Category: English

I have aphasia. My parents, ashamed of my inability to speak, pressured me into marrying Aria, my brother Brandon’s vegetative fiancée, to save him from a difficult situation. For three years, I devoted myself to her care. Miraculously, Aria awoke. But the first thing she did was demand a divorce. She believed Brandon was the one who had cared for her all these years, declaring that she would marry no one but him. Later, I overheard her best friend trying to explain that I was the one who had taken care of her for three years. Aria just laughed nonchalantly. “I already knew,” she said. “But my husband can’t be a mute.” My heart shattered completely. I sought a hypnotist to erase my memories and treat my aphasia. When I woke up, I gazed at the woman by my hospital bed and asked, confused, “Who are you?” The woman’s face instantly paled with panic… Aria had been in a coma for three years. The first person she saw upon waking was me, but her eyes were filled with disappointment. I didn’t notice the sorrow in her gaze, my heart swelling with joy as I helped her sit up. I immediately shared the good news in our group chat. Soon, the hospital room was packed with people. And I, her husband who had cared for Aria for three years, was pushed into a corner, utterly ignored. Brandon arrived late, dressed in a sharp blue suit, looking as if he’d just come from a party. Aria immediately clutched Brandon’s hand, her eyes rimmed red. “Honey,” she whispered, “you’ve worked so hard these past three years.” At her words, everyone in the room froze. The very air seemed to solidify. I stood awkwardly to the side, unable to utter a single word to defend myself. All because I suffered from aphasia. Her friend, sensing the tension, spoke up hesitantly. “Aria, Leo is your husband.” Aria’s brow furrowed instantly, her gaze turning icy as she looked at me, as if I had somehow intruded upon her relationship with Brandon. I had always known Brandon was the one she loved. They were supposed to marry, but a car accident left her in a vegetative state. Brandon, unwilling to endure the hardship, ran to our parents, crying. When I heard it was Aria, I agreed to their plea to marry her in Brandon’s place. I never imagined that three years of my devoted care would lead to this. I quickly grabbed my phone, ready to type out an explanation, but Brandon slammed his hand down on my device. “Leo, Aria just woke up. She probably can’t process so much information at once. You should step out for a bit.” The others in the room, sensing the strained atmosphere, quickly found excuses to leave. The moment the door closed, Brandon tearfully embraced Aria, as if he had suffered some monumental injustice. “Aria, you’re finally awake. I’ve waited for you for three years…” My heart lurched violently, and my hand gripping the doorknob trembled slightly. I don’t know how much time passed before Brandon opened the hospital room door, a few clear tears still clinging to his eyelashes. I walked into the room, filled with a sense of dread, just as a glass vase shattered at my feet. “Leo, you certainly went to great lengths to marry me!” “You’re disgusting, using such underhanded tactics!” Splintered glass shards cut my calf, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my heart. Aria and I had grown up together. She was the only one who didn’t dismiss me for my aphasia, the only one who encouraged me to seek treatment. But after she met Brandon, she was drawn to him. The girl who once promised to marry me, her heart slowly drifted away. Now, she saw me as a despicable intruder in their relationship. I anxiously gestured in sign language, then remembered she couldn’t understand, and shakily picked up my phone, trying to type an explanation. Brandon smirked, then raised his hand and swatted my phone, sending it crashing to the floor, where its screen immediately went dark. “Leo, please, just let us be together!” I stood there, stunned. Besides sign language, my phone was my only means of communication. And now, I couldn’t even defend myself. I shook my head desperately, but this world was cruel, and even more so to someone who couldn’t speak.

My parents, who had somehow heard the news, rushed to the hospital. Hope flickered within me. I stopped them, gesturing wildly in sign language, pleading with them to explain for me. They could barely understand some simple signs. My mother nodded gently, but my father simply pushed me aside, pulling my mother into the room. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, my mother hesitantly began, “Leo, he…” Brandon, realizing what she was about to say, cut her off. “Mom, Leo just loves Aria too much. Don’t blame him.” My eyes widened in disbelief. I grabbed Brandon, signing furiously: You’re lying! You’re lying! He rubbed his wrist, clinging tightly to Aria, putting on a pitiful act. “I’m sorry, Leo. Don’t be angry, I won’t say any more.” I desperately signed towards my mother, my vision blurring: Tell her the truth! It’s not like this! My mother avoided my gaze. A wave of helplessness washed over me. Not a single day in the three years I’d cared for Aria felt as desperate as this one. My father’s face darkened. “Didn’t you force Brandon to step aside? You said Aria wouldn’t know anyway.” If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I wouldn’t have believed my own father could so shamelessly twist the truth. His words were like needles piercing my heart. It was Brandon who had scorned Aria, deeming her a “lost cause” and refusing to marry her. That’s when my parents had made me take his place. Aria scoffed. “Leo, it’s a good thing I woke up. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have rested in peace even in death.” I bit down hard on my lip, the metallic taste of blood spreading in my mouth. So this was how pathetic I was in her eyes. My mother pulled me out of the room, her face full of apologies. “Don’t blame your father. We owe Brandon this.” Brandon’s parents had died saving mine, so my parents took him in and treated him like their own son. My parents felt indebted, so I had to give in to him on everything. If I ever refused, Brandon would cry and say, “If only my mom and dad were here.” When I developed aphasia, a time when I desperately needed companionship, Brandon convinced my parents to take him on an international trip. Three years ago, Brandon’s mocking words still echoed in my ears: “A mute and a vegetable, how perfectly matched!” My mother continued, “Now that Aria’s awake, she’s so proud, she’ll divorce you eventually. “Leaving a good impression now will only elevate Brandon’s standing in her heart, won’t it?” Tears splattered on the ground. I pounded my chest, trying to relieve the pain gripping my heart. But they owed Brandon’s parents, why did I have to pay the price? Aria moved quickly. She decided to divorce me in the morning and had the papers drawn up by the afternoon. Afraid I would cause trouble, she hired several bodyguards to watch me as I signed. I let out a bitter laugh and slowly wrote my name. Aria had saved my life once, and I had protected her for three years. Now, we were even.

The evening autumn breeze carried a hint of chill. After my phone was repaired, the first thing I did was text Dr. Hayes: I’d like to try the hypnosis therapy you mentioned last time. Dr. Hayes quickly replied: You will lose some memories after hypnosis. And we’ll need a family member to sign a consent form, ensuring someone can care for you during recovery. My gaze fell on the words “family member,” and a bitter smile touched my lips. I couldn’t even think of anyone who could sign for me. I scrolled through SnapChat endlessly, my finger hovering over one contact, hesitant to tap it. Unexpectedly, the avatar suddenly vibrated, and a message popped up: I’m back in the country today. Can we grab dinner? I quickly replied, setting a time and place. I stared out the window, my thoughts drifting far away. Maya was my sign language teacher’s daughter. Because I often went to her house for lessons, we naturally grew close. Three years ago, when she learned I was marrying a vegetative woman, she angrily smashed the birthday gift she planned to give me, saying it was a waste for her mother to teach me sign language. I signed back, spewing harsh words. Then she went to study abroad, and I thought we would never meet again. I never expected her to return. After several years, she had matured considerably. When she wasn’t smiling, an aura of “do not approach” radiated from her. I got straight to the point, signing my question: Can you… pretend to be my family and sign for me? Her expression stiffened. After hearing the full story, her hands clenched tightly, as if she was struggling to suppress something. “Are you sure about this?” I nodded gently. What use were those memories to me anyway? And once they were gone, I could speak again. “Okay.” It was evening when I returned to Aria’s house. My belongings were casually strewn in the villa’s hallway. Aria glanced at me indifferently. “Leo, don’t say I’m not being lenient. From now on, you’ll move into the guest room.” I nodded softly. She hadn’t expected me to be so calm and eyed me up and down. I would forget her soon anyway. What did it matter where I lived? Suddenly, a small dog, Cupcake, ran out from inside the house. My body tensed, and I instinctively grabbed Aria’s arm. She frowned in displeasure and harshly flung my hand away. “Leo, know your place.” Her strength was considerable. I wasn’t prepared and instantly tumbled to the floor, my wrist screaming in pain. I had been afraid of dogs since childhood, and the girl who once promised to protect me for life had now let go of my hand. A flicker of regret crossed her eyes, and she reached out to pull me up. I pretended not to see, and endured the pain as I pushed myself to my feet. Brandon emerged from the room and took Aria’s hand. “Cupcake doesn’t like being confined. Let’s move her to a bigger room.” Aria looked at him dotingly. “Okay, we’ll give Cupcake the guest room we just cleaned up. “Leo, you can move to the basement.” How ridiculous. In her eyes, I was worth less than their adopted stray dog. As I packed my things, I suddenly caught a strange scent. Following the smell, I found a large yellow stain on a red coat. This coat was a birthday gift from Aria. Because my birthday fell on the same day as Brandon’s parents’ memorial, my parents never allowed me to celebrate. Aria had secretly given me the coat, looking at me earnestly as she said, “Leo, I’ll spend every birthday with you from now on.” Promises, it seemed, only held true when love was present. I treasured this coat, never daring to wear it. It seemed I never would.

When Aria saw the coat, a hint of emotion stirred within her, and she instructed the butler to take it for dry cleaning. But I simply tossed the coat into the trash, along with all the photos Aria and I had taken over the years. In the future, I wanted nothing to do with her. Aria stared at me and slowly spoke, “Brandon is kind-hearted for adopting Cupcake. If you dare make him sad, I won’t let you off easy.” It was utterly absurd, almost laughable. It seemed Aria had completely forgotten my fear of dogs. Perhaps Aria had given instructions, as not a single servant offered to help me. I endured the pain in my wrist and tidied up until evening, finally clearing away everything related to Aria. This was the first time I had stayed at home in three years. After Aria became a vegetable, I practically lived at the hospital. At first, people visited, but eventually, the Jiang family gave up on her. Most of the time, it was just her and me in the room. I was just starting to drift off to sleep when a bucket of cold water doused me awake. Aria looked down at me. “Leo, you’re getting lazier and lazier.” “You’re not the master of this house anymore. How dare you sleep in?” My head felt a bit hazy. I simply nodded to indicate I understood. I wiped the water from my face and got up to change. The villa servants were bustling about. The butler glanced at me and instructed me to polish the piano. It was only then that I remembered it was Brandon’s birthday. My fingers glided over the keys, and a beautiful melody poured out. Aria once said these hands were made for playing the piano. Yet now, they were used for polishing it. A self-deprecating smile touched my lips. Sweet words were only true at the moment they were spoken. Halfway through, I received a message from Dr. Hayes: Tomorrow morning at ten. I quickly replied with “Okay” and forwarded the message to Maya. Just the thought of being able to speak again lifted my spirits considerably. I thought this party had nothing to do with me, but then Aria pulled me into the dressing room. I took the gown she handed me, a little surprised. Her face was full of impatience. “Hurry and change. If you don’t attend, what will people say about Brandon?” It turned out she was only afraid of people talking about Brandon. I felt the large stains on the gown, my heart long numb. I remembered an hour ago, Brandon’s social media post with a photo: No worries if the outfit gets dirty, Aria will prepare two for me. Brandon stood by the cake, like an elegant prince, while I felt like a clown for their amusement. I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, sitting in a corner. But the whispers still reached my ears. “What’s on his clothes? So disgusting!” “He’s shameless, stealing Brandon’s fiancée.” “I heard he’s a mute.” The mockery was relentless. I clutched the hem of my clothes tightly. Brandon sat down at the piano, the spotlight illuminating him. All eyes were drawn to him. The music suddenly stopped. He cried out in alarm, “It hurts! How are there razor blades in the piano!” The butler pointed to me in the corner. “Only Mr. Leo touched the piano!” Aria glared at me, roughly dragging me to the piano. She slammed my hands onto the keys, and excruciating pain shot through my fingers, making it almost impossible to breathe. “Leo, this is the price for your mistakes.” Without another word, she disregarded my bleeding hands, picked up Brandon, and walked out the door. I clearly saw Brandon flash me a triumphant smile. Later, an ambulance took me to the hospital, but all the doctors there had been called to consult on Brandon’s case. Before I passed out from blood loss, I heard a nurse shout angrily, “If his hands don’t get immediate treatment, he’ll be permanently disabled!” Tears streamed down my face. I wished I had never met Aria. Meanwhile, a doctor recognized Aria and greeted her warmly. “How is your husband? He took care of you for three years; it’s about time his hardships ended.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “326694”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn

Seraphina Vance had found the perfect excuse to legitimize her blatant infidelity. Before we got married, I signed a non-disclosure agreement, which meant I could only be her secret husband. If I initiated the divorce, I’d walk away with a measly $9.9. For three years, I watched her shamelessly flaunt her staged romance with her so-called colleague, Caleb Reed. They traveled together, made public appearances, and even checked into the same hotel. All while I, her supposed “understanding partner,” was left to care for her ailing parents and act as her personal assistant, handling every single one of her affairs. I had no idea when her “work” would end until Caleb called her late one night, his voice thick with complaint. His fans were hounding them to get married, demanding to know when she’d finally make their relationship official. “Darling,” Seraphina cooed softly into the phone, “I’ll give you a perfect wedding soon, okay?” The cold night air blowing in from the balcony carried Seraphina’s hushed whispers. Hearing her answer, my body, nestled in the sheets, went rigid. My throat constricted, and I could barely breathe. On the other end, Caleb persisted, his voice low and melancholic. “Seraphina, everyone’s expecting us to get married. I can’t wait. Let’s do it soon.” Seraphina stood on the balcony, her profile appearing exceptionally tender in the dim light. She soothingly reassured him, “Don’t rush, I won’t let you down.” It was clear that even when disturbed late at night, she was more than happy to coddle her rumored boyfriend. Seraphina returned to the bedroom, a faint smile still lingering in the corners of her eyes. But the moment she saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression hardened. “Julian, it’s the middle of the night. Why are you sitting here trying to scare me instead of sleeping?” I swallowed the dull ache in my chest and met her gaze. “And how does it feel for you to be up in the middle of the night, sweet-talking your lover?” “Lover? What are you talking about?” Seraphina frowned, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Can you stop being so crude? Caleb and I are just work partners. Isn’t it a bit much to label him like that?” Watching her righteous indignation, my voice involuntarily tightened. “Me, too much? What ‘work partners’ in this industry plan a wedding together?” Seraphina stumbled over her words for a second, then looked away. “You heard all that?” She nervously rubbed her nose. “I couldn’t help it. The fans were practically demanding it. Caleb and I have too much attention as a screen couple. If we don’t see this act through, how can I justify his cooperation these past three years?” “Justify his cooperation?” A searing, numbing pain shot through my heart, and my body trembled uncontrollably. Three years of marriage. I watched the entire world believe she and Caleb were a match made in heaven, saw them interact sweetly on camera, flaunting their affection as if no one else existed. As Seraphina’s legitimate husband, I was hidden away like a shadow, banished from the light. Yet, all these years, Seraphina had never shown me a shred of guilt. She actually felt she owed Caleb. So what did my years of silent endurance and sacrifice count for? “Julian, you know how it is. You have to commit to the role. For the sake of publicity and career benefits, can you just bear with it a little longer? This is my job.” Seraphina was an A-list actress. Every time, she’d spout some high-minded BS, making it sound like she and Caleb were just professional colleagues. If my friend hadn’t personally seen them embracing as they entered a private hotel last week, I probably would have still believed everything she did was “just for work.” But now, her “work” had escalated to planning a global sensation of a wedding with Caleb. And when she and I got married, we didn’t even have the simplest ceremony. I suppressed the bitter churning in my stomach, my voice hoarse. “Seraphina, Caleb is just a colleague, yet you’re planning a lavish, public wedding for him. What about me? Your legal partner? Have you ever given me any kind of ceremony?” When we got married, Seraphina was just a struggling actress. She thought a rich kid like me was just playing around and always treated me with cold indifference. I voluntarily signed a prenuptial agreement, agreeing to only $9.9 if we divorced. I even gave up inheriting my family business to be her assistant. For the sake of her career, we didn’t even have a wedding. She once promised me that once she made it big, she’d give me a grand wedding. Later, she shot to stardom, but never mentioned the wedding again. I’d subtly brought it up, suggesting even a simple dinner with our families would be enough. But she’d always brush me off with “work is too busy, we’ll talk later.” Now, for a grand, extravagant wedding, Caleb just made a phone call, and she agreed without hesitation. Seraphina probably thought I was being unreasonable. She grew impatient, her tone sharp with frustration. “Julian, I’ve explained it countless times. Why can’t you just understand me?” “Caleb and I have such high public visibility as a couple. I can’t let all that effort go to waste.” “Can’t you just wait a little longer?” I didn’t say anything else. The night stretched long, the wind outside cold and fierce. Watching Seraphina’s irritated expression, a profound weariness washed over me. I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Julian, Caleb and I have talked it over. After the wedding’s public attention dies down, we’ll announce our ‘breakup.’ In a year at most, I’ll tell everyone that you’re my real partner.” “Everything I’m doing now is for our better future, don’t you see?” Seraphina probably sensed my mood was off and tried to salvage things. But I just found it utterly absurd. I was her rightful partner, yet I was hiding in the shadows, waiting for my wife to grant me official recognition. For her colleague, Caleb, Seraphina always went out of her way to ensure he was treated with the utmost respect. When she and Caleb first started pretending to be a couple for publicity, he was a newcomer working with the famous actress, and many fans couldn’t accept it, attacking him online. Seraphina then made a classic public defense, taking everyone who insulted Caleb to court. At a gala dinner, reporters pressed them about their relationship. Seraphina just smiled, then turned and kissed Caleb under a flurry of flashbulbs. The entire venue erupted. And I, as her assistant, watched from below as my own wife kissed another man. Later, Seraphina explained to me that it was “just a script” arranged by the company. But similar “scripts” kept piling up. They were inseparable in public, always together. Even at private gatherings with mutual friends, she stopped bringing me along. Gradually, even our shared friends started to think Seraphina and Caleb were the perfect match. I felt wronged and pained, but Seraphina would always tell me not to care about other people’s opinions, emphasizing that I was her legal partner. “Julian, I know you’ve endured a lot of hardship with me these past few years. I don’t want it to be like this either.” “Darling, please don’t be angry, okay?” Seeing my silence, Seraphina slowly moved closer, intending to kiss my forehead. She gazed at me deeply, as if in that moment, only I existed in her eyes. Many times before, I had been swayed by those soulful eyes, softening my resolve again and again, continuing to endure. I’d forgotten she was an actress; she could look deeply into anyone’s eyes. “I’m tired. Let’s just sleep.” As she leaned in, I turned my back to lie down. Seraphina raised an eyebrow, a little surprised, then lay down herself, wrapping an arm around me. The simple ring on my ring finger lightly brushed against the one on her hand, making a faint click in the darkness. The sound vanished as quickly as it appeared. I lay in the dark, lost in thought. When I met Seraphina, I was scouting film projects for my company at a studio lot. She was an extra, only getting roles as a corpse or a stunt double who got beaten up. Once, Seraphina offended an assistant director and was deliberately tormented, filming a beating scene twenty times. When I found her, she was sitting alone in the shadows, covered in bruises, looking so lonely and pathetic. I brought her home, meticulously cared for her, and used my connections to help her get opportunities. But at first, Seraphina always thought I, a rich kid, was just temporarily amused, and she never gave me a kind look. Until one time, to help her secure a role with lines, I endured severe stomach pain and drank too much, eventually passing out at the dinner table. When I woke up, Seraphina was by my bedside, her eyes red, her body still trembling with fright. “Julian, when I saw you in the hospital, I suddenly got so scared…” I was a bit helpless. “Scared of what?” “Scared of you leaving me.” After saying that, Seraphina paused, then seemed to understand something. She lifted her deep, captivating eyes and said earnestly, “Julian, I think… I’ve fallen in love with you.” From then on, she became incredibly attentive to me, working tirelessly on her acting. And I voluntarily stepped away from my family business, becoming her personal assistant, handling all her complicated affairs. Soon after, Seraphina proposed to me. She saved money for six months to buy me a branded ring. Though it had no diamond, I, submerged in love, was deeply touched. I wore that ring close to me for three years until I passed by that brand’s store one day. On a whim, I went in to inquire, only to be told by the sales clerk that the ring I was wearing was a fake, not even a decent replica. Meanwhile, Caleb? Over these three years, Seraphina had personally bought him countless designer gifts, their value immeasurable. And me? All I had was this fake ring. The memories faded, and I felt a wave of nausea, instinctively wanting to remove the ridiculous ring on my ring finger. The moment I stirred, Seraphina seemed to sense it and held me even tighter. “Don’t move,” she mumbled groggily. “Caleb…” A sharp pain seized my chest, and I curled up in agony. Even though the person beside me breathed warmly, I felt only a chilling coldness, so cold that my heart went numb, almost suffocating.

The moment I woke up the next morning, Seraphina called. “Remember to go to the nursing home to see my parents today. Don’t skip it just because you’re angry.” Seraphina prided herself on being filial. Even though her parents lived in the best nursing home, her pronouncement, “Children should personally care for their parents,” had me looking after my in-laws for three full years. Meanwhile, I barely saw my own parents once a year. “Yeah, got it.” I numbly replied, hung up the phone, and drove alone to the nursing home. “Oh, sweetie, look how wonderful Caleb is! He’s going to be our son-in-law!” My mother-in-law was proudly telling the nurse, pointing at Caleb on the TV, as I walked into the room carrying a pot of freshly made soup. The nurse’s eyes lit up. “Are they really getting married?” “Of course!” my in-laws said in unison. My steps faltered, and a familiar sharp pain pierced my chest. I suppressed the bitterness in my throat and softly spoke. “Mom, Dad.” As soon as they heard my voice, my in-laws’ faces immediately soured. The nurse looked at me, a bit confused. “And this gentleman who comes every day is…?” “He’s our godson!” my mother-in-law quickly interjected. The nurse suddenly understood, a look of envy on her face as she left. “Sir, I’m so envious you get to be Seraphina’s brother. How lucky!” I forced a smile, but it wouldn’t reach my eyes. The moment the door closed, my mother-in-law’s voice turned shrill. “Julian, why didn’t you tell us you were coming? You want to scare two old people to death?” I managed a strained smile. “Mom, Dad, you seemed to be enjoying your conversation, I didn’t want to interrupt.” “I made you some soup today. Please try it.” As soon as the soup was handed to them, my father-in-law sniffed it and slammed the bowl on the floor. The hot soup splattered on my hand, making me wince in pain, but they just said, “What kind of soup is this? It’s so greasy! Julian, you can’t even cook properly anymore. What good are you?” “I’ll make it again next time,” I said, enduring the pain as I cleaned up the mess on the floor. A profound sense of powerlessness swept over me. Suddenly, I felt that three years of unwavering care had all been in vain. After massaging my in-laws, I prepared to leave, but couldn’t resist asking one last question, holding onto a final sliver of hope to gauge their attitude. “Mom, Dad, do you know? Seraphina is going to have a wedding with Caleb.” I said, trying to sound calm. “Really?!” As soon as the words left my mouth, my in-laws cheered excitedly. “That’s wonderful!” Though I had anticipated it, my heart still sank. “But… I’m her husband…” “Don’t be ungrateful!” My father-in-law frowned and sneered. “We never agreed to you two being together in the first place. You’ve bled Seraphina dry enough over the years. You should know when to quit and stop clinging to her,” my mother-in-law snapped, her face darkening with impatience. Bleed her dry? Even though I knew my in-laws were always harsh, hearing those words firsthand made my body involuntarily tense up. In three years of marriage, I had never asked Seraphina for a single dime, nor had she spent any money on me. Most of our daily expenses were covered by me. I cared for my in-laws relentlessly, managed everything for Seraphina, and in the end, I was branded a “vampire.” At this point, I understood where Seraphina’s coldness and selfishness came from — it was a family trait. Three years of genuine affection had moved neither my in-laws nor Seraphina. My in-laws continued to chatter, even ordering me to empty their bedpan. I numbly turned around, ignoring their curses and walked out without looking back. Walking out of the nursing home, I looked at the distant sunlight gradually dispelling the gloom, took a deep breath, and dialed a number. “Hello, Dad, are you free right now?” “…I’ve made my decision.”

When I got home, the living room lights were already on. Seraphina sat on the couch, her face contorted with fury. I was about to speak, but she suddenly stood up, rushed towards me, and yelled, “Julian, what the hell is wrong with you?! I already swallowed my pride, and you actually went to my parents’ place to give them attitude?!” Seeing the identical smugness on all their faces, I sneered. “I made soup for your parents, and they knocked it over without even tasting it. The nursing home has plenty of caregivers, but they insisted I take care of them personally.” “As Seraphina’s husband, I’m treated worse than a servant.” Seraphina frowned impatiently. “My parents are old, it’s normal for them to be emotional. There are many caregivers, but they trust you more. They’re treating you like family by asking you to do it.” Hearing that, I just felt sick. “They trust you the most, so why don’t you personally empty their bedpans?” In three years, apart from sending her parents money, she had barely visited the nursing home, always claiming to be too busy with work. In reality, she just found her incontinent parents disgusting. She pushed everything she didn’t want to do onto me. Because I once loved Seraphina so deeply, I willingly endured it all. My self-sacrifice, in their eyes, was simply expected. “Julian, how dare you speak to me like that!?” Seraphina, stung by my words, angrily flipped over the coffee table in front of her. I couldn’t dodge in time, and the scalding hot water, just boiled, splashed all over my hand. A huge blister immediately swelled on the back of my hand. The burning agony spread from my skin through my entire body. My vision blurred, and I broke out in a cold sweat from the pain. “Now do you know how to talk to me?” Seraphina looked pleased, advancing toward me step by step. “You only calm down when I throw a fit. As my husband, why can’t you be more like Caleb, gentle and considerate, instead of constantly talking back to me?” It’s like three words out of four from her family were about Caleb. I stood up, enduring the pain, and sneered. “If you think Caleb is so great, then marry him!” “Julian!” Seraphina hadn’t expected me to talk back again. Her eyes turned red with rage as she threatened, “If you dare talk back to me again, I’ll divorce you!” That was exactly what I was waiting for. I met her angry gaze, my voice firm. “Fine! Let’s get divorced then!” Seraphina was uncharacteristically stunned. After several seconds, she slowly raised her eyes, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Are you serious?” “Yes.” But Seraphina’s emotions were unusually agitated. “Julian, are you insane?” I scoffed. “Perhaps only an insane person could tolerate their wife publicly dating someone else and even planning a grand wedding.” Seraphina’s voice trembled. “If you initiate the divorce, you’ll only get $9.9 in compensation.” Because of that paltry $9.9 compensation, Seraphina had never worried that I would leave her. I unhesitatingly pulled out my payment QR code. “Transfer me the $9.9. Let’s divorce immediately. And I’ll even give you an extra gift!” As soon as I finished speaking, Seraphina’s face instantly turned ashen.

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The company’s layoff list went public, and my husband’s name was on it. To secure his future, I voluntarily resigned, ensuring the company kept him. He climbed the corporate ladder, while I became a housewife for forty years. Until, in our old age, he suddenly asked for a divorce, planning to move in with my former assistant… Even our son supported his choice: “Dad worked so hard to support us all these years, Mom. Just let him go.” That’s when I realized Marcus and Chloe had been having an affair ever since that layoff. After being abandoned, I died alone in a tiny rental apartment from heart failure. Then, I opened my eyes again. I had been reborn, back to the moment the company announced the layoff list. This time, I wouldn’t give up my job for my husband again. “Audrey, did you hear me?” Marcus waved a hand in front of my face. “I just got called into a meeting, passed by the CEO’s office, and got a sneak peek at the layoff list… My name’s on it too.” He wrinkled his nose, his face etched with despair. At that moment, he had no idea I’d been reborn. After his initial dejection, a glint flickered in Marcus’s eyes. He grabbed my shoulders. “Honey, I’m a man, I can’t lose my job. How about you volunteer to resign and give your position to me? You can be a stay-at-home mom, and I promise I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world!” I just stared at him. He’d said the exact same thing in my past life. Last time, I listened to him and went to the CEO to resign. I even begged the CEO to keep him on. The CEO eventually agreed to my request. After I was laid off, Marcus took over all my responsibilities. And Chloe, who had been my assistant, naturally followed him. Then, behind my back, they had an affair for forty years. I clutched my chest, forcing myself to pull away from the painful memories. “Audrey, since you’re not saying anything, I’ll take that as a yes.” Marcus grinned, and just like before, he patted my head and kissed me. Then he pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket. “Happy birthday, honey. Your old gloves were so worn out, so I bought you a new pair.” I didn’t answer. Because I clearly remembered that in my past life, I’d found a jewelry store receipt in his jacket pocket. He claimed it was a souvenir from a business trip, meant for his superior. But the very next day, I saw a beautiful gold necklace on Chloe’s neck. Back then, I was too naive to connect the two events. He gave me a cheap pair of gloves, but bought Chloe a gold necklace. There were countless similar incidents in my past life. So, I looked him straight in the eye and said: “Marcus, I don’t agree.” He didn’t react immediately. “…What?” “I won’t resign and let you take my position. Women have careers too. Why should I sacrifice mine for you?” Marcus’s eyes widened, his face filled with disbelief. “Audrey, I never thought you’d be so selfish!” “What kind of wife competes with her husband for a job? What you should be doing right now is taking care of our son and my mom!” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You being laid off just shows your incompetence. I think you’re better suited to stay home.”

“…You!” He was so furious he couldn’t speak, slamming the office door shut as he left. We were in a cold war for the next few days. On the first night, I cooked dinner. He simply flipped the table over. Gazing at the mess scattered across the floor, Marcus’s mom, Martha, didn’t scold her son. Instead, she glared at me. “Audrey, what did you do to upset Marcus again? Go apologize to him, right now!” Leo also piped up: “Mom, why are you always picking on Dad?!” I almost laughed from sheer frustration. I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. I kicked the overturned dining table. After that day, I never cooked again. Hearing that Marcus and I were fighting, Chloe started to secretly butter him up. She’d make two lunches every day, sneaking one to Marcus at the office. Once, I saw her feeding him bites of food. A flash of guilt flickered in Marcus’s eyes. Chloe, however, offered a knowing smile. “Audrey, I brought too much lunch, so I figured I’d share some with you. Want to try my cooking?” I shook my head, my voice cold. “No thanks.” “Audrey, you’re not mad, are you?” “I just feel bad for Marcus, working so hard every day. If you’re upset, I won’t do it anymore.” She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling with what looked like tears. Marcus immediately felt a pang of sympathy for her. He pulled Chloe behind him, lowering his voice. “Audrey, stop stirring up trouble for no reason. Chloe is a sweet girl, nothing like you!” I nearly scoffed, but I held it in. Only three days left until the layoff list was officially announced. Then I’d make sure Marcus was out for good. Right now, I couldn’t waste my time and energy arguing with him. Three days later, the company held the layoff meeting. Everyone sat with their heads bowed, terrified their names would be called. But Marcus, who had already seen the list, was perfectly composed, even a little smug. The CEO read the last name, then looked out at the room. “And finally, Audrey.”

My heart plummeted. I felt cold sweat instantly prickle my skin. My hands and feet went numb. How could this be… How could it be me? Beside me, Marcus struggled to suppress a triumphant smirk. After the layoff list was read, they moved on to the personnel assignments for the restructured company. Not only was Marcus not laid off, but he was also promoted. To manager… I didn’t fully recover until the meeting ended. I stumbled to the stage, picking up the sheet of paper covered with names. It really was me… Brenda, a colleague standing nearby, also on the list, sighed, her face etched with worry. “Audrey, you’re our best technician in the whole department. Did you upset the new Vice President?” I felt a strange disconnect, asking almost automatically, “Who is it?” “His name is Robert. He and the CEO finalized this layoff list together.” It finally clicked. Robert, he was Chloe’s brother-in-law. My face fell, utterly drained, body and soul. I had no idea where the road ahead would lead. Stumbling home in a daze, I found Chloe there already… Marcus’s mom, Martha, had prepared a lavish dinner. “Marcus, this time, it’s all thanks to Chloe’s help.” Martha said, not forgetting to shoot me a glare. She clasped Chloe’s hand tightly. “You’re such a good girl! I truly wish you were Marcus’s wife.” Marcus took a sip of wine, silently agreeing with them. Standing in the doorway, I felt like an outsider in my own home. Then, Chloe saw me, her eyes gleaming with a challenging glint. “Audrey, you’re back!”

After that day, Chloe became a regular at our house. She, dressed to the nines every day, stood in stark contrast to me, newly laid off. I didn’t even have money for new clothes anymore. A cold dread enveloped me. Was I doomed to repeat the tragedy of my past life? No. I wouldn’t allow it. Absolutely not. I took off my apron, found Brenda, and we discussed starting our own business. We bought a food truck, planning to sell burgers on the street. But Marcus was quick to mock me. “How much money do you think you’ll make selling burgers? Don’t embarrass me out there.” Ever since I was laid off, Marcus’s attitude toward me had grown increasingly hostile. But I ignored him, focusing on building our business. The weather was freezing, and my hands were raw with chilblains. The pain kept me awake at night. Marcus saw them but just brushed it off. “I told you not to go out. Now you’re suffering, serves you right.” I remembered in my past life, his excuse for wanting a divorce was because of Chloe’s hands. Her hands had developed arthritis from overwork, and she eventually couldn’t do housework. Marcus felt terribly sorry for her, so he decided to divorce me to take care of her. “Chloe’s hands got arthritis from helping me at work. I can’t just ignore her.” Later, both father and son threw me out, renting a rundown apartment for me. Now, I absolutely wouldn’t repeat those mistakes. I gritted my teeth, applied chilblain cream, and wrapped my hands in thick bandages. The next day, I was back at my burger stand. I worked the stand during the day and spent my evenings in the kitchen, studying. Besides selling burgers, I hoped to re-enroll in school and become a professional engineer. It was my only way back into the workforce, my only chance to change my life. And I couldn’t let Marcus know about any of my efforts. Marcus, thanks to Chloe’s connections, was absolutely crushing it at work. He came home later and later each night. Their affair was an open secret at the company. My former colleagues even joked about me in their SnapChat group chat: “Audrey is really generous! I wish my wife was that generous and let me have a mistress.” “She doesn’t even have a job now, she has to rely on a man to support her. Of course, she wouldn’t dare to divorce him!” “Such a pussy!” … Despite the humiliation, I remained unfazed. I stared at the date on the calendar. December 20th was fast approaching. I felt a surge of excitement. Because, in my previous life, one of the company’s multi-million dollar German machines broke down on that exact day! And in the entire company, I was the only one who knew how to fix it.

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At the hospital, I found our emergency fund empty while my husband toasted Christmas in a five-star suite with his sweetheart and her dog. The photo showed her in lingerie, straddling my husband over a game of strip poker. The doctor shook his head, declaring the patient deceased. I stormed home to confront my husband, only to find him too wasted to stand, waving me off like a bothersome fly. My son rushed out, yelling, “Mom, stop picking fights! What’s the big deal if Dad spends a little on Felicity. She’s just his best friend!” “Besides, it was Grandma who was sick! You should’ve paid! Why’d you even touch our savings?” My husband smirked at me. “I really can’t believe your mom died over a bit of money.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped me. It wasn’t my mom. It was his! I pushed the door open at 3 AM. Daniel was passed out on the couch. The stench of stale booze and perfume made my head spin. I walked over, the bank card digging into my palm. “Where’s the money?” He stirred, voice thick with sleep and annoyance. “What’s your problem? I just got off an overtime shift. I’m exhausted. Can’t you just chill?” I shoved the card in his face. “Two hundred thousand. Gone. Where is it, Daniel?” His eyes darted away. “I don’t know, maybe-” I didn’t wait. I opened my phone, pulled up Felicity’s Instagram, and thrust the screen under his nose. That photo was perfectly framed. There was Felicity, in a sequined bra, radiant as she clung to Daniel, gripping his tie. And there was Daniel, smiling, his hand tugging playfully at her bra strap. That relaxed, contented smile-I hadn’t seen it in years. In the corner, their Pomeranian, Snowball, perched before a pet cake studded with candles, its neck ringed by a sparkling gold collar. The caption read: “Thank you to my incredible Daniel for Snowball’s Christmas! Gold collar with his name, lifetime insurance-all set. Love my perfect ‘best friend’!” I stood there, arm outstretched, frozen. “It’s just… some money,” he finally muttered. “Snowball is family to her. She wanted to give him a perfect Christmas. What’s the crime in helping a friend? The venue, the photographer, the custom collar-twenty grand. A dog deserves love, doesn’t it? I got him lifetime insurance too. Fifty thousand. The rest…we celebrated. It’s called networking. You wouldn’t understand.” I heard myself laugh-a short, sharp sound. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you like this? Felicity isn’t a stranger. We have history. And if your mother died over money…that was her choice. Not my problem.” He turned his head away, dismissive. My son rubbed his eyes and walked out. “Dad’s right. If she died, it’s because you didn’t make enough. We shouldn’t have touched the savings. What’s wrong with helping a dog? Snowball’s a living thing. Aunt Felicity is nice to Dad, so he’s nice back. What’s wrong with that?” I whipped around to stare at the child I’d raised for fifteen years. He said it calmly, as if stating a simple fact. Just hours ago, the E.R. doctor’s words still rang in my ears. “Ms. Clara? Your mother-in-law has had a massive stroke. She needs surgery now.” I clutched the bank card and rushed to the hospital, only to see two words flash on the terminal: “INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.” My mother-in-law, Eleanor, had a pension of over ten thousand a month. She scrimped and saved, handing every spare cent to Daniel, or to her grandson. I watched his face cycle through self-righteousness, to irritation, and finally settle into a mask of cold blame-and beneath it, a flicker of relief. Even in the subtle curl of his lip, I caught it: that familiar, ghost of a smile. I’d seen it before. Every time my own mother was unwell, he’d perform concern, but that same fleeting, lighthearted look would surface. He’d always boasted about his mother being tough, brushing off her high blood pressure, her hidden snacks of fatty meat and strong tea. Now, his “tough” mother had collapsed. And he still thought it was my mother. I nodded, pressing my lip into a thin line. “You’re right,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “That’s fate. Nothing to regret.” “But the dead still need burying. What’s the plan for the funeral?” His face twisted with instant irritation. “She’s your mother! Why should I care? You handle it. I have no money and no time for this!” “Alright.” I didn’t look at him again. I simply turned and walked towards the bedroom.

My mother-in-law’s death certificate was just a simple sheet of paper. In the living room, Daniel was scrolling on his phone, shoving cookies into his mouth. My son, Leo, was sprawled on the sofa, the cacophony of his video game filling the air. “What time is it?” Daniel heard me and looked up, furious. “No breakfast again? Are you trying to starve us?” Daniel let out an irritated tsk, pushed himself up, and fished his wallet from the briefcase. He peeled off several bills, walked over, and flicked them toward me. “Enough. Stop moping around like it was your own mother.” His voice was thick with condescension and undisguised annoyance. “Here. Five hundred. Go buy some discount flowers and a cheap candle. Wrap this up. Quickly.” “I’ve already booked my annual leave. Leo and I are taking Felicity to Whistler to ski. Don’t you dare try to guilt-trip us into canceling.” Leo’s eyes widened. He paused his game, sitting bolt upright. “For real? Dad! Yes! I want the new Carbon Pros.” His young face showed pure elation, even a hint of complaint. “Grandma, seriously…she couldn’t have waited? She still owes me my graduation gift.” Grandma. He said it so naturally. Both father and son were absolutely convinced that the person who died last night was my mother. Slowly, I bent down and picked up the bills. This five hundred dollars was his entire budget for “my mother’s” funeral. “Daniel, don’t you want to go see Mom at the hospital? It’s the last time.” His lips curled into a mocking smile. “What’s the point? She’s dead. Occupying a hospital bed costs money. Just burn her, already.” He paused, his tone growing more impatient. “Honestly, your mom really knows how to pick her timing. Not dying sooner or later, but right on Christmas, almost ruining my ski trip with Felicity.” I took a deep breath. Well, if Daniel, her own son, requested this, why should I waste my effort? Just then, the doorbell rang. The annoyance on Daniel’s face instantly vanished, replaced by a cheerful lightness, and he strode to open the door. “Daniel! Leo, sweetie!” Felicity stood there, cuddling that fluffy white Pomeranian. A dazzling gold chain shimmered around her neck, its pendant identical to Snowball’s collar. “I’m here to take Snowball for his Christmas grooming! Oh, Clara, you’re here too?” Her lips curved into a perfectly measured, pitying arc. “My condolences, Clara. Daniel told me about your mom. Old age, you know, nothing you can do.” She changed the subject, her smile deepening, as she ostentatiously stroked her necklace. “Look, it’s a matching set for me and Snowball! Daniel picked it out specially. Isn’t it cute? He says I’m even more adorable wearing this than Snowball is.” Snowball was set down and immediately scampered around the living room, rubbing against Daniel’s pants, then going to Leo’s feet. “Oh, that reminds me,” Felicity chimed in, her voice artificially light. “About your mother…it won’t interfere with our ski trip at the end of the month, will it? Daniel assured me it was fine, so I went ahead and booked the hotel. All good?” I watched Felicity’s saccharine smile, Daniel’s utterly indulgent and even doting gaze upon her, my son chasing the dog, and finally, my eyes fixed on Daniel’s face. “Daniel, let’s get a divorce.” “What did you say?” Daniel took a step forward, his voice squeezed through clenched teeth. “Clara, are you out of your mind? You want a divorce over your mom dying?!” He tried to crush me with his usual intimidation. “How are you going to explain this to your dad? Don’t you dare embarrass me like this!” “Mom! What are you talking about?!” Leo lunged forward, shielding his father, his face filled with incredulity and fury. “Grandma just passed, and you’re not even sad, you’re here making a scene about divorce? Are you sick?! You’re making Dad and Felicity laugh at us!” He pointed at me, his tone full of accusation and disdain. “Do you know how good Felicity is to me? She buys me anything I want! She’s more like a mom than you are! What’s wrong with Dad helping her? All you ever do is make a long face!” Felicity, with her arm around Leo, shot me a triumphant, challenging look. Every word was like a final hammer blow, shattering the last vestiges of my heart, any lingering illusion that perhaps, just perhaps, some humanity remained in them.

The funeral home chapel was stark and empty, only my mother-in-law’s body lay there. A staff member handed me a price list. Daniel’s call came in just then. “Just pick the cheapest cremation,” his voice held its usual impatience. “It’s just ashes, what difference does it make? Don’t waste money.” I didn’t argue. I checked the last box. The urn was also the simplest wooden box. As I walked towards our apartment complex, familiar laughter drifted over. At the corner, in front of an expensive pet store, Daniel and Felicity stood side-by-side. Felicity was holding a brightly colored ski suit up to Snowball. Daniel’s arm was casually wrapped around Felicity’s waist. Snowball seemed to sense something, suddenly wriggling free from Felicity’s arms and dashing towards me, barking furiously. I was startled. The wooden box slipped from my grasp, smashing onto the ground. The lid flew open, and a scattering of gray-white ashes spilled out. “Snowball! Come back!” Felicity shrieked. Daniel finally saw me. The smile on his face instantly froze. The arm around Felicity’s waist snatched back as if burned. His gaze swept over the mess on the ground, his brows furrowed. Snowball ran to the ashes, sniffed curiously, then let out several loud sneezes, shaking his head repeatedly. “Oh no! My Snowball!” Felicity, in high heels, rushed over, cradling the dog protectively. Her eyes immediately filled with disgust and anger as she looked at me. “Clara, what are you doing?! You scared Snowball! He just got over a cold! And what… what is this on the ground? It’s so dirty! How unlucky!” Daniel walked over, first looking at Felicity and the dog in her arms, then shifting his gaze to me and the scattered ashes. His face was grim, part embarrassment at being caught, part pure exasperation. “Are you not watching where you’re going?” He preemptively accused me, then stiffly added, as if to explain the previous scene, “Felicity’s back isn’t feeling well, I was just… rubbing it for her.” He suddenly raised his foot and kicked hard at the pile of ashes several times! The ashes swirled up, scattering into the cold, dry air, becoming even more formless. “Clean it up now!” He shouted at a street sweeper nearby, his tone brooking no argument. “This is utterly disgusting! Throw it in the trash!” “Why are you standing there?” Daniel snapped. He yanked a bill from his wallet and shoved it at the worker. “Just take it away! It’s disgusting!” He turned to me, his tone chillingly casual. “Stop gawking. So the urn broke? Go scoop some dirt from the backyard, put it in a box, and be done with it. No one’s going to autopsy the ashes.” Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the funeral director, calling to finalize the simple interment for tomorrow. Before I could answer, Daniel snatched it from my hand. “Keep it simple. Don’t waste money on a plot. Just find some public land outside the city. Bury the box. Don’t order any flowers or anything.” He paused, glanced back at me with a look of pure, performative malice, then added. “Actually, add one more thing. Hire a mariachi band. A small one. Three people. Have them play at the graveside. Something upbeat. What’s with the long faces? She had a long life. Let’s give her a proper send-off. Make it festive.” I stood there, holding the empty wooden box, listening to him plan his mother’s “festive” funeral as casually as ordering a pizza, her ashes to be mixed with backyard soil. Felicity was cooing at Snowball, rolling her eyes. “Daniel, hurry up, this place smells weird, Snowball isn’t comfortable.” Daniel hung up, shoved the phone back into my hand, and brushed imaginary dust from his hands, as if he’d completed a bothersome chore. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he concluded, no longer looking at me. He turned and walked towards Felicity, his voice regaining its lightheartedness. “Come on, after we finish getting Snowball his gear, let’s grab some food.” I gently closed the lid. Fine. Have it your way, Daniel. After all, it wasn’t my mother in there.

The wind whipped dust across the rural landscape.I had to squint against it. Before me lay a raw mound of earth-no stone, no name. Only a weathered wooden stand held the box I’d filled with soil from our apartment’s dying flowerbed. A cheap Bluetooth speaker screeched out the latest viral pop song. In front of the grave, a handful of young women in sequined skirts gyrated in a crude, listless imitation of a dance. A crowd of local villagers had gathered at a safe distance, drawn by the noise. They stood in a silent semicircle, pointing and murmuring among themselves. I stood witness to Daniel’s demanded “celebration.” Just then, a taxi sped up. The door opened. A middle-aged woman, looking travel-ravaged and pale, stumbled out. It was Sarah. Daniel’s sister. She had clearly just arrived from the airport, her face etched with the fatigue of a long flight and an expression of disbelieving panic. Her gaze swept over the dancing women, the gawking villagers, finally landing on the solitary grave and the wooden box on the table. “Mom?” she cried out hoarsely, her legs buckling. She collapsed directly in front of the dirt grave, her shoulders trembling violently, a choked sob escaping her throat. “Mom!” I was about to step forward when another car arrived. Daniel got out, accompanied by Felicity and my son, Leo. The moment I saw them, my pupils narrowed. All three of them were dressed in garish, bright red. As soon as Felicity got out of the car, she raised her phone, excitedly pointing it at the dancing women, taking photos and videos, clucking approvingly. Daniel put an arm around her shoulder, a smile on his face as he said loudly, “This is more like it! A bit of liveliness is good, the old lady would have loved it.” I walked up to them and said, “This is a funeral. Dressed like this, isn’t it inappropriate?” Daniel immediately pulled Felicity behind him, as if shielding a precious treasure, and glared at me impatiently. “Clara, are you done yet? It’s just a memorial service! Don’t be so old-fashioned. Felicity and Snowball are here specifically to lighten the mood.” He paused, his tone growing even more self-righteous. “Besides, your mom’s dead. What does she know?” Sarah, who had collapsed to her knees by the grave, snapped her head up at his words. Her face was a mess of tears. She stared at her brother, as if he’s a stranger. Daniel finally noticed her. He moved forward, trying to pull her up. “Sarah, what’s all this? This is Clara’s mother’s-” He didn’t finish his sentence. CRACK! A raw, open-handed slap exploded across his cheek. Sarah staggered to her feet, her whole body trembling violently. She jabbed a shaking finger toward the raw mound of earth. “Daniel! Open your eyes! Look! Who do you think is in there? That’s Mom! Your mother! And you…you give her this? You let these performers dance at her grave? You wear red? You… you heartless monster!” The slap snapped Daniel’s head sideways, a red mark blazing across his cheek. He held his face, his eyes shifting from shock to utter confusion. He suddenly turned to me, lips trembling with a silent question. I took a deep breath, walked to my just-arrived parents, and calmly gestured toward the absurd scene. “Mom, Dad. This is the funeral Daniel arranged. For his mother.”

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It had been ten years since Damien Thorne bullied me into dropping out. I ran into him at a food truck. He swaggered out of a BMW, arm slung around my ex, Tiffany. Spotting me hunched over a burger by the curb, he sneered. “Look how far our star student has fallen. Eating gutter food even my dog wouldn’t touch? And you’re actually enjoying it?” Tiffany shot me a look of pure disgust. “This is pathetic. Thank God I dumped you!” I kept my head down, eating my burger, saying nothing. Then Damien kicked it flying. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf, or just stupid?!” He had no idea a single word from me could topple his family’s empire. Dozens of bodyguards in the shadows eased off their safeties. I waved them down with a cold smirk. “That burger was eight bucks. Pay up.” “Or else…” Damien stared at me, then burst into harsh laughter, cutting me off. “Have you lost it, you broke loser? You think you can demand money from me?” “You’re actually threatening me? What, you think you can kill me?” “Or have you forgotten how I used to pin you down and beat you like a dog in high school?” I could, in fact, end him right now. But seeing Damien’s unchanged, arrogant face, my mind snapped back to high school. Back when Tiffany and I were together. Damien had cornered me, saying he wanted her, and ordered me to back off. I refused. The result was a relentless campaign of bullying from Damien. He and his crew would dump trash in my desk, glue my seat shut, and stuff dead rats into my lunchbox. The worst time, they cornered me in the alley behind the school. Damien, a cigarette dangling from his lips, grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall, over and over. I was bedridden in the dorm for three days. And Tiffany, she broke up with me. The very next day, she started dating Damien. Convinced she must have been coerced, I went to ask her why. Instead,she and Damien lured me into a bathroom, shoved my head in a toilet, and gave me a “lesson.” To this day, I remember her words, dripping with contempt. “I only dated you because you were top of the class. I was betting on your potential.” “Then I met Damien. Grades are meaningless. His father is on the School Board. You could never compare. You’re just stepping stone material.” I walked home soaked, spiked a fever that lasted a week, and missed my final exams because of it. The teachers knew. But with Damien’s father on the Board, no one dared lift a finger. Later, I drop out. Never thought I’d run into them here, today. Damien’s laughter roared, drawing attention. A crowd spilled out of the bar next door. All my old high school classmates. They were having a reunion. Clearly, I hadn’t been invited. The moment they saw Damien, they swarmed him. “Damien! We’ve been waiting for you!” “Get in, the drinks are already!” Damien pointed at me, sneering. “Ran into some beggar scrounging for food. Accidentally kicked his burger, and now he wants eight bucks. Pathetic, right?” At his words, they finally turned to look at me. The sycophancy in their eyes for Damien twisted into pure contempt for me. “Our former valedictorian, reduced to begging for eight bucks?” “He must be completely broke!” Even my high school teacher stared at me with disdain. “Liam Carter, it’s just a burger. Damien wouldn’t kick it for no reason. What did you do to provoke him? Always check your own faults first!” It was always like this. Back in high school, every time Damien bullied me, the others just cheered him on. I asked him for help, and he’d always side with Damien without hesitation. “Why would he target you? Always check your own faults first.” Suddenly, a figure pushed through the jeering crowd. It was Benji Miller, my old desk mate. He glanced at me, then at the burger in the dirt, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “Liam, you don’t know who Damien is. You shouldn’t be picking a fight.” “Here. Take a few hundred bucks. Let it go. Don’t make things worse for yourself.” Benji pulled out the only few hundred bucks from his faded jeans and offered them to me. I was moved. Benji had been the closest thing I had to a friend in high school. The only one who ever spoke up for me when Damien bullied me. His life wasn’t easy now. But his concern was still genuine. I pushed his hand away. “Keep it. This won’t be a problem for me.” Benji looked anxious, ready to insist, but Damien shoved him aside roughly. “Playing a hero, Benji?” “YIou should spend that on cigarettes for us, not this loser. Might earn you some favors later.” He snatched the cash from Benji’s hand and tossed it to his ever-present sycophants. They caught it, smirking. “Yeah, giving it to Liam is a total waste!” “Buy our goodwill instead. Fall on hard times, and you can be our dog. We’ll even toss you a bone.” Benji clenched his fists but stayed silent. Damien turned his full attention back to me. “Liam, aren’t you desperate enough to beg for eight bucks?” “Tell you what. For old times’ sake, I’ll give you a way to earn it.” “Get on your knees and lick those burger crumbs off the pavement. I’ll not only pay your eight bucks, I’ll give you eight hundred. Sound good?”

His words sent the crowd roaring. Tiffany leaned on Damien’s shoulder with a wicked grin. “Oh, Damien, you’re too good. Letting this bum have a full meal and earn some cash!” Others joined in. “Liam, Damien’s handing you a golden ticket. Aren’t you grateful?” Even the teacher scoffed at me. “Liam, aren’t you going to thank him?” I stood there, quietly watching the whole scene. Ten years had passed. Nothing had changed. “Since you all think it’s such a golden opportunity…” “Why don’t you eat it.” My words killed the laughter instantly. Damien’s face hardened, his eyes bulging. “What did you say? I’m giving you a handout, and you refuse?” The others chimed in, jeering. “Trying to act tough, is he? Pathetic. Pride is all the poor have left.” The teacher shook his head with a theatrical sigh. “Hopeless ten years ago. Hopeless now.” Damien slowly lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and blew the smoke directly into my face. “Liam. You still don’t get it, do you.” He tapped the asphalt with his shoe. “This whole block? Belongs to the Thornes.” Then he gestured to the the skyscraper across the street. “That office tower? Ours too.” As he spoke, he jabbed the burning ember of his cigarette toward my chest. “And you? You’re just a beggar, surviving on my family’s goodwill.” “Understand?” Watching his performance, I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Seeing me smile, Damien’s brow furrowed. “You think I’m joking?” I looked at him calmly, like he was nothing more than a barking dog. “This street might be yours, Damien, but you don’t own what’s right.” “I’m giving you one last chance. Give me and Benji our money back.” A muscle twitched in Damien’s face. Then he burst into an even more exaggerated fit of laughter. “Did you hear that? He’s giving me one last chance!” “That’s the funniest damn joke I’ve heard all year.” The surrounding classmates immediately joined in with scornful laughter. Tiffany looked at me like I was a clown. “Liam, are you broke and stupid?” “You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the world the Thorne family moves in.” “Still picking a fight? Do you have a death wish?” The others watched, contempt in their eyes. “One last chance? What can he even do if Damien doesn’t give him money?” “What can a poor guy like him do? Just cry to Damien! Hahahaha!” “Damien, you should really teach him a lesson, let this loser know his place!” Only Benji, seemingly afraid Damien would actually hurt me, rushed forward and pleaded with Damien. “Damien, Liam’s just hot-headed. Don’t take it personally.” “My money can be for the guys’ cigarettes. Let’s just drop this, Liam’s had it rough…” Before he could finish, Damien grabbed Benji by the collar. “You useless idiot, you always stuck up for him in high school, it’s annoying!” With that, Damien raised his fist and swung it at Benji. I reached out and caught Damien’s wrist. He froze, then slowly turned his head toward me. “What? Think you can teach me a lesson?” He leaned in until his face was inches from mine, then tapped his own cheek mockingly. “Go on. Hit me!” “Let’s see if a loser like you even has the-” SMACK! Before he could finish, I landed a sharp slap directly across his face.

The crisp sound of the slap echoed loudly in the night street. For a moment, everyone stared at me in disbelief. Damien stood frozen in place, a clear five-finger imprint rapidly appearing on his face. He clutched his cheek, glaring at me in utter disbelief, grinding his teeth. “Liam Carter! You dared to hit me?!” I clapped my hands, my voice flat. “Didn’t you tell me to?” Tiffany steadied Damien, her eyes narrowing at me viciously. “Liam, are you crazy?! Are you trying to die?!” Only Benji, his face ashen, tugged at me frantically. “Liam, run! Now!” “Damien has connections everywhere, he’ll kill you!” I lightly patted Benji’s shoulder. “Easy. He doesn’t have that kind of power.” “I don’t have the power?!” Damien exploded, his face twisting. “You know who my uncle is? Victor Sterling. This whole district answers to him!” A ripple of shock went through the crowd at the name. “His uncle is Victor ‘The Enforcer’ Sterling?” “I heard Sterling is ruthless about family. Didn’t he?” “Yeah. Word is some drunk insulted his nephew once. Sterling made him swallow his own tongue.” Amidst the whispers, Damien glared at me hatefully, his voice venomous. “Liam, today I’m going to show you what real power is!” With that, he pulled out his phone and publicly dialed Victor’s number. As soon as the call connected, Damien put it on speaker. “Uncle, get to Bourbon Street, I just got hit!” However, from the other end of the line, only Victor’s low voice came through. “I have an urgent matter to deal with. No time.” Then, Victor immediately hung up. The scene fell into stunned silence. Damien’s face was a mask of disbelief. But I smiled. “What? He won’t come?” “Then let me call him.” With that, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Tell Victor to get his butt to Bourbon Street within three minutes.” After I hung up, the place was completely silent for a full three seconds. Then came a wave of scornful mockery. “Tell Victor to get his butt here in three minutes? Who do you think you are?” “You’re so desperate to look tough, you’re practically suicidal!” The onlookers stared at me like I was mentally challenged. Damien let out a cold laugh. “Liam, you’re unbelievably stupid.” “You’re a bottom-tier nobody, you don’t even have the right to speak to my uncle.” “Besides, my uncle spoils me rotten, and he’s too busy to even come for me. What makes you think you’re important enough for him to drop everything?” I looked at him, my voice calm. “When I call him, he has no choice but to come.” Benji’s face was chalk-white. He tugged at my arm, his voice on the verge of tears. “Liam, stop talking, just run, or it’ll be too late!” “After hitting me and disrespecting my uncle, he thinks he can run?” Damien roared, then yelled to the surrounding classmates. “Keep an eye on these two pathetic losers.” “Today, I’m going to drag him in front of my uncle and let him feel the terror of ‘The Enforcer’!” As soon as he finished speaking, the classmates immediately formed a circle, trapping Benji and me in the center. Tiffany shot me a disgusted glance. “So dumb.” “Good thing I broke up with you and chose Damien instead.” Damien snorted, checking his watch. “You said my uncle would be here in three minutes.” “Well, time’s up.” “Where is he?” The crowd erupted in derisive laughter. “Three minutes? He couldn’t get Sterling on the phone in three centuries!” “If that loser can summon Victor, I’ll eat my own shoes.” The echo of their mockery hadn’t faded when a convoy of black luxury sedans rounded the corner, screeching to a halt before the crowd. The lead door flew open. A middle-aged man launched himself from the back seat. Damien froze solid. “Uncle?!”

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I was just pulled back from the brink of death. Before I could remember my own name, I became my sister’s blood bank. The man who dragged me from my hospital bed to drain my blood was the one who hated me most. My husband. Julian Vance. Amelia’s POV The sharp sting of antiseptic dragged me back to the land of the living. I blinked up at a blank, white ceiling. My left wrist was a clumsy bundle of bandages. I had no memory. My mind was a clean slate, wiped. Nothing remained. The door flew open. A middle-aged couple stood there, their expressions not of relief, but of profound irritation. “Creating another scene, Amelia? Have you no shame left?” The man sounded furious. The woman’s was a razor. “We never should have fetched you from that backwater village. If our Chloe had an ounce of your dramatics, she’d never let herself be victimized!” From their unveiled contempt, the outline of my life began to form. My name is Amelia. The Dawson family’s long-lost biological daughter. But in this house, I ranked far beneath the cherished adopted one, Chloe. I also had a husband, Julian. Three years ago, an incident led to me becoming his wife. It also made me the most unwelcome and inconvenient person in his eyes. Because his heart had always belonged to Chloe, never me. My father continued his cold sneer. “Stop using these tactics in the future. When have you ever succeeded? Even if something really happened, Julian wouldn’t spare you a glance.” My mother’s face was full of disdain. “I really don’t know what part of you, besides your bloodline, resembles a Dawson.” “Let’s go. Chloe needs us.” They turned and left, never once looking back at me. I lowered my head, touching the bandages on my wrist, and gave a self-deprecating laugh. Even with amnesia, it didn’t mean I couldn’t feel pain. I could only imagine how many times the past me had endured such neglect. My parents didn’t love me, and my husband didn’t love me either. I was superfluous. The next day, I discharged myself. As I stood by the hospital entrance in thin clothes, a black luxury car pulled up in front of me. The door opened, and Julian stepped out. He held a petite woman in his arms, his gaze incredibly tender as he looked down at her. His usually stern features softened. Whispers of curiosity and gasps of envy rippled through the onlookers. “Isn’t that Julian? Who’s the woman he’s holding?” “He’s so handsome! Finally seeing him in person today. I’m so jealous of the woman in his arms, being cherished like that. I’d die on the spot.” He rushed into the ER with her, brushing past me without a glance. I wasn’t even a blur in his periphery. Only then did it hit me. He was my husband. My husband in the eyes of the law. A bitter laugh escaped me. My husband wasn’t here to pick me up from the hospital, but he was accompanying another woman to the emergency room. Just as I turned to leave, hurried footsteps echoed behind me. Julian had returned, grabbing my wrist with a force that felt like it would shatter my bones. “Chloe is injured and needs a blood transfusion urgently.” He stared at me, his tone an undeniable command. “You have RH-negative blood. Come with me for a blood draw.” He roughly dragged me forward. I didn’t struggle, just looked at him calmly. My gaze seemed to irritate him. He impatiently unclasped his watch from his wrist, shoving it into my cold palm. He clearly expected tears or demands. “Here. Now leave.” His posture was like dismissing an object. I clutched the watch, a faint, almost imperceptible cold smile playing on my lips. “Not enough?” He frowned in displeasure. “Amelia, don’t be greedy.” I tucked the watch away, replying blandly. “How could it not be enough? Such an expensive watch is more than enough for a hundred blood draws.” He seemed to sense something was off, but only frowned, eventually saying nothing. In the blood draw room, the needle pierced my skin. Through the glass, I watched him by Chloe’s bedside, gently tucking her blanket in. The nurses’ hushed whispers drifted into my ears. “It’s her again. Mrs. Vance.” Their low voices carried. “Jumping off buildings, cutting her wrists. She just tried to get Mr. Vance’s attention.” “What’s the point? Mr. Vance only cares about Chloe. She’s just humiliating herself.” Their words stung like needles. So, this was how pathetic my past self had been. Amnesia, perhaps, was a blessing. Four hundred milliliters of blood later, my face was pale. I leaned against the wall and walked up to Julian. “Where do we live?” I asked. Julian’s face was full of mockery. “What, another trick of running away from home so I’ll go looking for you?” “I forgot, I really forgot.” I smiled faintly. “After all, I’ve lost so much blood, my brain isn’t working right.” He waved his hand impatiently. “I’ll have the driver take you back.” “Thank you.” I turned to leave, then paused, looking at him. “Are you coming home for dinner tonight? To celebrate my discharge.” “Celebrate?” His face instantly darkened. “Chloe is still in there. What’s there to celebrate? Are you that heartless?” “If you’re not coming back, fine.” My tone was calm. “I had a gift for you.” “Stop with these attempts to curry favor. I don’t need them.” He cut me off, turning to stride quickly towards Chloe. Did he really not need it? I lowered my head and smiled. He would need this “gift.” I pulled out my phone, found Mr. Henderson the lawyer’s name in my contacts, and called. “Mr. Henderson, please prepare two documents for me.” “One divorce agreement.” “And a parental rights termination statement.”

Amelia’s POV Mr. Henderson noted down my requests over the phone. After hanging up, the Vance family car arrived. I opened the car door and got in, telling the driver, “To the embassy.” “Yes, ma’am.” The driver paused, but was wise enough not to ask questions, turning the car around immediately. During my two days in the hospital, I had already scheduled my visa application appointment. All the documents were prepared, and the process was surprisingly smooth. I expected to receive it in about two weeks. Back in the car, I instructed the driver, “Don’t tell Julian about today.” The driver’s hands paused on the steering wheel, then he said softly, “Mr. Vance… he doesn’t like us mentioning you in front of him.” So, his aversion to me was so deep that he didn’t even want to hear my name. I simply hummed in acknowledgment. That was fine. It would make leaving even easier, with no strings attached. The car stopped in front of an imposing villa. This was where I had lived for three years. A huge wedding photo hung in the foyer. In the picture, my eyes were filled with love as I looked up at the man beside me. Julian, however, wore a cold expression, like an unapproachable iceberg. The stark contrast made me, the “mistress of the house,” feel incredibly superfluous. Back in the bedroom, I found an old phone tucked deep in a drawer. It contained only one encrypted memo app. It chronicled the past three years, detailing how I had been repeatedly neglected, ignored, and hurt by him. “March 7th. I brought him lunch; he said he wasn’t hungry. But then he took Chloe to a fancy French restaurant.” “May 20th. He claimed he was in an all-night meeting. Yet, Chloe’s Ins story showed him setting off fireworks for her.” “August 15th. Chloe had a fever. He abandoned me in the ER, sick, to stay by her side all night. I overheard him telling his assistant, ‘Forget her. She won’t die.’” “December 1st. I hurt myself again. Julian, what do I have to do for you to finally look at me?” … Line after line of text, like a dull knife, cut into my heart. I looked down at my wrist. The scars, long healed, now felt as if they were being torn open again, throbbing faintly. I suddenly felt a profound sorrow for my past self. How could anyone love someone so much they completely lost themselves? Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Soon, I raised my hand and wiped them away fiercely. I put the old phone back in the deepest part of the drawer and closed it. As if sealing away that unbearable past. In the mirror, my face was pale but unusually calm. I looked at myself in the mirror and whispered. “It’s okay if no one loves you.” “From now on, you have to love yourself.” For the next two weeks, Julian didn’t come home once. No calls, no messages. It was as if I had never existed in that house. Until a phone call broke the brief silence.

Amelia’s POV On the other end of the line, my mother’s voice was full of unapologetic accusations. “Are you not even planning to show up for Chloe’s birthday party tonight?” Birthday? I was still struggling to remember when she impatiently barked her order. “No matter what your excuse, be there at 7 PM sharp!” With that, the phone was slammed down. I didn’t want to go. But then I thought, I was leaving soon anyway, so there was no need to cause more trouble at the last minute. So, I chose a black dress and had the driver take me to the birthday party venue. The entire venue had been booked out. Julian had specifically rented it for Chloe. When I arrived, the party was at its peak. The center of attention was Julian and Chloe, standing together. Chloe wore a designer pink gown, looking like a meticulously cared-for rose. Julian’s gaze remained fixed on her, never wavering. “I heard Julian personally planned the whole surprise for Chloe. Didn’t sleep for three days, they say.” Amidst the guests’ whispers, I watched Julian half-crouch, willingly adjusting Chloe’s gown. The smile on his face was a tenderness I had never seen before. That scene was like a silent knife. Suddenly, spotlights illuminated the stage. My father announced. “I’ve decided to transfer 60% of my company’s shares entirely to my daughter, Chloe!” The entire room erupted in whispers. The biological daughter gets nothing? The adopted one takes all? Eyes filled with scrutiny, pity, and schadenfreude all turned to me in the corner. But the real shock was yet to come. Julian led Chloe onto the stage, opening a velvet box. Inside was the Vance family heirloom ruby bracelet. “Isn’t that meant for the wife of the Vance family’s eldest grandson?” someone gasped. Julian clasped the ruby bracelet onto Chloe’s wrist. “Julian, this is too precious,” Chloe whispered, covering her mouth, then looked out at the audience timidly. “This should have been Amelia’s.” My mother immediately chimed in. “Amelia has Julian taking care of her, she doesn’t need these things. You’re frail, so it’s only right for you to have it.” Julian’s gaze swept across the room, as cold as ice. “If not for an accident three years ago, Chloe would be standing here by my side today. This bracelet is simply returned to its rightful owner.” That phrase, “returned to its rightful owner,” felt like a slap across my face. The guests’ snickers gnawed at my last shred of dignity like ants. I looked at the picture-perfect family on stage, at Chloe’s triumphant eyes and Julian’s merciless face. Even with amnesia, my heart felt no ripple. No heartache, no sadness, not even anger. I turned and quietly headed for the exit. “Look, Mrs. Vance is crying,” I heard someone whisper behind me. My steps didn’t falter as I walked into the restroom. The face in the mirror had no tears, serene like a deep ocean. It seemed that when a heart died, it truly stopped hurting. These people, these events, were now just an irrelevant past to me. I forced a smile at my reflection. Just a little longer. Once my visa was processed, I could finally leave.

Amelia’s POV I came out of the restroom and turned into a secluded garden balcony for some fresh air. The moment I stepped in, I froze. In the shadows, Julian had Chloe pressed against the wall, engaged in an intense kiss. “Julian… will Amelia be sad…” Chloe whimpered. “I think I saw her crying…” Julian released her, his thumb caressing her swollen lips. “Whether she’s sad or not, what does it have to do with me?” He looked at her, every word deliberate. “Chloe, you’ve always been the only one I love.” My face felt a little wet. I reached up to touch it and found tears. “Maybe my past self is mourning,” I thought. I left expressionlessly. Not long after returning to the ballroom, Chloe rushed over, agitated. “Amelia, the ruby bracelet Julian gave me is gone! Did you take it?” Her eyes were red. “Someone saw you were the only one who went near my seat!” My parents immediately rushed over. “Amelia, did you steal the bracelet?” My father demanded sternly. My mother slapped me hard across the face. “You’re humiliating our family! Hand it over now!” My cheek burned, and I looked at my so-called biological parents, feeling only absurdity. “I didn’t take it,” I defended myself. “Still lying!” My mother ordered the bodyguards, “Search her! Strip her if you have to, just find that necklace!” Two bodyguards roughly grabbed me. In the struggle, my dress ripped open, revealing a bare shoulder. The surrounding guests snickered. Just then, a bodyguard suddenly pulled the bracelet from my purse. “Found it!” Chloe, teary-eyed, took it, her face full of hurt. “Amelia, I know you’re upset. If you really wanted it, all you had to do was ask, why did you have to steal it?” Her words solidified my guilt. Julian slowly approached. He ignored everyone, his gaze a laser fixed on me. When he spoke, his voice was a honed blade, dripping with contempt. “Why steal it?” A sneering, contemptuous curve twisted his lips. “I never considered you my wife, didn’t you know that?” “Things that don’t belong to you, even if you steal them, will never truly be yours.” The ultimate humiliation drowned me. Just when everyone expected me to break down, I suddenly laughed. A soft laugh escaped me, and I watched Julian’s face tighten in response. I lifted my chin, meeting his glacial stare. “I didn’t steal it.” Then, holding his gaze, I poured every ounce of my being into three final words, a public decree for all to hear. “Julian, I don’t love you anymore.” “If I don’t love you, you’re nothing to me. Why would I steal that bracelet?”

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**Avery’s POV** “Mrs. Sterling, I’ve reviewed the supplementary clauses for your divorce agreement. There are no legal loopholes.” Mr. Davies’ voice was calm and professional over the phone. “The marriage contract you signed with Mr. Sterling four years ago will officially expire on the twenty-seventh of next month. At that time, this divorce agreement will automatically take effect, and you will regain your complete freedom.” “Got it.” I hung up, my gaze fixed on the massive wedding portrait in the center of the living room wall. In the picture, I stood in a designer wedding gown before the blue-domed, white-walled beauty of Santorini. It was the only time in my life I dared to get so brazenly close to Dean Sterling. But he was so distant, devoid of any newlywed joy. Love or not, it hung there, blatant, without a single word needed. “It’s finally over.” I sighed. Four years ago, I signed that ridiculous contract. My wedding night held no tenderness, only a document handed to me by Dean, accompanied by his icy, cutting words: “Avery, remember your place. I married you because Chloe needed time to cool off. For these four years, you’ll be my wife, Mrs. Sterling, and don’t even think about anything that doesn’t belong to you.” Back then, I naively believed four years would be enough to melt a block of ice. But four years passed, and I understood: some ice would never melt for me. A soft click from the entrance hall broke my thoughts. Dean was back. His tall figure, bringing with it a chilling aura, stepped into the house. I took a deep breath and went to meet him. I took his discarded suit jacket and hung it up. I knelt halfway, opening the shoe cabinet and pulling out his soft house slippers. This action, I had rehearsed for four years. Dean seemed entirely accustomed to it. He pulled off his tie and tossed it carelessly onto the console table by the entrance. “Don’t forget to attend the group’s fiftieth-anniversary celebration next month.” My hands, changing his shoes, hitched for a fraction of a second. I gently shook my head. “I might have something that day. I won’t be able to make it.” After that day, I wouldn’t be Mrs. Sterling anymore. But those words, I couldn’t bring myself to say. Dean’s brow instantly creased at my reply. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing *now*?” His voice dripped with impatience. “Because I’ve been spending more time with Chloe lately? Avery, I warned you the first day we got married: don’t fantasize about things that don’t belong to you. And cut out that pathetic, resentful act; it frankly disgusts me.” I was just preparing to disappear from his world entirely after the contract expired, never to be an eyesore again. But he thought I was protesting his kindness to Chloe in this way. I opened my mouth, then closed it, saying nothing. Dean’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and his expression instantly softened, revealing a tenderness I’d never seen him show me. Chloe’s sobs drifted from the receiver, and Dean asked, his voice laced with concern and gentleness: “Chloe? What’s wrong? Don’t cry, tell me slowly.” Chloe on the other end seemed to be saying something disjointed. Dean kept reassuring her: “Don’t be scared, I’m here. Where are you right now? Okay, I’m on my way!” He hung up, not even sparing a glance for me, still half-kneeling on the floor. He grabbed his car keys and rushed out. His movements were so hurried that his shoulder slammed heavily into my body. I was already off-balance; with that immense force, my body lurched uncontrollably backward. My forehead crashed hard against the sharp edge of the doorframe. Excruciating pain instantly exploded from my temple, and my vision swam with flashing lights. But Dean’s figure had already vanished through the door, rushing into the cold night, without even a single glance my way. The enormous house fell silent. I leaned against the wall, slowly getting to my feet, the throbbing pain in my temple making me dizzy. I walked to the full-length mirror by the entrance, staring at the pale woman reflected there. My temple was already a rapidly swelling, angry red, with faint traces of bruising beneath. I went into the living room, found an ice pack in the medicine cabinet, and pressed it to the injury. The chill of the ice pierced my skin, yet it was nothing compared to the dull ache in my chest, a persistent, gnawing pain like a blunt knife repeatedly dragging across my heart. For four years, this was how I’d lived, repeatedly comforting myself. Smoothing over those visible and invisible wounds, then continuing to play the role of the docile, attentive Mrs. Sterling. Late into the night, my phone rang. It was Dean. I swiped to answer. His voice came through the static, devoid of any emotion. “Come to the hospital.” I instinctively asked, “What happened? Are you hurt?” “Just come.” The call was ruthlessly cut off, leaving only a cold dial tone. Without another thought, I grabbed a coat and rushed out. The night wind was biting, and I drove as fast as I could. What on earth had happened? Was it Chloe? Or him? I sped to the hospital, running toward the emergency room building as soon as I parked. From a distance, in the corridor outside the operating room, I immediately spotted that familiar tall figure. Dean stood before the operating room door, its red light glowing. He was holding someone tightly in his arms. Chloe buried her face in his chest, trembling with sobs. They were embracing so tightly, the scene was so ironic, as if I, the one who had rushed over, was the outsider. 2. **Avery’s POV** The air in the corridor, permeated by the scent of disinfectant, felt particularly cold. I stood rooted to the spot, feeling as if all the blood in my veins had frozen solid in that frigid atmosphere. I watched the two figures locked in a tight embrace not far away. Dean had his head bowed, softly comforting the sobbing Chloe in his arms, the lines of his profile gentle, as if he were a completely different person. That was the tenderness I had spent four years trying to earn, to no avail. I could barely breathe. It took me a long time to make my already stiff legs move again, one slow step after another, toward them. Dean heard my approach and looked up. The moment he saw me, the fleeting tenderness in his eyes quickly vanished, replaced by that familiar, chilling indifference. “What happened?” I forced myself to speak. Dean looked at me with those terrifyingly still eyes and spoke slowly. “Chloe’s mother had an acute leukemia flare-up. Her condition is critical, and she needs an immediate bone marrow transplant.” I instinctively asked, “What?” “We’ve done an urgent city-wide search of bone marrow registries, but we haven’t found a suitable match.” Dean looked at me, as if stating an indifferent fact as mundane as the weather, completely unrelated to me. “I got tested. It was a match. Now, you’re here to sign.” “…You’re going to donate bone marrow?” My pupils tightened. I knew what a bone marrow transplant entailed. He was going to take such a risk for Chloe’s mother? “I didn’t call you here for your opinion.” Dean coldly cut me off, then gritted out the two most cruel words: “Only because you’re family.” Only a spouse had the authority to sign. So that’s it. My sole value as his wife was to provide a legally necessary signature when he decided to risk his health for another woman. How ironic. “Okay.” “I’ll sign.” I nodded. A nurse promptly offered a surgical consent form and a pen. I took them, looked down at the signature line, and quickly wrote my name. As I finished the last stroke, I felt utterly drained, as if all the strength had been sucked out of me. Dean released Chloe, helping her to a nearby chair. He murmured a few soothing words, then turned and strode toward the operating room. Just as the door was about to close, I called out to him: “Dean!” He paused, turning his head to look at me, his gaze devoid of emotion. For a moment, I wanted to ask him. In these four years, had you ever, even for a second, felt anything for me? But meeting his cold eyes, I knew the answer would only bring me more disappointment. In the end, I only managed one sentence: “Be careful.” His eyes seemed to flicker almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. He turned and walked into the operating room without a backward glance. I finally, completely understood. His love for Chloe was soul-deep, capable of risking his own life. And my four years of devotion and waiting? Nothing more than a cruel joke. In the corridor, I sat on a cold bench. Chloe, opposite me, wiped her tears and sat down next to me, speaking in a soft, gentle tone: “Mrs. Sterling, I’m so sorry, I’ve troubled Dean again because of my affairs.” “I was so foolish back then, thinking leaving him would force him to forget me. I never imagined he’d still love me so much.” “Do you know? One year, he secretly flew to Paris, all because I casually mentioned liking a certain jewelry necklace that was about to be released.” Chloe smiled, continuing to needle me. “But I was still angry then, so I just threw the jewelry box back at him.” I remembered that necklace. Dean had returned from that business trip to Paris and casually tossed a delicate velvet box to me, his tone indifferent: “Someone gave it to me. I don’t like it. You deal with it.” I opened it and was thrilled to see the dazzling four-leaf clover necklace. I thought it was his first, and only, gift to me. I treasured it in the bottom of my jewelry box, never daring to wear it, often taking it out and gazing at it for hours. Turns out, the thing I held so dear was nothing more than Chloe’s discarded trash. “And another time,” Chloe’s voice drifted in again. “I was feeling down in the middle of the night, so I posted a really sad social media post. Guess what? He actually flew from the country to New York overnight just to be with me. Even though I didn’t want to see him, he stood outside in the rain all night long.” I remembered that time. It was after Dean returned from a business trip, soaking wet, and he forcefully pinned me beneath him, taking me with a raw, almost desperate passion. I had naively thought it was proof of his longing for me after days away, a breakthrough in our relationship. Turns out, that wasn’t love at all, nor was it passion. It was merely him taking out his unfulfilled desire for another woman on me, his readily available substitute. “These four years,” Chloe’s voice was full of triumph. “I ignored him, hoping he’d give up, but Dean relentlessly pursued me, sending someone to deliver a bouquet of Lisianthus to me every single day.” The language of Lisianthus flowers is unchanging love, eternal waiting. I felt a sudden wave of dizziness. He didn’t like any plants in the house; he said he was allergic. Because of this, I, who always loved fresh flowers, hadn’t bought a single one in four years. Yet, he had effortlessly ordered flowers for someone else for an entire four years. I was a complete and utter fool. Four years of marriage, a meticulously planned deception. “I’m leaving now.” I couldn’t listen to her anymore. I stood up, pushing open the hospital doors, my exit turning into a desperate escape. I feared that if I stayed one second longer, I would drown completely in this four-year-long illusion. 3. **Avery’s POV** After fleeing the hospital, I locked myself in the villa for three days straight. The necklace I had carefully treasured was someone else’s discarded trash. The passion I thought we shared was merely a tool for someone else’s frustration. The late-night companionship I cherished was nothing more than me witnessing a prolonged declaration of love for another. Four years, fourteen hundred and sixty days—I had lived as a complete substitute, a shadow. Not even a shadow, just an insignificant backdrop in his love story. The butler knocked on my bedroom door. “Madam, Mr. Sterling Sr. requests that you and Mr. Sterling join him for dinner at the estate tonight.” I didn’t refuse. It was a Sterling family tradition, a monthly gathering, absolutely non-negotiable. It took me a long time to cover the exhaustion and pallor on my face with thick concealer. I changed into a proper long dress, once again playing the role of the gentle and virtuous Mrs. Sterling. This was the last time. In the evening, Dean returned, his face a little pale, but still as tall and proud as ever. Seeing me, he simply gave a faint nod, a mere acknowledgment, then went straight upstairs to change. Throughout it all, he didn’t ask why I had suddenly left that day, nor did he ask how I had been these past few days. It was as if I were merely a prop needed to attend a family dinner. The Sterling estate was brightly lit, but the atmosphere was as oppressive as ever. Mr. Sterling Sr., Dean’s father and the group’s patriarch, sat at the head of the table. Halfway through dinner, an older relative spoke with concern: “Dean, you and Avery have been married for four years now, but there’s still no news of a baby? We’re all waiting for grandchildren, you know.” At those words, everyone’s eyes fixated on my flat stomach. Oh no. Dean put down his cutlery, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and said indifferently: “No rush.” Those three light words instantly ignited Mr. Sterling Sr.’s anger. He slammed his fork down on the table. “No rush?!” Mr. Sterling Sr. glared at him. “You’re thirty already, how much longer do you want to wait?! Avery, I ask you, as a wife, do you bear no responsibility at all?!” The矛头(blame/focus) instantly shifted to me. I put down my fork, stood up, and bowed my head slightly. “Dad, it’s my fault.” “Of course, it’s your fault!” Mr. Sterling Sr.’s voice grew even more severe. “I heard you even signed some paper a few days ago, agreeing to Dean’s bone marrow donation surgery? Absurd! The Sterling family’s lineage, our bodies are precious! Is it something a mere wife like you is qualified to decide?!” “Dad, this was my own decision.” Dean interjected, frowning. “You shut up!” Mr. Sterling Sr. snapped. “You have no right to speak here! Avery, you’ve been married into this family for four years, haven’t given birth to a child, and now you can’t even look after your husband’s body. You are a most derelict wife!” Saying that, he gestured to a maid. The maid immediately brought over a bowl of dark, bitter-smelling liquid medicine. “This is medicine I specifically had a renowned doctor prescribe for you. Drink it!” Mr. Sterling Sr. commanded. I looked at the bowl of medicine, my stomach churning. For the first time, I chose to resist. “Dad, I’m sorry, I won’t drink this medicine.” Everyone was stunned, including Dean, who gave me an unexpected glance. Mr. Sterling Sr.’s face was ashen. He pointed a finger at my nose and roared: “You dare defy me! Are you challenging the Sterling family’s rules? Guards!” Two burly bodyguards immediately stepped forward. “Take her to the courtyard! Make her kneel! She can get up when she’s understood her mistake!” I didn’t resist, allowing the bodyguards to lead me out. Throughout it all, Dean sat there, watching indifferently. He didn’t even say a single word in my defense, only averting his gaze the moment I was led away. As if everything about to happen in the courtyard had nothing to do with him. It was a bitter cold autumn night. The Sterling family discipline had always been strict; this wasn’t the first time I’d been punished by kneeling, but it would be the last. After this kneeling, there would be no more. The cold seeped from my knees into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably. Through the study window, I could clearly see Dean’s silhouette. He didn’t come out. Instead, he sat on the study sofa, on a phone call. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could imagine that on the other end of the line was undoubtedly Chloe. Time ticked by, minute by minute. The sharp pain in my knees had turned numb, and the cold gradually blurred my consciousness. I didn’t know how long I had knelt, only that my body grew colder and colder, and the scene before my eyes began to spin. A second before losing consciousness entirely, I saw Dean in the study finally hang up the phone, stand up, and draw the curtains. He had completely cut off my last sliver of hope. Turns out, he wasn’t unaware; he simply didn’t care. Everything went black. I lost all sensation.

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To test my husband’s management skills, Dad sent me to do a surprise inspection of the company he was running. As soon as I walked in, I noticed a new, peculiar room in the office. Inside, there was a large pink bed and a vanity table. Moments later, a woman, dressed provocatively, emerged from the room, carrying a glass of water. I was about to step forward and confront her when her hand trembled, spilling the water onto a power switch. The entire company went dark. Annoyed, I asked an intern standing nearby, “Who hired that idiot woman?” The intern immediately shushed me. “Lower your voice! That’s our CEO’s wife. I heard this whole company belongs to her.” I froze. She’s the CEO’s wife? Then what am *I*? I pulled out my phone and called Dad. “Dad, forget the evaluation. Tell David to come to the office, and bring the divorce papers!” On my first day secretly inspecting my husband’s company, I immediately noticed it felt different. The old nursery had been turned into a pink princess room. Curious, I watched a young, provocatively dressed woman walk out of it. I asked an intern standing near me, “Who is that woman?” The intern seemed scared of her. He leaned in, whispering, “Quiet! That’s Tiffany Reed, our CEO’s wife. You must be new here, right? You’ll get used to it.” She’s Mrs. Hayes? So what does that make *me*? I couldn’t believe David would cheat so brazenly! He even moved his mistress’s *bed* into the company building! The intern sighed and continued, “She usually just stays in the private room Mr. Hayes gave her, playing games or watching TV. She doesn’t really interact with us. Mr. Hayes must be out for a meeting today, and no one’s around to entertain her, so she came out to play.” His words made my head buzz. “Her private room? The one with the huge pink bed? This is a company, not a resort!” I tried my best to control my anger. The intern shook his head and said, “What can we do? Our CEO just dotes on his wife.” He saw the look on my face and asked with concern, “Are you okay? You look terrible.” I forced a smile. “I’m fine, just a little surprised. It’s certainly… an eye-opener to see someone like that in a company.” The intern gave a wry smile and shrugged. “You’ll get used to it. She doesn’t really do anything harmful. We just have to tolerate it, and pray she gets bored and goes back to her room.” I didn’t say anything more. I watched Tiffany skip away from the lounge area, humming a tune. I pulled out my phone, ready to call Dad directly. But after a moment’s thought, I put it back. Leaving now would be letting David off too easy. Dad had sent me to evaluate his capabilities. Now, it seemed, his competence, and his character, were both seriously flawed. I wanted to see just how ridiculous this company had become under his management. I straightened my clothes and walked to the reception desk. “Hi, I’m Ashley Miller, from corporate, here for a project review.” “Could you please arrange a temporary workstation for me? Somewhere quiet, if possible.” “Also, this inspection is internal, so I’d prefer Mr. Hayes doesn’t know I’m here.” The receptionist nodded respectfully. I walked into the office area, found a corner desk, and settled in, my gaze fixed on Tiffany, who was not far away. She was holding a glass of water, curiously studying a fire alarm button on the wall, seemingly debating whether to press it.

David wasn’t in that morning. Tiffany must have gotten bored playing games in his office. She strolled out of the General Manager’s office again. She wandered around the office floor. One moment, she was poking at a colleague’s newly drawn design sketch. The next, she was messing with another colleague’s keyboard, typing out gibberish. Everyone was furious but dared not speak up. They just held their breath when she approached, and frantically checked their work after she left, hoping it hadn’t been ruined. She drifted over to the water cooler. She was probably thirsty again, so she picked up a disposable cup to get some water. Either she didn’t hold it steady, or it was on purpose. Her hand trembled. A full cup of water, precisely, accurately, splashed directly onto the wall next to the water cooler. Right where the main power switch for the entire office floor was located. There was a loud *CRACK*, followed by a shower of blinding sparks. The lights across the entire office instantly went out. Every computer screen, without exception, turned black. A few seconds later, the office erupted in a chorus of groans and frustrated shouts. “My code! I spent all morning on it! It’s not saved!” “My design draft! The client has been hounding me, it was just one step away!” “My report! It’s due at 2 PM! It’s over, everything’s ruined!” Mark Johnson, the Head of the Tech Department, rushed out of his office first, drawn by the commotion. He saw Tiffany standing there, looking utterly innocent despite the mess she’d caused, and his face instantly turned ashen. His lips moved, his fists clenched and then relaxed, but he ultimately swallowed his words. Tiffany, however, spoke first, her voice dripping with indignation. “What happened?” “This switch is so cheap! It broke just from a little water. Why is everything in this company such low quality?” Her ability to lie so brazenly was truly astonishing. Sarah WilDavids, the Head of Administration, also hurried over. She first looked at the chaotic, smoking power switch, then at Tiffany. She immediately plastered on a forced, subservient smile. “Tiffany, are you hurt? Did it scare you?” “It’s not your fault at all. It must be old wiring. We’ll fix it right away. I’ll get someone to replace it with a new, waterproof one immediately!” “Why don’t you go back to the office and rest? We’ll handle things here.” Tiffany pouted, seemingly not entirely satisfied with this outcome, but said nothing more and turned back into David’s office. Only then did the Head of Administration wipe the cold sweat from her brow and start directing the tech team to fix the problem. As she passed my desk, I called out to her. “Ms. WilDavids, does this happen often?” She glanced at me, recognized me as being from corporate, and a bitter expression crossed her face. She pulled me into the stairwell of the fire escape, lowering her voice. “You’re an auditor, right? There are some things I shouldn’t say, but today’s incident…” She sighed and continued. “Honestly, she’s Mr. Hayes’s wife. We can’t do anything.” “Mr. Hayes is away for a meeting today, so no one can control her.” “Normally, when Mr. Hayes is here, he can at least keep her locked in his office…” Her face was filled with helplessness and despair. “Last time, she ‘accidentally’ knocked over a cup of coffee.” “That coffee spilled right onto our main server.” “All our company data was corrupted. The tech department pulled all-nighters for a week to restore it. We all lost an entire week’s worth of work!” “And what happened then?” I asked. “Mr. Hayes said our tech department was negligent in supervision, that the server’s location posed a safety hazard, and he docked our entire department’s quarterly bonuses.” “He said it was a ‘lesson’ for us.” My heart sank, heavy and cold. This was David’s management style. He was letting an idiot run wild, then making all his hard-working employees pay for her stupidity. David, you’re truly something. Just then, the door to the General Manager’s office opened again. Tiffany poked her head out and yelled, “I’m so bored! Why isn’t the power back on? My phone’s almost dead! Are there any snacks in the breakroom?” No one answered her. The entire office floor was filled with an oppressive, absolute silence.

Just as the engineering team finished restoring power, Dad called. He asked me to retrieve some core data from the Marketing Department. He said the company’s board meeting that afternoon needed the file, and that I absolutely had to handle it myself, without any mistakes. I took my USB drive, copied the data from the Marketing Director, and went to the print room. I had just finished organizing the documents and clipping them together when the print room door swung open. Tiffany strolled in, holding a bubble tea. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the stapler next to my hand. “Hey, can I borrow that? My snack bag came open.” She said, reaching out to grab it as if it were hers by right. I instinctively pulled the documents and stapler back, out of her reach. These documents were highly confidential company information. Her hand grasped at air. Her body, propelled by momentum, lurched forward, and her foot caught on a cable. The bubble tea in her hand flew out. The brown liquid arced in a perfect parabola through the air, landing squarely on the confidential documents I had just printed. The thick stack of A4 papers was instantly soaked through with bubble tea, turning into a sticky, ruined mess. I looked at the destroyed files, unable to maintain my detached composure any longer. I looked up, my gaze falling on Tiffany’s face. She showed no remorse. Instead, she seemed annoyed that I hadn’t lent her the stapler. My voice was icy. “Can you even begin to pay for the damage you’ve done to these files?” Tiffany was probably experiencing someone in the company questioning her with such a tone for the first time. She froze for a moment. Then, her face contorted with fury. “How dare you speak to me like that?!” “Do you even know who I am?” She puffed out her chest, looking indignant. “I’m Mr. Hayes’s wife!” I looked at her, my insides completely calm, almost amused. “Oh?” I calmly countered. “Mr. Hayes’s wife can just freely destroy company property? She can ignore company rules and regulations?” My retort clearly challenged her authority. She became furious, pointing a finger at my nose. “Of course I can!” “This company belongs to my husband, so it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” Her voice grew shrill, like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Who do you think you are? A new hire telling *me* what to do?!” Colleagues, hearing the commotion, started to gather. Seeing the scene, they were terrified, barely daring to breathe. A few female colleagues from Admin quietly tugged at my sleeve, their eyes pleading, signaling me to apologize quickly. I didn’t move. I just watched her silently. Tiffany, seeing that I was unmoved, felt she was losing face in front of everyone. She pulled out her phone, a smirk of triumph on her face. “Fine, you wanna play tough? Think you can defy me?” “I’m calling my husband right now to tell you who *I* am, and who *you* are!” She immediately FaceTimed David. The call connected quickly. She held the phone screen towards herself, ready for David to come to her rescue.

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The city shimmered with a private fireworks display on the night Channing Sterling announced his engagement. I was on my knees, scrubbing floors in a high-end club, clutching the diagnosis in my hand: terminal stomach cancer. He was there, holding that woman with the innocent eyes, his foot casually pressing down on my hand, crushing my finger bones. “Scarlett, look closely. *This* is the woman Channing Sterling is going to marry.” “As for you, you only deserve to crawl in the gutter and atone for your sins.” I bit my lip, swallowing the metallic tang that surged in my throat, not uttering a sound. He didn’t know these hands had once dug for him for three days and three nights in the ruins, already ruined beyond repair. He knew even less that the “murderer” he hated so much had only three months left to live. If you want me to atone, then I’ll give you my life. How about that? Channing had booked out the entire top-floor VIP lounge to celebrate Serena’s return to the country. The manager found me then. I was hiding in the changing room, gulping down painkillers. My stomach was on fire, searing pain making me break out in a cold sweat. “Scarlett, hurry up! Mr. Sterling specifically asked for you to serve drinks. Don’t you dare mess this up for me!” The manager rushed me, snatching the cleaner’s uniform I’d just put on. He tossed me an incredibly revealing bunny girl outfit. “Put this on. If Mr. Sterling isn’t happy tonight, your brother, clinging to life in the hospital, will be thrown out of his room tomorrow!” At the mention of Leo, the refusal I’d been about to voice died in my throat. I looked at my pale, skeletal reflection in the mirror. I forced a smile, uglier than a cry. Scarlett, what are you still being dramatic about? Your dignity was torn to shreds by Channing himself three years ago, on that rainy night. The moment I pushed open the lounge door, a tidal wave of noise crashed over me. But my eyes instantly found Channing, seated at the head of the main table. He wore a black shirt, collar slightly unbuttoned. He swirled a half-glass of red wine, his gaze cold and lazy. And nestled in his arms was Serena, in a white dress. The air in the lounge froze for a moment when I walked in. Then came the unrestrained jeers of the rich brats. “Well, well, isn’t that New York’s former It-girl? How did she fall so far?” “This is karma! Back then, she almost killed Serena just to climb the ladder. A vicious woman like that deserves it!” Channing heard them and lazily lifted his eyelids. His gaze landed on me, devoid of any warmth. “What are you standing there for? Come over and pour Serena some wine.” I moved stiffly. Walking to the coffee table, I knelt, picking up the decanter with trembling hands. A violent spasm gripped my stomach. My hand shook, and a few drops of red wine splashed onto Serena’s pristine white skirt. “Ah!” Serena shrieked, shrinking further into Channing’s arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” I frantically tried to wipe it, but Channing’s foot slammed into my chest. “Get out! Don’t touch her with your filthy hands!” The kick was merciless, holding nothing back. I flew backward, my spine hitting the hard edge of the table, the pain making my vision black out. A metallic taste rose in my throat. I bit my lip hard, terrified that the blood would spill out and stain his sight. Channing looked down at me, his eyes full of disgust: “Scarlett, you’re truly sickening. You can’t even do this little thing right. Were you trying to be deliberate?” “Trying to get my attention with these cheap tricks? You’re not worthy.” I lay on the floor, taking a long time to manage to prop myself up. Get his attention? Right, in his mind. Scarlett was just a conniving bitch who would do anything for money. Even now, when I was dying. He would only think I was faking it, putting on a show. Serena’s eyes were red-rimmed, and she tugged at Channing’s sleeve, her voice soft and sweet: “Channing, don’t blame Scarlett. She surely didn’t do it on purpose… It’s just a shame about this dress; it was a special birthday gift from you.” Channing tenderly patted her hand. When he turned to look at me, his eyes instantly turned sinister. “Since you’ve ruined Serena’s dress, you’ll pay for it yourself.” “Drink these ten bottles of Louis XIII on the table. Finish them, and I’ll pretend nothing happened tonight.” “Otherwise, you can crawl out of here.”

Ten bottles of Louis XIII. For a healthy person, that would be a deadly amount. Even more so for me, a terminal stomach cancer patient. The doctor had warned me. My stomach couldn’t even handle a single drop of anything spicy now. Drinking alcohol was suicide. I looked up, peering through my messy hair at Channing. His expression was cold and resolute, with no hint of joking. “Mr. Sterling, I… I can’t drink.” I pleaded humbly. “I’m not feeling well. Could you… perhaps give me a different punishment?” “Not feeling well?” Channing sneered. “Scarlett, stop with your hypocritical games. When you pushed Serena down the stairs, did you ever think about how *she* felt?” “When you took five million dollars to dump me, did you ever think about how *I* felt?” Raking up old wounds, every word stung my heart. I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. I wanted to say that it wasn’t me who pushed Serena; she rolled down herself to frame me. I wanted to say that the five million was to save *his* life when he was in the ICU. I gave all the money to the doctors. I had to sell my blood to cover the subsequent expenses. But what good would explanations do? In these three years, I had explained countless times. But all I got in return was his deeper disgust and more brutal beatings. “Not going to drink, huh?” Channing lost patience, signaling to the bodyguards nearby. “Force it down her!” Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing my shoulders. The icy liquor was forcibly poured down my throat, making tears stream down my face as I choked. The burning liquid flowed down my esophagus into my stomach, instantly causing violent cramps. Agonizing, heart-wrenching pain. I struggled desperately, but I was no match for their strength. One bottle, two bottles… Until the fifth bottle was forced down. I finally couldn’t hold it in and threw up. The vomit was mixed with startling bright red. Inside the lounge. Some guests looked at the blood on the floor with uncertainty. “Oh my god, she’s spitting blood…” “Is it real? Or is she faking it?” Channing looked at the pool of blood, his brows furrowing slightly. An almost imperceptible flicker crossed his eyes. But the next second, Serena’s horrified voice rang out: “Oh! What’s going on? Scarlett, did you prepare a blood bag beforehand to scare Channing?” “I saw you use that trick before, when we were on set…” One sentence instantly dispelled all of Channing’s doubts. The flicker in his eyes vanished, replaced by an even more intense mockery. “Scarlett, you’ve really grown some nerve. To avoid punishment, you’d stoop to such disgusting tactics.” “It seems these years in jail, you learned nothing else, but your acting skills have certainly improved.” He stood up and walked step by step towards me. He crouched down, savagely pinching my chin. “Since you love acting so much, I’ll give you a chance to put on a show.” “Lick up what’s on the floor.” I stared, wide-eyed, disbelievingly at him. The twisting pain in my stomach made my whole body tremble, cold sweat had already soaked through my clothes. But the pain in my heart was a hundred times worse than my body’s. This was the man I had loved for ten years. This was the man I had saved. Willing to ruin my hands, willing to bear scorn, willing to sacrifice my health. “Channing… just kill me.” I closed my eyes in despair, tears tracing paths down my temples. “Kill you? That would be too easy for you.” Channing gave a cold laugh, throwing my face away. He pulled out a wet wipe and fastidiously cleaned his hands. “Serena is someone *you* can bully? You’ll kneel here tonight until morning.” “If you’re even a minute short, I’ll have your brother’s ventilator turned off.” With that, he scooped up Serena and walked out of the lounge without a backward glance. His group of awful friends also followed suit. Before leaving, they didn’t forget to spit on me and kick me a few times. The lounge finally fell silent. I curled up on the cold floor. Unable to help myself, I vomited large mouthfuls of blood. The bright red blood stained the white fur of the bunny girl outfit. I shakily pulled out the crumpled lab report from my pocket. Looking at the word “terminal” on it, I let out a bitter laugh. Channing, you win. This life, I probably can’t ever repay the debt I owe you. But it was clearly… *you* who owed me a life.

That night, I truly knelt in the lounge all night. I passed out several times, only to be jolted awake by excruciating pain. The next morning, the cleaning lady came in to tidy up. When she saw me, covered in blood, she screamed. I clung to my last breath, crawling back to the dark, damp rental apartment. There, I had my only spiritual solace. It was the last sketchbook my mother had left me. I was an oil painting student, once hailed as a child prodigy. My hands, once praised by my tutor as “hands kissed by God.” But during that earthquake rescue. To dig out Channing, who was buried under the rubble. My ten fingers suffered severe fractures, my nerves were damaged, and I could never hold a paintbrush again. And Serena. She became his savior simply by handing him a bottle of water when he woke up. I fumbled to open the locked tin box. Empty. My heart sank instantly, an ominous premonition engulfing me. That was my everything! I frantically searched the entire apartment, but it was nowhere, absolutely nowhere! Just then, my phone rang. It was an MMS from Serena. The photo showed a burning brazier. Inside the brazier, that familiar sketchbook was being consumed by flames, only half of its damaged cover remaining. Immediately after, a voice note came through SnapChat. Serena’s sweet voice, barely concealing her malice, said: “Scarlett, I heard this was your mother’s last memento? I thought it was too old and smelled musty, so I helped you get rid of it.” “Don’t blame me, though. Channing said that looking at your things annoyed him, so I could do whatever I wanted with them.” “Oh, and by the way, Channing also said that a cripple like you keeping a sketchbook is an insult to art.” That was the only keepsake my mother left me, my motivation to live in despair. Now, it had been burned to ashes by them. My hand holding the phone trembled violently. “Serena! I’ll kill you!” I stumbled out of the house, running towards Sterling Manor. In that moment, I forgot the pain in my body, I forgot the cancer in my stomach. Only one thought consumed my mind— I was going to drag them down with me! When I burst into Sterling Manor’s garden. Channing was with Serena, pruning flowers. In the sunlight, they looked perfect together. I lunged forward, pushing Serena aside, and fiercely clamped my hands around her neck. “Why did you burn my sketchbook! Why! Give me back my mother!” Serena screamed, struggling desperately. “You lunatic! Help! Channing, help me!” Before I could apply more force, a huge power suddenly struck me from behind. Channing delivered a savage kick to my waist. I flew through the air, crashing heavily against the stone wall of the fountain. My waist felt like it had broken, the pain excruciating. I lay on the ground, unable to get up for a long time. Channing rushed forward, immediately pulling a startled Serena into his embrace. Then he turned, glaring at me venomously. “Scarlett, you’re looking for death!” “It’s just some worthless sketchbook! So what if it’s burned? Why are you throwing a fit? How dare you come here and try to attack her!” Worthless sketchbook? I looked up, tears streaming down my face, my heart dead. “That was… my mom’s last memento… it was the only thing… I had left in this life…” Channing looked down at me: “Someone like you, you actually talk about feelings?” “If your mom knew you sold your body for money, and murdered for power,” “She’d probably be so angry she’d crawl out of her coffin and die again!” “Scarlett, I’m warning you, this is the last time. If you dare to lay another finger on Serena, I’ll end your life!” I lay on the ground, looking at this man I had loved for ten years. Every word he spoke. Was like a blunt knife, carving into my flesh, slice by slice. I didn’t understand why fate was so cruel to me. I saved him, I loved him, I gave him everything. Only to be met with this outcome. “Channing…” I weakly called his name. “If one day… you knew the truth… would you regret it?” Channing paused, then laughed as if he’d heard the funniest joke. “Regret? The biggest regret of my life, Scarlett, is ever knowing a woman as utterly deceitful as you!” “Someone, get her out of here! Don’t let her dirty Serena’s sight!” Several bodyguards came over, dragging me like a dead dog. I didn’t struggle, letting my body be scraped against the rough ground. My gaze, however, remained fixed on Serena not far away. She was hiding in Channing’s arms, giving me a victorious smile. Just as I was being dragged out the main gate. I vomited another large mouthful of blood. This time, the blood stained the expensive Persian rug in Sterling Manor. Channing looked at the puddle of blood, his brows tightly knit, a flicker of inexplicable panic in his eyes. But he quickly turned away, no longer looking at me. I was dumped on the roadside outside the mansion. A heavy rain began to fall, the icy water hitting my body, chilling me to the bone. Lying in the mud, I looked up at the gray sky and suddenly smiled. My tears and the rain mingled. Channing, I owe you nothing now. In this life, I owe you nothing more.

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That evening, I got home and pulled open the bathroom door, only to find my mom’s new, younger boyfriend stepping out of the shower. He was stark naked, a condom dangling from his mouth. He looked at me and chuckled. “Like what you see?” Turns out, he was even a student at my university. **1** My dad passed away early, and my mom became a super-rich woman. I’m pretty open-minded, so I never cared about her having fun with other men. She had a revolving door of boyfriends, each one younger and hotter than the last. That’s why, even though my college was close to home, I rarely went back. But this time, it was changing seasons, and most of my summer clothes were still at home. I’d unlocked the door earlier and hadn’t heard a sound, assuming no one was home. I was desperate to pee, so I burst in, only to discover a man roughly my age, completely nude, water still clinging to his skin. Taut, sculpted muscles, a perfect V-taper, and then… what was between his legs. I froze on the spot. Oh my God! He still had that condom in his mouth! He arched an eyebrow at me and smirked. “Enjoying the view, cutie?” He was incredibly handsome, with an irresistible youthful charm. His words made my cheeks burn and my heart race. I quickly spun around and practically fled, suddenly not needing to use the bathroom anymore. Just then, my mom came out of her bedroom. “What’s wrong with you? Your face is so red.” I forced a laugh. “Just the changing seasons, Mom. It’s a bit hot.” At that moment, the handsome guy emerged, wearing a loose T-shirt. “Brenda, what are you doing out here? You were too quick.” My mom’s eyes crinkled with laughter immediately. They say women in their prime have the strongest desires. Was my mom *that* desperate? This guy even called her Brenda, he really knew how to charm her. I rushed to my room to pack my clothes, and before I left, I warned her. “Mom, I don’t mind you changing boyfriends, but please don’t tell me he’s underage!” **2** During the time I was away from home, that handsome face and intoxicating body kept invading my dreams. I’d been single for twenty years and always thought I had no desires. But ever since that first glimpse, I found myself frequently watching *certain films*. Just thinking about him made my knees go weak. I’d had a falling out with my roommates and couldn’t stand being around them. So, I grabbed my suitcase and headed home. I’d just booked an Uber and was waiting by the campus gate when someone called out to me. “Daisy? Heading home?” It was my mom’s toy boy! He stood with his hands on his hips, a smirk playing on his lips. My mom must have told him my name. When I didn’t deny it, he lifted me by the waist and swung me onto his motorcycle in one smooth motion. “Come on, it’s on my way.” I had to cancel my Uber. He told me his name was Barry, and that he went to my school. That’s when I realized I’d heard of him. My roommates were totally obsessed with him. They said he was super arrogant, but I guess my mom had tamed him. Barry wasn’t exactly behaving himself. All along the way, he kept suddenly hitting the brakes. It made me slam hard against his back, and my chest stung. I wasn’t wearing a bra! “Hold on tight, I don’t want you to fall off.” “You’re really soft back there.” My face flushed and my heart pounded, but inside, I was a total mess. This was my mom’s boyfriend. How could I even think like this? But I liked him so much. I wanted to try adult stuff with him. If he kept my mom happy, he must be good in bed, right? My mom had a rotating roster of guys; she probably wouldn’t mind if I ‘borrowed’ him for a bit. Immediately, I wrapped my arms tightly around his lean waist. His defined muscles were undeniable, and touching them sent a shiver through me. Through the soft fabric, I could feel the warmth of his body, and I couldn’t help but shift, pressing myself against his back. His body stiffened, and a low groan escaped his lips. That startled me, and I instantly pulled my hands away. **3** When we got home, we both immediately pretended nothing had happened. But after waiting for quite a while, my mom still hadn’t returned. Barry told me my mom was away on a business trip for a month and wouldn’t be back anytime soon. A daring idea suddenly popped into my head, but I quickly pushed it down. Later, while I was showering, the power suddenly went out. I slipped and fell, hitting the floor so hard I couldn’t get up. My mind was a blur, and I was trembling uncontrollably in the dark. I’d been afraid of the dark since I was a child and had even been diagnosed with claustrophobia. Just then, Barry crashed through the door. He had a flashlight. Without a word, he scooped me up and gently, patiently, wiped my body dry with a towel. All my clean clothes were soaked, and the rest were in my suitcase, which I couldn’t find in the darkness. My foot and butt hurt like hell from the fall, so he carried my naked body to the bedroom to rest. He explained that a massive thunderstorm had caused a power outage, and the electricity wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. “I didn’t mean to see you like that. But you saw me last time, so I guess we’re even.” He made to leave, but I summoned my courage and hugged him from behind, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m scared of thunder. Can you stay with me?” Something hard pressed against my hand. I gave it a gentle squeeze. Barry practically jumped away. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll stay with you.” He sat motionless on the edge of my bed. My foot was really swollen, so I lifted my leg and rested it on his thigh. “It hurts so much. Can you massage it for me?” He was incredibly obedient, gently rubbing my foot, and soon the swelling went down. I noticed his eyes kept drifting up my legs. “Do you hurt anywhere else? I can help with that too.” “My butt got bruised in the fall too.” I flashed a seductive smile and lay flat on the bed. His warm hand enveloped me, and soon, the sheets beneath me were damp. He started teasing me then, his fingers tracing a path, inch by agonizing inch, downwards. “Looks like it’s wet down there. Did you hurt yourself, too? Want me to help you out?” That night, we stopped just short of crossing the line.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “325325”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic #重生Reborn