,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I brought you some sushi from your favorite place. Won’t you have some?” I said nothing, just watched her, my eyes burning holes into her. She met my gaze, a slow, malicious smile spreading across her face. “No? Not even a bite?” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Tsk. Fine. Yes. I did it on purpose. I framed you.”

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My daddy doesn’t love my mommy. All the other kids at preschool said their mommies and daddies slept in the same bed. Mine never did. Then one day, a group of bad men took us. Mommy managed to call Daddy. I heard his voice roaring through the phone. “Then just die already. And stop dragging that bastard child into your little dramas.” Mommy frantically tried to cover my ears. But I still heard it. On the seventh day, Mommy fell into a very quiet sleep beside me. The red water mixed with the dirt, and my stomach, growling with a hunger that made me see stars, crammed it into my mouth. It was bitter. Daddy was crying, begging me not to fall asleep. I reached up with my small, filthy hand to wipe his face, my tummy aching. “Don’t cry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’m going to be a star, just like Mommy.” 1 The day the bad men tied me up, Mommy fell to her knees, her eyes swollen and red from crying. “Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. “Don’t hurt Lisa. She doesn’t know anything.” “Then you’d better call Mr. Vance,” one of them sneered. “Tell him it’ll take five million dollars to get you back.” Mommy stayed on her knees, her forehead touching the grimy floor as she pleaded. “He won’t come. I’m not worth five million. What about one million? I can get one million…” Before she could finish, a fat man slapped her hard across the face. I lunged forward, sinking my teeth into his hand with all my might. “Don’t you hurt my mommy!” The man flung me away and raised his boot to kick me. Mommy scrambled across the floor and threw herself over me, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. “Lisa…” she gasped. I don’t know how long he kicked her. After a while, Mommy started to throw up, just like I did when I was little and sick. But what came out was red water. It was bright and crimson, like a shiny red ribbon from a prize-winning project. So much of it. A hollow ache bloomed in my chest. “Mommy… Mommy…” I cried. “It’s okay, Lisa, baby. Don’t be scared…” The bad men shoved a phone at her again, yanking her up to answer it. “Go on. Beg him. Get him to pay up, and we’ll let you go.” Mommy’s voice was a shattered whisper. “Damien, I’ve been kidnapped. Can you please… can you save me and our daughter?” She was sobbing so hard she could barely speak, but Daddy’s voice cut through her like a razor. “Serena, can you stop the theatrics? You’d really stoop to lying about a kidnapping just to get my attention?” I tried to run to her, but another bad man held me tight, his hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my screams. Mommy’s pain seemed to deepen, her hand clutching her chest. “Lisa is your child, too.” Her voice was desperate. “These men are killers. If you don’t pay the ransom, we’re really going to die.” Daddy’s voice came through the speaker, clear and terrifying. “Then just die already. And stop dragging that bastard child into your little dramas.” I bit down, hard, on the hand that was silencing me. “Daddy!” I screamed. The screen went dark. I didn’t know if he heard me, or if he would come. Someone threw me to the ground and a sharp kick landed in my tummy. “Little runt.” Mommy fought against them, a wild animal protecting her young, and rushed to shield me again. “Don’t hurt her! Please, don’t hurt her…” she pleaded. “Just give me one more day. Just one day.” The men backed off. “One day. If you don’t have the money by then, don’t blame us for what happens next.” That night, I was freezing and burning up all at once. “Mommy, my tummy hurts…” I whimpered. She held me close, her arms a fragile shield. “It’s okay, Lisa, my sweet girl. Just hold on a little longer. Daddy will come for us.” Deep down, I knew Daddy hated us. But the light in Mommy’s eyes was already fading, and I couldn’t bear to be the one to snuff it out. “Really?” I asked, my voice small. “Really.” They threw another phone at us. I guessed Mommy was going to call my uncle. I remembered the last time we went to his house. He didn’t like me. He wouldn’t even let us inside. We stood on his porch for a long, long time, but the door never opened. The sun was so hot, and I was so thirsty, but Mommy looked so sad that I didn’t dare say a word. When we got home, Daddy and Mommy were fighting again. I tried to climb onto the kitchen counter to get a drink from the tap, but I slipped and fell. It hurt a lot. Daddy saw me. “You won’t even give a child a glass of water? You’ll do anything to get me to come home and fund your family’s projects, won’t you? You’re unbelievable.” Mommy scooped me up from the floor, tears streaming down her face. I knew she hadn’t stopped me from getting water. The front door slammed shut. Usually, when Daddy got that angry, Mommy would chase after him. But this time, she just held me on the sofa, her eyes searching my face. “Does it hurt, Lisa?” I shook my head. “Are you thirsty too, Mommy?” She squeezed my hand. “Don’t drink cold water anymore, okay? It’ll give you a tummy ache.” I nodded fiercely. The phone finally connected on the fifth try. Mommy’s face, which had been pale as a ghost, lit up with a flicker of joy. It was the same look I got when I saw Daddy come home. “Serena, are you ever going to stop bothering me?” 2 Mommy flinched but pushed on. “Victor, can you lend me five million dollars? I’ll pay you back in a few days.” “Ask Damien Vance for it,” he scoffed. “Three years ago, you handed him our company’s trade secrets. Don’t tell me he won’t even spare that much for you now.” The hand holding the phone trembled. Her voice was on the verge of breaking. “I understand why you hate me, but Lisa… she’s just a little girl. She’s been kidnapped. Can you please, please save her?” “Don’t try to play the sympathy card with me. You’ll say anything, won’t you?” he sneered. “She’s a Vance. The golden child of the Vance Corporation. Who would dare kidnap her? Call me again, and I won’t hesitate to drag up the past and take you to court.” He hung up. Mommy’s hand shook as she dialed again, and again, and again, until all she got was a busy signal. One of the bad men glanced at the phone. “You’ve got two hours left, Ms. Shaw. Don’t waste our time.” Mommy gave me a long, deep look. “Wait. Just… just give me a little more time.” This next call was answered almost immediately. “Ethan, can you lend me five million?” That name sounded familiar. I remembered Daddy gripping Mommy’s throat, his voice tight with fury. “What about Ethan Croft, then? When the Shaws were about to go under, you begged him for help, didn’t you? What exactly did you do for him?” Mommy just shook her head, trying to deny it, but that only made Daddy angrier. “Then tell me whose bastard child she is!” Mommy’s eyes found me then, and the tears started to fall. “I’ve already explained, nothing happened between us. Lisa is innocent. If this marriage is making you so miserable, we can get a divorce.” Daddy laughed, a chilling, humorless sound. “I paid a high price for you, Serena. Why would I let you go?” I stood frozen behind them as he ignored her struggles and dragged her into the bedroom. I heard her muffled cries of pain, but I couldn’t do anything. The door was locked. A long, long time passed. I eventually fell asleep, curled up against the door. When Daddy came out, he walked right past me without a glance. Mommy was slumped against the bed, sitting on the floor, looking like one of the flower buds from the preschool garden after a heavy rain. Her neck was covered in dark marks. When she looked at me, her eyes held an emotion I couldn’t understand. “Don’t be afraid, Lisa,” she whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m the one who’s wrong.” Her words finally broke me, and I started to cry. The line on the phone was silent for a long time. Mommy’s voice was tense. “Three million. Three million would work. Ethan, please. I’m begging you.” His voice was softer than Daddy’s, but it felt even colder. “Begging? I begged you once, Serena. I begged you to come to me.” He paused. “Is Damien Vance short on cash? Or is this another one of your little plays, a scheme to let Vance Corp swallow up Croft Industries? Think about the past, Serena. You were never worthy of my love.” He hung up. Mommy was like a flower in the garden, her stem finally snapped by the wind. She was completely lifeless. I don’t know why, but a wave of sadness washed over me, deeper than the time my neighbor, Leo, said he didn’t want to be my friend anymore. It seemed like all the strength had drained out of her. One of the bad men picked up a heavy club and walked toward her. “Mommy!” I screamed. Her eyes flickered towards me, and she started struggling against the metal cuffs binding her hands. “I have jewelry, a lot of it. You know who I am… the Shaws are rich. I can go back, sell everything, and give you the money. Just let Lisa go. Please, send her home.” Her voice was a desperate rasp. “She’s so small. She’ll die here.” The man laughed coldly. “Like we care.” “Let you go? You think we’re that stupid?” “Time’s up.” And with that, the club in his hand came crashing down on her. She didn’t cry out this time. I knew it must have hurt terribly, but she didn’t make a sound. She just kept whispering for me to run. The club quickly turned red. Mommy slumped out of the chair and fell to the floor. I scrambled over to her, trying to shield her with my own small body. Red water and strands of her hair were matted to her face. I didn’t hesitate. I wrapped my arms around her. “You’re all monsters!” My sobs echoed through the empty, skeletal building. The bad men stood together, talking amongst themselves. “Looks like he’s really not coming.” “Can you believe it? The richest man in Port Sterling is so cheap and heartless he won’t even save his own kid.” “We got the call. They said to wrap it up. We gotta get out of here before it’s too late. Settle it on-site.” “Before we do… maybe we should have a little fun first, boys?” Their laughter was like the sound of monsters on TV, only so much scarier. Mommy’s eyes, clouded with red, were wide with terror. She kept shaking her head, trying to tell me to run. I just held her tighter, refusing to let go, my cries of “Mommy!” tearing from my throat. One of them grabbed me, lifting me up like a doll. “Too noisy.” I felt a sharp, searing pain in my neck, and as I heard Mommy’s final, terrified scream, the world went black.

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The day after my divorce settlement, I got into a car accident and lost my memory. Later, my ex-husband, Liam, found me. He said we could get back together, if I stopped having my… episodes. I froze, the ice cream spoon halfway to my mouth. After a long moment, I managed to stammer, “No, thank you! I… I think I’m good with just the money.” 1 I woke up to my best friend, Liane, staring at me with a worried frown. She told me not to be sad. She said my health was the most important thing, and that even though I was divorced, I had to live well. She said our children would be fine with Liam, that I didn’t need to fight for custody anymore, especially since I couldn’t win. I stared at her, completely lost. After a moment, I had to ask, “Who’s Liam?” Liane froze, her expression blank. It took her a second to process before she was shouting for a doctor. The doctor said I had amnesia from the car accident. Liane, her voice tight with anxiety, asked me how old I thought I was. I thought for a moment. “Eighteen? Didn’t I just finish my final exams yesterday?” Liane burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to squat down, clutching her stomach and pounding her fist on the bed. “Oh, Violet! This is perfect! The timing of this amnesia is just… perfect. Yes, you’re eighteen. Eighteen is great! No Liam, no kids… just us.” I was more confused than ever. 2 Liane took me home. Once she was sure my memory wasn’t coming back anytime soon, she gave me the rundown. Me, Violet Lee. I’d fallen in love my freshman year of college with a poor kid named Liam Pierce. I was with him for ten years, from eighteen to twenty-eight. I helped him build his business from the ground up, lived on scraps with him, gave him children, and took care of his parents. And then, this year, he filed for divorce. “…What?!” I was horrified. It sounded like a tragic, melodramatic soap opera. My voice trembled. “So, you’re telling me I was basically a servant for ten years, and then at twenty-eight, I was thrown out on the street?” Liane nodded. “That’s about right. You also have two kids. A son, who’s six, and a daughter, who’s four. But because you were a stay-at-home mom with no income, and the kids both chose to stay with their dad, Liam got full custody.” “…What?! I lost the children I raised?!” Even though I had no memory of any of this, it sounded terrifying. I was on the verge of tears. Then Liane grinned and patted my shoulder. “Don’t be too sad. At least you have money.” Tears welled in my eyes. “How much?” I asked tentatively. Liane sat up straight. “Violet, listen carefully. You got 20% of Liam’s assets, 10% of the shares in three publicly traded companies, and two townhouses in the city. It’s worth about one hundred and ninety million dollars.” “…” Silence. Contemplation. Then, a hesitant question. “Liane, you’re not messing with me, are you?” “If I’m lying, I’m a dog.” That day, I stared out the window in a daze. I had lost ten years of my life. I had no idea how I had lived them. But Liane said I was rich, and when I was eighteen, the thing I loved most in the world was money. So, I figured, this wasn’t so bad. 3 Liane took some time off work to help me with all the paperwork. I never saw the “Liam” she had told me about; he had his lawyers handle the entire asset division. After about a month of running around, Liane helped me list all my properties for rent. She did the math; the monthly rental income would be around one hundred and twenty thousand dollars. That day, I stared at the endless string of zeros on my bank statement, then at my reflection in the mirror—a twenty-eight-year-old woman, immaculately dressed and styled. I scratched my head. Not bad at all. 4 I didn’t have much to do, but Liane had to work. So I spent my days at her place, playing video games. She’d order takeout for me when she ordered her own lunch. She always came home late, completely drained. She’d collapse onto the sofa, looking like she was at the end of her rope. I’d put down my game controller and give her a shoulder rub. It was like I had muscle memory for it; I was surprisingly good. Once she’d recovered a bit, she started ranting. “Liam is such a bastard. Right after you graduated, you were his free labor. His mom was sick, and you had to give her massages after work every day.” “…” “And you,” she said, turning to flick my forehead, “you’re just a pushover, Violet. When I’m not around, you just let them walk all over you. They took advantage of you because you were an orphan with no one to stand up for you.” I rubbed my head, feeling a little defensive. “I don’t remember any of that! I only remember you.” Liane stopped, then smiled. “That’s right. You don’t remember. It’s better that way. As long as you remember me, that’s enough. I won’t bully you.” I believed her. Liane and I had grown up together in an orphanage. When we were little, I was always trailing behind her. She’d fight for my snacks and help me with my laundry. When we got older, she’d tutor me. She was a year older than me, so when I was a senior in high school, she was a freshman in college. She called me every day, pushing me to study hard. She wanted me to go to the same college as her, but Liane was brilliant. She got into a top university. I studied until I thought my brain would explode, but I still couldn’t get in. The day my results came back, I cried in her arms. Liane flicked my forehead. “What are you crying for? You got a great score. There’s nothing to cry about.” She stroked my head. “You did amazing.” Later, I went to a different city for college, still in tears. 5 Liane always regretted it. “I never should have let you go there,” she’d say. “If you hadn’t gone to that city, you never would have met Liam. And if you hadn’t met Liam…” “I wouldn’t have one hundred and ninety million dollars,” I finished for her. Liane put her hands on her hips. “What’s more important, the money or those ten years of your life?” I tried to guess the right answer. “The money?” “You!” she said, exasperated. “You’re more important. If you’re not happy, all the money in the world doesn’t matter. It’s a good thing you lost your memory. What if you’d done something stupid? What good would the money have been then?” “Um… to buy a nice tombstone?” Liane laughed, exasperated. “Get out!” “…” Liane was always amazing. She was still amazing now, a general manager at a multinational corporation, earning around forty thousand a month. But she was busy, and she often had to travel for work. She was worried about leaving me alone, so she started taking me with her. Then she had a thought: since she was taking me everywhere anyway, why should she pay for it herself? So she hired me as her assistant. I knew this role! I’d spent the last few months binge-reading a dozen “billionaire CEO falls for his assistant” novels. On my first day, I showed up in a form-fitting pencil skirt, brimming with confidence. I made her coffee, organized her files, and ran around the office, looking incredibly busy. She watched me, amused, and finally told me to stop running around. She gave me a spreadsheet. “Let Amber show you the ropes. Work on this. Take your time, no rush.” “You got it!” And just like that, I officially started my new job. 6 I went to work with Liane every day. I didn’t have a lot to do, so I usually finished early. Liane, on the other hand, was swamped. I’d wait for her in the break room. One day, she saw me watching online courses on my phone and asked me seriously, “Violet, do you want to study?” “…I do.” With my amnesia, I was starting from scratch at work. I felt dejected every time I couldn’t do something right. Growing up, Liane had always been my role model, and she still was. I wanted to be like her, effortlessly competent and cool. So Liane signed me up for some classes. After work, I’d drive to my lessons. It was a comprehensive project management course, with a mix of different software applications. I filled two notebooks with notes before it finally started to click. After that course, Liane sent me to study accounting. I spent a year on it, and everything finally fell into place. I was getting the hang of my job. 7 After a year at the company, Liane started having me join Amber in client meetings. Amber was three years younger than me, a project manager with a wonderful personality. She was gentle and kind, and she always looked out for me. After one meeting, she bought herself a coffee and got me an ice cream. I was happily eating my ice cream when Amber laughed. “Liane said you’re 29, but I never believe her. Violet, you’re just a kid! A hardworking, obedient kid.” I thought for a moment and told her gravely, “Actually, I have two kids.” “Don’t lie to me. We’ve been working together for over a year, and I’ve never even seen your husband.” “We’re divorced.” “Violet, you look like a teenager.” “Well… technically, I’m a young divorcee.” Amber was stunned. She didn’t believe me. I laughed; honestly, I didn’t believe it either. I had just finished my final exams, how could I be twenty-nine? But I had been taking good care of myself for the past two years, so I did look young. Right after the divorce, I hadn’t been in a good state. I was a wreck. But maybe money really is the best medicine. After I got out of the hospital, Liane took me for all sorts of spa treatments. She said I was too weak and signed me up for a fighting class. The eighteen-year-old me always followed Liane’s lead. If she said east, I’d never go west. If she said fighting, I’d never sign up for taekwondo. We had a private chef at home, and with all the good food and care, I started to get better and better. With no memory of the past, no worries, plenty of money, and no job, I could eat and sleep as much as I wanted. In those few months, my hair even got thicker. The past year or so had been happy. I had forgotten the messy memories of the last decade. My eighteen-year-old mind was a clean slate, eagerly absorbing all sorts of new knowledge, with Liane always there to support and guide me. But maybe fate couldn’t stand to see me so comfortable. One day, at a client meeting with Amber, I ran into a man. 8 Amber’s meeting that day was confidential, so I couldn’t go. She left me at a coffee shop downstairs with a book and some ice cream. I was halfway through my book when I felt someone staring at me. I looked up. A man in a sharp suit was watching me, his brow furrowed. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. When Amber finished her meeting, I grabbed the coffee I’d bought for her and went to find her. As I passed the man, I heard him say, “Pretending you don’t know me?” His comment was so out of the blue that I just glanced at him and kept walking. But he followed me out. “Violet Lee, not even a hello when you see me?” I turned around, and Amber turned with me. When Amber saw the man, she smiled. “Mr. Pierce! Long time no see.” Liam ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. I looked at the man. Mr. Pierce? Could it be… Liam Pierce? I whispered to Amber, “Is that Liam Pierce?” “Yeah! The CEO of Pierce Corporation. You know him?” “…Um, I think he’s my… ex-husband.” Amber’s jaw dropped. She looked at me, then at Liam, then back at me. Liam was still staring at me. I thought for a moment, then extended my hand. “Hello.” Liam didn’t take my hand. He looked at me with a condescending, mocking expression. “Violet Lee, I underestimated you. I actually thought you were a good mother. In court, you fought so hard for Leo and Maya, but as soon as you got the money, you didn’t even come to see them once… It’s a good thing I got custody. A person like you, you don’t deserve to be a mother.” A strange wave of sadness washed over me, but it faded as quickly as it came. I wracked my brain, but I couldn’t remember what “Leo” and “Maya” looked like. “Violet Lee, this weekend, you’d better come back. Otherwise, you’ll never see Leo and Maya again for the rest of your life.” Liam left, leaving me with a bewildered Amber and a pensive me. 9 That night, for the first time, I heard about my two children from Liane. “They’re both smart kids,” she said. “But when Liam was starting his business, you were busy too. You went back to work right after giving birth. Their grandparents raised them, so they were never very close to you.” “Violet, when you divorced, you could have gotten 50% of the marital assets. But you signed an agreement with Liam. You only took 20%, but he had to promise in writing not to remarry, and to leave all his assets to the children.” She paused, then continued, “You carried them for nine months. You loved them more than anything. But it didn’t matter. They didn’t like you. The day I came to pick you up, I saw them yelling at you, saying you did nothing and still took 20% of Liam’s money. They told you to give it back. You just stood there, silently. They got so angry they threw a glass at you…” Liane’s voice trailed off. She sighed and hugged me. “Violet, please don’t remember. Isn’t it nice for us to just be happy like this?” I nodded seriously. “Okay. I don’t want to remember either.” “But if you want to see them this weekend, you should go. You can’t avoid them forever. I’ll go with you. No one will bully you.” I looked up at Liane and nodded. It wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t see them; I had truly forgotten. I only felt a pang of sadness when they were first mentioned, but now, I felt nothing. I was just a little curious. I wanted to see what they looked like. 10 Liane went with me. When Liam opened the door and saw her, he frowned. He clearly didn’t like Liane, and Liane definitely didn’t like him. Liam told me to come in, but tried to block Liane at the door. I panicked and ran back out to stand behind Liane. I was a little afraid of Liam. He was so tall, so imposing, and I didn’t remember him at all. I clung to Liane. If she wasn’t going in, neither was I. Liam’s face instantly darkened. “Violet Lee, if you want to see the children today, you have to come in alone.” “Then I won’t see them.” I shook my head like a rattle. I was terrified. What kind of person was this? I tried to pull Liane away, but Liam laughed, exasperated. “Violet Lee, what’s wrong with you? Am I that scary?” Of course he was scary. He was almost six-foot-three, built like a brick wall. He could probably pin me to the wall with one punch and I wouldn’t be able to get away. I was firm. “…I’m only going in with Liane.” Liam’s face was grim. Liane met his gaze with a blank expression. Finally, Liam stepped aside. “Come in!” The villa’s living room was huge. In the center sat a boy of about seven or eight. He looked just like his father, and his expression wasn’t friendly when he saw me. That must be Leo. Next to him was a little girl, who must be Maya. The little girl followed her brother’s lead, looking at me with a hint of curiosity. “Are you Mommy?” I nodded. Maya tugged on her brother’s sleeve. “Brother, Mommy is… so pretty now.” The boy suddenly yelled, “Shut up! Don’t call her Mommy! She’s not our mommy anymore! She doesn’t care about you or me! What kind of mommy is that?! And she won’t let Daddy get married, so we can’t have a new mommy! She’s a bad person! She’s crazy!” “…” Any anticipation I had felt vanished in an instant. I wasn’t as sad as I thought I’d be. I still couldn’t remember them. They looked familiar, but the memories were completely gone. It felt like two vaguely familiar children were yelling at me. I wasn’t angry, just bored.

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Eight years ago, my husband Brad and his first love Seraphina were caught in a hurricane abroad. Brad survived; Seraphina was declared dead. We built a new life together—until Seraphina returned. To make amends, Brad tricked me into divorce and moved abroad with her, then faked his death to sever ties. I played along, filing his death certificate. The shock killed my frail father-in-law. With no heir, my mother-in-law liquidated the family business—$4 billion—and gave it all to me. When Brad returned, begging his mother to recognize him, her reply was icy: “My son is dead.” 1 I was scrolling online when I came across a user’s post: “Eight years ago, my first love and I were traveling abroad when a hurricane hit. We both thought the other had died. Now, we’ve found each other again. I’m married, but she never moved on, never married anyone else, waiting for me. I know in my heart that I still love her. What should I do?” The comment section exploded, with thousands of replies: “To find each other after eight years? That’s fate! She waited for you for eight whole years. You can’t let her down this time!” “Dude, don’t feel guilty. The fact that you’re even posting this means you already know the answer…” “Here’s a plan for you: trick your wife into a divorce, get a new identity, and move abroad with your first love. Fake your death to get away clean.” … Reading this, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to people’s sense of right and wrong. The man’s story was chillingly similar to Brad’s. I couldn’t help but put myself in his wife’s shoes. I typed out a reply in the comments: “So what about his current wife?” I never expected my simple question to unleash a torrent of ridicule from the other users. The next day, I had all but forgotten about the post. But then, at the dinner table, Brad suddenly made an announcement. “Dad, Mom, Milana… I have something to tell you all. I’ve been accepted into a program with TotalEnergies in France.” “It’s one of the top energy companies in the world. I want to go for a three-year intensive training program. I can learn so much and bring that knowledge back to take our family business to the next level.” My father-in-law’s face beamed with pride. “That’s wonderful news!” “Son, if this is what you want, the whole family will support you. A man needs ambition!” Finally, Brad got to the point. “But…” “The company has a very strict policy. To ensure employees are fully focused, they only recruit unmarried individuals. I don’t meet the criteria…” “If I want to go, Milana and I… we’ll have to get a temporary divorce.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. The post from last night flashed in my mind, and with it, the story of Brad’s past. … My father-in-law saw my reaction and his expression turned serious. “Son, if you’ve truly thought this through, then I fully support you. This is an opportunity to better yourself.” Then, he patted my shoulder. “Milana, don’t you worry. You’ve given so much to this family over the years. Your son and you will be protected.” “After the divorce, I will transfer half of the company’s shares into your name.” Brad panicked. “Dad, we’re family! Is that really necessary?” “I’ll be back eventually, and Milana and I will remarry. We don’t need to do all that, do we?” My sensible father-in-law slammed his hand on the table. “Enough!” “Either you do as I say, or you give up this opportunity!” At his words, Brad’s face darkened. A tiny sliver of hope remained in my heart. I prayed that the post I’d seen hadn’t been written by him. After dinner, while Brad was in the shower, I picked up his phone. I had to know if he was the one who wrote that post. But he’d changed his lock screen password. I tried a few times, but it was no use. When he got out of the shower, he snatched his phone and began typing furtively. A moment later, he posted again, sharing the entire conversation from our dinner table in the comments section of that same thread. His main concern, it was clear, was my father-in-law’s promise to give me fifty percent of the company. The comment section erupted once more: “Are you stupid? He’s your dad. Once you’re settled with your first love and you come clean, who’s he going to side with? You, or the old ball and chain at home?” “Guy above me is right. Stage a big fight with your family. Have them pretend to liquidate the company and give all the money to her. Once you get the shares back, it’ll all be yours in the end!” “And while you’re abroad, your wife becomes a free live-in nurse for your parents. Then, when the time is right, you kick her out with nothing. It’s the perfect plan!” … A wide, ugly smile spread across Brad’s face as he eagerly replied to the users offering him their twisted advice. I created a burner account and left a comment: “You’re plotting against the woman you married. Aren’t you afraid of karma?” My comment was immediately buried under a wave of scorn: “LOL, you only live once. You gotta do what makes you happy!” “What century are you living in, still believing in that true love crap? This guy’s playing it smart. We should all take notes. Bro, we’re waiting for your good news!” … Beside me, Brad, his face alight with excitement, had no idea that I already knew everything. 2 Brad was incredibly eager to get things moving. The very next morning, he took me to City Hall to file for divorce. On the way, he kept whispering sweet nothings in my ear—how we were only separating on paper, how his heart would always be with me. I nodded along, playing the part, but in my mind, his words were nothing but the pathetic whining of a dog. The law required a one-month mandatory waiting period. During that month, Brad was a model husband. He showered me with attention, became more involved at home, as if he was terrified I would change my mind. That’s how marriage works, isn’t it? When one person gives unconditionally, filling the home with love, life feels sweet. For the past eight years, that person had been me. But I knew this current sweetness was a performance. He had his secret agenda, and I was simply playing along. Brad’s sudden change in behavior earned him high praise from my in-laws. “Our son is such a good man, a good husband, and a good father. He knows he’s leaving, and he wants to leave us with the best impression.” “Seeing you two so in love makes us feel better about this ‘fake’ divorce. Three years isn’t that long. No matter how hard it gets, you two just have to hold on.” “After the hardship, a brighter future is waiting.” … A month flew by. When we walked out of City Hall for the second time, our marriage, our so-called “divorce in name only,” was no longer protected by law. He struggled to suppress a triumphant grin, forcing a look of sorrow as he kissed my forehead. “Darling, this divorce is just a formality. Our love won’t change.” “I had no choice. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You understand, right?” I feigned heartbreak, dabbing at my eyes. “Go, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything at home. You just take care of yourself.” With the divorce papers in hand, he couldn’t wait to leave. His mind was already filled with fantasies of a wonderful new life with his first love. That very evening, he and Seraphina were on a flight out of the country. Our whole family went to see him off at the airport, and that’s when I saw her. Seraphina. Brad, afraid I’d get the wrong idea, explained that she had also been accepted into the program and that they were just colleagues traveling together. He specifically told me not to overthink it. Seraphina was tall and striking, with delicate features that bore a passing resemblance to a classic Hollywood starlet. No wonder Brad was willing to abandon his wife, his child, and his perfectly happy life to run away with her. About a week later, Brad’s social media account was updated. The picture was of two marriage certificates. He and Seraphina had already gotten married abroad. “Shoutout to my bros for the advice. With your blessings, I’m going to be truly happy now.” Brad called home every day to check in. And every time, my in-laws would end the call with a sigh, wishing the days would pass faster so our family could be whole again. But I knew this was all just the prelude to his grand finale: his faked death. 3 Sure enough, three months later, the daily phone call from Brad never came. My mother-in-law paced anxiously. “That boy… he promised to call every single day.” “What could have happened…?” My father-in-law waved a dismissive hand. “He’s at a top company. It’s natural he’d be working overtime, learning as much as he can.” I remained silent, my face a blank mask. Inside, I thought, The plan has begun. For a whole week, it was as if Brad had vanished from the face of the earth. Not a single call. My in-laws were beside themselves with worry. I feigned concern, but deep down, I felt nothing. Another week passed. Then, I received an email from France. I read the English on the screen fluently. It was a death notice from TotalEnergies. It stated that due to a difference in the electrical systems between France and our country, Mr. Brad Vance had made a fatal error during an operation and had been electrocuted. They expressed their deepest condolences and promised to buy him the finest burial plot in France, along with a compensation of one million dollars for our family. A million dollars was nothing to a man like Brad. I could tell at a glance that the email wasn’t official. There was no corporate signature, no official domain—just an IP address located in France. Nothing more. But I acted as if my world had collapsed. I translated the contents of the email for my in-laws. They stared at the message from overseas, their faces frozen in disbelief. I wailed, my cries echoing with gut-wrenching grief. “Dad! Mom! Brad was fine when he left! Now he’s never coming back! Oh, God…” “That bastard! How could he leave us? Our baby is so young! He’s going to grow up being called the boy with no father…” My performance was contagious. My mother-in-law collapsed onto the floor, slapping her thighs in despair. “Oh, God! It’s all your fault, you old fool! You’re the one who encouraged him to go abroad! Now look! Our son is gone forever!” “I… I…” My father-in-law’s face turned a deathly shade of purple. The man, nearly sixty, suddenly crumpled to the floor, clutching his chest. His heart condition, dormant for years, had returned with a vengeance. A cold smile played on my lips. Brad, when you were planning your fake death, did you ever stop to think how much it would destroy your parents? I instantly transformed into the strong, capable daughter-in-law. “Mom, stop crying!” I commanded. “Brad is gone, but we two women have to hold this family together!” “Let’s get Dad to the hospital, now! Don’t worry, whether Brad is here or not, I will always be this family’s daughter-in-law!” With that, I helped my father-in-law up and dialed for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, I sent a flurry of emotional texts to Brad’s phone. “Brad, you promised you’d be back in three years. Why did you break your promise…” “You’re gone, and you’ve taken my heart with you…” “I love you, my husband. I can’t accept that you’re dead. Can you come back and see me just one more time?” “It’s my fault. I was foolish to tell your parents the news. Mom is a wreck, and Dad had a heart attack…” “But don’t you worry. In life I was yours, in death I am yours. I will take care of this family for you. From now on, I will be their real daughter!” Outside the emergency room, I opened the social media app again. As I expected, Brad had posted. The picture this time was of two hands, fingers intertwined, radiating happiness. “Bros, the fake death was a success. Finally cut ties with the old ball and chain for good. Now I can be with my true love without a care in the world.” “It came at a cost, though. My mom’s a mess and my dad had a heart attack… but the good news is, my wife is still deeply in love with me. She sent me a bunch of messages saying she’ll be mine in life and death and will take care of my family for me.” Instantly, his chorus of armchair generals chimed in with congratulations. “Sounds like the plan was a total success! Your dad’s sick, but your wife promised to take care of him, so it shouldn’t be a big problem.” “Congrats, man! You’re finally free! Remember to send us an invite to the wedding…” Using my burner account, I left another comment: “Will you ever regret this?” To my surprise, Brad himself replied: “Regret what? I’m too happy to have any regrets!”

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When the embassy ordered the evacuation, my parents only took two people. One was my sister. The other was the son who wasn’t theirs. My sister, Isabelle, was their little princess. They would never leave her in a war-torn country. The fake son, Julian, was the treasure they had raised since birth. They couldn’t bear to see him suffer. As for me, they offered hollow comfort. “You’ve always had it tough, Leo. This kind of thing is nothing for you. We’ll come back for you as soon as they’re safe.” I clung to that promise, waiting week after agonizing week in a foreign land. But the only thing that came for me was a stray bullet that tore through my heart. And as I lay dying, all I saw was the global press release celebrating Julian’s lavish birthday. In this new life, I didn’t wait. I boarded the smuggler’s ship myself. From now on, I would gamble everything on my own future and ask for nothing from a family that never wanted me. 1 When I finally made it back home, Julian’s extravagant coming-of-age party was in full swing. Journalists from all over the world had been invited to document the grand ceremony for the Ashworth family’s beloved son. The moment a camera turned to me, the chorus of praise and admiration died. My tattered clothes and face, streaked with grime, were a jarring stain on the opulent scene. The woman standing beside Julian saw me first. She froze. I opened my mouth to speak her name. She was my biological sister, Isabelle. For a fleeting moment, I thought she might finally remember the brother she’d left behind. Instead, she frowned, pushing me out of the camera’s view and into a secluded corner. “Who let you back in?” she hissed. “Showing up dressed like garbage… are you trying to ruin Julian’s party on purpose?” Julian glided over, a practiced smile on his face. “It’s alright, now that my brother is back… God, Leo, where have you been? What is that smell?” He pinched his nose, recoiling in disgust. Isabelle immediately shielded him, glaring at me with contempt. “We only left you overseas to broaden your horizons a bit. Do you have to be so dramatic and upset Julian?” My parents approached, their faces etched with displeasure. “Today is Julian’s eighteenth birthday! Don’t you know how long he’s been looking forward to this?” I said nothing. They seemed to have forgotten. If Julian and I were switched at birth, it meant that today was my birthday, too. I had spent the last several weeks crammed in a smuggler’s cargo container with dozens of other desperate people. The stench of sweat and fear was ground into my skin. I simply bowed, offered no explanation, and walked past them into the mansion. My quiet compliance seemed to frustrate them, like they’d thrown a punch that met only air. Isabelle, accustomed to my begging for her approval, grabbed my arm. “We just said a few words. What’s with the attitude? Don’t think we don’t know what’s going on. That country looks unstable, but it’s not even a real war. You would have been perfectly fine there for another year!” The phantom pain of the bullet that had pierced my heart in my last life seared through my nerves. I instinctively clutched my chest. My parents just rolled their eyes. “Oh, stop it! Cut the theatrics! So pathetic.” “You’re right,” I said softly. They all stared, stunned. I turned back to them and bowed again, a deeper, more formal gesture this time. “It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have returned from a conflict zone and interrupted my brother’s party. I shouldn’t have shown up looking so unpresentable after such a difficult journey. I was wrong. I’ll go change now.” This was not the me they knew. In the past, I would have cried, trying desperately to defend myself against their accusations. As I walked away, I heard my mother’s voice, sharp with anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is he trying to be passive-aggressive with us now?” “Let it go, dear,” my father replied. “Julian’s party is what matters. I’ll have someone watch him. Make sure he doesn’t come out and bring his bad luck near Julian.” My hand tightened on the banister, my knuckles white. Then, I continued up the stairs. 2 After a long, hot shower, I opened my laptop and pulled up the Harvard admissions portal. My application had been accepted. A long, slow breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaped my lips. Before, I had hesitated. If I got in, how could I leave my family? I wasn’t hesitating anymore. There was just one problem: I had no money. Despite being born into a family that owned a Fortune 500 corporation, my entire existence had been funded by the scraps from Julian’s table. Still, what they considered scraps was more than most people saw in a lifetime. I counted my savings. I was five thousand dollars short. Later that night, after the last of the guests had departed, I presented my parents with a formally written IOU. “Five thousand dollars?” my father frowned. “What do you need that much money for?” “I’m an adult now, too. I’d like to see the world a little,” I said calmly. “Consider it a loan. I’ll pay you back with double the standard bank interest rate.” “Your main priority right now isn’t traveling, it’s getting into a decent college.” He took the IOU and, with deliberate slowness, tore it into tiny pieces. “Julian already has a guaranteed spot at UCLA; he can afford to relax. But you? We didn’t bring you back into this family just for you to embarrass us. I’ve already enrolled you in a tutoring academy. You will stay there until your college entrance exams.” He slid a business card across the table. I recognized the name. Just a few weeks ago, the academy had been in the news. A scandal involving tutors assaulting students. “I know it will be hard,” my father said, his tone dismissive. “But you’re mediocre at best. You might not even get into a community college without this. We have no choice.” He glanced at me, then his eyes fell on Julian, and his expression instantly softened into a proud smile. “Actually, Julian, forget UCLA. I’ve found something much better for you.” He handed Julian an embossed invitation. It was for a gala celebrating a five-hundred-million-dollar donation to an Ivy League university. “I made the donation in your name, son,” my father said, beaming. “You’re a man now. It’s time you learned to manage the family’s affairs. You’ll attend this university, and one day, this family’s legacy will be in your hands, and your sister’s.” Julian’s eyes widened. “Dad, I… can I really?” “Of course, you can,” Isabelle said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “And I’ll be there, too. I’ll look out for you.” The four of them shared a warm, happy hug. And I, the real son, stood on the outside, a ghost watching a happiness that would never be mine. The sharp rip of tearing cardstock broke the moment. They looked up, startled. I had torn the tutoring academy’s business card to shreds and dropped the pieces onto the pile of my destroyed IOU. “Leo! What is the meaning of this!” my father roared. I bowed slightly. “I cannot accept the Ashworth family’s charity. I will find my own way from now on.” Ignoring their sputtering rage, I turned and walked back to my room. That same day, I packed a small bag and left the estate for good. 3 I found a job that paid well but wasn’t exactly respectable. I became a waiter in an exclusive, high-end nightclub. With my departure date looming, I didn’t have the luxury of choice. I never expected that, just two weeks into the job, I would run into someone I knew. In one of the private suites, Julian was holding a bottle of champagne aloft, surrounded by two other men and a half-dozen giggling women. “That whole family is full of idiots,” he bragged, his words slurred. “Taking their fortune will be the easiest thing I’ve ever done!” Two of the women, perched on his lap, playfully stroked his chin. “Wow, you’re so impressive, Julian.” “Damn right,” he said, his hands roaming freely over their bodies. “My ‘father’ just donated five hundred million dollars to an Ivy League school in my name. With that kind of leverage, I guarantee you… I could probably kill someone on campus and the board of trustees would cover it up for me. The Ashworth empire? It’s going to be mine and my sister’s.” A strange, chemical sweetness hung in the air, sharp beneath the layers of perfume and spilled alcohol. I frowned, trying to place the smell, but my attention was pulled back to Julian, who was now messily kissing three or four of the women at once. I was so stunned by the scene that I didn’t notice one of his friends had spotted me in the hallway. The next thing I knew, I was yanked into the room and a foot slammed into my stomach, sending me to the floor. “Who the hell are you? Who sent you to spy on us? Talk!” A man with bleached-blond hair grabbed my collar, raising a bottle threateningly. Only Julian looked genuinely shocked. “Leo? What are you doing here?” Our eyes met. His face went white. “You were out there… the whole time?” 4 Before I could answer, the sound of approaching footsteps and familiar voices echoed from the hallway. Julian and I both froze. It was my father and Isabelle. They were talking with a business partner. I started to get up, but it was as if a switch flipped in Julian’s head. He scrambled out of the room, his face a mask of terror. “Dad! Isabelle!” “Julian?” Their voices were filled with surprise. “What are you doing in a place like this?” Tears streamed down Julian’s face. “I didn’t want to come! But I got a tip that Leo was in a private room with a bunch of women…” My father and sister’s eyes widened in disbelief. The door was kicked open. They stared in shock at the debauched scene, at the half-dressed men and women, and at me, standing frozen in the middle of it all. My father caught the strange, illicit scent in the air, and his face contorted with rage. A hard slap cracked across my face. “You worthless piece of trash! I wasted my life raising you!” Isabelle grabbed my shirt collar and slapped me again. “Look at you! Look at what you’re wearing! You are so goddamn cheap!” The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. I shoved her away. “I just work here!” The women in the room, sensing their cue, immediately played along. “He’s right,” one purred. “He’s our entertainment. We have a thing for the uniform.” My father and sister’s faces grew even darker. “Dad, Isabelle, I—” A brutal kick to my stomach cut me off, knocking the wind out of me. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead as I doubled over, every word caught in my throat. “You disgrace! If your mother saw you like this, how heartbroken do you think she’d be?!” My back hit the wall and I slid to the floor, completely drained of strength. My wallet, containing my pay card, slipped out of my pocket. Isabelle snatched it up. “What’s this?” she sneered. “Your earnings for the night?” She held the card between her hands and, with a sharp snap, broke it in two. “Get the manager in here! I want every cent this club has paid him refunded immediately!” “No!” My eyes flew open. That was everything I had earned in two weeks of grueling work. Ten more days, just ten, and I would have had enough. Now… it was all gone. My flight was booked. Where was I supposed to get five thousand dollars now? “Look at how pathetic you are!” The broken pieces of the card were thrown in my face. Isabelle draped a protective arm around Julian, looking at me as if I were garbage. “You can be trash if you want, but don’t you dare corrupt Julian.” My father shot me one last look of pure disgust. “We raised Julian to be a gentleman. If you drag him down with you, don’t blame me for what happens next.” That night, I was fired. With nowhere else to go, I went back to the mansion. It was empty. The staff informed me that Julian had been so “traumatized” by my “depraved” behavior at the club that the entire family had gone out for a special dinner to calm his nerves. Ignoring the servants’ pitying stares, I walked like a zombie back to my room, collapsed into bed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I woke up to a notification on my phone. A deposit had been made to my bank account. It was exactly five thousand dollars. 5 A message from my mother followed. 【Mom knows everything. I know you need money, but you should never resort to doing things like that.】 【Thank God Julian told us. You were heading down a very dark path.】 【Here is some money. If it’s not enough, just ask.】 【Dad and Mom still love you.】 I read the words and let out a soft, hollow laugh. I transferred the five thousand dollars right back to her account. I was done with this family. I wanted nothing more to do with them. After a full day of rest, my energy returned. I could earn the money again. Finding another job that paid as well would be difficult, but I knew I could find a way. I decided to leave for a different city first, to make sure they couldn’t interfere with my plans again. They returned while I was packing my bag. Isabelle saw me and sneered. “Don’t bother. You’re not invited on Julian’s graduation trip.” I paused and looked up. “Graduation trip?” “Don’t play dumb. How could you not know about Julian’s eighteen-country world tour? I know you want to go, but look at what you’ve done. Do you really think you deserve to?” A strange, cold feeling crept into my heart. “Does my brother get a world tour every year for his birthday?” My mother’s expression faltered. “Well… you were only recently welcomed back into the family. Otherwise, you would have had them too.” I didn’t say anything. They must have forgotten. I had been back for five years. Not “recently.” In all that time, I’d never even had a birthday cake. Every year, on Julian’s birthday, they completely forgot it was mine, too. Once, when I found out Julian was going on a trip, I had begged them to take me with them, just once. They finally agreed. And they dumped me in a war zone. The memories of my past life flooded back, and my hands moved faster, stuffing my few belongings into my bag. “I told you, you’re not coming! Why are you still packing?” Isabelle snapped, reaching to grab the bag from me. Julian quickly stopped her. “It’s okay, Isabelle. If he wants to come, let him. I don’t mind. After all…” his voice cracked, and he forced a brave little smile as his eyes welled up with tears, “…he’s your real family.” A wave of fierce protectiveness washed over Isabelle’s face. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered, pulling him into a hug. “You will always be the only brother I will ever acknowledge.” Julian shook his head, his eyes red. “Don’t just say that to make me feel better…” “I swear it,” Isabelle said, her gaze intense. “Leo is a nobody. As soon as you get back from your trip, Mom and Dad are going to sign over half of the company’s shares to you.” Tears of joy streamed down Julian’s face. He threw his arms around Isabelle in a tight embrace. For a split second, Isabelle’s body went rigid. And in that moment, I saw it in her eyes—an emotion that was far too deep, too complicated, to be simple sisterly affection. “Since Julian agreed, you can come,” Isabelle said, her voice turning cold as she looked at me. “But you are not to go near him. I will be with him the entire time. Understand?” I nodded and continued packing. Of course, I wouldn’t go near him. I wasn’t going with them anyway. 6 Ten days later, the Ashworth family was packed and ready to depart. But they couldn’t find me anywhere. “What do you mean you can’t find him? Isn’t he still asleep in his room?” my father demanded, his voice tight with irritation. The head housekeeper looked uncomfortable. “Actually, sir… young master Leo hasn’t been home for ten days.” “What?!” my mother exclaimed. “That’s impossible!” She was the first to throw open my bedroom door. The room was pristine. All my personal belongings were gone. A thin layer of dust had already settled on the desk. There was no sign that anyone had lived there for days. “That little bastard!” my father exploded. “He’s throwing a tantrum because we scolded him! He was the one in the wrong, and he has the nerve to act out!” My mother’s voice was laced with disappointment. “We gave him the money, we told him he could come on the trip! What more does he want?” Isabelle scoffed. “He’s probably hiding somewhere, waiting for us to come find him. How childish.” “Ungrateful brat!” my mother said, turning on her heel. “Fine, let him play his games! Does he really think we’ll delay our trip for him?” The four of them started to leave without a second thought. But as Isabelle turned, her hand brushed against the corner of my old desk, jostling a stack of books. They tumbled to the floor. A single sheet of paper and an envelope slid out from between them. She picked them up, her brow furrowed in confusion. The stark title at the top of the page struck her like a physical blow. 【DECLARATION OF SEVERING TIES】

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My mystery husband, from our arranged marriage I’d never even met, wanted a divorce. When I told him it was too much of a hassle, he laid his cards on the table, practically begging. [I’ve been in love with a girl for ten years. The only reason I agreed to this fake marriage was to placate our parents, so that one day, I could pursue her with a clean slate.] [I’m finally in a position to win her heart, and I’m asking for your help. After all, it’s impossible for me to ever fall for you, let alone have a real marriage with you.] [I’ll give you fifty million dollars as compensation for breaking the contract. And as for that A-list celebrity you like, I have my ways of making him marry you, willingly.] For the money and the celebrity, I agreed to fly back home for the “divorce.” But the very next second… My private, personal phone buzzed with a friend request. [Hi, this is Jonathan Craig. We went to high school together.] 1 Jonathan Craig’s mother was a formidable woman. After just one meeting with my father, she had him—a man who had treated me like the apple of his eye my whole life—agree to our arranged marriage. But on the day of our first “date,” Jonathan only sent his secretary. The gist was this: his mother had arranged the marriage behind his back, and he had no intention of marrying me. However, if I was willing to enter a fake marriage to deceive our parents and allow our two companies to cooperate, he would sign a contract with me. He would pay me ten million dollars a year, with the contract renewable annually. Since I didn’t know Jonathan and had zero interest in him, and since I was worried my father would just arrange another marriage if this one fell through, I agreed. For over eight months, Jonathan and I never had direct contact. Everything went through his secretary. But tonight, he sent a friend request to my work phone. [Hello, I’m Jonathan Craig.] I was surprised. I tapped on his profile. His username was his full name, simple and direct, befitting his image as a corporate titan. But his profile picture was jarringly out of place: a cute Ragdoll cat. The cat looked uncannily like a stray I had meticulously fed back in high school. I’d wanted to take it home after graduation, but it disappeared. I was upset about it for ages. I zoomed in on the picture, studying it for a long while. Finally, I concluded they just looked alike. It wasn’t the same cat. I put it out of my mind and hit [Accept]. Jonathan introduced himself again and stated his purpose: [Hello, Stella. This is Jonathan Craig.] [For personal reasons, I need to terminate our fake marriage contract ahead of schedule.] [I will compensate you for the breach of contract.] [When is the earliest you can return to the country to handle this with me?] I stared at my phone like a confused old man on the subway. It took me a while to digest it all before I replied: [We’re not legally married, so we don’t have to go through the courts. I don’t think I need to fly back for this, do I?] He replied instantly: [Actually, my mother is insisting that I bring you to tell her about the divorce in person. So it’s imperative that you make the trip.] [Furthermore, I’d like for the termination of our agreement to be a formal, written contract, signed by both parties, to avoid any future complications.] Complications? Was he afraid I’d cling to him later? Ha. The nerve. I couldn’t be bothered to type. I used voice-to-text. [Flying is exhausting. I don’t want to come back.] [If you’re worried about me causing trouble, you can just send the contract over. I’ll sign it and mail it back.] Jonathan: [But if you don’t come back, my mother won’t agree to us separating.] [And the contract isn’t because I’m worried about you. It’s because I don’t want the girl I love to ever misunderstand what we had.] I was a little shocked. [You’re in love with someone?] To convince me, Jonathan opened up completely, his tone almost pleading: [Yes. I’ve been in love with her for ten years. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her. She’s more important to me than my own life.] [The whole point of this fake marriage was to be able to pursue her one day with a clean slate.] [I’m finally in a position to do that, and I’m begging you to help me.] [Because I could never, ever fall for you. We could never be a real couple.] [I’ll give you fifty million dollars in financial and emotional compensation. Also, my secretary mentioned you’re a big fan of the singer Asher Vaughn. As part of the deal, if you want, I have the means to make him marry you, willingly.] According to our contract, he only owed me twenty million. But he was offering fifty. And he was going to make my favorite celebrity marry me. He was a living saint. I typed excitedly: [Are you sure? Fifty million, and you can get Asher Vaughn to marry me?] Jonathan: [Absolutely. If I’m lying, may I be damned.] Me: [You being damned doesn’t do me any good.] Jonathan: [If I’m lying, may I be punished to never win the heart of the woman I love.] Swearing on the girl he’d loved for a decade. Tsk, tsk. Now I was completely convinced. [Fine. I’ll fly back tomorrow.] Jonathan seemed to let out a huge sigh of relief. [Thank you. Do you need me to send someone to pick you up from the airport?] 2 I was in an excellent mood and decided to tease him a little. [Sending someone is so impersonal. I want you to come pick me up yourself.] He was typing for a long time. [Okay. Send me your flight number after you book it.] I hadn’t expected him to agree. But fine by me. The sooner we met, the sooner this would be over, and the less chance there was for anything to go wrong. After sending him my flight information, I blocked my parents and posted on my private social media account. [This girl is coming home tomorrow. Who’s asking me out?] I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, my post had blown up with notifications. At the same time, I had a new friend request on my private account. From Jonathan Craig. [Hi, I’m Jonathan Craig. We went to high school together.] Looking at the request, a dozen question marks popped up over my head. Jonathan Craig and I were high school classmates? How come I had absolutely no memory of him? And he already had my other account, so why was he adding this one? Did some busybody screenshot my post and send it to him? After all, that “asking me out” part could easily sound like I was planning to cheat on him. And our contract explicitly forbade any acts of infidelity. I mentally kicked myself for getting carried away. I immediately set the post to private. And, of course, I didn’t accept his friend request. My father is a nationally renowned entrepreneur. To prevent me from being kidnapped for ransom during my school years, I never used my legal name, Stella. Instead, I used my mother’s surname and went by Faye Lane. Only my immediate family knew. Likewise, I had separate phones and accounts for work and my private life. The private one was for friends and family; the work one was for colleagues and acquaintances. Given my relationship with Jonathan, he belonged firmly in the “work” category. Thankfully, Jonathan got the hint. When I didn’t accept, he didn’t send another request. The next day at noon, I arrived at the domestic airport on schedule. When I called Jonathan to have him meet me at the arrivals gate, he hung up on me. Then he sent me a message: [I’m so sorry. I just saw the girl I love at the airport.] [To avoid any misunderstandings, I can’t pick you up. Please just take a taxi. I’ll reimburse you for the fare.] [Transferred $10,000] Excuse me? Did he think this was about the money? This was a matter of pride! And for a CEO of his stature to go back on his word like that! I furiously typed back: [You love her that much? What if she rejects you and tells you to pursue me instead? To have a real marriage with me?] Jonathan seemed to ponder this seriously. A moment later, he replied: [It has to be her. If she told me to marry you, I would have no choice but to end my own life to prove my devotion.] I…! Was he just that deeply in love? Or was I just that repulsive? He would rather die than marry me. I, who had never once been rejected by a man, was so angry my chest physically hurt. I took a deep breath, put my phone away, and pushed my luggage cart towards the exit, scanning the crowd. I was trying to spot which idiot might be him. But instead, my eyes met a searing gaze. The owner of that gaze was dressed in a classic black and white suit. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His features were so strikingly handsome they looked like they’d been sculpted by a master artist, drawing frequent glances from passersby. Some of the younger women stealing looks at him couldn’t help but blush. I’ve seen plenty of handsome men, but never one as eye-catching as him. So I met his gaze boldly. Maybe it was because I was also, objectively, very attractive, but the handsome man seemed to shy away. After less than five seconds of eye contact, he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. 3 He quickly glanced back, pretending to look at something else, only to lock eyes with me again. And again, he bashfully looked away. Tsk, tsk. I couldn’t help but smile. How could a man that handsome be so easily flustered? And with that devastatingly confident face, he was making expressions more suited to a shy puppy. The contrast was absolutely delightful. Suddenly, I wanted to test him. Was he into me? If I walked over to him, would he dare to ask for my number? But the thought of contact information immediately reminded me of my deadbeat fake husband. Who knew where that creep was hiding, watching me and his dream girl. Ugh. I sighed. Forget it. I wasn’t in the mood. But as I turned to leave, I saw in the reflection of the airport glass that the handsome man was still watching me intently. My curiosity got the better of me. I abruptly turned around and started walking towards him. But to my surprise, as he watched me approach, step by step, his eyes widened, and his fingers began to tremble slightly. He looked both thrilled and terrified. Then, on his long, powerful legs, he scrambled away in a panic. What the—!! Am I that scary? …That can’t be right. Then he must just not be interested. I gave a self-deprecating laugh and went to find a taxi. My phone buzzed. It was Jonathan. [I want to get this contract terminated as soon as possible. Can I take you to see my mother tonight?] Me: [Fine.] Jonathan sent an electronic document. [Please review the termination clauses. If you have any additions or changes, add them and send it back to me.] I opened it. Besides the fifty million and the promise to help me marry Asher Vaughn, Jonathan had specifically added a clause emphasizing that during our “marriage,” we’d had no physical contact and held no affection for each other. Furthermore, after termination, neither party could entangle the other in any way, or they would be liable for a fifty-million-dollar fine for emotional distress. I mean, seriously… He was the one afraid of me clinging to him, but he had to dress it up as a mutual agreement. Seeing how little he thought of me, how much he was guarding against me, I suddenly found him very dislikeable. It just made me want to be done with him even faster. [I’ve read the contract. It’s fine as is. Pick me up at my Greenwich townhouse in two hours.] Jonathan: [Okay. With my mother, we’ll stick to the story that our values don’t align and we don’t want to hold each other back.] Me: [Whatever. You can say what you want.] The townhouse was a coming-of-age gift from my father. I was staying there for two reasons. First, my dad really admired Jonathan, and I was afraid he’d be angry I’d decided on a “divorce” without consulting him. Second, my best friend, Lucy, lived next door, and she promised me a surprise tonight. The moment I got home, I showered, did my hair, put on a full face of gorgeous makeup, and slipped into a stunning, figure-hugging green slip dress. I was genuinely pissed off at Jonathan. I wanted to weaponize my beauty. I wanted him to see what a vibrant, breathtaking woman he was missing out on. Jonathan was even more impatient than I was. When I contacted him, he was already waiting outside my complex. But it was rush hour, and the entrance was clogged with cars and people. As I was about to ask which car was his, I saw the handsome man from the airport, sitting in a black Maybach by the side of the road. His large, elegant hand was resting on the open window frame. A Patek Philippe watch adorned his wrist, its silver face glinting in the evening sun, a beacon of his effortless grace. A cigarette was perched between his long fingers. He took a drag, then flicked the ash out the window. The prominent veins on the back of his hand rose and fell with the movement. The sight was impossibly, captivatingly beautiful. But I was just appreciating the view. Remembering how he’d fled from me, I had no interest in getting to know him. I texted Jonathan: [I’m at the entrance. Which car are you?] While I waited for his reply, I saw the handsome man pick up his phone, glance at it, and then lean out his window, looking around. Then, his gaze locked onto mine, as if frozen in place. 4 The sounds of cars and people around me suddenly faded away. He had stolen all my attention. I could only watch as his expression shifted from surprise to delight, and from delight to panic. Finally, it settled into a tense, swirling vortex of emotion… Before I could puzzle out why he always looked at me so strangely, Lucy pulled up in front of me, rolling down her window with a cheerful grin. “Came out specially to greet me?” “Huh? Oh, no, I was just heading out.” “For what?” The “marriage” was, at Jonathan’s request, a secret known only to our two families. Now that we were “divorcing,” there was even less reason to broadcast it. I smiled. “Just some personal business.” “Well, cancel it if you can. The surprise I mentioned? My friend is hosting a get-together tonight, and Asher Vaughn is going to be there. I’m taking you.” My eyes lit up. “For real?” “For real.” An A-lister like Asher Vaughn was a rare sight, even if you threw money at it. And terminating the contract with Jonathan could wait one more night. I hopped into Lucy’s car and sent Jonathan an explanation: [Something urgent came up. I’ll go see your mom with you tomorrow.] Jonathan’s reply was surprisingly accommodating, as if my canceling on him was exactly what he wanted: [Okay.] [But you won’t have something else tomorrow, will you?] [I’m really anxious to get this over with. Otherwise, I don’t even dare to say hello to her when I see her.] I was confused. I quoted a common saying back at him: [The two aren’t mutually exclusive. If you want to say hi, just say hi.] Jonathan: [Our divorce might get leaked. I don’t want to have any contact with her while I’m still technically married. I don’t want her to be mistaken for a homewrecker.] So, this is what it was like to love someone. To be so careful, to cherish them to such a degree. Moved, I told him the truth: [I can’t promise I won’t have something else tomorrow. But I’m back in the country now. I will definitely terminate the contract with you.] Jonathan: [?] [What do you mean by that?] [You don’t want to terminate it anymore?] His anxiety and agitation were practically leaping off the screen. I sighed helplessly. Remembering Lucy still needed to go home and change, I made a new offer. [With your mom—if you can guarantee you’ll be done in an hour and I can leave, I’ll go to your place right now. If not, I will be there tomorrow! I swear!] Jonathan must have believed me. His mood seemed to improve, and he even made some small talk: [An hour probably won’t be enough. Let’s just do it tomorrow. I have other plans tonight anyway.] I replied with an [OK] and ended the chat. Two hours later, Lucy brought me to the most luxurious private club in the city. The moment the door to the private room swung open, my heart pounded with excitement. I instinctively looked towards the center seat of power. But it wasn’t Asher Vaughn sitting there. It was the handsome man in the Maybach. Under the glittering lights, he was lounging on the sofa, his long legs crossed, exuding an air of aristocratic dominance. It was clear he was the one everyone deferred to. I froze for a second. Seriously. Three times in one day. What kind of fate was this? At the same time, the handsome man looked up, his gaze sweeping lazily towards the door. The instant he saw my face, his eyes lit up. He immediately uncrossed his legs and placed his hands on his knees, sitting up perfectly straight. In a flash, he transformed from the king of the room into a schoolboy, sitting primly, desperate to make a good impression on his teacher.

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