On move-in day at my new university, I was buzzing with excitement. I had hauled a bunch of homemade baked goods all the way from my hometown, totally ready to win over my new roommates.
But the moment I finished my awkward little introduction, the vibe shifted. Before I could even unpack, these three guys literally shoved me back out into the hallway, their faces twisted in pure disgust. They made it aggressively clear they were not sharing a room with me.
The situation escalated straight to the Resident Director. Mr. Harrison looked completely stressed out by the whole ordeal, but he scrambled to find me an empty bed in another freshman dorm.
Except, history repeated itself. I had barely dragged my suitcase to the new door when the guys inside blocked the entrance.
They did not just refuse to let me in. They flat out declared they would rather drop out of college than breathe the same air as me.
I was losing my mind trying to figure out why. Had someone been spreading rumors about me?
But I had literally never crossed anyone in my life. I scoured the freshman Discord servers, the campus subreddit, and the anonymous confession pages. There was absolutely zero mention of my name.
I tried chatting up other guys in my classes. At first, they would talk to me normally. But the second I casually mentioned needing a roommate, their expressions would freeze, and they would immediately find an excuse to walk away.
And the worst part? Not a single person was willing to look me in the eye and tell me what I was doing wrong.
1
“Mr. Harrison, we absolutely refuse to live with him.”
“Yeah, if you force us to take him, I’m literally packing my bags right now.”
“Guys, come on…”
Mr. Harrison sighed, realizing his attempts to mediate were completely useless. He shot me a helpless look.
“Look, guys, I’m really sorry to ask, but could you just tell me why?” I reached out, gently grabbing one of the guy’s sleeves in pure desperation. “I’m super chill, I swear. I stayed in dorms during high school. I am not the type to cause drama.”
He just glared at me and violently shook off my hand.
“There is no ‘why.’ We just aren’t rooming with you. End of story.”
I stared at my heavy suitcase, feeling a wave of exhaustion crash over me. I leaned against the doorframe, fighting back tears.
I had always been a quiet, introverted guy. I did not have a massive friend group, but I never made enemies either. I just could not understand why arriving in a brand new city, at a brand new school, surrounded by total strangers, felt like a punishment.
Everyone was treating me like I was radioactive.
“I am so sorry, Arthur. I just can’t find a single room willing to take you right now,” Mr. Harrison said softly, giving my shoulder a sympathetic pat. “We don’t have any single dorms available. How about you stay at a cheap motel off campus for a few days? I will keep trying to shuffle some room assignments.”
He offered a weak smile. “Don’t stress too much. People probably just got the wrong idea about you. Once they get to know you, it’ll all blow over.”
That sparked a thought. Did someone say something about me?
Mr. Harrison’s words triggered a frantic search. I pulled out my phone and scrolled endlessly through every class group chat, the campus forums, and social media pages.
I scrolled until my thumb cramped. Nothing. Not a single post about me.
Besides, I was the only kid from my small town high school to get accepted here. There was literally nobody on this campus who even knew my past.
While I was sitting in an empty lecture hall, totally lost in my own head, someone called my name.
“Arthur! No way, we have the same class?”
I looked up and recognized Noah. He was the very first person I met on campus.
On my way to orientation, he had suffered a severe blood sugar drop and nearly passed out on the sidewalk. I was the one who caught him, ran to a vending machine, and shoved a sports drink and a granola bar into his hands. I had to rush off to move my stuff before we could even swap numbers, so seeing him here felt like a miracle.
“Noah! Man, does your room have an empty bed? Can I please be your roommate?”
I grabbed his arm, clinging to him like he was a life raft.
2
I had literally just saved the guy from a medical emergency. He knew I was a decent person. Even if there were some insane rumors floating around, he wouldn’t believe them.
Mr. Harrison and I had practically knocked on every door in the building except for one. I had been too heartbroken to try the last room on the list.
I never expected Noah to be living in that exact room.
I held my breath, waiting for him to nod and save me from this nightmare.
Instead, the color completely drained from Noah’s face the second the word “roommate” left my mouth.
“No. We’re full.”
His friendly smile vanished, replaced by a look of absolute terror. He stepped back, putting distance between us. “My roommates would never agree to it anyway.”
“Noah, why? Why does everyone hate the idea of living with me?” My voice cracked. I gripped his jacket, completely breaking down. I did not even care about moving into his room anymore. I just wanted the truth. “You know I’m a good guy. Just tell me what’s wrong with me, and I’ll fix it.”
He yanked himself out of my grip, his eyes darting around nervously.
“There’s no reason. We just don’t want you there.”
Feeling entirely hopeless, I took to an anonymous college advice forum.
I poured my heart out. We are all freshmen, we are all strangers, so why am I the only one being treated like a monster?
The internet was quick to offer theories.
One comment caught my eye. “Did someone start a rumor that you have a severe contagious disease?”
A chill ran down my spine. It made horrible sense. Lately, there had been some privacy controversies on campus regarding students with severe bloodborne viruses. To protect their identities, the school never released names.
Did someone point the finger at me?
I did not waste a single second. I booked an appointment at the local hospital and requested a full panel. I tested for every communicable disease under the sun.
The agonizing wait took days, but the results finally hit my inbox. Everything was negative. I was perfectly healthy.
I was so relieved that I literally projected my medical records onto the smartboard before a lecture started. Just to prove I hadn’t photoshopped anything, I logged into the hospital portal live in front of thirty people and pulled up the official documents.
I thought the nightmare was over. The misunderstanding was cleared up.
But when I asked around the room afterward, people just looked at the floor. Still, nobody would take me in.
I posted the update online, begging for more advice.
“Maybe they think you’re psychologically unstable? Like, an actual psycho?” another user suggested.
Back to the hospital I went. I sat through hours of rigorous psychiatric evaluations.
The results were crystal clear. My mental health was perfectly stable. No disorders, no red flags.
I showed these papers to everyone. I even had my childhood friends record video testimonials swearing I was the most normal, harmless guy on the planet.
It didn’t change a thing. The mere mention of me moving in made guys threaten to pack their bags and leave the state.
At this point, the internet turned on me. Since neither health nor sanity was the issue, the anonymous crowd decided I was the villain. The comments shifted from helpful to brutal.
“Bro is definitely leaving out the part where he’s a total creep.”
“You don’t get universally hated for zero reason. You’re definitely hiding something messed up.”
“Engagement bait. Block this clown.”
My inbox flooded with death threats and vile insults. Completely defeated, I deleted the post and locked my phone.
‘3
The bizarre legend of my rejection bled into other majors.
People who didn’t even know me started whispering when I walked through the quad. Some claimed I had committed an unforgivable crime in my hometown. Others swore I was a walking biohazard. Every time I stepped into an academic building, I could feel the heavy, judgmental stares burning into my back.
I had been living in a cheap motel for half a month, and the daily rates were bleeding my bank account dry.
With zero options left, I had to do the one thing I dreaded most. I had to ask my parents for more money.
But when I FaceTimed them, I saw them sitting on the dusty tailgate of a rusted pickup truck at their construction site, eating cold, dry sandwiches. The words died in my throat.
My parents had me late in life. Terrified that they wouldn’t be able to provide enough, they decided I would be their only child. We were never rich, but they worked their fingers to the bone to give me everything. They did not have fancy degrees and couldn’t pull strings to help me in the real world, but their love was the only thing keeping me sane.
“Arthur, honey, how are the dorms? Are you getting along with the boys?” my mom asked, wiping dust off her cheek.
“We know you’re a bit quiet, but try to put yourself out there. Order a pizza for the room,” my dad chimed in. “Making a few solid buddies will make the workload way easier.”
My mom squinted at the screen. “Are you eating enough, sweetie? You look so skinny, and it’s only been a few weeks.”
Hearing the pure, unconditional love in her voice against the backdrop of my living nightmare almost broke me. Tears pricked my eyes.
I made up an excuse about being late for a study group and hung up fast. Even though I didn’t ask, a notification popped up a minute later. Mom had transferred a hundred bucks with a note telling me to buy something nice for dinner.
I had to get out of that motel.
I begged Mr. Harrison to look outside our major. Anywhere. Any building.
Finally, his relentless emailing paid off. He found a single open bed.
“It’s a suite full of seniors from the engineering program,” Mr. Harrison explained, looking visibly relieved. “Most of them are off doing internships, so the place is pretty quiet. Both their RD and I talked to them. They know your situation, and they actually agreed to let you move in.”
I literally cried. I thanked him over and over. Finally, someone was willing to treat me like a human being.
I packed my bags with a massive smile on my face, moved into the suite, and spent three hours deep cleaning the entire place. I scrubbed the floors and wiped down the counters, hoping to give my older roommates a great impression whenever they returned.
I didn’t have to wait long. I had only enjoyed two peaceful nights of normal college life when I got a text saying one of the seniors was coming back from his internship.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next day, I was a nervous wreck, terrified he would take one look at me and demand I leave.
But my fears were completely unfounded.
Chris, the senior, was incredibly chill. He walked in, tossed his duffel bag on the couch, and handed me a box of fancy donuts he brought from the city. When he saw the spotless kitchen, he acted like he had won the lottery, calling me the greatest freshman to ever exist.
For the first time since stepping foot on this campus, I felt the warmth of actual friendship.
Chris and I clicked. Everything felt like it was finally falling into place.
Until Thursday.
I had just finished my afternoon lab. I bought a huge pizza and a massive watermelon, excited to crush some video games with Chris like we planned.
But when I turned the corner to our suite, the hallway was completely packed.
Chris was standing there with his arms crossed. Next to him were Mr. Harrison, the engineering RD, and two guys I didn’t recognize. Judging by the aggressive body language, they had to be the other two seniors living in the suite.
“No way. He packs his trash and leaves tonight.”
4
“We’re seniors, man. Why the hell did you dump a random freshman in our space?” one of the strangers yelled.
“We will literally pay for the empty bed ourselves. We’ll split the cost three ways. Just get Arthur out of here.”
I stood frozen. Chris, the guy who had been laughing and eating donuts with me yesterday, was currently glaring at the door like he wanted to physically throw my belongings out the window.
My brain short-circuited. My grip slipped.
The heavy watermelon crashed onto the hard linoleum floor. It shattered into pieces, the bright red juice bleeding across the tiles like my own fractured heart.
“Chris… what’s going on?” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I thought we were cool. We were just hanging out.”
“Why is everyone doing this to me? What did I do?”
I completely snapped. I dropped the pizza box, ran over, and grabbed Chris by his hoodie, begging him to just talk to me. I was practically on my knees in the middle of the hallway.
Chris just looked at me with eyes as cold as ice. He yanked his hoodie out of my hands.
“Pack your stuff and leave, Arthur. Now.”
He warned me that if I didn’t willingly walk out that door, they would blast music and scream until the entire dorm building called campus security.
Even when Mr. Harrison threatened them with disciplinary action right before graduation, the seniors didn’t flinch. They would rather face academic penalties than sleep under the same roof as me.
Not wanting to cause a scene that would get me expelled, I silently packed my bags.
Mr. Harrison pulled me aside, looking completely defeated. He admitted there was literally not a single room left on campus that would accept me. He promised to expedite a full refund of my housing fees so I could rent a cheap apartment off campus.
I was too numb to argue. I accepted defeat. I found a grueling part-time job at a busy campus coffee shop to cover the rent of a tiny studio apartment.
Thankfully, between my fast-tracked refund and the coffee shop tips, I was able to make ends meet without begging my parents for cash.
A week later, I was wiping down the espresso machine when a familiar face walked up to the register.
Noah.
Ever since he rejected me outside his dorm, we had avoided each other like the plague.
But today, seeing me in the apron, he actually initiated a conversation.
“Arthur… I just wanted to say thank you again. For that first day.” He rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. “If you hadn’t caught me, I probably would have cracked my skull on the pavement.”
“Anyone would have done it. Don’t worry about it,” I replied, my voice completely flat. I slid his iced latte across the counter. The relentless rejections had drained every ounce of empathy out of my body. I was done trying to be the nice guy.
“Look, Arthur, I…”
Noah looked agonizingly guilty. Gone was the panicked, defensive guy who had backed away from me in the hallway. He paced around the pickup counter for several minutes, clearly wrestling with something massive. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
Eventually, the shift manager yelled at him to clear the line, and he bolted out the door.
“What was his deal?” my coworker asked, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like he owes you a thousand bucks with that sad puppy expression.”
I just shook my head. Truth be told, I was noticing a really bizarre shift in the campus dynamic.
The moment I moved off campus and officially gave up on the dorms, the invisible wall around me started to crack.
Guys who used to sprint the other way when I walked past were suddenly nodding at me in the library. When professors assigned group projects, I wasn’t the last one picked anymore. People actually invited me to their study tables.
Noah was the most obvious. He constantly hovered around me in lectures, clearly desperate to mend fences, but always choking up before he could explain himself.
I couldn’t figure out the logic, but honestly? I didn’t care anymore.
If playing the role of the off-campus loner got me through the next four years in peace, I would gladly take it. Once I grabbed my degree, I was leaving this weird, toxic place behind forever.
I had made my peace with it. But someone else hadn’t.
🌟 Continue the story here
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There’s this game making the rounds with my buddies lately. The idea is to pretend you’ve gone bankrupt for a month, just to see if the woman in your life is the real deal.
To make it convincing, not only did my friends and family agree to play along, but my company even brought in a “new boss” to complete the charade.
I swapped my designer clothes for a cheap five-dollar t-shirt and a beat-up trucker hat. Full of confidence, I went to find the woman I thought I loved more than anyone: Serena.
But the second she saw me, her face twisted in disgust. Without a word, she had security throw me out like a piece of trash.
I just stood there for a long time, my mind a total blank. When I finally came to my senses, I shakily dialed another number.
When the call connected, I said in a raw voice, “Sophie, honey? Daddy’s gone broke. I don’t even have a place to stay.”
On the other end, my daughter’s sweet, innocent voice replied, a gentle comfort. “Daddy, don’t be scared. You can have my room.”
1
When Benny’s call came, I was in the kitchen baking a cake.
My daughter, who was playing a game on my phone, answered it.
I don’t know what he said, but suddenly, my four-year-old’s face lit up, and she came running towards me.
She ran so fast one of her little shoes fell off.
“Mommy, this is great! Daddy’s gone bankrupt! He can come to my birthday party this year!”
Bankrupt?
The call was still connected. The contact name was “Ex-Husband.”
The last time Benny had called was on New Year’s.
He only ever contacted me on holidays.
He’d summon me to his parents’ house to play the happy couple, to keep the old folks happy.
The moment we were out of their sight, he’d coldly drop my hand and drive off to be with Serena.
His back seat would be piled high with gift boxes, the passenger seat covered in a sea of red roses.
I would clutch the thousand-dollar “performance fee” he’d tossed me and stand in the biting wind, feeling nothing.
Because with that money, Sophie and I had our rent covered for the next six months.
Hearing that Benny was bankrupt, I was just confused. Why wasn’t he calling his precious, doted-upon Serena?
Why was he calling me, a woman he couldn’t stand the sight of?
Benny’s voice came through the phone, cautious. “Luna… I have nowhere to stay, and I haven’t eaten all day. Can you… can you take me in?”
I was about to say “No.”
But my daughter clutched my skirt.
Her big, grape-purple eyes blinked, full of hope and pleading.
“Mommy, please? Just let Daddy be here for my birthday this one time. All the other kids have both their parents at their birthday parties.”
I looked down at her, and my heart ached.
I knew how much Sophie longed for a father’s love.
Benny did love Sophie, in his own way.
He’d take her to theme parks, buy her little dresses, and send her entire sets of those princess mystery boxes.
But then one day, Sophie came home with her head hanging low and said she would never “bother” her daddy again.
I dropped my spatula and stormed over to his villa.
With the arm strength I’d built from washing a thousand dishes a day, I slapped Serena across the face, again and again.
I shoved her head into the toilet to give that filthy mouth of hers a good rinse.
After that, Benny never mentioned seeing Sophie again.
But today was Sophie’s birthday. All she wanted was to have her parents with her.
I relented. “Benny, Sophie misses you. You can come over for dinner.”
On the other end, the man let out a sigh of relief.
It was the sound of someone realizing they hadn’t lost everything after all.
“You’re still at The Crestwood Estates, right? I’m on my way.”
I was confused. “Where? I’ve never been there.”
I rented an apartment at Maple Creek, close to the kindergarten.
Our street was lined with food stalls. At night, you could hear the muffled bass from the karaoke bar across the road, and the pest control van made its scheduled rounds right below our window.
It was a world away from the luxury complex Benny was talking about.
There was a long silence on the phone before he asked for my current address.
Even in his cheap clothes, the man’s presence was undeniable.
The moment he walked in, Sophie launched herself at him, hugging his leg.
Benny stroked her head fondly, his eyes scanning our small two-bedroom apartment. The warmth in them instantly vanished.
“This is the kind of place you have my daughter living in?”
2
My hand, holding the teapot, froze.
The apartment was nicely renovated, with clean, natural wood finishes.
From the large appliances down to the cartoon-themed floor mats, Sophie had picked everything out herself, and I had paid for it.
No matter how hard things got, I never let Sophie feel inferior about what she ate, wore, or where she lived.
And yet, Benny’s first act upon entering my home was to find fault.
But then again, he and Serena lived in a 5,000-square-foot villa. Of course this felt cramped to him.
I dumped the tea I was making into the trash and pulled my daughter aside.
“Sophie, sweetie, why don’t you go to your room and see if you can find the birthday present Mommy hid for you, okay?”
The little girl’s face lit up, and she ran into her bedroom.
My smile vanished. I shot daggers at Benny.
“This kind of place? Who was it just now, begging to come to ‘this kind of place’? You don’t even have ‘this kind of place’ to live in anymore. What right do you have to criticize me?”
Benny quickly composed himself.
He was supposed to be a bankrupt loser now.
Not a CEO.
He sat down on the sofa, looking a bit awkward.
“You misunderstood. I meant, why aren’t you living in the house I gave you?”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“What house?”
When we divorced, all I had was a single suitcase and my three-month-old daughter, Sophie.
The little money I had came from selling the jewelry his parents had given me.
Benny’s handsome brow furrowed.
“Luna, you gave me a child. Even if I don’t love you, I would never neglect my own flesh and blood.”
“I had my secretary, Mr. Quinn, buy a house for you both, and I set aside a large settlement for you. You didn’t take it?”
A house? A settlement?
This was the first I was hearing of it.
But it clicked into place immediately. “I didn’t take a single thing. Are you broke now and trying to shake me down for money?”
Benny’s eyes narrowed, a storm of regret brewing within them.
“Luna, I would sooner beg on the streets than take a dime from you. In this entire world, the person I’ve wronged the most is you.”
Our past was like a trashy novel.
I was the orphaned daughter of the man who had saved Benny’s father’s life.
The Young family took me in when I was eight, and his father doted on me.
His mother liked my gentle nature.
And Benny, two years my senior, treated me like a little sister he had to protect.
He’d fight off the bullies who picked on me.
He took me to see beautiful places, to interact with animals.
He did everything he could to pull me out of the grief of losing my parents.
And I poured my secret crush into my diary.
“Luna loves Benny. Will Benny ever love Luna?”
In my senior year of college, I got my answer.
Benny proposed.
I was overjoyed that he loved me back.
Like a fool, I went with him to get our marriage license. It cost nine dollars.
I didn’t know that his father had given me 10% of the company’s shares as a dowry, while making Benny start from the bottom.
Benny wasn’t marrying me. He was marrying a comfortable life and a promising future.
After we married, I was lost in a dream of love.
I cooked for him, ironed his shirts, picked him up from late-night meetings.
But while I was pregnant, he cheated on me with a “sympathetic” intern.
Serena, who was half a year older than me.
He said Serena understood him, that she was his soulmate, that they were true love.
He said what he felt for me was just familial affection.
Benny’s father, with his sharp eye, saw through Serena’s cunning and hypocrisy.
He declared that as long as he was alive, that vixen would never set foot in his house.
Benny came up with a compromise.
He wouldn’t divorce me, keeping me around to appease his parents.
But he would give Serena all the perks of being his wife, short of a marriage certificate.
That day was the tenth day after Sophie was born.
I, who had always let Benny walk all over me, ripped out my IV, grabbed the fruit knife, and without a second thought, plunged it into my own abdomen.
Marrying Benny was my mistake. I was young, foolishly in love, an absolute idiot.
His cheating, his treating me like a maid—I deserved it all.
But I would rather die than let him ruin my daughter’s life.
Blood pooled on the floor.
Benny froze.
He was panicked, terrified, guilt-ridden.
He pressed his hands to my stomach, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.
“Luna, don’t die.”
3
I was stubborn.
If he didn’t agree to a divorce and give me full custody of our daughter, I would kill myself.
If they saved me, I’d do it again, until I was dead for good.
If I died, his father would make Serena’s life a living hell.
To protect Serena, Benny signed the divorce papers.
The day I left, he gave me one last instruction.
We had to keep the divorce a secret. On holidays, I had to come back and play the happy wife for his parents.
I said fine. I’d charge by the appearance. One thousand dollars a pop.
For Benny, the man I would “rather die than be with,” to have to turn around and pay me—it was a blow to his pride.
His face contorted in a sneer.
“Don’t you have any feelings for me at all? Is money all you care about? Fine. I won’t give you a single cent. I’ll wait for you to come crawling back, broke and begging.”
He was a man of his word.
The “financial compensation” mentioned in the divorce agreement? I never saw a dime of it.
I did live a life of poverty, but I got back on my feet, all by myself. I never once went back to him.
Thinking back, Benny pressed his fingers to his temples.
“I was just angry. A single mother and a child… of course I wouldn’t have actually abandoned you.”
“But your angry words were my life for the past four years.”
Benny was silenced.
He looked around the room again. The furniture wasn’t cheap, but it was far from luxurious.
A single pair of Serena’s socks cost a few hundred dollars. The clothes I was wearing were years old.
Benny picked up his phone and called his secretary, Mr. Quinn.
“Mr. Young… I mean, Benny. What can I do for you?”
With a new boss in charge, Mr. Quinn was still adjusting.
Benny’s voice took on its old authoritative tone. “Four years ago, I asked you to buy a house in The Crestwood Estates and set aside an eighty-million-dollar settlement. Did you deliver it to my ex-wife personally?”
Eighty million? That would have been enough for Sophie and me to live comfortably for the rest of our lives.
Mr. Quinn hesitated. “Well… I think you’ll have to ask Ms. Serena about that…”
Her again.
A wave of pure hatred washed over me.
Serena already had so much. If she dared to touch what belonged to Sophie, I would make her regret it.
At seven o’clock, I brought a Lamb-themed cake to the table.
Sophie squealed with delight.
“Wow, Mommy, you’re amazing! I love you so much!”
My phone buzzed with messages from other parents in her class.
“Did your mom make that herself? It looks better than the custom one I ordered from a bakery! I’m so jealous!”
“Sophie’s mom is so talented. She can do fox makeup, make handmade bags, carve fruit… and now she makes beautiful cakes too…”
In the past four years, I’d done every odd job imaginable to make ends meet, turning myself into a jack-of-all-trades out of sheer necessity.
Sophie carefully cut the cake, giving the first piece to me and the second to Benny.
“Daddy, this is the first birthday you’ve ever spent with me. I’m so, so happy.”
Benny, who had been staring blankly at his phone, snapped back to reality and accepted the cake with exaggerated enthusiasm.
I knew what he was thinking about.
Today was also Serena’s birthday.
In all the years past, he had always celebrated with her.
It was no coincidence that my daughter and my rival shared a birthday.
When I was nine months pregnant, Serena got tired of just taunting me with texts and photos.
Or mailing me the free samples that came with the luxury goods Benny bought her.
She came to the hospital to provoke me in person.
It was her birthday, and Benny had just given her an engagement ring, promising her the wedding of the century.
She came to invite me and my unborn child to attend.
The rage and stress sent me into premature labor.
I hemorrhaged, and we both nearly died.
For the first time, Benny scolded Serena.
Serena’s eyes filled with tears. “I just wanted to be with you, out in the open…”
Benny’s heart melted, and he pulled her into his arms.
“Shh, I’m keeping her around to protect you.”
Just on the other side of the wall, I was fighting for my life in the delivery room.
All I felt was disgust and despair.
4
The pain was a blade twisting in my soul.
So now, hearing Benny was bankrupt, all I could think was that he deserved it.
After the cake, I tried to kick him out.
Benny looked at me pitifully. “I have nowhere to go.”
I shoved him out the door with all my strength.
“Not my problem. Go find her.”
The hallway light flickered on, then off.
Benny stood outside my door for a long time.
Then his body slid down against the door, his head sinking in defeat.
In truth, Serena was the first person he had gone to.
Benny had thought to himself, I’ve spoiled Serena for four years, given her anything she ever wanted.
When she heard he was in trouble, she would surely be frantic, ready to do anything for him.
If she was willing to sell just one of the properties he’d bought her, she would pass his test.
He couldn’t bear to make it too hard on her.
But when Serena saw him in his blue-collar getup, she couldn’t hide her disgust.
A needle pricked the man’s heart.
Serena quickly masked it with a smile and welcomed him in.
She figured this was all part of some elaborate birthday surprise.
Pretend to be broke, then reveal the real gift.
But a moment later, she saw a message in the group chat she shared with Benny’s wealthy friends.
“The Young family is done for. Even his parents fled the country overnight.”
“He sold the company and still owes a billion. Benny will be paying that off for the rest of his life.”
“Not necessarily. He bought Serena all those houses and luxury goods. She can sell them to pay it off. But then, she’ll have to live a simple life with him.”
Someone remembered that Serena was in the chat.
Another friend cursed.
She was immediately kicked from the group.
Serena’s eyes went wide.
It was so brutally real.
Before, it was always “Serena, darling,” “our girl.”
Now, they couldn’t even kick her out without a curse word.
A storm was coming, and she had to save herself.
“Your family is bankrupt? What does that have to do with me? Do we have a marriage license? Do your parents even accept me? Why should I have to sell my houses?”
Benny’s heart hammered in his chest. He thought he must have misheard.
His sweet, understanding girlfriend… how could she suddenly sound like this?
“Serena, what are you saying? Besides a piece of paper, what haven’t I given you? I practically tore out my own heart for you. I gave up my wife and child for you.”
Benny thought that would appeal to her sense of loyalty.
He was wrong. Serena just scoffed.
“You gave me those things willingly. I’ve never heard of anyone asking for gifts back. I slept with you for four years. You didn’t expect to get that for free, did you?”
“Besides…”
Seeing the raw fury in Benny’s eyes, Serena’s contempt grew.
“A man who can abandon his own wife and child… you really think I’d want a man like that?”
“Your wife nearly died in childbirth, and you didn’t care. Who knows if there will be a fourth or a fifth woman down the line? Who’s to say you wouldn’t do the same to me?”
Benny staggered, barely able to stand, but he had no rebuttal.
Serena fiddled with her phone. “Well, you’re useless to me now. So here’s a little parting gift. I’ll tell you why your wife was so desperate to divorce you.”
“From the first time you slept with me, I sent her everything. Photos of our dates, our time in bed, the gifts you bought me. I sent it all.”
“She really put up with it for a long time. It took me pushing her into premature labor for her to finally snap. I’m not a fool like her. I would never be your free maid, your baby-making machine…”
A bolt of lightning seared through Benny’s brain.
So, Luna had given him chances. So many chances.
Serena dropped the act completely. “Benny, darling. I scraped your social media clean the day I started at the company. I knew all your likes and dislikes. What you thought was a soul connection was just me doing my homework… honestly, it was exhausting trying to keep you entertained…”
Benny couldn’t take it anymore. He lunged forward and wrapped his hands around her throat, as if to strangle the life out of her.
“You… you were only after my money! You used my love! You destroyed my marriage! You nearly cost me my child! My father was right, you’re a disease!”
Before he could finish, security guards, summoned by Serena, dragged him away and threw him out of the building.
It was the end of June, but Benny was shivering uncontrollably.
Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a notification from the group chat named “Her True Heart.”
The same friends from before had created a private chat to check on the results of their game.
“Benny, bro, we just put on a hell of a show. Is Serena scrambling to sell a house to save you?”
Benny typed back with furious thumbs: “Her name is Luna, and I’m going to win her back.”
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On our wedding anniversary, I put on lingerie and waited for Ethan to come home.
I waited from morning until late at night, until a news notification popped up.
“Movie star Ethan Lucas found dead after jumping from hotel rooftop, confirmed to be a suicide for love following actress Stella Summers.”
“Last words: ‘My greatest regret in this life is not being with Stella. If there’s a next life, I will definitely marry Stella.’”
Not a single word about me.
Later, fans said I drove the Best Actor to his death.
They blocked my door and threw red paint. They shoved me. They cursed at me.
I was pushed down the steps and hit my head on the stone slab.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in the dressing room backstage at a film festival.
In the mirror was my twenty-five-year-old self, having just won Best Screenwriter.
My eyes reddened.
In this life, I would live for myself.
The door was pushed open.
Ethan Lucas stood before me in the dark suit he’d worn to accept his award. Twenty-six years old, with features so handsome they were almost sharp.
His expression softened slightly when he saw me, and a smile touched his lips.
“Evelyn, congratulations. You won Best Screenwriter.”
I nodded slightly.
“Why don’t you come in and sit?”
“No, I’m in a hurry.”
He froze for a moment.
In my past life, I never refused him, even when he called at 3 AM demanding I revise the seventeenth draft.
“Then I’ll come out to talk to you.”
He stepped forward and deliberately lowered his voice.
“I know you also remember our past life.”
Wind swept in from the end of the corridor. I didn’t respond.
“This lifetime will be different. Everything I owed you, I’ll make up for it all.”
When he said this, there was light in his eyes, so sincere you’d almost believe him.
But I remembered that in our past life, he’d said similar things during our first year of marriage.
“I can’t focus on filming when you’re not with me,” so I gave up that international co-production project and flew with him to Vancouver.
Only later did I learn he didn’t need my company. He needed me to free up my hands to help Stella revise that scene she could never get right.
“Thank you for the kind thought, but it’s not necessary.”
I took half a step back.
At that moment, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from inside the lounge, and Stella Summers walked out.
As soon as she saw me, she smiled and opened her arms wide.
“Evelyn!”
The hug was perfectly measured, and when she released me, she naturally hooked her arm through mine.
“Your acceptance speech was amazing! I was watching the livestream inside and cried so hard my makeup ran, you know?”
“That monologue from the female lead was written like it was custom-made for me. If I could ever play one of your characters someday, my life would be complete.”
The exact same lines.
In my past life, she’d said the same thing, and then I spent fifty years creating over a dozen roles custom-tailored for her. She put her name on them and won two Best Actress awards.
Right up until I died, everyone in the industry thought those works came from Stella Summers’s hand.
“Stella, you’re very talented. You don’t need my scripts to win awards.”
I pulled my arm free.
Stella’s smile froze for half a beat.
She quickly glanced at Ethan, and her voice grew even softer.
“Evelyn is too modest. Ethan said so too–he wants you to write his next project. The three of us working together would be perfect.”
When she said this, she placed herself and Ethan side by side in the front, with me as the attached third party.
The best positions were always theirs. I was just a bonus item.
“We’ll talk about it later. I’m leaving now.”
I turned and walked toward the other end of the corridor.
Silence followed for a few seconds.
Then Stella’s voice came through, lowered.
“What’s wrong with her? Does she also remember the past life?”
Ethan’s tone was light, as if amused.
“It’s nothing. She won’t go far. She never goes far.”
Three days after the film festival ended, I received an invitation from a French production company.
They’d seen my award-winning work and wanted to collaborate on a cross-border crime thriller.
This was the project I’d given up in my past life. I’d remembered the producer’s name for a full fifty years.
In that life, it had won Stella an international critics’ award, with Stella Summers listed in the screenwriter credits.
While I was reviewing the contract in my studio, my phone lit up.
Ethan Lucas.
“Are you free tonight? There’s something I want to discuss with you in person.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll know when you get here.”
I didn’t go.
He called three more times.
The fourth call came from Stella’s number.
“Evelyn, why aren’t you answering Ethan’s calls? He’s so worried.”
“I’m busy.”
“Busy with what? Did you take that foreign project?”
Her tone was as light as if she were asking what I’d had for dinner.
“Evelyn, is that kind of small-team project really worth your time? Ethan has a major production, Director Marcus Kane’s project of the year. Everyone’s fighting for it.”
“He said this script can only be written by you.”
A pause.
“And if you go to France, who will help me with my lines? Remember that crying scene? I revised it eight times before getting it right. Only the version you revised could I actually perform.”
In my past life, the year I was pregnant, she’d said the exact same thing.
“Evelyn, if you leave, no one can revise my scripts. If I don’t perform well, he’ll be disappointed.”
That time, I’d turned down a major director’s invitation.
“You can find other screenwriters. There are plenty of good ones.”
The other end of the line went silent for a long time.
Stella’s voice suddenly carried a note of grievance.
“Evelyn, you’ve changed. You weren’t like this before.”
“Before, I gave up too much for you two.”
“Gave up? What do you mean? Aren’t we good friends? Isn’t it normal for friends to help each other?”
She genuinely thought it was justified.
I hung up.
At eleven that night, someone knocked on my studio door.
Ethan stood outside, his suit jacket draped over his forearm, looking like he’d just rushed over from some event.
“Since you won’t answer your phone, I had to come in person.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I have my ways.”
He leaned against the doorframe, his expression mild.
“I looked into the French project. The production team there isn’t mature. It’s too risky for you to go alone.”
“That’s not your concern.”
“I’m not concerned–I just don’t want you wasting your time.”
He looked at me, his tone slowing.
“Stay domestic and work with me. If you write the script for Marcus Kane’s film, winning an award is a sure thing.”
“I don’t need to win awards through you.”
His expression cracked slightly, like he’d been stung, but he quickly recovered that composed smile.
“Still upset. That’s okay. I’ll wait for you to come around.”
He pulled a business card from his pocket and placed it on the table.
It bore his management company’s logo and a title I’d never seen before: Associate Producer.
He’d already positioned me as a piece on his chessboard. He just hadn’t informed me yet.
“By the way, I already spoke to Marcus Kane, told him you’d write this script.”
I looked up at him.
“You said what?”
“I secured you a credited screenwriter position. The terms are very good.”
He said it casually, as if notifying me of something already decided.
I didn’t ask if he’d consulted me.
In my past life, he never asked either.
When he needed me, he arranged everything. When he didn’t, he wouldn’t even make a phone call.
“You can decline it for me.”
He paused as he pulled the door open to leave, then looked back at me.
“You won’t actually leave this industry. You can’t leave here, and you can’t leave me.”
The door closed.
The business card still sat on the table.
As I picked it up to throw in the trash, my phone vibrated.
A number I’d saved long ago but never dialed sent me a message.
“Evelyn, I’m in France and happen to know the producer you mentioned. If you need help, you can contact me. Vincent Gould.”
Two weeks later, I attended an industry gala with the initial draft of the French project.
Everyone in the industry knew I’d won Best Screenwriter, and quite a few directors and producers came over to hand me their cards.
I was discussing a project with Director Marcus Kane when Ethan Lucas emerged from the crowd.
He held two glasses of champagne and naturally handed one to me.
“Director Kane, this is Evelyn Shaw. I mentioned her to you before.”
Marcus Kane nodded.
“So you’re this year’s Best Screenwriter. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
Ethan jumped in quickly.
“She does write well, but she’s quite emotional. For major projects, she needs someone to help her control the pacing.”
Marcus Kane glanced at the distance between the two of us.
“Are you two together?”
“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
He answered the question for me, his tone as certain as if announcing a news item.
I put the champagne glass back in his hand.
“Director Kane, Ethan and I are just colleagues. His words don’t represent me.”
Ethan stood there holding two glasses of wine, his expression frozen for two seconds.
Marcus Kane laughed awkwardly.
Stella appeared at that moment.
She wore a red slit gown that drew every eye in the room. She walked over and naturally hooked her arm through Ethan’s, giving Marcus Kane a sweet smile.
“Hello, Director Kane. Oh, Evelyn’s here too.”
Her gaze swept over the folder of my initial draft, and her eyes lit up.
“Evelyn, did you write something new? Can I take a look?”
I closed the folder.
“This is my own project.”
Stella wasn’t affected by my attitude. She turned to face Marcus Kane.
“Director Kane, did you know? A lot of the inspiration for Evelyn’s award-winning work actually came from discussions between Ethan and me. The three of us have always been a team–she handles the writing, I handle the acting, and Ethan handles production supervision.”
Ethan nodded beside her.
“That’s right. We’re a complete unit.”
I stood there feeling like people were propping me up on both sides.
It was the same in my past life. When my scripts won awards, they said it was team collaboration. When my creativity was recognized, they said it was the result of collective discussion.
Until eventually everyone thought I was just a ghostwriting tool.
Marcus Kane looked hesitant.
“So is this award-winning work a collaboration or an independent creation?”
Stella’s eyes curved in a smile.
“How should I put it? Every female lead in there has my shadow. You could say she wrote them based on me.”
I spoke up.
“No. Those characters have nothing to do with you.”
As my words fell, the conversations at several nearby tables quieted for half a beat.
Stella’s smile froze on her face.
Ethan put down his wine glass and stepped toward me.
“Evelyn, there’s no need to split hairs like this on an occasion like this.”
“Facts are facts. Every single word of those scripts, from the first to the last, was written by me alone.”
He clenched his fist then released it, saying in a volume only I could hear:
“Are you planning to offend everyone tonight?”
Stella’s eyes had already reddened.
Her tears fell at just the right moment–not enough to ruin her makeup, but enough to make people nearby feel sorry for her.
“Evelyn, I’m not trying to steal your credit. I just thought since our relationship is so good, we didn’t need to divide things so clearly.”
Ethan reflexively handed her a tissue.
Everyone was watching the three of us, like watching a play.
I picked up my folder and turned to leave.
As I reached the door, my phone vibrated.
Vincent Gould ‘s assistant had sent a message: “Evelyn, the French production company has confirmed the funding plan. Also, Vincent would like to meet with you next week.”
A hand reached from the side and darkened my phone screen.
It was Ethan.
His gaze swept over the last few words of that message, and his face darkened.
“Vincent Gould? What’s your relationship with him?”
“A relationship that’s none of your business.”
He grabbed my wrist.
“Evelyn, stay away from people like that from now on. You’re a screenwriter, not a businesswoman. Don’t let capital lead you around by the nose.”
I looked down at his fingers.
“Ethan, let go.”
He slowly released his grip.
The veins on his knuckles were still jumping.
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
I rubbed my wrist and walked toward the exit.
Stella’s shrill voice chased after me from behind.
“Evelyn, don’t blame Ethan. He’s really just worried about you. We’re all doing this for your own good–why can’t you understand?”
She was crying beautifully. I didn’t acknowledge her.
The next day, a video of Stella crying at the gala was posted online.
The title read: “Best Screenwriter Evelyn Shaw Publicly Humiliates Best Actress Stella Summers.”
The comments flooded in like a tide.
“What kind of person makes someone as gentle as Stella cry?”
“Evelyn Shaw has such a terrible personality, no wonder no one in the industry works with her.”
In the video, Stella’s tears were beautiful, her grievance and innocence perfectly calibrated.
The shot of Ethan handing her a tissue was also clipped out, and the comments section had already started shipping them as a couple.
Meanwhile, my line “Those characters have nothing to do with you” was cut out separately and looped with background music.
No one clipped the context of Stella saying “she writes, I act.”
No one clipped Ethan’s original words: “We’re a complete unit.”
What took fifty years to see clearly in my past life took only two weeks in this one.
On the third day after the controversy erupted, the French production company called.
“Evelyn, someone sent us a formal letter claiming your award-winning work allegedly used Stella Summers’s creative ideas and involves copyright disputes.”
I gripped my phone tight.
“Who sent it?”
“It’s signed by Ethan Lucas’s studio.”
I sat at my desk, my fingers ice-cold.
The French project was suspended.
When Ethan came to find me that afternoon, I was organizing contracts on my desk.
He pushed the door open, scanned the room, and saw documents scattered across the floor.
“Feeling better now?”
I ignored him.
“I suppressed a few trending topics about the gala incident for you, but you should at least apologize to Stella. She’s petty–just sweet-talk her a bit and it’ll blow over.”
He leaned against the sofa armrest, his tone like he was arranging a household matter.
I looked up.
“The French production company received a complaint letter from your studio.”
He didn’t deny it.
“That project isn’t right for you.”
“So you made the decision for me.”
“I’m helping you cut your losses. The production team there isn’t reliable. The risk of you going alone is too high. I’m not comfortable with it.”
When he said “not comfortable,” it was with a tone of natural authority, as if he had the right to dictate my life.
He was the same in my past life.
“Someone in the family has to sacrifice, and you need rest more than I do.”
Said with consideration and tenderness, executed without hesitation.
Then my pen became a spatula, and my name became an appendage to his.
“Ethan, listen carefully. We were never together, and we never will be. My scripts, my projects, my life–they have nothing to do with you.”
He stood up and braced both hands on the desk edge, his gaze finally turning dark.
“Evelyn, calm down. You think you can write anything without me? I opened half the doors in this industry for you.”
“No. You just stood inside the doors I pushed open and took credit.”
His face instantly turned ugly.
The sound of hurried high heels came from the doorway, and Stella rushed in.
Her eyes were red-rimmed as she grabbed my hand.
“Evelyn, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know the video would blow up like that. Are you angry at me? You can’t leave. If you leave, what about my next project? The director said if it’s not your script, he won’t use me.”
She spoke while crying.
“I really can’t perform what other people write. Only the characters you create can I win awards with.”
I looked at her tears, then at Ethan’s dark expression.
Suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
In my past life, it was in these tears and “it’s all for your own good” that I gradually lost myself, step by step.
“Stella, you’re a Best Actress. You can play any role. Ethan, you’re a Best Actor. You don’t need my scripts. The only person who needs to extract themselves from this relationship is me.”
I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
Ethan blocked my path.
“You can’t leave. You think there’s anyone out there who understands you better than I do? That Vincent Gould you’re looking for–do you think he’s interested in your talent or your face?”
I looked up into his eyes.
“Guess who I’ll choose.”
He was pinned in place by that sentence.
I walked around him and pushed the door open.
When I reached the middle of the corridor, I heard a phone vibrate behind me.
Not mine.
From Ethan’s pocket.
I didn’t turn back, because I knew what that notification was.
Ten minutes ago, I’d personally pressed the share button on that message.
His voice chased after me from behind, carrying a final note of certainty.
“Just how far are you going to take this tantrum?”
I stopped at the end of the corridor, waving my phone.
“Ethan, please check the headlines. I already have a husband. Please stop pestering me from now on.”
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On my 29th birthday, Ethan White was once again called away by a single phone call from his adopted daughter, Lillian Lynn.
Furious, I posted on Ins with privacy settings so only he could see it—practically a marriage ultimatum.
“Goal: Get married before I turn 30!”
The next second, a provocative message from Lillian popped up.
A messy hotel bed, torn black stockings scattered among a pile of used condoms.
The attached video showed a man’s silhouette showering behind frosted glass—a figure I’d recognize even with my eyes closed.
He finally couldn’t resist. He’d slept with his own adopted daughter.
The moment my phone screen went dark, the world fell silent except for my heartbeat.
I stared at the mango cake on the table with a slice missing, and suddenly laughed.
He’d left in such a rush earlier that I didn’t even get to tell him I was allergic to mangoes.
But in nearly ten years together, he could remember Lillian’s lactose intolerance yet couldn’t remember my mango allergy.
Was this my failure, or had he simply stopped loving me long ago?
Unwillingness grew wild like weeds in my chest.
I grabbed my car keys and rushed out the door.
I set the GPS for New York’s most exclusive private club.
Ethan had mentioned this morning that a friend was returning to the country tonight, and he’d be there for a welcome dinner.
Outside the private room, the heavy glass door stood slightly ajar. Noise and the smell of smoke and alcohol drifted out.
Just as I was about to push the door open, a familiar voice made my hand freeze mid-air.
It was Ethan’s best friend, Connor Zeller.
The man’s voice carried the excitement of alcohol: “Ethan, you just left Natalie hanging to go comfort your adopted daughter. Aren’t you afraid she’ll blow up?”
Ethan’s lazy voice responded with its usual carelessness:
“Natalie?”
He chuckled lightly before continuing: “She’s sensible and knows her boundaries. She won’t make a fuss over these trivial matters.”
My heart plummeted straight down.
See, he understood me so well.
Understood my weaknesses, my tendency to give in.
“But Lillian is different!”
His tone suddenly turned serious, even carrying a hint of helpless indulgence.
“She’s young and immature. If I don’t indulge her a bit, she might really do something I’d regret for the rest of my life.”
Connor clicked his tongue, his tone ambiguous and drawn out: “So… you indulged her all the way into bed? Took the girl’s first time?”
As soon as the words fell, knowing laughter erupted from inside the room.
Ethan took a sip of his drink, speaking as if it were perfectly natural: “She attracts too much attention. So many eyes in our circle are on her.”
“If some clueless guy took advantage of her, how could I face Mr. Lynn ‘s deathbed request?”
“Rather than let someone else deceive her, I might as well watch over her myself.”
Making infidelity sound so refreshingly noble.
Connor lit a cigarette, laughing through the haze: “Holy shit! But aren’t you afraid Natalie will find out? That she’ll turn on you?”
“Her!”
Ethan snorted with laughter, his tone absolutely certain.
“She’s almost thirty. Besides me, who else could she find?”
The air went quiet for a moment.
As if suddenly remembering something, he added casually: “Although Natalie’s only been with me…”
“Whether I was her first, heh, that’s really hard to say!”
“Bang–!”
Something exploded in my brain, leaving it completely blank.
Connor immediately caught on knowingly: “Right, right! That whole thing with Mr. Hughes back then!”
“Although Natalie insists nothing happened, a man and woman alone in a private room for that long, her clothes all torn up—who really knows?”
Someone else immediately chimed in with a snide remark: “Medical technology these days is so advanced, getting a hymen repaired is nothing.”
“If you ask me, Ethan, you shouldn’t have gotten together with her in the first place!”
Another voice carried fawning agreement, delivering the ultimate verdict:
“When it comes to women, you need someone like Lillian—grew up under your nose since she was fifteen, completely transparent.”
“Home-grown is cleaner than those wild things with unknown backgrounds!”
Ethan finally spoke up to interrupt, his tone unreadable but carrying a trace of barely perceptible impatience:
“Enough, let’s not talk about her anymore.”
Outside the door, I felt like I’d fallen into an icy abyss.
I never imagined this was how Ethan saw me.
My memory violently dragged me back ten years to that chaotic night.
Kira Yarrow, who had always helped me, was working part-time at a club when she was cornered in a private room by Mr. Hughes and his group.
Over the phone, she was crying so hard she could barely breathe.
When I burst in, she was curled up in a corner, her dress already torn beyond recognition.
Mr. Hughes ‘s greasy hand was reaching toward her.
Without thinking, I grabbed an empty bottle from the table and smashed it over his lackey’s head.
After a dull thud, the lackey went down.
Mr. Hughes slapped me across the face in return, the sting sharp and hot.
“Bitch dares to fight back?”
He grabbed my hair and dragged me across the floor. My scalp felt like it was splitting open.
But when fear reaches its peak, it somehow births courage.
I don’t know where the strength came from, but I kicked him right in his groin.
The pain made him release me.
I lunged at him, my fists raining down like hail.
Mr. Hughes ended up sprawled on the ground groaning.
When Kira arrived with Ethan, they found me looking like a “shrew.”
Disheveled clothes, messy hair, but having beaten a pig-like man into begging for mercy.
What was Ethan’s expression then?
Confused, shocked, then his lips slowly curved up, his eyes shining remarkably bright.
On the way to the police station for our statements, he drove with his mouth constantly turned up.
“Hey, you’re Natalie Yates, right?”
“You look like a little white rabbit, but how can you be so fierce when you fight?”
“Which school do you go to? Can I get your contact info?”
I was so tired my eyelids were fighting each other, and I snapped back irritably: “You want a beating too?”
He didn’t get angry. Instead, he laughed softly.
At the police station, the old officer looked at me, his brow furrowed tight.
“Young lady, you’ve got some guts! Going in there alone?”
“Two grown men on the other side—weren’t you afraid of getting killed?”
I forced a smile, my face aching terribly:
“I’m an orphan with no parents. My life’s worthless.”
“If it weren’t for Kira, I don’t know how many times I would’ve died already.”
“Anyone who touches her, I’ll fight to the death.”
As my words fell, the young officer taking notes paused his pen.
The old officer sighed and said nothing more.
Beside me, Ethan, who had been silent, suddenly looked at me.
The playfulness and interest in his eyes instantly faded.
Replaced by a complex emotion.
I didn’t understand it then.
Only later did I realize—it was called heartache.
Outside the police station, the late-night wind carried a chill.
I shivered.
Kira had been taken to the hospital first by Ethan’s friend. On the empty street, only Ethan and I remained.
He suddenly reached out and pulled me into a corner against the wall.
“Natalie Yates.” He lowered his head, his breath mixed with a faint tobacco scent brushing my bangs.
“Be with me.”
I looked up at him, my face expressionless.
I’d seen too many of these games rich people played on a whim.
Seeing my silence, he leaned in closer, his tone alluring: “I have money and power. I can walk sideways in New York.”
“Be with me, and no one will dare touch you again—not you, not Kira.”
“Maybe—” he paused, his gaze deep, “I can even give you a home.”
A home.
Those words were like a tiny needle, gently piercing the softest part of my heart.
I looked at his face drawing nearer and didn’t pull back.
Instead, I stood on tiptoe and moved toward him first.
Our breaths mingled. He clearly hadn’t expected me to do this, his body stiffening slightly.
My lips nearly touched his ear as I spoke, my voice soft but every word clear: “Does Mr. White have money to burn?”
“Then how about helping me win the lawsuit against Mr. Hughes first.”
“Honestly, the little money I make from part-time work is barely enough to keep me alive!”
The air went quiet for a long moment.
Ethan stared at me, then suddenly smiled.
Not the playful smile from the car earlier, but one tinged with the excitement of being challenged.
One hand still braced against the wall, his other suddenly slipped into my pants pocket.
The movement was so fast I couldn’t react.
His fingertips brushed against my thigh through the thin fabric, sending an unfamiliar shiver through me.
He pulled out my old phone with its cracked screen and smoothly entered a string of numbers.
“The lawyer will contact you tomorrow!”
He released me and walked toward his flashy sports car, waving without turning back.
“Keep up, little rabbit. Let’s get you patched up.”
The night wind lifted the hem of his clothes. It all felt like yesterday.
The memories receded like a tide.
The air conditioning in the hallway cut across my face like a knife.
Ten years.
He had lured me with the promise of “home,” worn down my claws with his protection.
And in the end, joined others in mocking my background, questioning my “purity.”
I braced myself against the cold wall and slowly stood upright.
Taking one last glance at the man chatting and laughing at the head of the table, I tossed the diamond ring on my hand into the trash without hesitation.
Ethan White, you let go first.
The sound of the ring falling into the trash was swallowed by the noise from the private room.
I turned and left, my steps unsteady.
Driving home, my vision was badly blurred.
Ten years could really be such a joke.
Suddenly, a child rushed out from the roadside.
I jerked the steering wheel and slammed the brakes.
The car spun out of control and crashed into a black Maybach in the adjacent lane.
“Bang–”
After the loud crash, the world went quiet for a second.
My forehead hit the steering wheel with a dull pain.
I wiped my face—it was wet. I couldn’t tell if it was tears or sweat.
Pushing the door open, my legs were so weak I nearly collapsed.
I struggled toward the frightened, crying boy.
“Baby, don’t be scared.” I crouched down, trying to keep my voice steady, wanting to check if he was hurt.
My fingers hadn’t even touched the child’s clothes.
A dark figure rushed over!
The burly man with a vicious look didn’t ask any questions before raising his foot to kick me!
The kick was hard and brutal. I had no time to dodge.
A cry of pain caught in my throat as I fell backward uncontrollably, my elbows and knees slamming hard against the rough concrete.
Searing pain instantly shot through my entire body.
The man wasn’t done. He pointed at me, cursing with spit flying.
“Think you’re hot shit driving a car?”
“Pay up! My son’s traumatized! A hundred thousand or you’re not leaving today!”
He raised his foot as if to hit me again.
A figure blocked my path, grabbing the man’s wrist and flinging him backward.
“This is a society of laws. Attacking someone in the street—do you want to go to jail?” The cold voice carried undeniable authority.
It was the Maybach’s owner.
The man helped me up. His gaze fell on my pale face and the blood at the corner of my mouth, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
“Are you alright?”
Using his support to steady myself and trying to calm my breathing, I looked at his car.
“I’m sorry, it’s entirely my fault. I’ll compensate for your vehicle damages.”
The fat man, seeing this, rolled his eyes and immediately changed targets.
“Think you’re something ’cause you drive a Maybach! She hit my son—she owes me too! A hundred thousand! Not a penny less!”
I took a deep breath, suppressing the metallic taste in my throat.
I raised my hand and tucked my disheveled hair behind my ear.
When I looked up again, my gaze had turned cold.
“What I owe, I’ll pay. Not a penny less.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear.
“But that kick you just gave me constitutes intentional assault!”
I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 directly.
The screen lit up.
The man’s face changed instantly. He suddenly shoved through the onlookers, abandoned the child, and bolted.
The world finally went quiet.
Fighting the increasingly obvious sinking sensation in my abdomen, I walked over to the still-sobbing boy.
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I reached out to wipe away his tears.
My fingertip had just touched his cold little face when everything went black.
The last thing I felt was my body falling forward beyond my control.
I woke up to the smell of disinfectant.
My lower abdomen throbbed with a clear, dragging pain.
“Miss, you had a miscarriage.” The nurse’s words were calm, like she was commenting on the weather.
I blinked at the white ceiling.
Strange—it wasn’t the earth-shattering devastation I’d imagined.
Maybe I’d been hurt too much and gone numb.
Or maybe that man’s kick had also destroyed my last pathetic hope for Ethan White.
The hospital room door was gently pushed open.
It was the Maybach’s owner.
The man held my examination report, his brow tightly furrowed.
“You’re awake?” His voice was low, carrying a trace of barely perceptible remorse. “How do you feel?”
“Thank you!” My voice came out hoarse and dry.
He poured a glass of warm water and handed it to me.
The gesture was gentlemanly, maintaining just the right distance.
“The police came by to say that child was abducted from a mall this afternoon. They thanked you for inadvertently helping them out.”
I pulled at the corner of my mouth without speaking.
“That man wasn’t caught.” He paused, looking at me.
“Do you… need to contact family?”
Family?
Ethan?
Tell him he might have once had a child, but not anymore?
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“No need.”
Silence spread through the hospital room.
The pain in my lower abdomen came in waves, like a dull knife twisting inside.
But worse than the physical pain was the enormous hole in my heart.
That little life I hadn’t even had time to anticipate before losing.
Finally, when I was at my most wretched and desperate, the only thing that truly belonged to me.
Also gone.
“I’ve already paid the medical expenses.” The man’s voice sounded again, carrying an non-negotiable tone. “You need to rest.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
There was no pity in his eyes, only a sense of responsibility based on principle.
“That’s not necessary.” I refused decisively. “I’ll take responsibility for what I should bear. The medical expenses and car damages—I’ll settle everything once I’m discharged.”
He looked at me, didn’t insist further, and only left a business card.
The door closed gently.
I was alone in the hospital room again.
Dawn was breaking outside the window.
Enduring the pain, I slowly sat up. I reached for my phone on the bedside table. The screen was still cracked but still functional.
I opened Ethan’s chat interface.
The last message stopped at his text: “Family dinner tonight, don’t be late.”
I stared at those words for a long time.
Then my finger moved.
Block, delete, all in one fluid motion.
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In the seventh year of my marriage to Ethan, he spared no effort searching the entire country for renowned doctors to cure my muteness and hearing loss.
The last time, he found an extremely toxic folk remedy and drank it himself to test it for me.
After the poison took effect, he was in emergency care for three days and three nights, and permanently lost his ability to have children.
Lying in bed with tubes covering his body, he still comforted me gently.
“As long as you can speak again, losing anything is worth it.”
“Besides, we already have one child. I’m content.”
I knelt by his hospital bed crying, thinking I had found true love.
But later,
Wearing a cleaning uniform, I stood at the hotel front desk and personally checked Ethan and his mistress into a king-sized room.
They even asked me to deliver five boxes of condoms to them.
This time, I made up my mind to say those words myself.
“Let’s get divorced.”
“A king room, please. Thank you.”
The woman wore flaming red lipstick, her cleavage on full display.
She turned her head and shot a flirtatious smile at the man sitting on the lobby sofa.
I followed her gaze to see a man bundled up tightly.
The wedding ring on his finger was identical to Ethan’s.
My heart skipped a beat as the woman handed over her ID.
When I saw Ethan’s name clearly, my heartbeat faltered, I forgot to breathe, and my whole body trembled with numbness.
My phone vibrated. It was a message from Ethan:
“Clara, I’m looking for a doctor for you. I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.”
In disbelief, I dialed his number with shaking hands.
I watched as Ethan glanced over quickly, then immediately hung up.
He stuffed his phone back in his pocket, pulled the woman closer, and headed to the room.
His eyes held a tenderness I had never seen before.
My chest felt filled with shattered glass. Even breathing became agonizing.
“Are you blind?! What are you standing there for!”
My colleague Sarah from the front desk had returned.
She’d had a stomachache earlier and asked me to cover for her temporarily.
“What are you staring at, you mute? Go clean your toilets!”
She glared at me, then turned to answer the internal phone, her tone fawning as she nodded repeatedly.
“Yes, Mr. Lancaster, five boxes of ultra-thin condoms, correct?”
“No problem, please wait. I’ll send them right up!”
My mind exploded. I furrowed my brows and made a gesture.
Five?
Sarah rolled her eyes, her tone mocking.
“Look at you, so poor and sheltered. That was Mr. Lancaster on the phone!”
“During Christmas, he booked the presidential suite for an entire month straight.”
“That’s more than you could earn cleaning toilets for a lifetime–not even one day’s room rate.”
She leaned in close, lowering her voice mysteriously.
“That month, we had to change the sheets five or six times every night. The last cleaner got worked to death and quit.”
My eardrums buzzed. I recalled that Christmas, when Ethan went to remote areas to find doctors for me and never returned.
Our daughter Lily had a high fever in the middle of the night. I couldn’t get a cab and carried her to the hospital in the pouring rain.
By the time we arrived, she had developed acute pneumonia.
The doctor thrust a critical condition notice at me for signature, reproaching me.
“If you can’t speak, how can we communicate about her condition?”
I knelt on the floor, my hands shaking like a sieve, unable to write a single word.
Every second I blamed myself madly, hating that I had burdened my daughter.
A month later, Ethan finally came back.
As soon as he walked in, he held me tight, his eyes red as he apologized.
“I’m sorry, Clara. There was an avalanche in the mountains. I was trapped for a month…”
I buried myself in his shoulder, not doubting him at all, only feeling that I had burdened him.
I felt desperate and heartbroken, finding it all absurd.
So this wasn’t his first time lying to me.
It was just my first time discovering it.
I threw down my mop and immediately rushed home to pack my bags.
My daughter was beside me, constantly repeating “Daddy.”
Lily was six years old and suffered from severe autism.
My phone vibrated. A call from the rehabilitation center teacher.
“Hello, Lily’s mom. There’s a parent meeting tomorrow at 2 PM to discuss Lily’s follow-up treatment plan. Will you be available?”
I opened my mouth, making unclear sounds.
Silence fell on the other end.
“Hello? Lily’s mom, can you hear me?”
I tapped the screen hard, trying to respond.
“Um… maybe the signal’s bad. I’ll just call Lily’s dad directly. Last time he signed off on the treatment plan too, and he comes to the weekly training sessions. You don’t need to worry.”
The teacher hung up.
I stood there stunned, suddenly realizing that all of Lily’s rehabilitation training had been handled by Ethan.
Because I couldn’t even manage basic social interaction.
I could endure the suffering of being unable to speak, but Lily needed a father who could.
Tears as big as beans fell to the floor.
I suppressed my anger and put the luggage back.
Ethan had just come home.
As soon as he walked in, he picked up Lily, then went to the kitchen to prepare medicine for me.
Ethan brought the brewed medicine to me, blowing on it repeatedly.
“This prescription is very effective. Drink it for three months, and you’ll be able to speak.”
He smiled and brushed my hair aside. I instinctively dodged.
A flash of alertness crossed the man’s eyes, but his tone immediately softened.
“When you can speak again, the first thing you say should be ‘Clara,’ okay?”
I didn’t move, disgusted to the point of numbness.
That night, Ethan held me and slept soundly.
While I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep all night.
I thought back to eight years ago, when Ethan first took me to see a specialist. The consultation fee was $800.
He had just graduated then, with a salary of only $3,000.
His hands were shaking as he paid, but he told the doctor to treat me no matter the cost.
The day Lily was diagnosed with autism, I crouched on the ground crying silently.
He swore to me,
“Clara, don’t be afraid. Lily has me, and you have me too. No matter what illness it is, I’ll be with you both through the treatment.”
From then on, he became the model father praised by all the teachers at the rehabilitation center.
I closed my eyes, replaying it all over and over, tears soaking through the pillow, feeling both unwilling and resentful.
The next day, while I was cleaning a guest room, I received a complaint from a guest saying the hallway was too noisy, with a child crying constantly.
A bad feeling came over me.
I rushed toward the end of the corridor.
It was Lily.
She was collapsed outside a door, her little face covered with tears and snot.
Screaming “Daddy” hoarsely, repeating it over and over, her clenched little fists red and purple from pounding on the door.
I felt struck by lightning. I rushed forward and pulled my daughter tightly into my arms.
A note lay scattered on the floor:
“Lily, be good. Daddy will come out soon.”
When I saw the familiar handwriting, I instantly flew into a rage, wanting to rush in and skin him alive.
Intense splashing sounds came from inside the room.
A woman’s delicate moans and gasps continued.
“Ah… gentle, the child is still outside.”
“Who cares about that little idiot? What does she understand? Be good, lift your legs higher…”
A bone-chilling cold shot to the top of my head. I was shocked to the point of numbness.
Inside the door was endless pleasure.
Outside the door were a desperate, suffering mother and daughter.
I didn’t pound on the door.
A mute’s protest would only be a laughingstock to add to their pleasure.
I instinctively picked up Lily and ran home.
And sent Ethan a message:
“Come home immediately.”
When the man came home, he smelled of body wash.
Sweating profusely, he picked up Lily and shouted anxiously,
“Lily, how did you run home by yourself?!”
He was still performing enthusiastically.
I reached out and handed him the divorce papers.
Ethan’s expression showed great shock. He looked up sharply.
“Divorce?!”
He pressed me into his arms, his voice trembling with urgency.
“Clara, do you think you’re burdening me again? I’ve told you so many times, no matter what, I will never abandon you and Lily!”
His words sounded righteous but were utterly ironic.
I pushed him away forcefully and slapped him across the face.
Ethan looked completely incredulous.
After a moment of silence, he stared at the compensation amount on the divorce agreement, then pulled out his phone.
$1.88 million, transferred instantly.
He grabbed my wrist tightly, his eyes reddening.
“Money–I’ll give you however much you want. But we absolutely cannot divorce.”
His phone screen lit up. Ethan frowned and hung up directly.
“Something at the company. I’ll go handle it. You calm down.”
Then he left without looking back.
I picked up my phone, edited a text, and sent it to Marcus.
“I’ve saved enough money. I want to buy that special medicine that can make me speak again.”
He replied instantly: “The special medicine needs to be shipped from abroad. Half a month at the fastest. I’ll coordinate it for you.”
Marcus, my childhood friend.
He was an otolaryngologist at the hospital.
Two years ago he told me that a new biological drug from abroad had a 90% cure rate for my type of hearing loss and muteness.
Two million dollars per treatment course.
He said he would pay for it.
I flatly refused and didn’t tell Ethan either.
Not because I didn’t want treatment, but because I was afraid of crushing this family.
Now it seemed my worry was too unnecessary. This family had long since fallen apart.
During the days waiting for the medicine, Ethan was considerate to the extreme.
He would get up at dawn and wait in line for three hours to buy me the little cakes I loved.
He would insist on taking Lily to the rehabilitation center and patiently teach her to call me Mommy.
He would blow on the medicine until it was warm and feed it to me spoonful by spoonful.
I had seen what it looked like when he loved me, so I understood he was trying his best to perform love.
The medicine became increasingly bitter.
On a whim, I sent the medicine to Marcus for analysis.
When I learned the test results, Marcus panicked and asked anxiously,
“Long-term use of this medicine will severely damage the auditory nerves and worsen hearing loss and muteness. How long have you been drinking it?”
Five years.
I had drunk it for five whole years, not missing a single day.
Everything before me became blurred.
I was wrapped in bone-chilling cold, my clothes soaked with cold sweat.
The tenderness of my former bedmate had actually been pushing me into an irredeemable abyss.
I pulled myself together and persisted with treatment under Marcus’s professional rehabilitation.
Ethan knew nothing about all this.
I began practicing making sounds. My throat vibrated, producing weak and unclear sounds.
“Li…ly.”
When my daughter heard me speak for the first time, she threw herself tightly into my arms.
“Mommy!”
I wrapped my daughter in my embrace, tears pouring out.
I could finally speak up for myself and my daughter.
The next day, while I was doing rehabilitation exercises at home with Lily, Ethan’s mistress came straight to the door.
“Hello, I’m Vivian.”
After speaking, she walked right past me into the living room.
Vivian looked around, her face full of disdain, and spoke arrogantly.
“There are some things that Ethan is too soft-hearted to say to you. As his future wife, I have no choice but to take the trouble to say them myself.”
The woman took out a voice recorder and pressed play.
Ethan’s contemptuous, arrogant voice came through.
“She will never be able to speak again in this lifetime.”
“I watch her gesture in sign language every day, like a monkey. It’s really laughable.”
“She’s actually secretly working to save money for treatment, exhausting herself like a dog every day, and still can’t earn a fraction of what I make. She might as well be reborn as a dog–at least then she could bark a few times.”
I clenched my fists. My whole body trembled.
A surge of anger shot straight to my head.
Vivian stepped closer in her high heels, looking down at me condescendingly.
“Did you hear that, mute? You really think he’s been searching the world for medicine for you? Dream on! When he was supposedly looking for medicine, he was in bed serving me!”
Her eyes rolled, and she smiled even more arrogantly.
“Oh, right, there’s good news too. I’m pregnant, with Ethan’s baby.”
Vivian saw my stunned expression and became even more triumphant.
“You don’t really believe his manhood is broken, do you?”
The woman leaned close to my ear, enunciating each word.
“He lied to you because he finds you disgusting and hates that you gave birth to a waste of space. When he’s with me, eight times a night isn’t enough. More intense than you could ever imagine!”
After speaking, Vivian yanked my daughter out from behind me.
Her tone was vicious to the extreme, as she said through gritted teeth,
“Lily, do you know why your daddy doesn’t want you? Because you’re a burden! Your daddy said once my baby is born, he’ll send you to an orphanage! You know what an orphanage is? It’s where kids with no parents go. That’s where you’ll live from now on!”
Fortunately, Lily didn’t understand.
But she still sensed the malice and began hitting herself on the head with her fists, screaming in pain.
“Don’t touch my daughter!!”
I rushed forward and blocked Lily.
Then I grabbed Vivian by the throat and pressed her face against the wall.
“What are you doing! Let go of me!”
The woman screamed desperately, her manicured nails scratching several bloody marks on my face.
But I felt no pain at all.
I grabbed her hair tightly and shoved her away hard.
“Get out!”
Vivian, wearing four-inch heels, couldn’t steady herself, and tumbled down the stairs, her face smashed and bloody.
“Ahh–help!”
She clutched her stomach, curled up in agony.
The next second, Ethan rushed out from the stairwell.
When he saw Vivian lying on the ground, his eyes instantly became violent and fierce.
“What did you do?!”
The man looked up and questioned me harshly.
I clenched my fists, not having time to speak.
He pointed at me and cursed.
“Don’t you know she’s pregnant?! If anything happens to Vivian, I will never forgive you!”
After speaking, Ethan picked up the woman and left, his departing back resolute.
He didn’t glance once at our daughter, still trembling in the corner.
Nor did he ask why my face was covered in bloody scratches.
That night, Ethan didn’t come home.
The next morning, he returned.
The man’s hair was disheveled, his eye sockets sunken, his face pale, as if he’d kept vigil at the hospital all night.
He slowly walked up to me and suddenly dropped to his knees.
“Clara, I’m sorry. I was too impulsive yesterday. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
Ethan covered his face in repentance, his voice heavy with sobs.
“I’ll be honest with you. Vivian and I do have some relationship, but it’s not what you think. She was my college classmate.
Her family had a crisis, and I helped her. Later she kept clinging to me, and one time when I was drunk, things happened…”
The man grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest.
He said with apparent sincerity,
“But the person I’ve loved from beginning to end has always been you!”
The man’s tone was earnest, yet nauseating.
“The doctor said Vivian’s body is very weak. It’s a miracle she could get pregnant. So I want to discuss with you–let her give birth to the baby safely.
Then Vivian will disappear completely, and you can be the child’s mother. From now on, the four of us will live well together.”
Seeing my silence, he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his embrace.
Whispering tenderly,
“Clara, as long as you agree, I’ll listen to you in everything from now on. I won’t let you suffer any grievance.”
I took a sharp breath and pushed Ethan away forcefully.
He staggered back, looking at me in great surprise.
My eyes were sharp. My lips moved. My throat forced out a few words.
It was my first utterance in seven years.
“Let’s… get divorced.”
Ethan was clearly stunned. His pupils dilated suddenly, his face full of disbelief.
“You… you can speak?!”
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After my miscarriage, I became the kind of wife Ethan had always wanted.
I no longer shared the interesting parts of my day with him. I no longer called him all night when he didn’t come home.
Even when Ethan and his mistress Quinn were about to have sex, I could remain expressionless and thoughtfully prepare condoms for them.
But he got angry and viciously threw the condoms on the ground.
“No need for those. I’m planning to have a child with Quinn. Aren’t you jealous?”
I replied indifferently, “Whatever.”
Ethan was frustrated by my lack of reaction and kept pushing, wanting to see me break down in tears.
But didn’t he understand yet?
I had long since stopped loving him. Why would I care about his provocations?
Vivian Shaw POV
After my miscarriage, I became the kind of wife Ethan Blackwood had always wanted.
I no longer shared the interesting parts of my day with him. I no longer called him all night when he didn’t come home.
Even when I was falsely accused and taken to the police station, and the officers said a family member had to bail me out, I just said I had no family. I calmly spent a week in detention.
Seven days later, in the evening, the iron door of the police station swung open.
I had just walked down the steps when a black Maybach screeched to a stop in front of me.
The car door opened. Ethan stepped out wearing a tailored suit. He was tall with long legs, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, as coldly elegant and eye-catching as always.
He walked up to me in a few strides, his brow furrowed slightly.
“Vivian, why didn’t you call me when you were being bullied?”
I smiled faintly. “Would you have even turned on your phone?”
A week ago on my way home from work, an elderly person suddenly fell in front of my car. I got out to help, but they grabbed my arm and started shouting, “Hit and run! This young lady hit me and tried to run away!”
The surveillance footage proved my innocence, but according to procedure, a family member had to come sign for my release before I could leave.
I said I had no family. The police didn’t believe me and looked up my marriage registration information, finding Ethan’s phone number.
They called. It was turned off.
They called dozens of times. Always turned off.
Ethan’s expression changed slightly. “The night you were detained, Quinn had stomach pain. I took her to the hospital.She doesn’t like noise, so I shut my phone off.”
He paused, his voice lowering. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to come anyway. Just do what you need to do.”
My tone was too calm as I said this. So calm there wasn’t a ripple of emotion.
Ethan looked at me and suddenly grabbed my wrist.
His hand was very hot, and his grip was strong. I frowned.
“Why aren’t you angry?” Ethan stared at me, confusion in his eyes, along with a trace of unease he didn’t want to admit.
I found it amusing. “Why would I be angry? You gave your reason, I understand it. Nothing to be angry about.”
“Vivian…”
“I’m tired. I want to go home.” I pulled my hand back and walked around him toward the car door.
Ethan stood there, watching my retreating figure.
We hadn’t seen each other in seven days, and I had lost a lot of weight. My shirt hung loosely on my frame.
In the past, whenever he neglected me even a little, I would make a scene with red-rimmed eyes and ask him in an aggrieved voice, “Ethan, have you ever even cared about me?”
Back then he thought I was overreacting, that I was immature.
But now I didn’t make scenes, didn’t cry. I nodded and said “okay” to whatever he said. And yet he felt… panicked.
The car was very quiet.
The driver drove in front while I sat by the window in the back seat, watching the streetscape fly past in reverse.
I no longer acted like I used to, unable to stop myself from looking at him the moment I got in the car, my eyes full of only him. When we were alone I would search for topics to talk about, and even when he responded coldly, I could chatter on by myself for ages.
Now I just sat quietly, as if he wasn’t there beside me at all.
Ethan finally couldn’t hold back. “Are you still throwing a tantrum about what happened before?”
I turned to look at him, my eyes calm. “No, it’s all in the past.”
“Then why are you…”
“Ethan.” I interrupted him. “What do you want from me? To cling to you every day like before? Or to be like this now, not fighting or making noise, giving you enough freedom?”
Ethan was stumped by the question.
Of course he wanted me not to fight or make noise, didn’t want me always making scenes over Quinn. But when I really became like this, he felt… wrong.
Everything felt wrong.
“I just feel like you’ve changed,” he said quietly.
I turned back to the window.
Changed?
Perhaps.
When you love someone versus when you don’t, you’re naturally two different people.
Vivian Shaw POV
The car fell silent again. Ethan wanted to say something more, but his phone rang.
It was Quinn.
He answered, and her sugary voice immediately came through. “Ethan, where are you? I’m at the mall and I bought so many things I can’t carry them all. Come pick me up, okay?”
Ethan glanced at me.
I continued looking out the window, as if I hadn’t heard.
He suddenly felt irritated. “Quinn, you’re an adult. Stop always depending on me. And we don’t have any relationship anymore.”
“But you’ve spoiled me for so many years, I’m used to it now.” Quinn’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Before, whenever I asked you to pick me up, you never refused.”
“Before was before.” Ethan’s voice turned cold. “Back then you were my girlfriend, but now I’m married.”
“Married?” Quinn laughed mockingly. “Do you really have feelings for her? Ethan, stop lying to yourself. If you don’t come, I’ll just find another man to help me carry things. Plenty of men want to help me anyway.”
Ethan gripped his phone tightly.
Quinn knew him too well. She knew he couldn’t stand her going to other men.
“Wait there.” He practically ground out the words through clenched teeth, then hung up.
He took a deep breath and turned to me. “Vivian, I…”
“I’ll take a cab home.” I had already pushed open the car door. “You go pick her up.”
I moved too fast for Ethan to react.
“Vivian!” He got out of the car and caught up, grabbing my arm. “There’s really nothing between her and me anymore, but she and I grew up together. Our families know each other. I can’t completely cut ties.”
“I know.” I nodded. “I understand.”
I always said “I know” and “I understand,” like an AI with not a hint of emotion.
Watching me show no reaction whatsoever, the nameless fire in Ethan’s chest burned even hotter. But Quinn’s call came through again, urging him relentlessly.
“You go home first, I’ll be back later…” He wanted to say he’d come back later, but I had already flagged down a taxi.
I got in, closed the door, and didn’t even glance at him again.
The taxi drove away while he stood watching from behind.
My phone rang.
It was the HR department from my company.
“Ms. Shaw, your application for overseas work has been approved.”
The voice on the other end carried a smile. “Congratulations! You’re going to the New York headquarters. It’s a rare opportunity. But… won’t your husband have an issue with it? After all, who knows when you’ll be back. You two would have to live apart.”
I looked at the neon lights flashing past outside, my voice soft. “I don’t have a husband. The same day I applied to go to New York, I also filed for divorce. Once the divorce is finalized, I can leave.”
There was several seconds of silence on the other end.
“Are you serious? You used to like him so much. You gave up so many good opportunities for him. How could you suddenly…”
I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t like him anymore.”
After hanging up, I leaned against the car window and closed my eyes.
All these years, almost everyone knew I liked Ethan.
Liked him to the point of losing myself, liked him to the point of being as humble as dust.
But I was tired.
Loving someone whose heart was forever filled with someone else was too exhausting.
At eighteen, during my freshman year, I first saw Ethan at the new student awards ceremony.
The sun was bright that day. He wore a simple white shirt and black dress pants, standing on stage with an extraordinary presence. He was the most popular guy at school, and nearly every girl in the audience blushed.
I was one of them.
But no one had a chance to get close to him.
Because everyone knew that Ethan’s heart belonged only to Quinn, the girl he’d grown up with.
Vivian Shaw POV
Quinn was temperamental, loved to make scenes, had a terrible temper. But Ethan doted on her, indulged her. Everyone said he was madly in love with her.
For as long as he loved Quinn, I secretly loved him from behind.
Until Quinn ran away from countless wedding ceremonies with Ethan.
The first time, she said she was too young and didn’t want to get married so early.
The second time, she claimed to have pre-wedding jitters.
The third time, she said she felt Ethan didn’t love her enough.
…
The ninth time, she called from overseas the night before the wedding. “Ethan, I’ve been thinking, and I still feel freedom is more precious. Let’s not get married for now, okay? I want to travel abroad for a few years first!”
That time, Ethan didn’t chase after her.
He was depressed for a while, then started accepting the blind dates his family arranged. He went on one after another, always ending things after just one meeting.
When I learned this, my heart pounded wildly.
I pulled strings and managed to get a chance to go on a blind date with him.
That day, somehow I ended up wearing the same dress as Quinn. Sure enough, when Ethan saw me, he froze.
He stared for a long time, then said, “Let’s get married.”
My wildly beating heart suddenly sank in that moment.
I knew he was seeing someone else through me.
But I still nodded.
Because I liked him too much. Even knowing he probably had no feelings for me, I still wanted to stay by his side.
After marriage, we were polite and courteous.
Ethan treated me well. He was never stingy materially, gave me all the respectability I deserved, but I knew that wasn’t love.
He never initiated intimacy with me. Only when I wore clothes similar to Quinn’s would he hold me in a daze, calling out “Quinn.”
Each time I pretended not to hear.
Five years passed like this.
I thought life could continue this way, until Quinn came back.
At the time I happened to be three months pregnant. My stomach suddenly hurt terribly. I clutched my belly wanting to call an ambulance, but Quinn showed up at the door.
“So you’re Vivian Shaw?” Quinn looked me up and down with contempt in her eyes. “I heard you took advantage of my absence to steal my position?”
My face was pale with pain. I had no energy to argue with her, only wanting to get to the hospital quickly.
I tried to go around Quinn, but she blocked me.
During the struggle, I really couldn’t take it anymore and pushed her. Quinn stumbled backward, her head hitting the door frame. Blood immediately flowed down.
That night, Ethan locked me in the storage room.
My stomach hurt terribly, like a knife was twisting inside. I pounded on the door, calling over and over, “Ethan… save me… the baby… our baby…”
But no one came.
The pain made me curl up on the floor. Warm liquid flowed out from beneath me. I reached down to touch it. My hand was covered in blood.
Finally I passed out from the pain.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The baby was gone.
Ethan stood by the bed, looking at me with guilt in his eyes.
“It’s my fault. After you’re discharged, we’ll have another baby.”
“If you hadn’t pushed Quinn back then, I wouldn’t have locked you up. She’s not in good health. That push nearly killed her. I acted rashly in the moment. I can compensate…”
In that moment, I laughed.
Laughed until tears streamed down my face.
“Ethan, what compensation do you think could make up for a life?”
That was the first time, and the last time, I cried in front of him.
From then on, I changed.
I secretly filed for divorce and applied to transfer to New York with my company.
No matter what happened between him and Quinn, I no longer cared.
Because I no longer loved him.
Vivian Shaw POV
I went home alone.
The house was large, empty, and cold. I changed my shoes, went upstairs, and started packing.
Actually, I had been quietly packing during this time. Now I just needed to finish up.
I took out the clothes from the closet that were similar to Quinn’s style, one by one, folded them, and put them in boxes.
I would never wear these clothes again.
The sound of the door opening came from downstairs.
Ethan was back, but he wasn’t alone.
Quinn stood at the bottom of the stairs. Seeing me, she gave a sweet smile. “Vivian, long time no see.”
I said nothing.
“Quinn said she wanted to come see Snowball.” Ethan spoke, his tone somewhat unnatural. “She said it’s been a long time.”
Snowball was a dog Ethan and Quinn had raised when they were together. Later when Quinn went abroad, the dog was left with Ethan. After I married in, I had been the one taking care of it.
“Whatever.” I turned to go back to my room.
“Snowball! Snowball!” Quinn had already crouched down, clapping her hands to call the dog.
A white Samoyed ran out from the corner. Seeing Quinn, it excitedly jumped on her, tail wagging like a propeller.
“Oh my, Snowball still remembers me!” Quinn hugged the dog, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “Looks like even though another woman has been taking care of you all these years, you still only recognize me.”
Her words carried obvious provocation.
I stopped in my tracks.
Ethan frowned. “Quinn, you ran off abroad without a word back then and didn’t want it. You lost the right to be its owner long ago.”
“Now you’ve seen it. You can go back.”
Quinn pouted. “It’s dark outside and raining. How unsafe for me to go back alone. Can’t I… stay here for the night?”
Ethan wanted to refuse.
But it really was pouring rain outside with rolling thunder.
He instinctively looked at me, wanting to convince me to agree. In the past, whenever Quinn came over, I would make a scene and he would have to put in effort to pacify me.
But this time, before he could speak, I spoke first.
“The guest room is in that room at the far end of the first floor. The sheets and covers are clean.” My tone was calm. “If you want to stay, go ahead.”
With that, I turned and went back to my room.
Ethan froze.
Quinn was also stunned for a moment, but quickly smiled and wrapped her arm around Ethan’s. “Ethan, see? Vivian agreed.”
Ethan looked at my closed door, that strange feeling rising in his chest again.
He shook off Quinn’s hand. “Behave yourself.”
Just then his phone rang with a work call.
He glanced at Quinn. “Stay out of trouble.”
Then he went to the study.
Only Quinn was left in the living room.
The smile instantly vanished from her face. She walked to my door and knocked.
I opened the door.
Quinn leaned against the door frame, looking me up and down. “Playing generous? You think letting me stay will make Ethan think you’re understanding? It’s useless, Vivian. Let me show you just how much of a failure you are. All these years, not only have you failed to win Ethan’s heart, you couldn’t even win over a dog.”
She whistled, and Snowball came running.
“Snowball,” Quinn pointed at me, “go, bite her.”
The dog hesitated, but under Quinn’s urging, it still lunged and bit my calf.
I was caught off guard and cried out in pain, my face instantly turning deathly pale!
Quinn laughed with satisfaction. “See? You can’t even win over a dog, yet you foolishly thought you could steal Ethan from me? Just give up already!”
The pain and humiliation made my whole body go cold, but I bit my lip hard, not letting myself make another sound.
I looked up at Quinn, my eyes cold as ice. “Forgot to tell you, Quinn. The public areas of this house, including the stairs and hallways, all have twenty-four-hour surveillance. Both audio and video recording functions work perfectly.”
“If you still want to stay here today and rekindle things with Ethan, I suggest you stop provoking me. Otherwise I’ll show him the footage directly. Do you think he’d still let you stay?”
Quinn’s expression changed.
I stopped looking at her, turned back into my room, and closed the door.
Vivian Shaw POV
I walked to the bed, took out the medicine kit from the drawer, and treated my wound.
The antiseptic stung fiercely on the wound, but my face showed no expression.
After treating the wound, I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.
Unlike usual, I didn’t make milk for Ethan, didn’t wait for him to finish working, didn’t say goodnight to him.
I just went straight to sleep.
In the middle of the night, I was choked awake by thick smoke.
I opened my eyes. The room was full of smoke, making me cough violently.
I hurriedly got out of bed and opened the door. The hallway was ablaze with fire.
A fire!
I held onto the wall, moving step by step toward the exit, but after just a few steps, from inhaling too much smoke, my legs gave out and I fell to the ground.
The floor was scorching hot. I struggled to get up but had no strength.
Just when I thought I would die here, a figure rushed into the sea of flames.
It was Ethan!
He wore pajamas, his face covered in soot, anxiously looking around.
I wanted to call out to him, but my throat was too choked by smoke to make a sound. I reached out my hand, wanting him to see me.
But Ethan didn’t even look at me. He rushed straight toward the corner of the room.
Snowball was curled up there, trembling.
He scooped up the dog in one motion, turned and left, not even glancing back at me.
I watched his figure disappear into the firelight and suddenly laughed.
Laughed until tears fell.
He had come to save the dog.
In Ethan’s heart, I wasn’t even worth as much as a dog!
The smoke grew heavier. As I breathed it in, my consciousness began to blur.
I gritted my teeth, braced myself against the wall, and stood up shakily, stumbling toward the door.
But the doorway was already blocked by a fallen beam. There was no way out.
I looked at the burning beam in despair, then turned and rushed toward the window.
I pushed open the window. Cold wind rushed in, clearing my head a bit.
I looked down and happened to see Ethan rushing out the front door with the dog. Quinn threw herself into his arms.
“Ethan! I was so scared!” Quinn was in tears. “I thought Snowball would die in there… We raised this dog for so many years. It witnessed our relationship…”
Ethan’s body stiffened. He seemed to want to push her away, but seeing her cry so heartbrokenly, in the end, he still raised his hand and gently patted her back, softly comforting her. “Don’t cry. It’s okay now. The dog is fine, and you’re fine too.”
I watched this scene, my heart feeling as if it were being violently squeezed by an icy hand, then suddenly released, leaving only boundless, numb emptiness.
I no longer counted on anyone.
I climbed onto the windowsill, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and jumped.
The time my body fell through the air was very short. I didn’t even have time to be afraid before I crashed heavily to the ground.
BANG.
Intense pain instantly swept through my whole body. I lay on the ground, warm blood spreading beneath me.
“Oh my God! Vivian jumped!”
The maid’s scream rang out. Ethan whipped around.
He saw me lying in a pool of blood.
“VIVIAN!!!”
The expression on his face was one I had never seen before. Shock, disbelief, and a trace of… panic.
I looked at him, opened my mouth wanting to say something, but only coughed up blood.
Then I passed out completely.
When I woke up again, the smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils.
I opened my eyes and saw the white ceiling.
I moved slightly. My whole body ached. The pain was excruciating.
“Vivian!” Ethan’s voice rang out.
I turned my head and saw him keeping watch by the bed, his eyes completely bloodshot, blue stubble on his chin. He looked haggard.
He grabbed my hand, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re awake? How do you feel? Is anything uncomfortable?”
I didn’t answer his question. I just slowly but firmly pulled my hand from his grasp.
Vivian Shaw POV
Ethan’s hand froze in midair, his expression shifting slightly.
He probably thought I was angry about the fire and my jumping from the building, that I resented him for not saving me first.
“Vivian,” he tried to explain, lowering his voice, “when I went into the room, I didn’t see you. I thought you’d already escaped, so I only took Snowball. It’s not just an ordinary dog, it’s…”
What? The token of his and Quinn’s relationship? A witness bearing their beautiful memories?
“Since you were in the room, why didn’t you call out to me?”
Why didn’t I call out?
I finally raised my eyes to look at him.
My eyes were very dark, very deep, containing no resentment, no expectation either. Just bottomless calm.
“Because I’ve stopped counting on you.”
Ethan’s whole body violently trembled, as if struck hard by something. His pupils contracted sharply as he looked at me in disbelief.
“What do you mean… stopped counting on me?”
His voice was terribly hoarse.
I looked at him, my gaze calm as if I were looking at a stranger. “Exactly what it sounds like. I don’t count on you to save me, don’t count on you to choose me, don’t count on… you to love me.”
Ethan’s heart shook. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang.
It was Quinn!
He walked to the window, his back to me, and answered.
I couldn’t hear the specific content, could only see the tense lines of his profile, his tone starting with impatience and ending with suppressed compromise and “I understand.”
After hanging up, Ethan walked back to the bed, his expression unpleasant. He looked at me, wanting to speak but hesitating.
“You should go.” I didn’t wait for him to speak first, that suffocating calm still in my tone. “I really don’t need anyone here.”
Ethan looked at me, his chest feeling like it was stuffed with wet cotton, so stuffy he couldn’t breathe.
He opened his mouth and finally only said, “Quinn has some trouble. I’ll… go handle it and come right back.”
After a pause, he added, “I know you’re angry about what happened before, so you’re deliberately saying these things out of spite. Don’t worry, that kind of situation won’t happen again.”
“In a few days it’s your mother’s death anniversary. I’ll go with you to pay respects.”
My lowered eyelashes trembled lightly.
“My mother’s death anniversary and Quinn’s birthday are on the same day.” I laughed once. “Aren’t you going to celebrate her birthday with her?”
Ethan clearly hadn’t expected me to suddenly bring this up. His expression stiffened almost imperceptibly.
He was silent for several seconds before avoiding my gaze and replying in a somewhat stiff tone, “Her birthday… what does that have to do with me?”
I laughed again.
How could it have nothing to do with him?
Five years of marriage, and every year on that day, Ethan was “busy.”
The first year, he said he had a business trip. The second year, he said he had meetings. The third year, he said he had to meet clients.
Later I learned that my mother’s death anniversary and Quinn’s birthday were on the same day.
Every year on that day, Ethan would fly over ten hours overseas to stand outside Quinn’s house all night, then leave gifts and depart.
This year Quinn was back. He could see her in person, could express his love even better.
“Oh, really?”
I responded lightly, said nothing more, just closed my eyes again, assuming a posture that rejected conversation and showed utter exhaustion.
Ethan, frustrated by my complete lack of reaction, felt anger rise in his chest but had nowhere to vent it.
He looked at my pale face and tightly closed eyes. The words “Quinn and I really have nothing going on, don’t misunderstand” rolled around on his tongue, but in the end he only said, “Rest well. I’ll come see you again later.”
Then he turned and hurriedly left the hospital room.
Vivian Shaw POV
In the following days, I peacefully recovered in the hospital.
Ethan came a few times, bringing expensive supplements and flowers. He never stayed long. His phone was always busy.
I didn’t make scenes or fuss. I just said “mm” to whatever he said, giving him a feeling of punching cotton with no resistance.
On the day I was discharged, Ethan brought flowers and accompanied me to the cemetery in the suburbs.
I looked at the increasingly familiar scenery outside the window, a sense of absurdity rising in my heart.
Five years. This was the first time Ethan came to pay respects to my mother.
The cemetery was very quiet. Wind blew through the trees with a rustling sound.
Ethan stood before the gravestone, looking at the woman in the photo who resembled me by seventy percent, silent for a long time.
“Mom,” he began, his voice somewhat hoarse, “I’m sorry it took me so many years to visit you.”
“I’ll take good care of Vivian from now on. You can rest assured.” Ethan continued, “I won’t let her suffer anymore.”
I looked at my mother’s gentle smile on the gravestone, my expression numb.
Mom, did you hear?
The person I’ve liked for ten years said he’ll take good care of me from now on.
But these words came too late.
So late that I no longer need them.
After paying respects, Ethan took me to the restaurant I’d always wanted to visit.
It was a French restaurant that was very difficult to book. I’d mentioned it many times before, but Ethan always said he didn’t have time.
Today he reserved the entire restaurant and arranged a romantic dinner.
“I remember you said you wanted to come here.” Ethan pulled out a chair for me. “Try it and see if it suits your taste.”
I sat down, looking at the table full of exquisite dishes, my heart completely unmoved.
Halfway through the meal, Ethan’s phone rang again.
Still Quinn.
Her angry voice was loud enough that even I could hear it clearly. “Ethan! You spent days throwing me an extravagant birthday party, but you didn’t come yourself?!”
Ethan frowned and glanced at me.
I was cutting my steak, movements graceful, expression calm, as if I’d heard nothing.
“I had something to do.” Ethan said quietly.
“What could be more important than my birthday? You have to come to my birthday party right now, or I won’t celebrate this birthday at all!”
Ethan, pestered beyond endurance, hung up.
He looked at me, wanting to explain, but I had already put down my utensils.
“You should go.” I said. “I’ve finished eating anyway.”
“Vivian, Quinn just returned to the country. She wanted to gather all her friends together, but she doesn’t know how to organize a party, so I helped her a bit.” Ethan explained. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know.” I nodded. “I understand.”
That phrase again.
The frustration in Ethan’s chest surged up again.
“I’ll take you with me.” He suddenly said. “The party is nearby anyway. We’ll just make an appearance and leave. Consider it relaxing.”
I wanted to refuse, but Ethan had already stood up. “Let’s go.”
Quinn’s birthday party was in a luxury hotel’s banquet hall.
When Ethan and I arrived, there were already many people inside.
Quinn wore a red dress, like a proud peacock, surrounded by crowds.
Seeing Ethan, her eyes lit up. She lifted her skirt and ran over. “Ethan! You finally came!”
She directly wrapped her arm around Ethan’s, completely ignoring me beside him.
“Quinn.” Ethan frowned, trying to pull his arm back.
“Ethan, dance the opening dance with me!” Quinn acted coquettishly. “You haven’t danced with me in so long.”
Ethan looked at me.
I was looking elsewhere, as if admiring a painting on the wall.
“Vivian…” Ethan started.
“Go ahead.” I said. “I’ll get something to eat over there.”
With that, I turned and walked toward the food table.
Vivian Shaw POV
Ethan stood in place, seemingly frozen.I know that before, even if he just said a few words to Quinn, I would look at him with red-rimmed eyes.
But now, I had actively pushed him toward her. He simply couldn’t believe it.
Ethan belatedly let Quinn pull him into the dance floor.
The music started. He held Quinn’s waist but couldn’t help frequently glancing toward me in the corner.
I was standing at the food table, eating cake in small bites, my expression calm, my eyes indifferent, as if I were attending a stranger’s party.
Quinn noticed his distraction and grew displeased. “Since you care about her so much, just go find her. I’ll go dance with another man.”
With that, she let go of Ethan, turned, and walked toward a man in a white suit.
The man was Quinn’s college classmate who had always liked her. Seeing Quinn approach, he immediately extended his hand attentively.
Quinn placed her hand in his, and the two glided into the dance floor.
Ethan stood in place, watching Quinn laugh and chat with that man, his expression gradually darkening.
Quinn seemed to be deliberately provoking him, getting closer and closer to that man. Finally, she even leaned to the man’s ear and said something. The man laughed, lowered his head, and kissed her cheek.
The wine glass in Ethan’s hand shattered with a crack.
Blood mixed with wine dripped down, but he felt no pain.
He rushed forward, grabbed Quinn’s wrist, and dragged her out of the dance floor.
“Ethan! What are you doing?! Let me go!” Quinn struggled.
Without a word, his face livid, Ethan practically dragged Quinn out of the banquet hall to the empty, deserted balcony outside.
Ethan pressed her against the cold railing, his voice suppressing violent rage. “Quinn, do you have any sense at all?!”
Quinn was startled by his shouting, then got angry herself and forcefully shook off his hand. “I have no sense? I’m not married. He’s not married. We’re both willing. So what’s the problem? Who are you to me, Ethan? What right do you have to tell me what to do? As my ex? Or as some other woman’s husband?”
“You!”
Quinn’s words stung Ethan until his eyes turned red, and the string of rationality snapped completely in that moment.
He abruptly lowered his head and fiercely kissed Quinn’s lips!
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It carried punishment and plunder, fierce and domineering.
Quinn stiffened at first, then a gleam of triumph flashed in her eyes. She didn’t struggle. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him back passionately.
The balcony glass was frosted. People outside couldn’t see clearly what was happening inside, but I stood in the corner, and through a gap in the glass, I could see everything clearly.
I watched Ethan kiss Quinn, watched Quinn wrap her arms around his neck, watched them kiss inseparably.
There was no pain in my heart, only a numb sense of absurdity.
The kiss lasted a long time, until both were breathless.
Ethan suddenly pushed Quinn away, as if jolted awake from a dream. He looked at Quinn’s glistening red lips and dazed eyes, his heart lurching sharply, followed by overwhelming panic and self-loathing.
“I’m sorry,” he turned his face away, his voice terribly hoarse, carrying a kind of awkward evasion. “I… I drank too much. I mistook you for Vivian.”
Quinn obviously didn’t believe his explanation. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him, her tone carrying tears and pleading.
“You’ve never had Vivian in your heart. How could you mistake me for her? Stop lying to yourself, okay? You still love me. You can’t let me go at all!”
“Ethan, let’s stop torturing each other, okay? Divorce Vivian and let’s get back together. I swear I’ll never be as willful as before. I’ll love you properly, be a good wife to you, okay?”
Vivian Shaw POV
Divorce? Get back together?
These two words exploded like thunder in Ethan’s ears.
As if scalded, he violently pushed Quinn away and said sternly, “What are you talking about! I won’t divorce Vivian!”
“Why? Just because she followed you without any boundaries for five years?” Quinn shrieked, “Ethan, how long will you keep running from your feelings? If you really don’t have me in your heart anymore, don’t care about me at all, then I might as well just die!”
As she spoke, she turned and rushed toward the edge of the balcony, as if she really meant to jump.
“Quinn! Are you crazy?!” Ethan’s expression changed drastically as he rushed forward to pull her back.
Just then, the huge crystal chandelier overhead, used for decoration, suddenly made a groaning sound, unable to bear its weight, then crashed downward! And it was falling directly toward Quinn’s head!
“Watch out!”
Ethan’s pupils contracted sharply. Without thinking, he used his body to shield Quinn tightly in his arms and rolled to the side!
The heavy crystal chandelier smashed to the ground, instantly shattering, fragments flying everywhere.
Ethan’s back was sliced by several larger shards, blood immediately gushing out, staining his expensive suit red.
“Ethan! Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” Quinn’s face turned deathly pale with fright as she cried out.
People in the banquet hall were startled by the loud noise and ran out, creating chaos at the scene.
Some called for an ambulance, others came forward to help.
I stood at the edge of the crowd, not a ripple of emotion in my heart, only finding the farce before me absurd and glaring.
I didn’t step forward, didn’t inquire, didn’t even stay a second longer.
Amid the ambulance’s piercing siren, I quietly turned and left.
Ethan was hospitalized.
I didn’t go see him.
I stayed home alone, doing my own things, reading books, watching movies, packing my luggage.
Until that evening, Ethan’s assistant Jeff suddenly called.
“Vivian, could you come to the hospital to see Ethan? His stomach condition flared up again. The pain is severe, and the medicine the doctor prescribed isn’t helping much. He’s breaking out in cold sweat from the pain and won’t let the nurses near him. In the past, only when you massaged him would he feel better… We really don’t know what to do. Could you…”
I walked to the window, looking at the city completely shrouded in the rain curtain outside. Raindrops pounded against the glass as if to drown the entire world.
After he finished speaking, I calmly replied, “The rain is too heavy. I won’t be going.”
The other end was clearly stunned, silent for several seconds, as if unable to believe what they’d heard.
“M-Ms. Shaw… what did you say?” the assistant stammered.
“I said the rain outside is too heavy. I don’t want to go out. I won’t be coming tonight.”
“But Mr. Blackwood, he…”
“I’m going to sleep now.” I interrupted him. “Good night.”
I hung up, turned off my phone, went to bed, and no longer paid attention to any disturbances.
The next day, Ethan checked out of the hospital early and returned home.
His face was still somewhat pale. Seeing me sitting on the living room sofa reading, he paused, then walked over and stood before me.
“Last night…” he began, his voice somewhat low, his gaze heavy as he looked at me. “Jeff called you?”
“Yes.” I turned a page without looking up.
“Why didn’t you come?” Ethan asked, suppressing some emotion in his tone. “Before… no matter the weather, even if I just casually mentioned feeling unwell, you would rush over immediately.”
My page-turning motion stopped.
I finally looked up at Ethan, my eyes calm and still.
“You said it yourself. That was before.” I looked at him, my voice light, yet like a small hammer gently tapping on Ethan’s heart. “Ethan, people change.”
Vivian Shaw POV
Ethan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found nothing to say.
Yes, people change.
I had changed.
He probably just didn’t know why I changed, or when I changed.
“In a few days,” he tried to ease the atmosphere, as if wanting to prove something, “it’s our wedding anniversary. Didn’t you always say you wanted to celebrate it properly? This year, I’ll throw you a party, invite everyone, make it lively, okay?”
As he spoke, he observed my reaction.
I looked at him, my eyes calm. “Whatever.”
Whatever again.
Ethan’s expression turned unpleasant, as if the irritation in his heart was surging up again.
But he still began preparing for the party.
He booked the most expensive hotel, hired the best planners, ordered me the most expensive gown, bought the most expensive, sky-high-priced jewelry.
On the day of the party, I wore the gown he’d chosen, adorned with that priceless diamond jewelry set, and walked into the banquet hall on his arm.
Everyone looked at me with envy.
“Mrs. Blackwood is so fortunate.”
“Ethan treats her so well.”
“I heard that jewelry set was bought at auction. An astronomical price.”
I listened to those comments, a proper smile on my face, but my heart felt nothing.
Midway through, I went to the balcony for some air.
I had only been standing there a moment when footsteps sounded behind me.
It was Quinn.
“Why are you here?” I turned to look at her.
“Ethan invited me.” Quinn walked to my side, leaning against the railing. “He said today is your wedding anniversary and asked me to come witness your happiness.”
As she spoke, she smiled. “Vivian, are you happy?”
I said nothing.
Quinn leaned close to me. “I know you’re not happy. Ethan’s heart only has room for me. You’re just a pitiful, laughable substitute! Last night he even because of me…”
“Quinn,” I finally spoke, interrupting her words, my voice terrifyingly calm. “You know what? You’re really noisy, and really pitiful. Like a child who throws tantrums when they can’t get candy. What’s between Ethan and me is our business.”
“As for you, an eternal failure living in the past who needs to provoke others to prove her own existence, you’re not worth me wasting any emotion on.”
“You!”
Quinn was thoroughly enraged by the undisguised contempt and pity in my eyes. She glanced at the low, decorative balcony railing behind me, a vicious glint flashing in her eyes.
“Go to hell!” She suddenly reached out and used all her strength to violently push me!
Caught off guard, I instantly lost my balance and fell backward!
In the moment I fell off the balcony, survival instinct made me reflexively reach out and grab wildly. I happened to catch Quinn’s wrist, which she hadn’t pulled back in time!
“Ah!”
Both of us screamed simultaneously.
Half my body was already suspended in air, hanging on only by my hand desperately gripping Quinn’s wrist. Quinn was also pulled down and collapsed at the railing’s edge, scared out of her wits, her other hand desperately clawing at the railing to avoid falling together.
“Help! Ethan! Help!” Quinn shrieked and cried.
People in the banquet hall were alarmed and rushed toward the balcony.
Ethan ran at the front. Seeing this dangerous scene, his face instantly turned deathly pale.
“Ethan! Save me! I’m going to fall! Pull me up quickly!” Quinn cried, tears streaming down her face, extending the hand clinging to the railing toward Ethan.
Ethan’s gaze swept rapidly between me, gritting my teeth silently, and Quinn, crying and calling for help.
In that split second, with almost no hesitation, he lunged forward and grabbed the hand Quinn extended toward him!
“Vivian, hang on a bit longer!” Ethan looked down at me, his voice trembling. “Once I pull Quinn up, I’ll save you right away!”
I looked at him and suddenly smiled.
I let go.
My body fell through the air, wind roaring in my ears.
Finally, I crashed into the swimming pool below.
Water splashed everywhere.
The icy pool water engulfed me. I closed my eyes and lost consciousness.
Vivian Shaw POV
When I woke up again, I was lying in the bed in my own room.
The blood and mud on my body had been cleaned away, replaced with soft silk pajamas.
The room was empty. Heavy curtains were half-drawn, letting in a dim ray of light.
I stiffly turned my head, reaching for my phone on the pillow. The screen lit up, the glaring light making me squint.
There was only one text message, from Ethan.
“Vivian, Quinn was frightened and her emotions are unstable. I’m taking her to the hospital first. Rest well. I’ve had the butler treat your injuries. I’ll explain everything when I get back. I’ll compensate you.”
Compensate.
Compensation again.
I stared at those words, finding it utterly laughable, absurd to the extreme.
When did “compensation” become all that was left between us? When you truly like someone, you cherish them. There’s no need for the word “compensation” to make up for debts.
Ethan, I don’t like you anymore.
So your compensation. I don’t want it at all anymore.
I only hope to sever all ties with you as soon as possible, leave this place, get far, far away, and never again endure this bone-cutting torture.
Just then, my phone vibrated again.
This time, the notice came from the court.
“Ms. Shaw, your divorce from Mr. Ethan is now final. The divorce decree will be mailed to your address.”
It was really over.
I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning slightly white from the force. I looked at that short text for a long, long time, so long that the screen’s light automatically turned off, and I lit it up again.
Then I tilted my head back and slowly, gradually, exhaled a long breath.
That breath seemed to expel all the grievances, pain, struggles, and unwillingness accumulated over these five years of marriage, along with the last trace of hope for that person, all expelled from my body.
I threw off the covers and, enduring the bone-deep soreness throughout my body, got out of bed and began final preparations.
Actually, there wasn’t much left to pack. Those things belonging to “Mrs. Blackwood,” the luxurious clothes and jewelry, I had already picked out and left in the closet. Most of the things belonging to Vivian Shaw I had already packed.
I folded the last few pieces of old clothes I wore regularly and put them in the suitcase, pulling the zipper closed with force.
Three o’clock in the afternoon. Takeoff.
I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The butler was directing servants to clean the living room. Seeing me, he was clearly stunned. “You’re…”
“I’m leaving.” I stopped and looked calmly at this old man who had taken care of me for several years. “Thank you for looking after me all these years.”
“What are you saying?! Does the sir… does he know?” The butler looked completely bewildered, trying frantically to stop me.
“He and I are already divorced.” I smiled faintly. “Starting today, I’m no longer Ethan’s wife.”
I dragged my suitcase out the front door. The morning breeze blew in my face. I took a deep breath of free air and hailed a cab straight to City Hall.
When I received that divorce certificate, my hands trembled slightly. I opened the thin booklet and glanced at it.
On it, my name and Ethan’s were finally side by side, yet completely separated by that certificate.
How wonderful.
This long dream that had flayed and dismembered me was finally over.
I took a cab to the airport, completed check-in procedures, checked my luggage, and sat in the departure lounge watching planes take off and land outside.
My phone suddenly rang urgently.
Caller ID: Ethan.
I looked at those three words, not a ripple rising in my heart. I didn’t answer, letting it ring until it automatically disconnected.
He called again, over and over, hysterically, relentlessly.
The phone vibrated in my palm, annoyingly noisy. Expressionless, I long-pressed the power button, slid the screen, and decisively turned it off.
A sweet boarding announcement came over the loudspeaker.
I stood up, dragging my suitcase, and walked toward the gate without looking back.
When the plane took off, a huge roar filled my eardrums. I turned my head to look out the window.
That city that had trapped me for five years grew smaller and smaller until it was completely obscured by white clouds. In my heart was an unprecedented calm.
Goodbye, Ethan.
Goodbye to that humble, people-pleasing past.
The plane pierced through thick cloud layers, flying toward the sky, toward the blinding sun, flying toward my new life.
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The day of my divorce, I got hit by a car.
When I woke up, everyone had a line of text floating above their heads.
The nurse: [27 years old, eight years from now, breast cancer.]
I picked up my phone. The first contact was my ex-wife, Vivian.
After a second of hesitation, I opened her social media.
Her latest post showed her and her new boyfriend in the Maldives, captioned “The rest of my life with you.”
The location showed it was posted three hours ago.
Our divorce papers had been finalized just yesterday.
My daughter sent me a voice message: “Dad, Mom says I can’t go to her new house anymore. That man doesn’t like kids.”
Gripping my phone, I went to pick up my daughter and ran into my ex-father-in-law, Robert Miller, at the entrance to the complex.
Above his head, it read: [62 years old, three months from now, gas poisoning.]
The moment he saw me, he started cursing: “Useless piece of trash! My daughter should’ve divorced you years ago!”
“My daughter’s new boyfriend is young and handsome, and he’s a wealthy heir. What the hell are you?”
I glanced at the text above his head and deleted the warning message I’d typed out, character by character.
Then I took my daughter’s hand.
“Come on, sweetheart. Dad’s taking you for pizza.”
1
At the pizza place, my daughter Lily handed me a slice.
“Dad, you eat it. You’ve gotten so skinny.”
She was only six years old, but she’d already learned to read adults’ faces.
I bought her a Coke. My phone buzzed again.
Vivian sent a text: “Figure out Lily’s tuition yourself. I need to pay off the loan on my new car.”
But she had money for plane tickets to the Maldives.
I didn’t reply. I just flipped my phone face-down on the table.
Lily asked quietly, “Dad, does Mom not want us anymore?”
“Mom just doesn’t want Dad anymore. She’ll always be your mom.”
Even as I said it, the words felt hollow.
What kind of mother wouldn’t even pay for her daughter’s tuition?
Halfway through the meal, my phone rang again.
This time it was Robert.
I answered, and he immediately launched into a tirade.
“Listen here, Lucas Gray. My daughter letting you walk away with nothing was being generous!”
“The house is in my name. Don’t think you’re getting a cent!”
“And Lily—don’t send her to our family! We’re not raising her for you!”
He ranted for a full three minutes.
I didn’t say a word back.
Because all I could think about was that line of text above his head.
62 years old, three months from now, gas poisoning.
“What, are you mute?” Robert shouted into the phone.
“Yeah. I’ve gone mute.”
I hung up.
Lily had finished all her pizza. Her hands were greasy, and she was wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Dad, did Mr. Miller yell at you again?”
“No, sweetheart. He said he misses you.”
Lily tilted her head, thinking. “But last time Mr. Miller said I was a waste of money.”
A six-year-old. She remembered everything.
I paid the bill and walked Lily home, holding her hand.
My phone pinged with a notification from the delivery app. The courier account I’d registered yesterday had been approved.
Starting tomorrow, I’d be a delivery driver.
Security guard wages were too low, and factory shift work was too rigid—I wouldn’t be able to pick Lily up from school.
Delivery work was the only option. Flexible hours, and the more I worked, the more I earned.
Back at our rental apartment, Lily fell asleep quickly.
I sat on the edge of the bed and scrolled through my phone’s photo album.
There were still pictures from our wedding.
Vivian in her rented wedding dress, smiling brightly.
Back then she’d said, “Lucas, we’re definitely going to have a good life together.”
Seven years of marriage.
The hard times finally ended—and she left.
I deleted every photo of Vivian from the album.
Not a single one left.
Then I opened the delivery app and checked tomorrow’s weather forecast.
Light rain.
Rainy days meant more orders. Time to hustle.
On my first day as a delivery driver, I witnessed the full spectrum of humanity in this city.
I left at seven in the morning after dropping Lily off at kindergarten.
At the entrance, Lily clung to the hem of my jacket and wouldn’t let go.
“Dad, can you pick me up this afternoon?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Dad promises.”
I rode my electric scooter to the commercial district and started accepting orders.
The first delivery was an Americano for an office worker in a high-rise.
When I handed it to her, she didn’t even look up. She grabbed the coffee and shut the door.
Above her head, it read: [29 years old, twelve years from now, liver cancer.]
I bit my lip and said nothing.
This wasn’t something I could control. Nor should I.
2
During the lunch rush, I completed twelve orders in a row.
My legs were sore. I sat on the curb, eating bread.
My phone buzzed with a news alert: Renowned businesswoman Sophia Quinn dies of organ failure at age 69.
Sophia Quinn.
That name was all too familiar.
In high school, her granddaughter had been my classmate. Once, she’d invited me to her house, and I’d seen her grandmother.
I told her she had eight hours left.
She lasted exactly eight hours.
Afterward, Sophia gave me five million dollars.
That money paid for my college education and made me believe my life was finally turning around.
Then, the second year after graduation, I married Vivian.
A woman from a small mountain village who’d clawed her way out and was determined to climb higher.
The first time Robert met me, he asked, “How many properties does your family own?”
I said none.
The smile faded from his face.
But back then, Vivian had said, “Robert, Lucas treats me well, and he has capital. That’s enough.”
Was it enough?
Seven years of marriage. I spent every cent of Sophia’s five million dollars on Vivian’s graduate school, Vivian’s startup, Vivian’s luxury car to keep up appearances.
Five million dollars. Gone without a trace.
What did I get in return? A Maldives Instagram post saying “The rest of my life with you” to another man.
At two in the afternoon, my phone rang.
It was Vivian.
“Just letting you know—I’m pregnant. Expenses are high, so I won’t be giving you a cent of child support for Lily anymore.”
Pregnant.
We’d been divorced less than a week, and she was pregnant.
No need to calculate when this baby was conceived.
“Vivian, you cheated during our marriage.”
“Don’t make it sound so ugly. Caleb and I didn’t officially get together until after you moved out.”
Caleb. That was her young new boyfriend.
Her tone was calm as she said this.
I didn’t hang up.
I was waiting for her to say something—anything—about Lily.
Even just asking “How’s Lily doing lately?” would’ve been enough.
She didn’t ask.
After telling me she was pregnant, she hung up.
I set my phone down.
The rain had stopped. Sunlight broke through the clouds and shone on my soaked courier uniform.
I stood up. Time to keep working.
On my third day of deliveries, I received a strange order.
The address was an upscale complex in the the Southside. The notes said: Please ring the doorbell three times. Do not knock.
I rang the doorbell three times.
The door opened. A woman in her forties appeared.
She wore a silk nightgown and a pearl necklace.
As she reached for the food, I accidentally glanced up.
The text above her head made me freeze.
[45 years old, two days from now, strangled to death by husband.]
My hand jerked. I nearly dropped the bag.
“What’s wrong?” She looked at me.
“Nothing.”
I handed her the food and turned to leave.
After two steps, I stopped.
“Um—” I turned back.
The woman was still standing in the doorway, rummaging through the bag.
“Does your husband treat you well?”
She looked up, her eyes guarded.
“Why are you asking that?”
“No reason. Just wondering. Please… be careful.”
I got on my scooter and left.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about that woman’s face.
There was a faint bruise on her face, covered with foundation. But I’d been close enough during the delivery to see it.
The next day, I received another order to the same address.
Same person.
This time when she opened the door, there was a fresh cut on her face, running from her brow to her temple.
The text above her head had changed.
[45 years old, one day from now, strangled to death by husband.]
I handed her the food. My grip was tight.
“Ma’am, you need to call the police.”
“Call them for what?” Her voice was soft.
“Your husband hit you, didn’t he?”
She looked at me for a moment, then shut the door.
I stood outside and heard a man’s voice from inside: “Who was it?”
“Delivery,” she said.
“Don’t order delivery anymore. I’ll cook for you.” The man’s voice sounded gentle.
I got on my scooter and sat outside the complex entrance for ten minutes.
Then I pulled out my phone and dialed 91
“Hello, 14 Maple Gardens, Building 302, the Southside. There’s domestic violence happening. The woman has head injuries.”
“Are you the victim?”
“No, I’m a delivery driver. I saw it.”
“Understood. We’ll send someone to investigate.”
I didn’t know if the police could change anything.
But the text said “one day from now.”
I had to do something.
3
The next day at noon, I saw a local news headline while scrolling—
“Man at Maple Gardens, The Southside, Detained for Domestic Violence. Woman Sent to Hospital for Treatment.”
She didn’t die.
The text above her head must have changed.
I wasn’t certain—I couldn’t see the text of people in news articles.
But she was alive.
That was enough.
That day, I completed eight extra deliveries.
Earned enough for a week’s worth of Lily’s living expenses.
On my fifteenth day of deliveries, Robert blocked me outside Vivian’s complex.
He stood in front of my scooter.
“Lucas Gray, have you no shame? Vivian says you’re demanding three thousand dollars a month in child support?”
“The court ordered it.”
“Court or no court, you’re just a delivery driver. Does raising a kid really cost three thousand?”
“Vivian’s pregnant, and Caleb’s expenses are high. Can’t you ask for less?”
I looked at the text above his head.
Still the same line.
[62 years old, two and a half months from now, gas poisoning.]
The countdown was ticking closer every day.
“Vivian—” her voice came from behind.
She walked out of the complex with a tall, stylishly dressed young man beside her.
That was Caleb.
My first time seeing him.
He wore designer streetwear, limited-edition sneakers, and his hair was perfectly styled.
Above his head: [26 years old, four years from now, car accident.]
When Vivian saw me, she hesitated.
“What are you doing here?”
“Picking up Lily’s things. She left some clothes at your place.”
Vivian frowned and said to Caleb, “Wait for me in the car.”
Caleb didn’t move. He looked me up and down and sneered.
“So this is your ex-husband? He looks pretty rough. No wonder you weren’t into him.”
He was five years younger than me, with the spoiled attitude of a trust fund kid.
I wasn’t interested in arguing with him.
Vivian tossed me a plastic bag.
Inside were three of Lily’s old outfits and a stuffed bunny missing an ear.
It was Lily’s favorite toy. Robert had cut off the ear.
He’d said girls shouldn’t play with such delicate things—it made them weak.
Lily had been only four years old then.
She’d cried for an entire afternoon.
I took the bag and turned to leave. Robert spoke up again.
“Lucas Gray, stop right there. Let’s settle this child support matter.”
“The court ordered three thousand. You pay three thousand.”
“Three thousand? Why don’t you just rob us? Vivian’s expecting now, and Caleb needs to invest in—”
“That’s your family’s problem.”
Robert started cursing again.
“Let me tell you something—my daughter’s money is our family’s money. You, an outsider, don’t get a cent!”
I didn’t respond.
I hung the plastic bag on my handlebars and started my scooter.
Robert kept shouting behind me.
Caleb stood off to the side, playing with his phone, completely indifferent.
Vivian didn’t say a single word in my defense.
Not one.
That night, Lily fell asleep hugging the one-eared bunny.
I sat by the window and counted this month’s earnings.
Fifteen days of deliveries: forty-eight hundred dollars.
Subtract fifteen hundred for rent, twelve hundred for Lily’s kindergarten tuition, a thousand for food, scooter charging fees, phone bill.
One hundred and ten dollars left.
One hundred and ten dollars.
That was the total balance my daughter and I had left in this city.
My phone buzzed.
Vivian sent a text: “I’ll be a few days late with this month’s child support. Caleb’s got his eye on a watch, so I need to buy it for him first.”
I put my phone under my pillow.
Didn’t reply.
4
I stared at the long crack in the ceiling and made a decision.
I couldn’t let this ability go to waste.
Years ago, Sophia had given me five million dollars for one reading.
How many people in this city wanted to know how they’d die?
How many would pay to change their fate?
I was done playing the saint.
I was going to use these eyes to support my daughter and me.
I spent three days working out a plan.
I couldn’t just tell people how they’d die like I did as a kid.
Too scary. Too risky.
I registered a short video account called “Delivery Guy Talks Health.”
The concept was simple: every day, I’d film a segment about real encounters I had while delivering food.
Of course, I changed all the details.
My first video: “Today I delivered to a woman with bruises on her face. Let’s talk about how to seek help if you’re experiencing domestic violence.”
Combined with the news story from Maple Gardens, the video got over fifty thousand views.
I didn’t mention anything supernatural.
I just talked about the people I “saw,” then packaged it as common sense.
…
Two weeks later, I delivered a three-hundred-dollar order to an office building downtown.
A three-hundred-dollar delivery. I’d never seen that before.
When I opened it, it was afternoon tea for an entire office floor.
The receptionist told me to leave it on the desk.
As I was unloading the boxes, the conference room door was open.
Inside sat a circle of people.
At the center was a man in his early forties, wearing a sharp suit with a commanding presence.
Above his head: [43 years old, one year from now, cerebral hemorrhage.]
Next to him stood a little boy, about four or five years old, playing on an iPad.
Above the boy’s head: [5 years old, today, anaphylactic shock.]
Today.
I set down the box and glanced at the order notes: [Nut allergy. All items must be nut-free.]
The order had been placed by the receptionist.
I opened one of the cake boxes and checked the ingredients list.
Almond flour.
“Hey, that cake—”
The receptionist had already grabbed a box and was heading toward the conference room.
I rushed over and snatched the box from her hands.
“What are you doing?” The receptionist jumped, glaring at me.
“This cake has almond flour. Your notes said nut allergy.”
The girl froze, then flipped through the ingredients list.
“Oh… I didn’t notice…”
The man in the suit walked out of the conference room.
“What’s going on?”
The receptionist’s face went pale. “Mr. Hayes, the cakes contain nuts. I missed it…”
Mr. Hayes glanced at the cake, then at his son playing on the iPad in the conference room.
He took a deep breath, visibly shaken.
“You’re the delivery driver?” He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lucas Gray.”
Mr. Hayes had his assistant remove all the cakes and reorder.
He called me into the hallway and handed me a thick stack of cash.
“Thank you. My son’s nut allergy is severe. Last time he had an accidental exposure, he was in the ICU for four hours.”
I felt the weight of the envelope. At least two thousand dollars inside.
More than I’d make in three days of deliveries.
“Mr. Hayes, I don’t want the money. But I’d like to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Have you been getting frequent headaches lately? Have you had it checked out?”
Mr. Hayes’s expression changed. His eyes sharpened.
“How do you know?”
“I meet a lot of people doing deliveries. At your age, with high work stress, high blood pressure is common. I’d suggest getting a brain CT scan.”
Perfectly worded.
No one would suspect a delivery driver’s well-meaning advice.
Mr. Hayes stared at me for five seconds.
“Lucas Gray, what did you do before this?”
“I ran a small business.”
He nodded and shoved the money into my pocket. “Take it. And give me your contact info.”
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Early in the morning, my neighbor from next door, Lily Monroe, suddenly tagged me in the building’s group chat:
“That whore from 1101! Have you no shame? Calling my husband to fix your pipes in the middle of the night—can’t find somewhere else to throw yourself at men?”
“If you dare seduce my husband again, I’ll kill you!”
I was completely stunned.
I didn’t even know her husband, had never spoken a single word to him!
I explained over and over, but she acted like she’d lost her mind, refusing to listen, just kept cursing at me.
I had no choice but to block her and ignore this lunatic.
But a few days later, she somehow snuck into my apartment.
The moment I opened my front door, she lunged out from behind it and stabbed a knife straight into my chest.
“This is all your fault! My husband doesn’t want me anymore! You’ll pay with your life!”
My vision grew blurrier and blurrier. Even as I died, I never understood when I’d ever stolen her husband.
When I opened my eyes again, I’d returned to the day she cursed at me in the group chat!
Looking at those vicious insults, I couldn’t hold back anymore and fired right back:
“Stop your crazy rambling! Your husband ran off with his mistress three years ago!”
1
The notification sounds from the building’s group chat suddenly went crazy. I opened it and my heart sank.
Lily Monroe from apartment 1101 next door was tagging me in the group chat, cursing at me hysterically.
“You whore from 1101! Get out here!”
“I’ve been married to my husband Lucas Gray for over ten years, and we love each other dearly! You slut, just because you don’t have a husband, you try to steal someone else’s, secretly seducing my husband!”
“Calling him to fix your pipes in the middle of the night—what are your intentions? Running out of places to spread your legs, so now you’re trying to steal someone else’s man!”
A few gossipy neighbors in the group immediately chimed in:
“How can our community have people like this? Shameless! So young and instead of behaving properly, she has to be a homewrecker and destroy other people’s families!”
“People like this should be kicked out of the community. What a disgrace!”
Seeing people backing her up, Lily became even more smug, her insults growing more vicious, one filthy message after another flooding the screen:
“You slut who’s been screwed by every random man, you think you’re worthy of eyeing my husband?”
“Give my husband back right now, or I won’t let you off!”
Looking at these twisted accusations on my screen, I felt nothing but absurdity.
My pipes were fine. Why would I call someone to fix them for no reason?
Let alone call her nonexistent husband.
But Lily gave me no chance to explain, just kept flooding the chat with curses:
“You bitch, let my husband come home! If anything happens to him, I’ll drag you down with me!”
The neighbors who’d been cursing at me earlier joined in:
“Exactly! People need to have some moral boundaries. Let the woman’s husband go home. Stop being so shameless!”
Looking at these accusations without any attempt to understand the truth, memories from my previous life suddenly came flooding back.
In my previous life, I explained repeatedly in the group that I didn’t even know her husband, had never called him to fix anything.
But not a single person in the group believed me. They all thought I was making excuses.
Even more terrifying, Lily later snuck into my apartment while I was taking out the trash.
She ransacked my place, searching everywhere for her so-called husband, and of course found nothing.
Blinded by rage, she took it out on me, grabbed a knife from my kitchen, and stabbed me right in the chest.
“This is all your fault! My husband doesn’t want me anymore! You’ll pay with your life!”
Her screaming from my previous life, and the searing pain in my chest—even thinking about it now made my whole body run cold.
I died without ever understanding what I’d done wrong, why I had to suffer such an undeserved disaster.
Pulling my vision back from the memories, Lily’s curses in the group chat continued.
This time, I couldn’t hold back anymore. The anger and resentment bottled up inside me exploded instantly, and I sent a voice message directly to the group:
“Stop your crazy rambling! Your husband ran off with his mistress three years ago. Where’s this husband you’re talking about?!”
2
The moment I sent that message, the frantically jumping notifications in the group chat came to an abrupt halt.
I stared at the screen for half a minute. No new messages appeared, and Lily’s stream of vile curses finally stopped.
Looks like I hit a nerve. I let out a breath of relief, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.
The fear from my previous life mixed with the anger of this one, leaving me with no desire to look at my phone anymore.
I’d already said what needed to be said. Whether people believed me was their business. At least it was better than the last life where I explained myself to deaf ears.
I casually turned off my phone screen, got up to wash up and go to bed, just wanting to turn the page on this miserable day.
But just as I reached the bathroom door, a sharp, frantic roar suddenly came from outside, instantly shattering the silence of the night.
“Lucas Gray! Get out here! I know you’re in this slut’s apartment, stop hiding in there!”
It was Lily’s voice!
She actually came to my door?
My heart skipped a beat. The terror from my previous life when she broke into my home and attacked me instantly surged up, making my hands and feet go cold.
“You won’t even come home for this woman? You’ve really got some nerve!”
Her voice grew closer and closer, filled with hysterical madness.
“You think I can’t find you just because you’re hiding in here? Open the door! Open this door right now!”
Then came the sound of pounding on my door—“bang bang bang”—so forceful it seemed like she wanted to tear the door off its hinges.
The commotion woke up the surrounding neighbors. Soon, chaotic footsteps and whispers came from outside.
“What’s going on? Why all this noise in the middle of the night?”
“Looks like Lily from 1101 is banging on Mia Watson’s door in 1102?”
“Didn’t the group chat say Mia was seducing her husband? Is he really hiding in there?”
Several nosy neighbors had already gathered at my door, craning their necks in the hallway light, their gossiping becoming more direct.
“I bet it’s true. Otherwise why would Lily be this worked up? That cheating bastard and homewrecker must be hiding inside, too scared to come out!”
“Absolutely shameless, hiding someone else’s husband in her apartment in the middle of the night!”
“Got the guts to do it but not the guts to open the door? What a disgrace!”
These words pierced my heart like needles, identical to the accusations in the group chat from my previous life.
I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms, anger overwhelming fear.
Lily kept pounding on the door, her screams growing more shrill:
“Mia Watson! You bitch, stealing my husband—I’ll kill you! I’ll skin you alive today!”
Her voice was especially bone-chilling in the quiet early morning, every word dripping with murderous intent.
My mind instantly flashed to the searing pain of being stabbed in the chest in my previous life, her twisted face at that moment, and my body began trembling uncontrollably.
But the next second, a nameless rage suddenly rose in my heart.
What right did she have?
What right did she have to divorce three years ago but still imagine a husband to slander me with?
What right did she have to take my life in the previous life and still come to ruin my life in this one?
“Screw off!”
I couldn’t hold back anymore and yanked the door open.
The hallway light flooded in. Lily was raising her fist, ready to pound on the door again. Seeing me suddenly open it, she froze for a moment, her eyes full of hostility.
I didn’t give her a chance to react. I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.
The crisp smack echoed through the hallway.
The surrounding chatter instantly stopped. The neighbors were all stunned, not expecting the usually quiet me to suddenly strike.
Lily’s head jerked to the side from the slap, a clear red mark immediately appearing on her face.
She was dazed for a few seconds, then like a lit firecracker, lunged at me with claws out:
“You dare hit me? I’ll kill you!”
I was already prepared. I quickly dodged into my apartment and stuck out my foot lightly.
Lily, already out of her mind with rage, lost her footing and fell hard to the ground with a heavy thud.
Looking at her sprawled on the floor, the hatred from being stabbed to death in my previous life surged up instantly, rage consuming me.
I quickly stepped forward, sat down hard on her back, pinned down her struggling body, then grabbed her hair and yanked it in opposite directions.
“This is for your screaming! This is for banging on my door! This is for slandering me!”
I roared with red eyes, the pent-up grievances and anger from both lives erupting completely in this moment.
“Let’s see what you’ve got! Today I’ll show you what happens when you slander people!”
“Ahhh—! Mia Watson, you shameless homewrecker! There’s no justice! I’m calling the police! I’ll have them arrest you!”
Lily, pinned under me and unable to move, could only tilt her head back and scream shrilly, her voice full of venom and unwillingness.
The surrounding neighbors finally snapped out of it and rushed over to pull me off:
“Stop it! Stop it! Let’s talk this out!”
“Why are you hitting people? Someone’s going to get hurt if this continues!”
“I already called property management. They’re coming to handle this!”
Some grabbed my arms, others tried to pull me off Lily.
I stared at Lily still cursing from the floor, my chest heaving violently.
In my previous life, this lunatic stabbed me to death in my own home based purely on her delusions, leaving me to die without understanding why.
In this life, she wanted to pull the same trick again. How could I possibly let her succeed?
After the neighbors pulled me away, I continued glaring at Lily, but those neighbors turned around and started scolding me instead.
“Mia Watson, you’re in the wrong here. Even if Lily said harsh things, you can’t hit people!”
“Being a homewrecker and still so self-righteous, even attacking people—you’re too vicious!”
“This can’t just end here. If property management can’t handle it, we’re calling the police to sort this out!”
Call the police?
I let out a cold laugh.
Of course we should call the police.
Even if they didn’t, I would.
I shook off the neighbors holding me and, right in front of everyone, pulled out my phone and dialed 91
“Hello, police? I need to report something. There’s a mentally unstable person making a scene at my door, and she keeps threatening to kill me. Please come handle this right away.”
3
Hearing that I’d called the police, Lily suddenly broke free from the neighbors holding her and lunged at me like a madwoman, slapping me twice across the face.
The crisp, loud slaps echoed through the hallway. My face immediately swelled up.
“You bitch! Stealing my husband and you dare call the police? I think you’re tired of living!”
She glared at me through gritted teeth, eyes full of poison.
The slaps left my head ringing. I raised my hand to hit back, but just as I lifted my arm, two nosy neighbors grabbed my wrists tightly.
“You want to hit back?!”
One neighbor gripped my arm hard:
“No matter what she said, you can’t hit first. Now you want to keep hitting? Can’t you just behave?”
Another woman chimed in:
“Exactly! You’re a homewrecker who hit first. This is outrageous.”
Seeing me restrained, Lily became even more arrogant, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, cursing even more viciously—her language was absolutely vile.
The surrounding neighbors also joined in condemning me, saying I’d destroyed someone’s family, caused a disturbance in the middle of the night, and had no sense of public decency.
“I didn’t!”
I struggled to break free from their hold, stubbornly retorting:
“I’ve explained so many times—I’m the only person in my apartment! I don’t even know her husband. How could I have seduced him?”
I looked around at the watching neighbors, sweeping my gaze across their faces, raising my voice:
“Besides, she says her husband is in my apartment. My door is wide open right now. Look inside—do you see anyone?”
At those words, the previously chattering hallway instantly quieted down somewhat.
Several neighbors instinctively craned their necks to look into my empty living room, doubt gradually creeping into their eyes.
That’s right. The door was wide open, the inside completely visible. Forget a man—there wasn’t even an extra shadow.
Seeing this, Lily immediately shrieked in defense:
“He must have just run away! He was still inside when I was banging on the door. He must have heard we were calling the police and snuck out the back door or window!”
I let out a cold laugh, struggling against the hands restraining me:
“We’re on the 11th floor. How could anyone climb out a window? They’d have a death wish! Besides, there are only a few apartments on our floor. If someone ran out of my place, wouldn’t you all have heard something?”
Everyone froze, exchanging glances.
The commotion from Lily banging on my door earlier had been so loud, and they’d all been gathered in the hallway. If someone had actually run out of my apartment, it would have been impossible for no one to notice.
One man muttered to himself:
“True, I was standing at the hallway corner the whole time. Didn’t hear any doors opening or closing.”
Hearing this, people finally calmed down a bit.
Just then, two police officers in uniform walked into the hallway:
“Who called the police? What happened here?”
I immediately broke free from the neighbors’ hands, stepped forward, and pointed at the still-panting Lily:
“Officers, I called. This woman, the resident of apartment 1101, Lily Monroe—without any evidence, she accused me of seducing her husband, claiming I was having an affair with him in my apartment. She not only verbally abused me in our building’s group chat but came to my door and banged on it, and just now she hit me.”
I pointed to my swollen cheek where the five-finger mark was still clearly visible.
Lily, who had been so aggressive moments before, suddenly deflated the instant she saw the police, actually falling silent and lowering her head.
The officer looked at Lily and asked:
“Ma’am, is what she said true? Why would you slander her?”
Lily was silent for a long while before reluctantly raising her head and muttering:
“Never mind, officers. My husband Lucas Gray already ran away. What’s the point of you coming now!”
“Ran away?”
I immediately seized on that, my sharp gaze fixed on her.
“I think you’re just feeling guilty, aren’t you? I’ve lived in this building for five years. Three years ago, I saw with my own eyes your husband Lucas Gray fighting with you, dragging you through a divorce, and I haven’t seen him since!”
“You’re lying!”
Lily’s head shot up, her eyes excited as she glared at me, suddenly stepping forward and grabbing my arm tightly.
“You keep saying you have nothing to do with my husband. I’m asking you—if I have evidence proving you’re having an affair with my husband, what will you say?”
Her grip was strong, her nails almost digging into my flesh.
I endured the pain, looking straight into her eyes, saying firmly:
“If you can produce evidence proving I’m having an improper relationship with your so-called husband, I’ll move out of this building immediately and promise never to set foot here again or seduce your husband ever again!”
“Good! Those are your words!”
Lily immediately turned to the watching neighbors:
“Everyone heard that, right? This is Mia Watson’s own promise. Don’t try to back out later!”
The neighbors all nodded, whispering to each other.
Lily grabbed my arm and dragged me toward her apartment:
“Fine, I’ll let you see with your own eyes whether I have evidence or not!”
I didn’t resist, letting her pull me forward.
The curious neighbors followed behind, wanting to see what evidence she could possibly have.
As soon as I stepped into Lily’s apartment, a warm, homey atmosphere hit me in the face.
Men’s slippers sat on the shoe rack by the door.
A freshly washed suit jacket hung on the balcony.
The bathroom and kitchen items were all matching couples’ sets. Even the bedroom bed clearly showed signs of two people sleeping in it.
Most eye-catching was the wedding photo hanging on the wall.
In the photo, Lily wore a white wedding dress, nestled in Lucas Gray’s arms, smiling blissfully.
Seeing all this, my heart couldn’t help but skip a beat, a trace of doubt creeping in.
Could she really not be divorced?
Had my memories from my previous life been wrong?
Seeing me freeze, a triumphant smile appeared on Lily’s face. She turned and pulled out a stack of photos from a drawer, throwing them viciously in front of me:
“Take a good look! Is that you and my husband in these photos!”
I looked down at the drawer, my pupils contracting sharply, instantly falling silent.
“Everyone saw that, right?”
Lily raised her chin smugly, addressing the watching neighbors.
“This is the evidence! She still dares to say she didn’t seduce my husband? Now that the proof is ironclad, Mia Watson, you should keep your promise and get out of this building!”
The neighbors looked at the photos, their eyes full of contempt and certainty:
“So it really happened. You really can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Never thought Mia Watson, who seems so quiet, would actually be a homewrecker.”
“Having someone like this in our building is disgraceful.”
Even the police frowned, looking at me disapprovingly.
Feeling these strange looks, I took a deep breath, pulled out the divorce papers from the drawer, and threw them hard in front of Lily.
“You take a good look at this. What is this?”
4
Lily’s gaze locked onto that divorce certificate, the smugness on her face instantly freezing.
Her mouth hung open, the curses she’d prepared stuck in her throat. Her expression shifted from triumph to shock, then to panic.
The surrounding neighbors also stopped their chatter, all eyes focusing on that suddenly appearing divorce certificate. The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.
“What… what is this?”
Lily muttered to herself, as if unable to believe her eyes.
I didn’t speak, just stared at her coldly.
The next second, she suddenly scrambled up from the floor, snatched up that divorce certificate, then threw it violently to the ground like it was something dirty.
“Fake! This is definitely fake! Mia Watson, to clear your name, you actually fabricated that Lucas and I got divorced!”
She shrieked.
“Lucas and I never got divorced! We have a great relationship. You had someone forge this certificate!”
While shouting, she suddenly rushed over and slapped me again.
Smack—this one was even harder than before. My other cheek instantly burned with pain, and I even tasted blood at the corner of my mouth.
“This is all your fault! If you hadn’t seduced him, why would he have asked me for a divorce! It’s all your fault! You destroyed my family!”
This slap completely ignited the emotions of the watching neighbors.
Those who had shown some doubt moments ago now seemed to have found an outlet, all pointing and criticizing me.
“Exactly, Mia Watson. You must have lured away her husband. Lily is already so miserable, and you’re still trying to blame her!”
“You said it yourself—if there’s evidence, you’d move out of the building. Now the proof is ironclad. Don’t try to weasel out!”
“Just move out. Our building can’t tolerate someone like you who destroys families!”
The condemnations came one after another. They looked at me with contempt and disgust, as if I really were that unforgivable homewrecker.
I rubbed my swollen cheek and a cold smile curved my lips.
“To catch an affair, you need to catch both parties. You all keep saying I stole her husband—so where is her husband, Lucas Gray?”
I looked around at the surrounding neighbors, my voice clear and firm.
“This is a society governed by law. Everything requires evidence. And this divorce certificate has the government seal and a registration number. If you don’t believe it, you can verify it!”
“Stop making excuses!”
A middle-aged woman shouted with her hands on her hips.
“Lily’s apartment is full of her husband’s things, and their wedding photo is still hanging on the wall. How could they be divorced? You must have done something!”
“Exactly! So stubborn!”
Another neighbor chimed in.
“Lily, quick, call your husband and have him come confront her. Let’s see how she weasels out then!”
Everyone echoed this sentiment, all urging Lily to make the call.
Lily’s eyes flickered, a trace of hesitation crossing her face, her earlier arrogance diminished by half.
She clutched her phone, her finger hovering over the screen, hesitating to press down.
“I can’t… I can’t call…”
She said in a low voice:
“Lucas is busy right now. I can’t disturb him, or he’ll get angry and be even less willing to come home…”
At these words, the surrounding chatter immediately quieted down.
A female neighbor in a red jacket frowned, stepped forward, and looked at Lily with disappointment:
“What are you doing this for? He already cheated on you, and you’re still trying so hard to win him back? This kind of man isn’t worth it!”
“Exactly. You can’t force love. Why torture yourself like this? What’s the point?”
Another neighbor also tried to persuade her.
Lily’s eyes reddened, but she still stubbornly shook her head:
“You don’t understand. Lucas still has feelings for me. It’s all because of this woman that he was confused for a moment…”
She spoke, then glared viciously at me again.
I took a deep breath, stepped forward, and looked calmly at Lily and the surrounding neighbors:
“Since you won’t have him come here, then I’ll just have to take you all there.”
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After my sister ran away from her wedding, I married the Face-Blind CEO in her place.
After another late-night sex session, I was scrolling through my phone before bed when I came across a trending post:
[What should I do after discovering my wife deceived me?]
[I was supposed to marry her sister, but I can’t recognize faces. She took her sister’s place at the wedding and even gave me an adorable daughter.]
Someone angrily commented below:
[Deception is poison to a marriage! You must divorce her and make her pay!]
The poster stayed silent for a moment before replying:
[Divorce? That’s not necessary… but punishment is still in order.]
I was so scared I couldn’t sleep all night, terrified that Holden Stone would use ruthless methods to destroy me.
The next day, I nervously clicked on the update—
[This morning when I made eggs, I secretly burned my wife’s portion a little and deliberately didn’t arrange it into a heart shape.]
[Even though I know she’s been cutting out sweets lately, I still added an extra half spoon of sugar to her milk.]
[When I showered, I also closed the door completely without leaving a gap for her to peek through.]
[This way, she should know I’m a bit angry, right?]
The moment I received the news that my sister was returning home, Holden Stone had me pinned against his lap, kissing me.
Because he’d caught me talking to the new male intern, he seemed jealous. Tonight’s sex was particularly intense.
My voice was hoarse from begging for mercy, but he still wouldn’t let me go.
When he carried me to the bathroom to wash up, I was exhausted, my legs trembling.
Fortunately, though Holden was clingy in bed, his aftercare was always thorough.
Within half an hour, I was back in the soft bed.
The man’s strong arms wrapped around my waist, his voice hoarse with satisfaction.
As if mentioning it casually.
“Baby, do you remember what I hate most?”
My whole body stiffened.
I unconsciously recalled how when I first married him, Holden didn’t like me.
On our wedding night, he threw a contract at me and coldly warned me.
“Automatic divorce after five years. By the way, I hate lies more than anything, so don’t let me catch you deceiving me.”
Remembering his expression and tone then, I couldn’t help but tremble.
I carefully studied his expression and answered in a low voice.
“You hate… being lied to most.”
Hearing my answer, Holden’s lips curved slightly.
As if coaxing me, he murmured.
“Then baby, have you ever lied to me?”
Though his tone was gentle, I inexplicably detected a hint of danger in it.
Alarm bells ringing in my mind, I immediately leaned in, obediently kissed Holden’s lips, and acted cute.
“I love you most of all. I could never lie to you!”
But the man didn’t answer right away.
After a long silence that made cold sweat gradually seep down my back, Holden finally lowered his eyes and gave an emotionless “Mm.”
Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.
After confirming Holden was asleep, I took out my phone.
I opened the text my sister had sent.
[Janelle, I’m coming home the day after tomorrow and won’t be leaving again. Mom told me you married Holden Stone. Is this true?]
[When the Stone family proposed a marriage alliance back then, I refused.]
[I didn’t expect them to still be so persistent. You and he have never even met—did someone force you to marry him?]
Looking at this string of questions, I sighed softly.
Yes, I had indeed deceived Holden.
Back then, our family had a cash flow problem. Only the Stone family was willing to help, but they had one condition.
My sister had to marry into their family.
Apparently, Holden had accidentally run into my sister speaking at an academic conference and immediately proposed a marriage alliance.
But my sister was devoted to her research and extremely averse to men. She refused without a second thought.
Growing up, my sister and I had always been closest. I couldn’t bear to see her forced to marry someone she didn’t love.
So that very night, I booked her a plane ticket and encouraged her to flee abroad to escape the wedding.
Then I suggested to my panicking parents:
“I found out Holden has severe face blindness. My sister and I look so similar—it’ll be the same if I marry him instead!”
Desperate and with no other options, my parents accepted my proposal.
After marrying Holden, I lived in fear every day, terrified my lie would be exposed.
But whenever I thought about how my sister could have her freedom, it all felt worth it.
Lost in thought, my phone suddenly refreshed to show a trending post.
[What should I do after discovering my wife deceived me?]
[I was supposed to marry her sister, but I can’t recognize faces. She took her sister’s place at the wedding and even gave me an adorable daughter.]
My fingers froze. I stared at the post.
As if possessed, I turned to look.
In the moonlight, Holden was sleeping with his eyes closed, his profile refined and aloof.
I climbed out of bed and carefully went to the living room.
Only then did I click into the post.
The poster’s description was brief, but the comment section exploded.
[Substitute bride? Aren’t you the one who can’t even recognize your own wife? The child is already born and only now you’re asking what to do!]
[Besides, if she was a substitute bride, she shouldn’t have any feelings for you. You’ve been married so long—didn’t you ever find it strange?]
[Right, love and indifference are pretty easy to tell apart, aren’t they?]
The poster, who had been silent the whole time, immediately replied to this comment.
[There’s no way my wife doesn’t have feelings for me. She loves me very much. If it weren’t for my work, she wouldn’t want to be apart from me for even a moment.]
[I believe she must have had her reasons for taking her sister’s place.]
[Don’t talk nonsense and try to drive a wedge between my wife and me.]
The comment section went silent for a long time.
Finally, someone slowly typed out a line.
[…Top-tier lovebrain. I’ve really seen it all now.]
The poster replied again instantly.
[Lovebrain? My wife does have a bit of that. She’s beautiful and naive. I often worry about her being deceived by others outside.]
The comment section completely erupted.
[?? Mind-blowing… Are you sure the lovebrain is your wife?]
[It’s obvious who the real lovebrain is! But since you posted this, you must want a solution.]
[Right, when it comes down to it, you were still deceived all these years.]
[Deception is poison to a marriage! You must divorce her and make her pay!]
This time, the poster stayed silent for a moment before replying.
[Divorce? That’s not necessary… but punishment is still in order.]
After posting that response, no matter how much the comment section goaded him, the poster never replied again.
Looking at the poster’s tone, I unconsciously bit my lip.
A ridiculous thought suddenly formed in my mind.
Both involved arranged marriages, both involved substitute brides, and this poster’s word choices felt strangely familiar.
Could this post have been made by Holden?
At that thought, I immediately stood up.
I carefully pushed open the bedroom door. The room was very dark, and Holden was still sleeping.
Biting my lip, to completely dispel my concerns, I walked to Holden’s bedside and picked up his phone.
In five years of marriage, I’d never checked Holden’s phone. After all, he was famously aloof and self-controlled, never getting close to women.
Recalling the few passwords he commonly used, I quickly unlocked the screen.
Before clicking into the app, I hesitated for a few seconds.
The next moment, my wrist was caught.
A man’s burning chest pressed against my back, his breath highly aggressive, his voice revealing no emotion.
“Baby, what are you doing?”
I bit my lip hard. My thoughts raced. In my panic, my mouth found an excuse without my control.
“My… my phone died, so I’m borrowing yours.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
What a terrible excuse. As if Holden would believe it.
Unexpectedly, the man was silent for a long time but ultimately said nothing, as if accepting my explanation.
Back in bed, my thoughts couldn’t settle for a long time.
I didn’t tell Holden that just before he woke up, his phone had received a notification.
It was a new comment from the forum.
[Why hasn’t the poster replied? You still haven’t said how you’re going to punish your wife. You’re not really going to divorce her, are you?]
So that poster really was Holden.
Not only did he know I’d deceived him by taking my sister’s place, he was also planning to punish me for the deception.
Recalling how the business world had described Holden over the years—vengeful and ruthless—I couldn’t help but shiver.
I was done for. I wouldn’t survive tomorrow.
When I woke up the next day, Holden was already up.
Since we’d been married, he’d been a good husband and father. He even made breakfast by hand every day according to our tastes.
I walked to the dining table slowly, step by step.
I looked up at the man who was feeding our daughter breakfast with refined, elegant movements.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke softly.
“Holden, there’s something I want to tell you…”
“Eat breakfast first.”
Long fingers pushed a side plate in front of me.
Holden’s expression was calm, as if he knew nothing about my deception.
I lowered my head and only then noticed the breakfast on the plate.
It was no different from what I usually ate—two slices of toast, a fried egg, and vegetables.
Even the mayonnaise had been thoughtfully spread for me.
Because of last night, I had no appetite.
I randomly stuffed a few bites into my mouth and was about to put down my fork.
When I looked up, I saw Holden staring at me with deep, meaningful eyes.
He raised an eyebrow ambiguously.
“You… didn’t notice anything different?”
I froze, unconsciously thinking back to the taste of breakfast.
But a terrible thought surged in my mind.
Could Holden hate me so much that he couldn’t even wait a day and directly poisoned my breakfast?
My back went cold. I asked tentatively.
“Should I have noticed something different?”
Holden was silent for a moment. The expectant look in his eyes dimmed.
He withdrew his gaze and answered as if it didn’t matter.
“Nothing. I just wanted to casually ask how today’s fried egg was.”
I didn’t understand, but I still answered immediately.
“Delicious. Your cooking skills keep getting better.”
My intention was to please him a bit.
So when he settled accounts later, he might spare me.
But for some reason, Holden’s expression darkened even more.
He stared at me somewhat resentfully.
Then looked at the plate in front of me.
I thought he was blaming me for not finishing breakfast.
I quickly picked up my fork and stuffed the remaining sandwich into my mouth.
While eating, I praised: “It’s really good. I like it a lot.”
Holden became even more strangely silent.
After a long while, as if finally accepting reality, he took our daughter’s hand and walked out.
His voice somehow sounded a bit annoyed.
“Is that so? Since it’s so good, I’ll make it for you again tomorrow.”
I stared at the man’s somewhat dejected back, feeling a bit strange.
Holden… seemed angry?
But I clearly finished all my breakfast.
Men’s hearts are really hard to understand.
After Holden left, I quickly took out my phone.
I opened last night’s post.
Regarding what Holden said last night about punishment, the comments below were dense, but he hadn’t replied to a single one.
It wasn’t until a few minutes ago that he finally posted an update.
[I punished my wife a bit this morning, but she doesn’t seem to have noticed. Was I not obvious enough?]
The comments immediately became lively.
[You punished her so quickly! You really are fast. Did you divorce your wife?]
[What are you thinking? The city hall isn’t even open at this hour.]
[Based on last night’s lovebrain comments, plus the fact that your wife didn’t notice it was punishment… he probably just silently sulked, right?]
[It’s not that serious. He probably just secretly looked at his wife a few times less.]
The comment section became more and more lively.
Holden stayed silent for a long time.
Then he first replied to the first comment.
[I said I won’t divorce my wife. I swore an oath back then—even if I die, I’ll be with her for life.]
[If there are any more comments trying to damage my relationship with my wife, I’ll block you.]
After a pause, he replied to the comment about him sulking.
[Of course not. I’m a man of principle. I won’t indulge my wife like that.]
[But is sulking useful? If it is, I can try it tonight and make sure she knows she was wrong.]
Someone in the comments was curious.
[How does the poster know your wife didn’t notice the punishment? What if she knew but pretended not to because she felt guilty?]
This time Holden replied quickly.
[Because she kept smiling at me, making my heart beat so fast I didn’t dare look at her much. That’s definitely not the behavior of someone feeling guilty.]
[I understand my wife. She’s so innocent and kind—she wouldn’t fake things with me.]
Even though the comment section was already prepared, everyone collectively fell silent again.
Instead, Holden himself posted another comment.
[When I get home tonight, I’ll definitely punish my wife severely and make her understand the consequences of lying to me!]
Looking at these words, my back inexplicably went cold.
After thinking it over, I still couldn’t figure out what Holden’s punishment this morning had been.
I instinctively wanted to pack my bags and run.
But thinking of the Stone family’s influence throughout the country, I ultimately gave up and silently sat back down on the sofa.
Only one thought remained in my mind.
Tonight was my real death sentence.
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To get to Florida for my medical appointment, I rushed to the airport early in the morning, only to be denied boarding by my husband, Captain Ethan.
“The flight’s oversold. Take the next one.”
I pulled out my appointment confirmation and begged him to let me on the plane.
“I went through so much to get this specialist appointment.
If I miss it, I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait.
The doctor said my illness can’t be delayed. Our son, Leo, is only three. He can’t grow up without a mother.”
He replied sternly, “Rules are rules. Even if you’re family, no exceptions.”
Just then, I saw Chloe, the underprivileged student I’d sponsored, arrive late but board smoothly. I was furious.
“I was here two hours before her! Even if it’s oversold, shouldn’t I be boarding and she rebooking?!”
He flung my hand away, irritated. “Can’t you be a little kinder? What are you arguing with a young girl for?
She’s never been to Disney. What’s wrong with letting her go? And stop trying to manipulate me by faking an illness. You’ll set a bad example for our son.”
“It took me so much effort to get this appointment. If I miss it, I’ll have to wait forever.” I explained urgently, “This is life-saving.”
Having rushed to the airport early in the morning after pulling an all-nighter, my disheveled appearance earned Ethan’s utter disdain.
“What’s all this fuss about? Our airline isn’t refusing to compensate you. We even upgraded your seat. Don’t be so greedy!”
I threw the five-hundred-dollar voucher he shoved at me, my emotions crumbling. “I don’t want an upgrade. I just need to get to my appointment on time.
The doctor already said that if I don’t get treated soon, it could turn cancerous. Can five hundred dollars compensate me for my life?”
Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, Ethan’s face immediately darkened. “Are you done yet?
I thought you quit your job to better take care of Leo, but it turns out you just wanted to be lazy and fake illnesses all day at home.
It’s one thing to put on an act at home, but now you’re doing it in public? Isn’t that shameful? So much drama, why don’t you try acting?”
His harsh words pierced my heart.
When I married him, I not only defied my parents’ wishes but also chose to forgo a wedding house and gifts.
After we married, he was incredibly gentle with me. The only imperfection was how difficult it was for us to have a child.
To fulfill his dream of becoming a father, I endured physical discomfort and psychological pressure, finally conceiving after hundreds of IVF injections.
But shortly after Leo was born, I found out that the multiple IVF treatments had stimulated my uterine lining, leading to lesions.
Just at this crucial point, Ethan entered a critical phase in his career, about to be promoted from co-pilot to captain.
Fearing he’d be distracted, I kept my illness a secret and voluntarily quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom.
It wasn’t until the doctor sternly told me that I couldn’t overexert myself, needed more rest, and recommended a specialist in Florida for urgent surgery, that I started to panic.
But the specialist was so sought after, I couldn’t get an appointment.
To prevent my condition from worsening, I strictly followed medical advice, no longer frequently cleaning the house or doing a lot of daily chores.
Ethan’s dissatisfaction grew daily. I thought he would understand and empathize after I explained, but instead, he believed it was just an excuse to avoid housework.
Watching the boarding time tick by, I was burning with anxiety and could only bring up Leo.
“For Leo’s sake, please let me through. He’s only three, he can’t be without a mom.”
Hearing me mention our son, the disdain in his eyes deepened.
“You have the nerve to bring up Leo?
Making a scene and being a compulsive liar in public, are you fit to be his mother?
Aren’t you afraid you’ll set a bad example for him?
I advise you to stop playing games.
As a captain, I won’t show favoritism. Airline policy states that in cases of overselling, only rebooking is allowed. And you, you’re no exception!”
Looking at his “impartial” face, I was utterly disappointed.
Just then, a female passenger, Mrs. Davis, came forward and tried to persuade him.
“Your wife looks very unwell. She might really be sick. How about I give her my seat? I’m not in a hurry.”
My eyes lit up, but Ethan rejected her outright, without a word.
“Olivia, don’t think I didn’t see your annual physical report from last year. It clearly states you’re perfectly healthy.”
“When did I get a phy—”
“Silence!”
Ethan rudely interrupted. “Don’t keep using others’ kindness to achieve your ulterior motives.”
At his words, Mrs. Davis, who had sympathized with me, immediately gave me a look of mixed emotions. The next second, she walked into the boarding gate without looking back.
Left with no choice, I pulled out my electronic appointment confirmation and a screenshot of my medical records.
“Ethan, look, I really did book an appointment with an oncology specialist at Florida Affiliated Hospital. I pulled several all-nighters to get this slot, I really can’t afford to miss it.”
Ethan didn’t even glance at it, sneering repeatedly.
“Your lying skills are getting more sophisticated. Wouldn’t it be better to spend that free time taking care of the family and Leo?”
Looking at this man I thought I knew so well, I trembled with anger.
“Ethan, in your eyes, am I someone who would joke about her own life?”
“Who knows? All I know is that to gain my attention and concern, you’ve completely lost it.”
Before he finished speaking, the airport announcement blared for the third time.
“Attention Ms. Chloe Thorne, flying to Florida, your flight T2135 is about to depart. Please proceed to Gate 5 immediately.”
Originally, I thought it was just someone with the same name.
It wasn’t until she appeared in person that I confirmed she was indeed Chloe Thorne, the underprivileged student I’d sponsored for years.
She walked unhurriedly towards the boarding gate. Seeing me there, a flicker of surprise crossed her face.
She eyed me up and down, her tone devoid of its usual humility.
“Olivia, if Ethan weren’t by your side, I almost wouldn’t have recognized you.
Ethan is a captain. You should at least try to look presentable when you go out. How do you expect him to hold his head high in front of his colleagues?”
She looked radiant, a stark contrast to my disheveled self.
Her subtle taunt made me uncomfortable, but at that moment, I couldn’t care less. I grabbed her hand like a lifeline.
“Chloe, I have a life-saving medical appointment today. It’s an emergency. Can you please switch with me and take the next flight?”
She immediately looked at Ethan, who frowned, clearly displeased.
“Switch? What switch? Every seat corresponds to an individual’s identity information. If everyone did what you’re doing, would there be any safety guarantee?”
Then, he looked at her with a doting expression.
“Go on in, quickly. Any later, your Disney plans will be ruined.”
A smirk played on Chloe’s lips, the glee in her eyes impossible to hide.
“It’s a security risk, I really can’t help…”
Seeing her refuse, I grew desperate.
“Chloe, I’m begging you. I sponsored you from high school through college. I’m only asking you for this one favor, please?”
A trace of embarrassment flashed across her face when I mentioned my sponsorship. The onlookers, seeing her hesitation, began to voice their indignation.
“Young lady, she helped you for years. If you don’t have anything urgent, just let her go first.”
“Look at her, all dressed up in designer clothes. She’s clearly made it big and is now completely ungrateful.”
“There are so many ungrateful people these days. You never truly know someone.”
The crowd’s murmurs made Chloe’s face flush. Ethan, seeing this, immediately shielded her behind him and loudly reprimanded me.
“Olivia, you were so eager to sponsor her back then. Now you’re trying to guilt-trip her? Don’t pretend to be so noble or generous.”
To board the plane, I suppressed the urge to lash out at him.
“Fine, no switch. I can buy it, right? Chloe, how much was your ticket? I’ll pay you double. If that’s not enough, I’ll cover all your Disney hotel and ticket expenses.”
To my surprise, Chloe’s eyes immediately reddened.
“I may not be as rich as you, but you can’t just throw money at me like that. What do you think I am?”
Seeing her feign distress, Ethan was utterly heartbroken.
“Olivia, are you insane? I never knew you were so materialistic.
Don’t think you can corrupt a young person’s soul with your dirty money.
It’s her first time flying, her first time celebrating her birthday at Disney, and it happens to be the 10th-anniversary celebration. Can money buy that kind of happiness? How vulgar!”
He stopped looking at me and eagerly pushed her towards the boarding gate.
I snatched the boarding pass from her hand and demanded sharply,
“Ethan, she checked in two hours after me. If the flight is oversold, why isn’t she, the latecomer, rebooked, instead of me?!”
A gentleman from the crowd leaned in for a closer look and immediately sided with me.
“She’s right. She arrived first. Even if there’s a rebooking, it shouldn’t be her.”
Hearing the gentleman’s testimony, everyone immediately focused their attention on Ethan.
Facing their questioning and scrutinizing gazes, his expression faltered.
“It’s… it’s all randomly selected by the airline system. Whoever is chosen has to rebook. And besides, think about it: someone who isn’t sick trying to fake an illness to board, don’t you find her motives suspicious?”
His words made everyone step back simultaneously, looking at me as if I were a hijacker.
I closed my eyes heavily.
Three years of dating, six years of marriage — this was the man I defied my parents for, sacrificed my career for, risked my life to have a child for, and loved my whole life…
My hands clenched into fists, trying to control my emotions.
“Ethan, you keep saying I’m faking illness, but you can surely believe the words of my attending physician, right?”
I called Dr. Miller.
“Dr. Miller, hello, could you please take a few minutes to explain my condition to my husband? He’s not letting me go to Florida for treatment.”
Dr. Miller’s voice immediately rose several octaves upon hearing this.
“That’s outrageous! Your condition absolutely cannot be delayed. You must go to the hospital immediately!”
Ethan snatched the phone, sneering.
“Stop acting! I don’t care if you’re Dr. Miller or Dr. anyone else. How much did my wife pay you to act along with her?”
He hung up the phone and turned to leave.
“The plane is about to take off. Olivia, I’m warning you, go rebook your ticket, and stop disturbing everyone here!”
I tightly clutched his sleeve, pleading with a last shred of hope.
“Ethan, we’ve known each other for so many years. I swear on our relationship, I’m really sick and I have to go to Florida.”
My voice carried the desperation of someone at the end of their rope. A subtle softening appeared in his eyes. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang.
Chloe’s sweet, coy voice carried from the phone.
“Ethan, when does the plane take off? She’s already rebooked, right? If she knew you specifically reserved her seat for me, I wonder what she’d think.”
My eyes widened in disbelief.
“Why would you do this?! What did I ever do to you?! You’d rather give the ticket to Chloe, who arrived late, than let me get medical treatment. Ethan, you’re a monster!”
My desperate roar made passersby stare. Seeing the truth exposed, Ethan whispered to me.
“Yes, I gave your seat to her. So what? She had a difficult upbringing, didn’t have much of a family. Today is her birthday, why can’t you be a little kinder and let her have this?
And don’t you ever look in a mirror before you leave? Even if you’re faking illness, don’t look like a homeless person. It’s an embarrassment!”
I looked down at myself: a sweatshirt stained with milk, loose pants, and mismatched shoes.
But what could I do? He was never home, always focused on his promotion.
Leo had a high fever last night. To avoid affecting his work, I stayed awake at the hospital all night by myself.
By the time my mother came to take over at the hospital, I rushed to the airport non-stop. Where would I have had time to wash up and get dressed?
Watching his retreating figure disappear into the boarding gate, my heart felt dead.
Ten minutes later, the plane I should have been on soared into the sky.
For Leo’s sake, I knew I couldn’t give up. I called Dr. Miller again. After understanding the situation, he immediately helped me contact the Florida specialist.
Learning that an afternoon slot had opened up due to a last-minute cancellation, I thanked him and rushed to the train station.
On the way to Florida, I saw Chloe’s SnapChat updated.
She was smiling radiantly in front of a Disney parade float, gently embraced by a man.
The caption read: “My first time celebrating my birthday with the one I love most, in my favorite place. So happy!”
Although the man’s face wasn’t visible, that figure, that hand… I’d recognize it anywhere. It was Ethan.
The scar on his wrist from being bitten by a wild dog when he protected me years ago — I’d never forget it.
I silently exited SnapChat and immediately turned off my phone.
I don’t know how I arrived at the hospital, or how I signed for the surgery. All I know is that I woke up the next day.
When I turned on my phone, besides my mother’s worried messages, there was not a single message from Ethan.
It was clear he was lost in his new “paradise,” completely forgetting about me and his responsibilities.
Just after I replied to my mother, Chloe’s message came in.
“My boyfriend invited me to his promotion party on the 25th. What do you think I should wear to match my style?
After yesterday’s boarding incident, I’m sure you’ve guessed who my boyfriend is, right? I advise you to step aside quickly, and stop deluding yourself.”
I replied coldly,
“Chloe, only decent people deserve to dress up. You’re worse than an animal!”
After that, I blocked her. A moment later, Ethan furiously called.
“Olivia, you’re getting more and more out of control! Your mother said Leo is sick and hospitalized, and you don’t even care. Do you even act like a mother anymore?”
I didn’t respond to his accusation. I just said, seemingly out of the blue,
“Our son’s birthday is in three months; he wants to go to Disney. You take him.”
He paused for two seconds before demanding,
“You’re his mother, why don’t you take him? Don’t you know I’m in a critical period for my promotion? And I’ll be on a business trip on the 25th. You better get back from Florida before I leave…”
I hung up before he finished.
The surgery was successful. The specialist advised me to stay for a few more days, but I insisted on being discharged early.
After being discharged, I immediately had a private investigator track his and Chloe’s every move. I also found a passenger who was at the boarding gate that day.
The next day, I went to a law firm with the evidence. Then, I sent the full account of the rebooking incident to a media contact.
Soon, the 25th arrived.
I quietly arrived at the banquet, put on a mask, and found a quiet corner to sit in.
Chloe, dressed in a beautiful, elegant gown, affectionately linked her arm with Ethan’s. They moved through the banquet like a perfect couple.
Everyone who saw her smiled and said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Thorne.”
Ethan didn’t deny it, and Chloe accepted it readily.
As the banquet began, he stood confidently on stage, sharing his flying experience and thanking his superiors for their mentorship.
Applause erupted when he finished his speech.
Just then, his superior, Director Thompson, quickly came on stage, announcing with a serious face:
“We just received the latest notice from the board of directors: all of Captain Thorne’s work is suspended, effective immediately.”
🌟 Continue the story here
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