Category: English

I had just been diagnosed with late-stage cancer. Before I could tell my husband, I found him in the parking garage. He had the new intern pinned against a car, kissing her. Our eyes met. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just turned and left, tearing the papers into pieces and throwing them in the trash. That night, he brought her home. He deliberately showed off the hickey on his neck. He and Sophia deliberately made suggestive moans in the guest bedroom. But unlike before, I didn’t go hysterical. I just stayed quietly in the study, never disturbing his little affair. He went crazy, kissing my lips fiercely. “Evelyn, aren’t you angry?” He didn’t know I was dying. With only fifteen days left to live, I didn’t want to fight over a man whose heart had already wandered. Evelyn POV In the quiet bedroom, my phone screen suddenly lit up. I opened my email. It was a confirmation letter from a Swiss organization. “Ms. Evelyn Hart, your assisted death application has been approved. The flight is scheduled for fifteen days from now. Please arrive on time.” I stared at those words for a long time, until my eyes burned, then slowly exhaled and pressed the lock button. Fifteen days. I only had fifteen days left in this world. At the same time, on the hundred-inch TV on the wall, a financial interview was being broadcast live. Under the spotlight, Ethan Sterling wore a perfectly tailored bespoke suit, devastatingly handsome. The host smiled and asked, “Mr. Sterling, I heard you named the landmark building about to be completed in the city center ‘Evelyn Tower.’ Does it have any special meaning?” Hearing that name, Ethan’s usually stern eyes instantly softened with infinite tenderness. “Evelyn is my wife’s name.” He looked at the camera, his voice deep and certain. “This tower is my ten-year anniversary gift to her. I want everyone in the city to know that Ethan Sterling will always love Evelyn Hart.” The audience immediately burst into thunderous applause, and the host’s envy was visible to the naked eye. “Oh my God, Mr. Sterling and his wife have been together since college and are still so sweet. It really makes people envious. Any secrets to maintaining love?” “The secret is to treat her as the only light in your life. If I could give her my life, how could I bear to let her suffer even a little?” Hearing this deeply romantic confession, I leaned back on the sofa, my lips curling into a faint sneer. Yes, everyone thought Ethan loved me. When I got sick in college, he carried me to the hospital in pouring rain and ended up with pneumonia from getting soaked. During the hardest times of his startup, he ate expired bread for a month just to buy me that necklace I’d glanced at. In five years of marriage, he never spoke to other women, and all his assets were in my name. Even I once firmly believed that Ethan would never betray me. Until half a month ago, when I received my late-stage stomach cancer diagnosis. Holding the report, I went to Ethan’s company, wanting to see him, wanting to cry in his arms. But in the dim underground parking garage, I saw him pinning the new intern Sophia against the car door, the two of them kissing intensely. In that moment, my world collapsed. No questioning, no hysteria. I just quietly turned around, tore that diagnosis into pieces, and threw it in the trash. Since his heart was already gone, he didn’t need to know about my condition. I didn’t want to spend the last moments of my life fighting over a man whose heart had changed like some pathetic woman. So I calmly contacted the Swiss organization and set my own death date. The door opened. Ethan came in covered in snow. Seeing me on the sofa, he didn’t even take off his shoes, quickly walking over and pulling me into his arms with concern. “Why aren’t you lying in bed? The living room is so cold. What if you catch a cold?” He scolded while covering my cold hands with his warm ones, his eyes full of anxiety. I didn’t struggle, letting him hold me. But the moment he got close, I smelled the faint rose perfume on him. That was Sophia’s favorite scent. My gaze dropped, and I clearly saw a lipstick mark on the inside collar of Ethan’s black coat. My heart felt like it was being stabbed by needles, the pain stopping my breath. Ethan noticed my gaze and looked down, his expression freezing for a moment. But he reacted quickly, explaining without changing expression. “I had a business dinner today. The private room was crowded, probably accidentally brushed against someone. I’ll go shower and change right away so it doesn’t bother you.” Lying without even blinking. I looked at this familiar face and suddenly found it incredibly strange. “It’s fine.” My tone was calm. “Go shower.” Ethan paused, seemingly not expecting me to be so calm. After all, in the past, though I wouldn’t make a scene, I would always be a little angry and need him to coax me for a long time. “Evelyn, you’re not mad, are you? I swear, I didn’t even look at another woman.” He carefully leaned in, wanting to kiss my forehead. I turned my head away, dodging him. “I’m a bit tired. I want to sleep now.” Ethan just thought I wasn’t feeling well and touched my hair tenderly. “Okay, you sleep first. I’ll come keep you company after I shower.” Listening to the sound of water from the bathroom, I closed my eyes and mentally crossed off another day. Ethan, you don’t need to act anymore. After all, I only have fourteen days left.

Evelyn POV The next morning, I woke to the aroma coming from the kitchen. I walked out of the bedroom and saw Ethan wearing an apron, busy in the kitchen. “You’re up?” Ethan heard movement and turned to smile at me. “Go wash up. I made your favorite foie gras today.” I watched him skillfully cooking the foie gras, his movements meticulous. Suddenly, he accidentally cut his finger with the knife, and blood seeped out. I instinctively stepped forward, wanting to get a bandage, but my steps halted. If it were before, I would have been panicking. But now, I just found it ironic. These hands. Had they also caressed another woman the same way last night? Ethan saw I didn’t move and looked a bit surprised. He grabbed a tissue and pressed it to the wound himself, then brought the foie gras to the table. “Try it quickly. Today’s foie gras is delicious.” I had just picked up my utensils when the doorbell suddenly rang. Ethan frowned and went to open the door. Outside stood Sophia with red, swollen eyes. “Ethan,” Sophia’s voice was tearful from the start, “the pipes burst in my rental. The place is uninhabitable now. I don’t know anyone in this city, so I could only come find you.” Ethan instinctively glanced at me, his tone somewhat stiff. “My wife doesn’t like strangers in the house. I’ll have my assistant book you a hotel.” “But I’m scared to stay in a hotel alone…” Sophia’s tears dripped down. She stepped forward and grabbed Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan, I’ll just stay a few days. I absolutely won’t disturb you two, okay?” I sat at the dining table, coldly watching this performance. Sophia was a student from a poor background that Ethan had sponsored. After graduation, she went straight to his company. Before, Ethan always said this girl had it tough, he’d help where he could. And now the two of them were in bed together. Ethan watched Sophia cry, sighed, and turned to look at me, his tone consulting. “Evelyn, she’s a young woman, it really isn’t safe. How about we let her stay in the guest room for a few days?” I took a sip of milk, not even lifting my head. “Whatever you want. It’s your house.” Ethan fell silent. He might have noticed something unusual about me today, but he still let Sophia in. As soon as Sophia entered, she sat at the dining table as naturally as the owner, staring at the foie gras with shining eyes. “Wow, Ethan, you can cook! This foie gras looks so delicious.” As she spoke, she directly picked up utensils and took the foie gras Ethan had specially made for me, taking a bite. “So good!” My hand holding the utensils paused. Ethan’s expression changed slightly as he lightly scolded. “Sophia, that was for Evelyn. If you want some, there’s more in the kitchen. Get it yourself.” Though it was a reprimand, his tone carried an unmistakable indulgence. Sophia stuck out her tongue playfully. “Sorry, I was too hungry. You won’t hold it against me, right?” I put down my utensils and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “If you like it, eat more. I’m not hungry anymore.” With that, I got up and walked toward the backyard. The backyard had a huge glass greenhouse that Ethan had spent tens of millions building for me. It was filled with my favorite bellflowers, blooming year-round. I walked into the greenhouse and skillfully opened the surveillance computer in the corner. This computer was connected to the dashcam in Ethan’s car, originally installed for convenient vehicle monitoring. Ethan had always known about it. I clicked on last night’s footage. The image was somewhat dark, but the sound was piercingly clear. In the cramped back seat, two people were tightly entangled. Sophia’s coquettish moans and Ethan’s heavy breathing intertwined. “Ethan, if you treat me like this, Evelyn will be heartbroken…” Sophia said. Ethan’s movements suddenly intensified, his voice hoarse. “Don’t mention her. Evelyn’s health is poor, I don’t dare touch her. Only you can satisfy me. Sophia, you’re such a temptress.” “Between her and me, who do you love more?” “She’s a responsibility I can’t shirk, but you’re my life.” I stared at the screen, my nails digging deep into my palms, drawing blood without me even noticing. Responsibility. So these ten years of feelings, in his eyes, had been reduced to nothing but a responsibility he couldn’t shirk.

Evelyn POV “Evelyn.” Familiar footsteps suddenly came from behind. I quickly closed the computer screen and stood up. Ethan walked over, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist from behind, his chin resting in the crook of my neck, gently nuzzling. “Why did you run off here alone? You didn’t even eat breakfast. Your stomach will hurt again.” His voice was so tender it could drip water. I felt his chest pressed against my back, but all I could think of was the video of him and Sophia having sex. A strong wave of physiological nausea surged up. I suddenly pushed Ethan away, covering my mouth and dry heaving. Ethan was pushed back two steps, his expression instantly changing as he rushed forward to support me. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach again? Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital!” The anxiety and panic in his eyes weren’t fake. Even his hands were trembling slightly. If I hadn’t heard him say that phrase “responsibility I can’t shirk” with my own ears, I really would have thought he loved me to his bones. The late-stage cancer pain attacked without warning at this moment. It felt like countless rusty knives were wildly churning in my stomach. The pain made my legs go weak instantly, and I collapsed to the ground. Cold sweat dripped down in large drops. I couldn’t even speak a complete sentence. “Evelyn! Evelyn, don’t scare me!” Ethan completely panicked. He scooped me up in his arms, his voice carrying desperate sobs. “It’s okay, I’m taking you to the hospital right now. Hang on!” Just then, Sophia walked out of the villa. She wore my silk robe, the neckline open wide, deliberately showing the glaring red marks on her collarbone. Seeing Ethan rushing out carrying me, Sophia put on a worried expression and came forward. “Ethan, what happened to Evelyn? Do you need my help?” Ethan only had eyes for me right now. He didn’t even look at her, roaring. “Get out of the way! Don’t block the road!” Sophia was startled by his yelling, a flash of viciousness in her eyes, but she still obediently moved aside. I leaned in Ethan’s arms, enduring the severe pain, looking at the hickeys on Sophia’s neck, my lips curling into a weak yet sarcastic smile. At the hospital, the doctor gave me a painkiller injection. Because I’d signed a confidentiality agreement with the doctor beforehand, he only told Ethan it was ordinary gastric spasms and prescribed some medicine. The hospital room fell quiet. Ethan sat by the bed, tightly holding my hand, his eyes red. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. I didn’t take good care of you. I’ll never make you angry again. Whatever you want, I’ll give you.” He lowered his head and kissed the back of my hand, his voice choked up. “When you’re feeling better, let’s go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights, okay? You’ve always wanted to go, right? I’ve pushed all my work for the second half of the year just to be with you.” He painted a beautiful future, trying to comfort me with these promises. I quietly looked at Ethan, my eyes hollow without a trace of emotion. “Ethan.” I spoke softly, my voice hoarse. “I’m here, I’m here.” Ethan quickly responded. “Do you really love me?” Ethan’s whole body shook. He looked up, his eyes firm beyond doubt. “Evelyn, you are my life. Without you, I can’t live.” I closed my eyes, and a tear slid from the corner, disappearing into the pillow. Such beautiful words. But why is your life currently wearing my robe, waiting for you at our home? I didn’t expose him. Since I’m leaving anyway, I’ll leave cleanly. No need to dredge up these things. “I’m tired. I want to sleep.” I turned over, my back to him. Ethan tucked in the blanket for me, saying softly. “Okay, I’ll watch over you. I’m not going anywhere.” I silently counted down in my heart. Thirteen more days. Ethan, in thirteen days, you’ll be completely free.

Evelyn POV The second day after being discharged, I made an excuse about meeting friends and went alone to a law firm. I signed donation agreements for all the properties, cars, and company shares Ethan had transferred to me after marriage. The recipient was a charity organization specifically for rescuing critically ill orphans. “Ms. Hart, are you certain you want to donate everything? This is an incalculable fortune.” The lawyer looked at the documents, repeatedly confirming in shock. “I’m certain.” I signed the last character without a moment’s hesitation. “It takes effect in fifteen days. During this time, please keep this absolutely confidential from my husband.” After handling everything, I walked out of the law firm building and stepped into an old elevator. The elevator descended halfway when there was a loud “clang,” and it suddenly stopped mid-air. Then the lights in the car flickered twice and went completely out. Everything plunged into deathly darkness. I have severe claustrophobia. When I was ten, I was kidnapped and locked in an abandoned basement for three days and nights. Since then, I couldn’t stand darkness. Ethan knew about this condition. For these ten years, he never let me stay alone in the dark. Even during power outages, he would rush over immediately to hold me tight. But now, darkness surged like a tide, instantly drowning me. I trembled all over, breathing rapidly, cold sweat instantly soaking through my clothes. I pressed the emergency call button, but there was no response. The intense sense of dying left my mind completely blank. With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and instinctively dialed that familiar number. The phone rang for a long time before being answered. “Hello, Ethan…” I grasped at it like the last thread of hope, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Evelyn?” On the other end came Sophia’s voice. All the blood in my body instantly froze. “Ethan’s in the shower. Do you have something urgent? Should I have him call you back later?” Sophia’s tone carried unconcealed provocation and pride. In the darkness, I gasped for breath, my throat feeling stuffed with cotton, unable to make a sound. “Oh my, Ethan, hurry up in there. I can’t wait anymore~” Sophia’s deliberately amplified coquettish voice came through the phone, followed by the sound of the bathroom door opening. I closed my eyes in despair, my hand loosening as the phone fell heavily to the ground. The screen shattered, the call disconnected. I curled up in the corner of the elevator, arms wrapped tightly around my knees, consciousness gradually fading. Ethan, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. Because my world. You already destroyed it with your own hands, leaving not a trace of light. When I woke again, I was already on a hospital bed. I’d been rescued by building security who forcibly pried open the elevator doors. I opened my eyes. The hospital room was empty except for a nurse changing my IV. “You’re awake? Do you know how long you were unconscious? You almost died!” the nurse said worriedly. I stared blankly at the ceiling, not speaking. It wasn’t until three hours later that the door was suddenly pushed open. Ethan rushed in breathlessly, his tie askew, covered in sweat. “Evelyn! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late!” He rushed to the bedside, hugging me tightly, his voice trembling. “There was an emergency meeting at the company. I left my phone in the office. When I finished the meeting and saw the hospital’s call, I was scared to death.” I let him hold me, my gaze passing over his shoulder to land on his white shirt collar. There was an extremely obvious lipstick mark that hadn’t been wiped clean. The exact same color lipstick Sophia wore today. I looked at that red mark and suddenly laughed. Laughed until tears came out. “Evelyn, don’t scare me. Does something still hurt?” Ethan was thrown into panic by my laughter, cupping my face and asking anxiously. I gently pushed his hand away, my tone so calm it was devoid of emotion. “Ethan, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.” Ethan froze, a flash of panic in his eyes. “Evelyn, what are you talking about?” I closed my eyes and turned my head away, no longer looking at him. Ten more days. Endure ten more days, and I can be completely free.

Evelyn POV The day I was discharged, New York welcomed its first snow of the year. Snowflakes fell heavily, quickly blanketing the entire city. Ethan had once sworn to me that every year’s first snow, he would walk with me down that long sycamore boulevard in our neighborhood. “Because I want to be with you always, until we grow old.” That’s what he’d said. I stood at the starting point of the sycamore boulevard, snow covering my body. I took out my phone, looking at the text Ethan had sent half an hour ago. “Evelyn, got held up with something at the company, and there’s traffic. Wait for me there like a good girl. I’ll be right there.” I didn’t reply, just stood quietly in the snow. Cold wind wrapped snowflakes into my collar. My stomach cramped in waves, but I seemed unable to feel the cold, standing motionless. One hour passed. Two hours passed. The sky gradually darkened, and streetlights lit up one by one. Just when I thought he wouldn’t come, two familiar figures appeared at the end of the sycamore boulevard. Ethan was giving Sophia a piggyback ride, stepping through the snow, walking toward this direction step by step. Sophia wore Ethan’s oversized down jacket, her whole body draped over his back, laughing exuberantly. “Ethan, carrying me like this feels like you’re carrying the whole world!” Sophia laughed, reaching out to catch falling snowflakes. Ethan laughed and bounced the person on his back, his voice clearly floating to my ears on the wind. “You’re way heavier than the whole world. Like a little pig.” “Hey! You’re the pig!” Sophia laughed and went to pinch his ear. The two looked so intimate. I stood behind a thick sycamore tree, coldly watching them walk past me. In the snowy sky, they really did look like a real couple. And I was like a ghost that couldn’t see light, hiding in a dark corner, watching my husband perform devotion with another woman. The severe pain in my stomach surged again. I bit my lip hard, tasting intense blood. I didn’t rush out to expose their affair, didn’t cry or make a scene. I just stood quietly until those two figures completely disappeared from view, then turned and slowly walked back to that cold home. At ten o’clock that night, Ethan finally came home covered in snow. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, he walked over with a face full of guilt, half-kneeling in front of me, holding my ice-cold hands. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. The car broke down halfway, and I waited forever for a tow truck.” As he spoke, he warmed my hands. “I couldn’t give you a piggyback ride down the sycamore boulevard today. Are you mad at me?” He acted so convincingly. If I hadn’t witnessed that scene with my own eyes, I would have believed him without hesitation. I looked at this face written with “deep affection” and suddenly felt it was all so pointless. Really, utterly pointless. I withdrew my hand, my lips curling into a faint smile. “I’m not mad. Since the car broke down, we’ll make up for it next year.” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, pulling me into his arms like a weight had been lifted. “You’re so wonderful, darling. I promise, next year’s first snow, I’ll definitely carry you the whole way!” I leaned on his shoulder, eyes hollow as I watched the snow falling outside the window. There won’t be a next year, Ethan. Next year’s first snow, we won’t see each other again. I mentally crossed off another day. Seven more days.

Evelyn POV Three days until the flight departed. I started clearing out my things. Those limited edition bags Ethan gave me, the haute couture dresses, expensive jewelry. I kept nothing, listing everything at low prices on secondhand sites. What didn’t sell, I packed up and threw directly into the dumpster outside the neighborhood. The entire walk-in closet emptied by more than half. When Ethan came home that evening, he saw the empty cabinets. “Evelyn, where are all your clothes and bags? Why are they all gone?” he asked nervously. I was organizing the desk, not even looking up. “Got tired of them. Want to try a new style.” Hearing this, Ethan visibly relaxed. “Change them! Tomorrow I’ll have the brands send over all the new season items for you to pick from!” He hugged me from behind, pulling out a thick document from his briefcase and placing it in front of me. “Evelyn, look what this is?” I took the document. The cover prominently read: “Evelyn Foundation.” “This is a charity foundation I specifically established in your name.” Ethan’s tone was full of pride seeking praise. “Every year from now on, I’ll invest ten million into it, specifically to fund poor college students who can’t afford school. Consider it an advance wedding anniversary gift from me. Do you like it?” I opened the document. The terms were beautifully written, all about helping students and giving back to society with grand visions. But when I flipped to the hidden attachment on the last page, my gaze froze. The attachment clearly stated that under the foundation’s name was a shell investment company, and the actual controlling shareholder of this company was named Sophia. This meant that the ten million Ethan invested into the foundation each year, under the guise of charity, would ultimately flow into Sophia’s pocket through legal investment after being laundered. He used my name for charity to gain a good reputation, while secretly using this money to support his little mistress. Even this so-called “wedding anniversary gift” became a tool for him to pave the way for Sophia. Ethan, you’ve truly used calculation to its extreme. I looked at that name, my heart already numb beyond feeling pain. “What’s wrong? Is something written unsatisfactorily?” Seeing me remain silent, Ethan nervously leaned over to look. I closed the document, picked up the pen from the desk, and signed my name in the beneficiary confirmation column. “No, it’s written very well.” I handed the document back to him, even showing a slight smile. “Thank you. I really like this gift.” Ethan excitedly hugged me tight, lowering his head to plant a heavy kiss on my forehead. “As long as you like it. Evelyn, as long as you’re happy, I’m willing to do anything for you.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the bone-deep coldness in them. I knew that after I died, all my assets would be donated, including this foundation established in my name. Everything Ethan carefully planned for Sophia would ultimately turn to bubbles. Consider it my final “congratulatory gift” to them. I silently counted down in my heart. Three more days. I can leave him forever. I only hoped nothing would go wrong in these three days.

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After my adopted sister died, my brother Ethan became the person who hated me most in this world. He hated me so much that he shipped me off to a casino in Las Vegas to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. I begged and pleaded, but his eyes held nothing but contempt: “If it weren’t for donating her kidney to save you, Lily never would have died on that operating table! You killed her — now spend the rest of your life paying for it.” But when a gang ambush hit, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He pulled me into his arms and took every bullet meant for me. With his last breaths, he touched my face and said, coughing up blood: “If there’s a next life, I’d rather never have you as my sister. Having Lily was enough.” Those dying words dragged me straight into hell. I put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. When I opened my eyes again, I’d been reborn — five years in the past. Dear brother, this time, I don’t want Lily’s kidney. And I don’t want your love anymore. I’ll give you exactly what you wished for. I’ll make sure you only ever have one sister.

“Grace! You actually held Lily’s hand in boiling water over a piece of candy — she saved your life! How do I have such an ungrateful, vicious sister?!” The familiar voice rang in my ears. I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the scene in front of me. This was five years ago. The day I burned Lily’s hand. I really had been reborn. The Ethan standing before me had no blood at the corner of his mouth. No bullet holes in his body. My nose stung. I forced down the flood of emotions rising in my chest and spoke in a hoarse voice: “I’m sorry, Ethan. I shouldn’t have burned Lily’s hand.” Ethan froze. I looked at him and let out a bitter smile. That piece of candy — it was the one he’d pressed into my palm the day our parents died in the car accident. His eyes had been red, and he’d been trying so hard to comfort me. “Grace, don’t cry. I’m here. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.” Ethan had only been a teenager back then. The weight of the whole family had crashed down on him without warning — and he still had little me to look after. It made sense that he’d forgotten. I shouldn’t have held onto it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to bow deeply toward Lily, who lay in the hospital bed: “I’m sorry. I won’t try to take your brother away from you anymore.” Lily blinked, and her eyes slowly turned red. She looked like she was about to cry again: “Grace, I didn’t mean to step on that candy. Please don’t—” Without a word, I turned, picked up the kettle of just-boiled water on the bedside table, and poured it over my own right arm without hesitation. Searing pain exploded across my skin. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt. I was shaking so hard I could barely breathe. “Is that enough?” The two of them were completely stunned by my sudden shift in behavior. It was Ethan who snapped out of it first. He lunged forward and grabbed my arm, shouting: “Grace, are you out of your mind?!” Before I could answer, he was already barking at the assistant standing by the door: “What are you standing there for? Get a doctor!” Something warm flickered through me. I watched the scene with quiet relief. Right now, Ethan still cared about me. The eyes he turned on me weren’t just cold and full of disgust. That was enough. Even if this love was never truly mine to keep. I still clung to the warmth of it. But before I could say another word, Lily grabbed the hem of Ethan’s shirt and sobbed: “Ethan, I know Grace wants all your attention for herself — but she shouldn’t be hurting herself on purpose.” Then she turned to me, crying and pleading: “Grace, you and Ethan are real siblings. I’m the outsider here. Please stop hurting yourself, okay?” Ethan’s expression grew noticeably cooler at her words. Seeing that, I quietly closed the mouth I’d been about to open. A second later, just as I expected, Ethan’s voice turned cold: “I actually let myself hope you’d changed. What a fool I was. You never change, do you? Are you really my sister? What kind of person even does this?” Those cruel words were nothing compared to what he’d said in my past life. I lowered my head in submission: “Fine. Whatever you say.” “You—!” Ethan’s jaw tightened. He raised his hand and pointed at me, unable to speak for a long moment. Then he turned to the assistant: “Take her to get her arm bandaged. And keep her away from Lily. She’s exhausting.” I nodded and quietly stepped out. But I didn’t go get bandaged. From the moment I’d come back, a familiar sharp pain had been radiating from my kidneys, spreading to every nerve ending in my body. The pain was so bad I could barely stay on my feet. Because this was the day. In my past life, this was the day the kidney disease had been discovered. Without a transplant, I had two weeks to live.

I’d been sick my whole life. Rare blood type on top of everything else — every illness felt like a coin flip between life and death. Once, during a surgery, I lost so much blood that the hospital’s supply ran out. Ethan searched like a man possessed and finally found an orphan who shared my blood type — Lily. Her blood saved my life. And just like that, she went from a penniless orphan to the adopted daughter of the Whitmore family, one of the wealthiest families in the country. But after that, Ethan changed. He stopped checking in on me. Stopped looking after me the way he used to. When Lily and I were both hurt at the same time, he wouldn’t even glance at me. He’d leave me where I fell and carry Lily — who was always less injured — straight to the hospital. I went crazy with jealousy. I resented her. I made her life difficult every chance I got. Between a sweet, gentle sister and a difficult, spiteful one, the choice was obvious. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which one Ethan would choose. But even through all my tantrums and acting out, I secretly believed that deep down, Ethan loved me most. The only reason he treated Lily so well was because she’d saved my life. I was wrong. Completely, catastrophically wrong. In my past life, after my kidney disease was diagnosed, Lily died on the operating table during the transplant surgery. I survived, against all odds. But from that day forward, Ethan looked at me with nothing but hatred. He said the cruelest things imaginable to me — as if we weren’t siblings at all, but bitter enemies with blood between us. This time, I don’t want things to end up that way. This time, I’d rather be the one who dies. Winter up north was brutal. The wind carried snow like razor blades, slicing across my face. The dull ache in my kidneys tangled with the sharp burn along my right arm until even breathing normally felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. I hunched over, pulled my coat tight, and walked down the street. I’d been greedy just now. I came back to fulfill Ethan’s wish — a life where he only had one sister, Lily. I should leave. Now. That was what I was thinking when a car horn sounded beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Ethan’s cold expression: “Get in.” I started to refuse. But his bodyguard grabbed me before I could say a word and pushed me into the car. The heat inside was turned up high, but I still felt cold. To keep from looking out of the ordinary, I curled up against the window and stared silently at the streets rushing past outside. “You didn’t get it bandaged. What are you up to now?” Ethan’s voice was as cold as ice. “Playing the martyr didn’t work, so now you’re pulling back to move forward?” I was quiet for a moment. Then I turned and looked at him calmly: “Ethan, I mean it. From now on, you don’t have to be put in the middle because of me. I’m going to move out. I’ll stay far away from both of you.” He looked at me like I’d just said something laughable. The corner of his mouth curved into a thin, mocking smile: “Move out? Grace, everything you have came from this family. Without the Whitmores, without me, you’re nothing. How long do you think you’d last?” Not very long at all. I thought that, and looked down: “How long I last is my business.” “I know I’ve been out of line. I always thought that if I made enough noise, fought hard enough, you’d pay more attention to me. But I get it now. Some things aren’t mine to have. Lily saved my life — you loving her is right. And I… I shouldn’t have been in the way.” Ethan’s sharp gaze swept over me. He seemed to be searching my face for a crack — for the manipulation, the calculation he expected to find there. But what he found was a pile of cold, dead ash. Whatever had burned there before — the jealousy, the desperation, the aching need to hold onto him — it all seemed to have truly gone out. That unfamiliar stillness made him more unsettled than her outbursts ever had. “You think saying all that will make me go soft? You think I’ll suddenly believe you’ve grown up? Grace, I’ve seen every trick you have!” “I’m not playing tricks, Ethan.” My voice was quiet, carrying a faint, bone-deep exhaustion: “I’m just… tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just don’t want to…” I don’t want to go to Mom and Dad carrying your hatred.

The car passed through the sweeping gates of the Whitmore estate. I got out and walked directly to my room — the one tucked in the far corner of the house. It was large. Lavishly decorated. But there was no warmth in it. It felt like a beautiful cage. I started packing. I took only the bare essentials — a few changes of clothes, some cash, and an old photo album our parents had left behind, the one Ethan had probably long since forgotten existed. I’d just shoved everything into a worn backpack when the door swung open. Lily leaned in the doorway. Her left wrist was wrapped in fresh white bandaging, and her face was still a little pale. But her eyes carried the quiet, barely-there satisfaction of someone who’d already won. “Grace, are you really leaving?” Her voice was soft and gentle. “Did Ethan say something to upset you? Don’t be angry with him — he just cares about me so much. Even though you two are real siblings, Ethan still trusts me more, you know.” I watched her performance without a flicker of reaction. In my past life, words like that would have set me off like a match to gasoline. I would have gone for her, and then Ethan would have torn into me. But now, I just wanted out. “Move,” I said. Lily stepped forward instead, blocking my path. Her voice dropped until only the two of us could hear: “Grace, take a good look around. In this house, you’re nothing to Ethan. You staying here is just a joke. The sooner you get out, the better — for everyone.” I ignored her and tried to step around her. That was when Lily let out a sudden scream. Her right hand moved — from somewhere, she’d produced a small fruit knife — and before I could blink, she dragged the blade hard across her own left forearm. Blood welled up immediately. “Grace! What are you doing?!” She shrieked, stumbling backward, face twisted in shock and disbelief. “I already apologized to you! Why do you keep hurting me?!” Footsteps thundered down the hall. Ethan appeared in the doorway, his face dark. He took in the blood on Lily’s arm. He took in me standing over her with my backpack. He took in the fruit knife lying on the floor. Three seconds of frozen silence. Ethan didn’t ask a single question. Fury tore through his expression, and he raised his hand and struck me hard across the face. Time stopped. The burn along my arm, the grinding ache in my kidneys — all of it vanished. Only the fire on my cheek remained. This was the first time — in two lifetimes — that he’d ever laid a hand on me. It hurt more than every other injury on my body combined. Even at his worst in my past life, when the cruelest things had come out of his mouth, he’d never hit me. So he really did love Lily that much. I stood there, dazed, thinking that with something strangely close to peace. “Grace!” Ethan froze too. His hand trembled for a long moment before words finally forced their way through his teeth: “I actually let myself believe, for one second, that maybe you had changed! I’m an idiot. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. How black is your heart? What has Lily ever done to you? Why do you keep hurting her, over and over again? She saved your life!” The familiar accusations, the cutting words — like poison-tipped needles, one after another, straight into the softest part of me. I’d prepared for this. I’d told myself to go numb. But hearing Ethan speak to me with such naked hatred still sent a sharp, blinding pain through my chest. My legs nearly buckled. My vision went dark at the edges. I looked at his handsome face, twisted slightly with rage. I looked at Lily crying softly behind him, her eyes briefly flicking to mine with a gleam of triumph she couldn’t quite hide. And I felt something settle in me — a terrible, quiet clarity. Explain? He wouldn’t believe me. In his mind, I’d been beyond redemption for a long time. That was fine. I drew a slow breath. I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat and the sting behind my eyes. I gathered what was left of my strength and pulled my arm free. Then I bent down and picked up the small knife from the floor — the one still wet with Lily’s blood. Ethan’s eyes narrowed: “What do you think you’re doing?” I turned the knife around and pressed the handle into his hand. I made him close his fingers around it. Cold metal against his palm. And in its surface, a reflection — my face, white as paper. I stepped forward until I was almost pressed against his chest. I tilted my head back and looked up into his furious eyes. My voice came out soft and unsteady, like a dry leaf in the wind, ready to fall. “Ethan. You hate me this much. You think I hurt your Lily.” “Then make it right for her. Okay?” Before he could react, before he even understood what I meant, I lunged forward. Thud. The dull, sickening sound of a blade sinking into flesh.

Agony detonated below my right shoulder blade and swept through my entire body in an instant. I felt the cold metal enter me — felt it tear through muscle — and with it came a deep, bone-level chill that felt like the edge of death. Time stopped. The fury on Ethan’s face locked up. It became shock. Pure, total shock. He let go on instinct, but the knife was still in my shoulder. Blood soaked through my thin shirt fast, a spreading stain that was almost hard to look at. Lily’s crying cut off completely. She stood there with her mouth open, frozen. “Gr… Grace?” Ethan’s voice came out cracked and barely there. He stared at his own bloodied hand, then back at my face, which was draining of color by the second. Something appeared in his eyes that I’d never seen there before — a vast, near-panicked fracturing. I looked at him, and I thought about the one thing I hadn’t said out loud. This is to cancel the debt. The one from our last life — when you threw yourself in front of every bullet meant for me. After this, we’re even. But the cold spreading from the blood loss made it impossible to speak. My body slid downward. “Grace—!!!” Ethan let out a sound that didn’t seem like it could come from a human throat. He caught me as I went down, his hands scrambling frantically to press against the wound — and then pulling back, afraid to touch the knife. His arms were shaking. His whole body was shaking. “Get a doctor! Call an ambulance! NOW!” He was screaming at the frozen housekeeper and assistant, his eyes red, every trace of the cold, controlled man he’d always been completely gone. Only terror remained. When I came back to consciousness, I was in a hospital room that smelled heavily of antiseptic. My shoulder was wrapped in thick bandages. A dull, constant ache pulsed through it. But stronger than that was the familiar, crushing weight inside my body — that deep, systemic exhaustion I recognized. So it’s here. Just like I knew it would be. The room was quiet. From beyond the door, I could make out muffled arguing. Ethan and Lily. “…I’m asking you one more time. That knife — did she use it to cut you? Or did you do it yourself?” Ethan’s voice was low, but it carried the still, heavy pressure of a storm about to break. “Ethan… you’re doubting me? How could you doubt me? It’s Grace who hates me — she’s always hated me for taking you away from her—” Lily dissolved into sobs. “I only believe what I actually saw. Grace acts out, yeah — but she’s never gone this far with herself before. Lily. Don’t lie to me.” Ethan’s voice had taken on a quality I’d never heard from him — a cold, quiet ferocity that was somehow more frightening than shouting. “If I find out you did… I’ll destroy you.” Lily stumbled back a step, the color draining from her face. She couldn’t get another word out. Ethan’s footsteps moved away. He stepped out onto the balcony and smoked a cigarette before he trusted himself to feel anything clearly. When Grace had gone limp in his arms — barely breathing, barely there — he’d finally understood what it felt like for his heart to stop. “Look into it,” he said, his voice rough. He turned to his assistant: “The door to Grace’s room was open. The hallway camera should have had a clear angle into the room. Pull the footage.”

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At the New Moon Festival, during the Hailmark pack’s tribal banquet, my Alpha husband Gareth had his arm around his first love Fiona as they ate together. Gareth wouldn’t let me sit down. He made me stand on the side to serve them, pouring drinks and passing food. I said to him, “Let’s get divorced.” He replied absentmindedly: “Just because I asked you to serve us? How long are you going to stay mad this time?” Three years of marriage, and he never believed I would actually leave him. But this time, I had really made up my mind. Because just a few minutes ago, I received a message from Alpha King Jasper: [I’ll come pick you up after I finish this interview. Should be around midnight.] I immediately replied: [Okay] At the tribal banquet on New Moon Festival day, Gareth pushed me aside without a second thought and told me to go greet the pack members. He fussed over everyone’s seating, then pulled Fiona to sit beside him. With so many people at the banquet, there was no seat for me alone. I could only help out from the sidelines. Seeing my anger, Gareth said: “I just asked you to help out a bit. Are you satisfied now?” “Could you pour me some water too?” Fiona interrupted our conversation and naturally sat down next to Gareth. Seeing my expression darken, she immediately asked, “What’s wrong? Gareth, did you upset Luna Violet again?” Gareth pursed his lips but said nothing. Fiona immediately started trying to smooth things over. “Luna Violet, don’t be angry with him. I should be the one pouring water for everyone.” I let out a cold laugh. “You like my husband so much, you even had to sit next to him today. I might as well just hand him over to you.” Fiona bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “How can you say that? You’ve misunderstood. Even though Gareth and I dated before, that’s all in the past. Gareth and I are just friends now.” Gareth glanced at me reproachfully: “If you have an issue, take it out on me. Why are you provoking her? If you want a divorce, fine, get divorced. No need to drag other people into this.” Gareth patted Fiona and took her outside to clear her head. We discussed divorce so carelessly. It wasn’t like this when we first started dating. Back then, Gareth and I fell in love at first sight. I was Gareth’s fated mate, and after meeting me, he immediately broke up with Fiona. But Fiona’s father was a high-ranking Beta in Hailmark pack, so even after the breakup, they still had plenty of contact. I still remember what Gareth said at our wedding: “From now on, I’ll only love you.” But looking at it now, Gareth’s vows couldn’t be trusted at all. After the banquet ended, Gareth’s old friends had a party planned. I didn’t want to affect everyone because of our issues, so I forced myself to go. When I reached the door, the friends were complaining about me. “Is Violet not coming? Did you two have a fight?” Someone laughed awkwardly. “Getting mad over this? Someone had to help out at the gathering. Isn’t Violet being too sensitive?” “Seriously. If I were looking for a partner, I’d rather find someone easy-going who doesn’t make a fuss all the time. Hey, someone like Fiona would be perfect.” Gareth seemed to sigh. “What can I do? That’s just her temper. I spoiled her, so I have to deal with it.” Someone laughed. “You should still stand your ground when you need to, or you won’t have any say in the future.” Fiona said: “Luna Violet is so lucky. If someone pampered me like this, I wouldn’t dream of fighting with him.” Gareth’s friends immediately started egging them on. “Then let Gareth pamper you today.” “Really? We’re finally all together. Can you give me a New Moon Festival gift? Honey?” she asked jokingly. I heard Gareth answer her with a laugh. “I already prepared a New Moon Festival gift for you.” Then Gareth reminded everyone. “You can joke around, but don’t say anything in front of Violet.” I let go of the doorknob. The laughter inside sounded so sharp. Gareth knew very well that I minded him being ambiguous with other people. He said he was afraid of me getting angry, yet he let Fiona call him honey in front of everyone and even prepared a New Moon Festival gift for her. It was simply because he was so certain that after getting angry for a bit, I would ultimately forgive him. But this time, he miscalculated. Soon after, Fiona updated her social media status: “Received Gareth’s New Moon Festival gift. It feels so good to be cherished!” In the photo, she and Gareth had their fingers intertwined. The bracelet on her wrist sparkled brightly. I ultimately didn’t push open the door to join their party. Instead, I called my dad, the Alpha of Soulgnaw pack. “Dad, I want to come back to Soulgnaw pack.” He paused, somewhat surprised. “Really? You haven’t been back in so long. Did something happen between you and Gareth?” I held back my emotions, not letting him hear my sadness. “I miss you. I’m planning to develop my career in Soulgnaw pack. I’ll stay there and keep you company from now on.” My dad instantly heard the dejection in my voice, but he didn’t call me out on it. “I support all your choices. Should I come pick you up?” Hearing my dad’s indulgent voice, my heart settled down. “No need. Someone’s coming to get me.”

When Gareth came home with Fiona, I was watching TV with other pack members. “Luna Violet, you and Alpha Gareth have been married for three years now, right? Shouldn’t you start thinking about having a child?” “Exactly. Have one soon.” Gareth’s mother picked up the conversation: “Violet had some physical issues before, so she couldn’t get pregnant. Recently she’s been drinking quite a bit of potion specially prepared for her by a witch. She should be able to conceive soon.” At that moment, Alpha King Jasper appeared on the TV. I looked up sharply, and that familiar face appeared on the TV screen. The reporter interviewed Jasper: “Who will you spend the New Moon Festival with?” Jasper smiled warmly: “Of course with the most important person!” Gareth’s mother couldn’t help but exclaim, “The Alpha King is so handsome.” Fiona picked up the thread. “The Alpha King is many girls’ dream man.” They didn’t know that the person Jasper was meeting tonight was me. Long ago, Gareth also said I was the most important person to him. When I first married Gareth, he took me traveling to various places every day and prepared all my birthday gifts from birth to age twenty. Gareth said, “I don’t want to be absent from any of your past days.” But last year on my birthday, he was absent. That day Fiona got sick, and he was busy taking her to the hospital, staying with her until very late before coming home. At night, when he saw the unopened cake on the table, he realized he’d forgotten my birthday. That was the first time we fought. Later, our friction grew more and more. Gareth always complained that I was too sensitive and jealous, that I couldn’t even tolerate a first love. Time and again, he left me to accompany Fiona moving, celebrating holidays, seeing doctors. My phone vibrating pulled me back from my thoughts. Someone at the gathering pulled out their phone and showed me a photo, asking if the person in it was me. It was Jasper’s just-posted Ins: [Every moment with you is happy.] In the attached group photo of volunteers, I was standing right next to Jasper. In front of us were a group of orphanage children we were visiting. Before I could respond, Gareth chimed in from the side: “How is that possible? She just looks similar. How could Violet possibly appear in the Alpha King’s photo? Impossible.” Looking at his flustered appearance, I even found it somewhat laughable. While speaking, he accidentally knocked over a wine glass on the table, wetting his pants. Fiona quickly pulled out some tissues and without thinking began gently wiping his leg. Gareth awkwardly cleared his throat, and only then did she stop. I laughed lightly. “Why don’t you just wash them for him?” Fiona’s face turned red instantly. “What are you saying? I broke up with Gareth long ago. I only think of Gareth as a brother now. Don’t overthink it.” I ignored her and just explained briefly from the side. I’d been doing volunteer work at the orphanage before and happened to run into the Alpha King who came to participate in his monthly charity activities. The scene got even livelier. “Oh my god, Violet actually met the Alpha King in person!” “How tall and handsome is he in real life? I want to know!” I got scared and didn’t dare say much more. Just then, Jasper sent me a message: [Interview’s done. I’m heading to the airport. I’ll come find you soon.]

During dinner, Fiona acted coquettishly toward Gareth: “Gareth, pass me the lemonade.” Then I saw the bracelet on Fiona’s wrist. I said sarcastically: “Pretty bracelet! Gareth gave it to you?” Fiona said somewhat awkwardly, “It’s not expensive. If you like it, I’ll give it to you.” Gareth stopped Fiona: “This is my gift to you. How can you give it to her?” Then he turned to me and said: “Violet, what New Moon Festival gift do you want? Anything at all, just name it.” Fiona suddenly tugged at Gareth’s arm and shouted: “Oh no, what time is it? Are we late? We made plans with friends to rush to the square together to make wishes in front of the Moon Goddess statue. Shouldn’t we go?” Gareth’s eyes flickered, and he stammered an explanation to me: “I promised friends earlier we’d go together. If you’re not tired, you can come with us.” Fiona got anxious. “Luna Violet doesn’t even know those friends. Wouldn’t it be awkward for her to go?” I laughed coldly and declined the invitation. Gareth patted my head, like soothing a loyal little dog. “True. It’s pretty cold outside. Just wait for me at home. I’ll buy you a gift.” Fiona came up to me, then deliberately showed me what was in her bag. She said with a smile, “Don’t worry, Luna Violet. I’ll take good care of Gareth.” Gareth urged Fiona along, then drove off with her. I sat in front of the TV and finished watching Jasper’s program before going back to my room to print the divorce agreement. Jasper called. I said softly, “See you at the airport.”

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After my daughter Jessica was pulled by her pigtails for the third time by a boy at kindergarten, the teacher once again chose to sweep it under the rug. Angry and anxious, I directly taught Jessica: “Next time that Zack bullies you again, you have to learn to fight back!” Jessica nodded seriously, then fell into a deep sleep. Before bed, I also decided to personally go to the kindergarten the next day to teach that boy a lesson. But that very night, I had a nightmare. In the dream, I pushed that boy off the 36th floor. The sound of him hitting the ground was like a watermelon smashing on concrete. Jolting awake from the nightmare, my phone lit up. There were many messages in the parents’ group chat. I clicked it open, and the first message made my blood run cold: “Zack jumped from the 36th floor. He’s dead.” “Zack’s mom Katie says it wasn’t suicide—someone pushed him.” “Did you guys hear the police sirens?” When I saw this message, the image of myself pushing Zack Harper off the 36th floor involuntarily flashed through my mind. But I knew very clearly that it was just an absurd dream. How could it possibly happen in real life?

But the parents’ group chat was already in chaos. Bella’s mom: [Are you guys joking?! It’s midnight now, how could that child be pushed from the 36th floor?!] Jordan’s mom: [Who would joke about something like this! Katie and I live in the same complex, the police cars and ambulances all came…] Then Jordan’s mom posted a high-definition photo. When I saw the image of Zack lying in a pool of blood, my heart suddenly stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! In the image, Zack was wearing the same grass-green basketball uniform I’d seen in my dream. Although in my dream I had pushed him, it was just a dream. He had only pulled my Jessica’s pigtails—I couldn’t possibly kill him over something like that. I told myself this was all just a coincidence. The next day, I sent Jessica to kindergarten as usual. Zack’s seat was empty, but the other children didn’t seem affected by what happened. It seemed they didn’t yet know that Zack had completely disappeared from this world. Before leaving the kindergarten, Miss Foster stopped me: “Nina, you said yesterday that you had something to discuss with me today. What was it about?” I felt a bit awkward, since just yesterday I’d been planning to teach Zack a good lesson today. But now that he was already dead, what could I possibly complain about? So I could only explain: “It’s nothing now. I just wanted to ask about Zack…” Miss Foster sighed: “Katie came by this morning and took all of Zack’s belongings home.” “She was extremely agitated, saying that if she finds the murderer, she’ll definitely get revenge for her son!” I felt inexplicably guilty: “Why is she so certain someone else pushed him? Could it have been an accident where Zack fell by himself?” “Why would a five-year-old child suddenly run to the rooftop! And the police detected the killer’s fingerprints on Zack’s clothes—they’ve preliminarily determined it was someone he knew.” The words “someone he knew” immediately put me at ease. Although I’d met Zack, I wasn’t familiar with his family. I didn’t even know which complex they lived in, which building, which unit. Miss Foster continued: “Even if it’s someone he knew, it won’t be easy to find. That child was so naughty—bullying kids at kindergarten, bullying elderly neighbors at home. If he provoked someone petty, they really might have killed him.” Thinking about it, that made sense. If he hadn’t bullied my Jessica multiple times, I wouldn’t have thought about going to the kindergarten to settle accounts with him. And of course, I never would have had such an outrageous dream. After confirming this matter had nothing to do with me, I brought Jessica home. But as soon as we got home, the first thing she said was: “Mommy, why did you push Zack off the building?”

Her words scared me pale: “Jessica, what—what are you saying?” Seeing her confused expression, I continued asking: “Tell Mommy, why would you ask that?” Jessica tilted her head, looking innocent: “Mommy, you said it yourself last night when you were dreaming.” I crouched down and gripped her shoulders tightly: “What Mommy says in her dreams, you can’t take it seriously, and you can’t tell anyone, understand?” After she nodded seriously, she suddenly lowered her head with an extremely aggrieved look: “Mommy, Zack didn’t come to school today, and Lily said it was my fault.” “Now none of the kids in class want to play with me anymore…” “That’s too much!” I immediately sent a message to Miss Foster. She said she would definitely have Lily apologize to Jessica in front of the whole class tomorrow. Looking at Jessica’s dejected appearance, I encouraged her: “Jessica, when you encounter something like this, you must speak up right away!” “Whether she meant it or not, her behavior hurt you, so we must be brave and stand up for ourselves!” Hearing my words, her eyes instantly lit up. “Mommy, I’ll remember.” At eight o’clock that night, after I put Jessica to sleep, I gradually fell asleep too. I just didn’t expect I would dream about Jessica’s kindergarten classmate—Lily. I had a deep impression of this little girl. Because she was the tallest girl in the entire senior class. Jessica had mentioned that she and Zack were good friends. So when Zack didn’t come to school today, she took all her anger out on Jessica. In the dream, I was completely out of control. Under the pitch-black night, I quietly walked into Lily Sweet’s room. Then I threw her out the tenth-floor window. “Ahh…” I screamed in terror, jolting awake from the dream. I had killed someone in a dream again! The dream was so real, yet so bizarre! Jessica beside me was also awakened by my scream: “Mommy, are you okay…” After taking a deep breath, I told Jessica I was fine, then quickly opened the parents’ group chat on my phone. Fortunately, there were no messages inside. I must have been affected by Zack’s incident, which is why I had this kind of dream. But because of this dream, I couldn’t fall back asleep that night. I just stared at the parents’ group chat on my phone, watching it until daybreak. Thankfully, the thing I feared never happened. But the next day when I took Jessica to kindergarten, I ran right into Lily’s mother. She was disheveled, standing at the kindergarten gate like a shrew, crying out: “My daughter died last night! Someone threw her out the tenth-floor window!” “First Zack, now my daughter—there’s no such thing as coincidence. It must be someone from the kindergarten!”

Lily was dead too! What on earth was going on! I thought of that dream again. If once was a coincidence, what about twice? Why did I kill Zack and Lily in my dreams, and in reality they died the same way? Faced with Lily’s mother making a scene, Miss Foster was also helpless: “I completely understand how you feel right now, but our kindergarten teachers have no reason to harm their own students, and the police have also ruled out our kindergarten as suspects.” A mother who had lost her child couldn’t care about any of that. She cried hysterically, looking viciously at everyone present: “Even if it wasn’t your kindergarten teachers, what about these parents? Have they been cleared of suspicion?” Someone protested: “This whole thing is too strange! The killer couldn’t have entered your home silently and killed your daughter, right!” “As long as they’re human, they would leave some traces, right!” “What about your home surveillance? The fingerprints on the locks, footprints on the floor, and fingerprints on the child’s body—don’t any of these exist?” His analysis was logical, but Lily’s mother’s expression went blank: “There’s only one faint fingerprint on the child’s clothes. The police are still investigating…” Two children had died in the same bizarre way. No one knew the killer’s motive. Except for one fingerprint, the police had no other usable evidence. This was like looking for a needle in a haystack—who knew how long it would take to find the killer. However, the police learned from Miss Foster that these two children were good friends, so they preliminarily determined the killer was the same person. After the day’s events, I immediately checked my home surveillance when I got home. Although I killed people in my dreams! The surveillance showed that after I fell asleep, I never left the bedroom. As long as I had this evidence, it could prove their deaths had nothing to do with me. But in the afternoon, the teacher still called me to the school with one phone call. The entire classroom was chaotic. Jessica was crying, while the other children kept cursing: “Jessica Anderson’s mom killed people!” “Jessica Anderson’s mom killed people!” I pulled Jessica into my arms. After Miss Foster arrived, I finally learned what had happened. She handed me a drawing: “Nina, this was found in Jessica’s backpack. I think you need to see this.” I tremblingly opened the drawing, and my anxious heart finally cracked. Jessica had actually drawn my dream of killing Lily! Whether it was the blue pajamas Lily wore before she died or that pink window, everything matched the dream. As if she had witnessed it herself. I was too shocked to speak. I finally understood why the children were shouting “Jessica Anderson’s mom killed people!” But I really didn’t kill anyone! Miss Foster quickly comforted me: “Nina, don’t be nervous. I asked Jessica about it. She said this drawing was based on a dream.” Just as I was about to speak, Katie and Lily’s mother burst in with the police: “Officer, this is Jessica Anderson’s mother. We suspect she’s the one who killed our children!”

Because of that drawing, I was taken to the police station. They didn’t believe my explanation at all: “Stop making excuses! If it was really a dream, why do the blue pajamas and pink window in the drawing match my home exactly? We never made these details public.” This was indeed a doubt I couldn’t clear up. Killing in dreams—I couldn’t understand it myself. But I was certain that in reality, I hadn’t killed anyone. I provided my home surveillance and the complex’s surveillance: “On the two days your children were killed, I had solid alibis! Although your children bullied my Jessica, I’m not deranged enough to kill them over that!” After the police verified my evidence, they finally released me. After returning home, I didn’t dare sleep at all. I was afraid I would have that strange killing dream again. But when I stayed up until 3 AM, my eyelids still closed uncontrollably. I had another dream… In the dream, I kidnapped all the children who had mocked Jessica during the day and locked them in an abandoned underground parking garage. Their sobbing and crying viciously stimulated my heart, and I woke up because of it. But then I discovered something even more terrifying— Jessica was gone. My husband and I searched every room but couldn’t find her. She had vanished like she’d evaporated. Just as my husband and I were about to go out looking for her, the police and a group of parents rushed into our home. “Nina! Did you kidnap our children!” “Nina, give us our children back!” I instinctively defended myself: “It wasn’t me! Jessica is missing too!” As soon as I finished speaking, someone discovered a drawing by Jessica’s bed. “You still want to deny it? Your evil deeds have all been drawn by Jessica! You really did kidnap our children!” Everyone surrounded me demanding an explanation. Lily’s mother rushed up and started hitting me: “Stop making excuses! Lily only had a conflict with Jessica. Who else could it be but you!” I was powerless to resist. That drawing seemed to seal my guilt completely. To investigate the case, the police still took me to the station. I said it was just a dream, but they didn’t believe me. They forced me to reveal where the children were being held, but how would I know? When I appeared in the dream, I was already in that abandoned underground parking garage. Although the police didn’t believe my “dream theory,” they still patiently guided me: “Right now, this concerns the lives of over a dozen children, possibly including Jessica. Our only lead is you and that so-called dream. Think carefully again—did that underground parking garage have any distinctive features?” I closed my eyes and recalled that bizarre dream once more. Five minutes later, I opened my eyes wide: “I saw writing on the underground parking garage… it said Riverside… it’s Riverside Complex.” After I provided this lead, the police immediately dispatched people to Riverside Complex. After thirty minutes of searching, we finally found the 15 missing children in a storage room. I wanted to rush over and hug Jessica, but she retreated in fear: “Mommy… don’t come near me. I’m scared.” Then the other children burst into tears the moment they saw me: “Bad person, go away! Bad person, go away…” Lily’s mother rushed over and slapped me: “The children all say you’re the one who kidnapped them. What else do you have to say! Why did you kill Lily… give me back my daughter’s life…” My eyes were full of tears. I could only weakly explain over and over: “I really didn’t hurt your children. It was just a dream. I really don’t know what’s going on…” Katie threw an identification report in my face: “The fingerprint report from Zack’s body is out. It matches your fingerprints exactly! You’re the killer who murdered them!” Looking at that report stamped with a red seal, my heart sank to the bottom. The police had already handcuffed my wrists. But the next second, I spotted critical information on the identification report: “Officer! I’m not the killer. I already know who the real killer is!”

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The first time I caught Falcon cheating was one month before our wedding. I called off the engagement on the spot and packed my things to go back to my parents’ house. But he refused to let go. He knelt in the snow outside my building for an entire night. “Lewis, I lost my mind for a moment. If you don’t forgive me, I’ll kill myself.” Looking at his lips, purple from the cold, I chose to forgive him. For five years after the wedding, he treated me with even more tenderness and care, as if none of it had ever happened. Until our fifth wedding anniversary, when I cooked dinner at home and waited for him. That woman , the one who had sex with Falcon in his car , suddenly showed up at our door. She was holding a four-year-old girl in her arms. “Where’s Falcon? He promised to take our daughter to the amusement park today. What, is he playing the perfect husband in front of you again?” The ladle in my hand clattered to the floor. Scalding soup splashed across the back of my hand, leaving a bright red burn. My mind felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer , completely blank. Four years ago, Falcon had pinned Katherine in his car, reckless and frantic. When I caught them, he swore on the spot that he’d been drunk and mistook her for me. He promised he’d paid Katherine off and made her leave the city for good. But now, Katherine was standing right in front of me , with a little girl who looked seventy percent like Falcon. Which meant that when Falcon was kneeling in the snow begging me to forgive him, Katherine was already pregnant. These five years , what I believed was a changed man , had been nothing but a lie from start to finish. Katherine looked at my stunned face, and a mocking smile curled at the corner of her lips. “For the past five years, whenever Falcon went on those ‘business trips’ to the next city, he was actually spending time with us.” “Every night after he said goodnight to you, he’d put Anna to bed.” “Lewis, you’ve had him to yourself for five years. Now that Anna’s starting preschool, it’s time for you to step aside.” The little girl in her arms blinked her big eyes and called out in a sweet, babyish voice: “Mommy, I want Daddy. Daddy promised to take me on the Ferris wheel today.” I stared at that child, my stomach twisting violently. Just then, I heard the door lock turn. Falcon walked in, holding the Black Forest cake I loved most. “Lewis, sorry I’m late , there was something urgent at the office that came up…” His words died the moment he saw Katherine and the little girl. The cake slipped from his hands and hit the floor, the beautiful box crumpling on impact. “Falcon!” Katherine’s eyes went red the moment she saw him, and she called his name with a wounded cry. Falcon’s face went pale. He looked at me in a panic: “Lewis, let me explain…” He rushed toward me, reaching for my hand. I shoved him away. His eyes reddened. He spoke urgently: “Lewis, I really didn’t know she was pregnant! She only showed up with the kid a few days ago!” “I didn’t lie to you , I swear I had no contact with her these past five years!” Katherine laughed coldly from the side. “Falcon, that’s pretty low, even for you. Just two days ago, at Anna’s parent-teacher conference, you told everyone you’d give her a real family.” Falcon spun around and glared at Katherine. “Shut up! Who told you to come here!” Katherine shrank back from his outburst. The child in her arms burst into frightened wails. Falcon heard the crying and instinctively furrowed his brow. A flash of pain crossed his eyes.

“Lewis, the child is innocent.” Falcon turned back to me, his voice edged with pleading. “I admit it , I’ve known about Anna for a while. But I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to overthink things.” “I’ve already been making arrangements to send them abroad. I promise they’ll never appear in front of you again.” I watched him perform his little act with cold detachment. “Didn’t want me to overthink? Falcon, do you think I’m an idiot?” I walked to the living room, grabbed his briefcase, and dumped everything inside onto the floor. Besides documents, there were two VIP annual passes to an amusement park, and a tuition payment receipt from a preschool. The payment date was two weeks ago. In the signature line, Falcon’s name was written clear as day. “You hid this so well.” Falcon stared at the receipt on the floor. The color drained from his face. He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. “I want a divorce.” I said it calmly. No screaming, no hysteria , just a deep, bone-tired exhaustion. “Lewis.” Falcon grabbed both my shoulders. “I’ll send them away tomorrow. I’ll give you everything , all the money. Please don’t leave me…” Maybe five years ago, I would have softened. But now, I felt nothing but disgust. I shoved him away with all my strength. “Falcon, I already gave you one chance five years ago.” “I will never, for as long as I live, forgive someone who betrays me twice.” I turned and walked into the bedroom to pack my things. Falcon followed me in. He grabbed the clothes out of my hands and screamed, his eyes red: “Lewis! Can you just calm down for one second!” “I’m just trying to be a father , is that so wrong?” I looked at his self-righteous expression and let out a short, bitter laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with being a father. But you had no right to drag me into it.” “Since you love your daughter so much, go build your little family of three with them.” I stepped past him and walked out with just a few pieces of clothing. Katherine stood in the living room with the child in her arms, a victor’s triumph glowing in her eyes. I stopped as I passed her. “No need to rush claiming your territory. This trash , I don’t want it anymore. Help yourself.” Then I walked out of the home I had lived in for five years, without looking back. As the door shut behind me, I heard Falcon call my name in desperate despair from inside. But I didn’t turn around.

I didn’t go back to my parents’ house. The last time I called off the engagement, five years ago, they had worried themselves sick over me. After that, when Falcon became such a devoted husband, my parents couldn’t stop telling everyone what a wonderful man I had married. Telling them the truth now , I genuinely worried it would be too much for them to bear. I checked into a hotel. I had just finished showering when Falcon’s mother, Bonnie, called. When the call connected, she didn’t greet me with her usual warmth. She got straight to the point. “Lewis, Falcon told me everything. Where are you right now? We need to meet.” Half an hour later, I met Falcon’s mother at the coffee shop in the hotel lobby. She was dressed in a well-tailored blazer, her face flawlessly maintained, carrying the faint air of someone looking down from a height. “Lewis, this is Falcon’s fault. I’m apologizing on his behalf.” She slid a bank card across the table toward me. “There’s two hundred thousand dollars in there. Consider it compensation.” I looked at the card and felt a strange urge to laugh. “And what exactly does this mean? You’re paying me to keep quiet?” Bonnie lifted her coffee and took a calm sip. “You’re a smart girl. Falcon is the only son in the Patterson family , he can’t be without an heir.” “You and Falcon have been married five years, and you haven’t been able to get pregnant. That worries me too, honestly.” “Anna is the Patterson heir. I can’t allow her to grow up without a family.” My fingers clenched involuntarily, nails pressing hard into my palm. So five years of not conceiving had become their justification , their righteous excuse , to welcome an illegitimate child into the fold. What they didn’t know was that the reason I hadn’t gotten pregnant was because Falcon said he wanted more time for just the two of us. “So what you’re saying is , you want me to accept that child and stay married to Falcon?” Bonnie exhaled softly. “Falcon does love you. He promised me , if you’re willing to accept Anna, he will never have any contact with Katherine again. You’d still be Falcon’s wife. Anna would call you Mom. What’s so bad about that?” I looked at this woman , the woman I had called Mom for five years , and felt a chill settle over my entire body. In their eyes, I was nothing more than a piece on their board, to be moved however they liked. “I won’t play mother to Falcon’s illegitimate child. Please tell Falcon , Monday morning, nine o’clock, City Hall.” I turned and left. As I reached the door, Bonnie called out from behind me, her voice cool: “Lewis, don’t be so stubborn. After a divorce, who’s going to want you? You’re not getting any younger.” I ignored her and walked out into the night. — The next day, I went to work as usual. The moment I got to my desk, my stomach lurched and I gagged a few times. My coworker Prince handed me a cup of warm water with a concerned look. “Lewis, you look terrible. Did you eat something bad?” I shook my head, but a quiet unease was already taking root inside me. During my lunch break, I slipped away to the hospital. The moment I got my test results, my whole body went rigid. Six weeks pregnant. Of all the times , I was carrying Falcon’s child. Looking at the tiny gestational sac on the ultrasound image, my tears fell without warning. This baby had come at the worst possible time. My phone rang. Falcon. I declined the call and blocked his number.

I arrived with the finalized divorce papers, intending to go back and collect the important documents I’d left behind. But when I pushed open the door, I froze. Alongside Falcon’s shoes in the entryway were two other pairs , one adult’s, one child’s. He had actually brought Katherine and her daughter into our home, bold as you please. Just then, Katherine walked out, holding Anna’s hand. Before I could say a word, Anna suddenly broke into violent coughing. Then she collapsed to the floor, gasping, and angry red hives erupted rapidly across her arms. “Anna! What’s wrong!” Katherine screamed and threw herself down beside the girl. She locked her eyes on me, tears streaming, and pointed an accusing finger: “Lewis! Did you give Anna the nut candy? You know she has a severe nut allergy! Why would you do something like that to a child!” I let out a cold laugh. “I never touched her. Stop making things up.” Falcon came running at the commotion. A flicker of panic , and something else, something like relief , crossed his face. Then he noticed the child, and his expression hardened instantly into fury: “Lewis, I never knew you could be this vicious!” I was about to deny it, but Falcon wasn’t listening. He grabbed me and snatched a mango from the table, shoving it toward my face. After five years of marriage, he knew better than anyone that mangoes were deadly to me. Even the slightest contact with the juice could trigger a severe allergic reaction , severe airway swelling. But in this moment, the eyes that looked at me held nothing but hatred and cruelty. “Since you can’t stand this child, let’s see how you like the feeling yourself!” He grabbed my jaw and forced the mango into my mouth. I thrashed and fought with everything I had, finally shoving him away, and crashed to the floor. Almost instantly, my throat began to swell. Breathing became nearly impossible , like a thousand needles stabbing into my airway. The suffocation hit like a wave. My whole body convulsed. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes. Then a savage cramping pain tore through my lower abdomen. I curled up on the floor in agony, one hand clawing at Falcon’s pants leg. I forced the words out through my constricting throat, barely a whisper. “Falcon… help me… I’m pregnant…” His body went still. A second later, Katherine screamed and sobbed: “She’s faking it! She hasn’t gotten pregnant in five years , why would she suddenly be pregnant now? She’s lying to you!” Falcon looked down at me convulsing on the floor, his expression ice-cold. “Pregnant? Lewis, you’d really make up something this pathetic just for sympathy?” He kicked my hand off his pants leg, his voice dripping with contempt and disgust. “A little mango won’t kill you. At most you’ll learn your lesson. But if something happens to Anna , I swear you’ll pay for it.” Then he bent down, scooped Anna into his arms, and walked out. The front door slammed shut. I opened my mouth, gasping, but not a trace of air would come in. Darkness pulsed at the edges of my vision. The pain in my abdomen was getting worse. Something warm was flowing down my legs. I closed my eyes in despair, and my consciousness sank into an endless dark.

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That evening, we were at a party at a friend’s villa. Diego, my husband, had his phone mirrored onto a screen the size of an entire wall, playing a movie. While he stepped away to grab our food delivery, a private message notification suddenly popped up at the top of the screen. The moment it opened, the entire room went dead silent. It was a sex video. The man in the video was Diego. The woman was my best friend, Sophia. Everyone scrambled to smooth things over, claiming it was one of those AI deepfake pranks that had been trending lately. I laughed it off awkwardly. I didn’t believe a single word. Because in the corner of the video, I could clearly see my golden retriever wagging his tail. Around his neck was a custom collar , the one I had just bought for him last week. A limited-edition piece I’d picked up at a pet expo. So it turned out that out of twenty people in that room, I was the only fool. Fine. If you all love putting on a show so much, then I’ll give you a stage , live-streamed to the entire internet.

“Chloe, don’t be mad , this was seriously just a prank!” The atmosphere in the massive first-floor living room of the villa had become unbearably strange. The giant hundred-inch projection screen, which should have been playing a comedy, was now frozen on an image that made everyone’s blood run hot. A dim bedroom. Tangled sheets. A man and a woman, naked, wrapped up in each other. The man was Diego , my husband of two years, the man I’d been with for five. The woman was Sophia , my best friend of ten years. Just half a minute ago, Diego’s phone had been mirrored to the screen playing the movie. He’d gotten up to grab the food delivery at the door. Then his phone buzzed with a notification, and just like that, a video from his hidden photo album played itself out in front of all twenty-something of us , completely unguarded, completely exposed. Silence. A silence that stretched on for over ten seconds. Then Wallace , the one who had organized the party, and also Sophia’s boyfriend , suddenly lunged forward and yanked the screen-mirroring cable out of the port. He burst into a fit of exaggerated laughter. “Holy crap! Diego actually got that video made!” He slapped his thigh hard, laughing, and turned to look at me. “Chloe, were you scared? We put this together a few days ago using one of those AI face-swap apps! All just to mess with you tonight , we wanted to see your jealous face!” The moment he spoke, the group of friends who’d been frozen stiff around us snapped back to life, as if someone had pressed play. “Yeah, yeah! Chloe, don’t take it seriously!” “AI is insane these days , it can even deepfake bodies. But look at that lighting, it’s obviously fake!” “Wallace went way too far with this one. Look at Chloe, she went completely pale!” Sophia was sitting diagonally across from me. Her face was even whiter than mine. She bit down hard on her lower lip, her eyes darting away from me. Her hands twisted nervously at the hem of her shirt, and her voice was trembling: “Chloe… please don’t be upset. It was all Wallace’s idea, messing around with mine and Diego’s pictures to generate that thing…” Right then, Diego came through the front door carrying two large bags of takeout. He glanced at the blank screen, then scanned the faces of everyone in the room. In an instant, he understood. He crossed the room in two long strides, shoved his phone deep into his pocket, and pulled me tightly into his arms. “Chloe, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. They wanted to do this prank thing, and I didn’t want to go along with it, I swear.” Diego’s voice carried just the right amount of flustered guilt and gentle coaxing. His warm breath brushed against my ear. “Don’t be mad. I’ll delete that stupid app the second we get home.” His arms were tight around me, carrying the familiar faint scent of his cedar cologne. But all I felt in that moment was my stomach turning violently, a wave of nausea I could barely contain. I lifted my head and looked around the room. Wallace’s overdone grin. Sophia’s pitifully trembling tears. The faces of our friends , expressions that looked like concern but were really just evasion. They were all performing flawlessly. Their act was airtight. If my eyesight weren’t so sharp, I might have actually bought the “AI deepfake” story. In the last frozen frame of that video, I had caught a detail in the background with perfect clarity. It was our master bedroom. On the carpet at the foot of the bed, my golden retriever , Toast , was lying there, watching the two people on the bed with curious eyes. And around Toast’s neck was a bright orange custom collar. That collar was one I had picked up at a pet expo just last Sunday , three days ago , and put on him myself. Could an AI deepfake accurately generate a dog collar I’d bought three days ago? I looked at Diego’s face, so full of carefully performed sincerity, and suddenly smiled. I gently pushed him away, let out a long breath, and pressed a hand to my chest , playing the part of someone who’d just barely recovered from a scare. “Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack! You guys are seriously so extra , who pulls a prank like that?” I grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and lobbed it at Wallace. “Wallace, that was mean. I’m cutting you off from beer tonight!” The moment those words left my mouth, the tension in the living room dissolved like air rushing out of a punctured balloon. Every single person seemed to exhale a mountain of relief. “I knew Chloe was the most chill one here!” Wallace immediately played along, raising a can of beer. “My bad, my bad , I’ll take the penalty! Let’s get back to having fun!” Diego visibly relaxed too. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You’re the best. I’ll go grill you some chicken wings , your favorite.” Sophia came over as well, looping her arm warmly through mine, her eyes still red-rimmed. “Chloe, you’re not mad at me, are you? I was terrified.” “Silly, why would I be mad at you?” I wrapped my hand around hers and smiled at her, soft and warm. “We’re best friends, aren’t we?” I watched the relief wash over her face, and felt something cold spreading through me , slow and quiet, like venom seeping through my veins, inch by inch. My best friend. My beloved husband. My most trusted people. All this time, I had been living inside a real-life Truman Show , a perfectly constructed lie, and I was the only one who didn’t know.

The whole incident seemed to blow over just like that , swept under the rug without a second thought. Music filled the villa again. People ate grilled food, drank beer, played board games, and the laughter picked up right where it had left off. But I felt like a ghost , hovering just outside this world, untethered from all of it. I watched everything with cold, detached eyes. I noticed that Diego and Sophia were being deliberately careful around each other. They wouldn’t even let their gazes cross, staying as far apart as the space allowed. But the way the others looked at me , that had changed. The looks were subtle, but I caught every one of them. Pity. Mockery. The amused contempt you’d give someone who’d just been made a fool. They were probably laughing at me inside: Look at Chloe , what an idiot. All it took was one lazy lie, and she swallowed it whole. Midway through the evening, I made an excuse to use the bathroom. I stood at the sink and looked at the woman in the mirror , perfectly made up, and completely pale underneath it. Chloe. You’re pathetic. Just then, there was a knock at the bathroom door. It was Wallace. He was holding a glass of warm water, his earlier goofy grin replaced by a tone that tried to sound fatherly and wise. “Chloe. Drink some water.” I didn’t take it. I just looked at him, flat and cold. “What do you want?” Wallace sighed and leaned against the doorframe, dropping his voice. “Chloe… look, we’re all adults here. Sometimes the smartest thing is to just… let things go.” My stomach dropped. But I kept my expression perfectly neutral. “What are you trying to say?” “What I’m saying is , Diego is good to you. Men sometimes lose their heads, chase something new and exciting for a minute. But in his heart? Home is still home. You’re still his wife.” Wallace looked at me with the air of someone dispensing great wisdom from a great height. “We all know each other here. If you blow this up, nobody wins. Diego’s career is really taking off right now, and you’ve got a reputation to protect too. Sometimes, you just look the other way and life keeps moving. You get what I’m saying?” I understood perfectly. He wasn’t here to comfort me. He was here to put me in my place. He was telling me: We all know Diego cheated. But you’d better act like you don’t. Keep being the good wife, don’t make a scene, and don’t ruin everybody’s good time. I stared at Wallace’s self-satisfied face and felt something almost like laughter rising in my chest , the kind that comes from pure, bewildered absurdity. “Wallace,” I said, holding his gaze, voice even and deliberate. “Sophia , your girlfriend , slept with Diego. And you’re not angry about it. You’re standing here telling me to be understanding?” Wallace’s expression stiffened for a flicker of a moment. A flash of discomfort crossed his face, but he recovered quickly, shrugging it off with practiced ease. “Chloe, you’re looking at this wrong. We’re all out here having a good time , that’s what matters. And Sophia, she…” He trailed off vaguely. “Bottom line, I’m telling you this for your own good. Don’t back Diego into a corner. End of the day, you don’t want to lose everything , him and your stability , all at once.” “For my own good?” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Well, thanks so much.” I pushed past him and walked straight back to the living room. I didn’t explode. Not then. Because I knew that blowing up right now would accomplish nothing , it would just give them ammunition to gaslight me, turn everything around on me, and close ranks. They outnumbered me. They had a united front. What I needed was evidence. I needed proof so airtight it would nail every single one of them to the wall.

At three in the morning, the villa finally went quiet. Everyone had drunk themselves into a stupor and shuffled off to their rooms. Diego was lying beside me, dead asleep, a faint snore rising and falling from his chest. I stared at the ceiling with wide-open eyes, lying still in the dark, waiting. When I was absolutely certain he was out cold, I carefully sat up and reached for his phone on the nightstand. The passcode was my birthday. The irony was almost funny , he used my birthday to lock a phone full of betrayal. The screen lit up. I went straight to his hidden notes folder. Inside was not just the video. There was an entire album of photos. I went through them one by one. Hotel beds. Our living room couch. The backseat of his car. Sophia’s apartment. Positions and messages that turned my stomach. Explicit. Shameless. Relentless. The earliest photo was dated a year and a half ago. A year and a half. Back then, I had just come out of a minor surgery and was recovering at home. Sophia had come over every single day with homemade soup. She’d hold my hand and say, “Chloe, you have to get better soon.” Diego had come home on time every evening, rubbed my feet, and told me, “Chloe, you’ve been through so much.” And while I had been at my most vulnerable, most grateful, most trusting , they had been doing this, right under my nose. My hands were shaking badly, but I bit down on my lip and didn’t make a sound. After going through the album, I backed out and opened his Twitter. Something told me there was more. Why had Wallace been so completely brazen about telling me to look the other way? Why had all twenty people in that room reacted so instantly, so uniformly, the moment the video went up? I scrolled down through his message list. My eyes landed on a group chat titled “Weekend Squad.” Twenty-two members. Everyone who had been at the villa tonight. I opened the chat and scrolled up through the history, my fingers going cold. It was like a fist closing around my heart , studded with nails. Every page I scrolled up, the nails pressed deeper. The group had been created a year ago. What was inside shattered everything I thought I knew. The earliest message was from Wallace. Wallace: Holy shit! Diego, you actually got with Sophia?? Legend, bro!! Diego: Keep it down. Don’t let Chloe catch on. Friend A: Relax, Chloe is totally love-blind. Feed her two sweet lines and she believes whatever you want. Friend B: Right? She seems sharp in every other way, but when it comes to relationships she’s completely clueless. Sophia: Oh stop it, you guys are making me blush~ They were treating this like a spectator sport , sitting in the stands, entertained, watching Diego and Sophia’s affair play out as though it were a show put on for their amusement. They had turned it into a game. Friend C: Tonight at the bar, I’ll get Chloe drunk so you two can slip away. I got you. Diego: Thanks man. Dinner’s on me next time. Wallace: Sophia, pace yourself, don’t get too wild. Sophia: Rude~ And like you don’t have your own little situation going on, Wallace. We’re both just doing our thing. Reading those words, my stomach lurched over and over. So Wallace didn’t care at all that Sophia had been sleeping with Diego. Because in this circle, that was simply how things were , rotten all the way through. I kept scrolling. And then I found something that crushed the last fragment of hope I hadn’t realized I was still holding. They had placed bets on me. Friend D: Alright, I’m opening a pool , how long before Chloe figures it out? I say within six months. A hundred bucks. Friend E: One year. Five hundred. Wallace: I say she NEVER figures it out. A thousand. Diego’s got her completely wrapped around his finger. Didn’t she get that job because of Diego’s connections? Without him she’s nothing. I almost laughed out loud. That job was mine. I had ground through countless sleepless nights and delivered three breakout projects before I ever earned that director title. All Diego ever did was pass along my résumé before my first interview. And in their eyes, everything I had built and everything I had earned was just a gift Diego had handed me. I scrolled to the messages from earlier that same night , sent just after the video incident. Wallace: @everyone , All clear! Chloe bought the AI deepfake story! Everyone can breathe again lol What followed was a wave of “Wallace is the GOAT” and “Diego should win an Oscar” memes and reaction GIFs. Sophia: I honestly thought Chloe was going to lose it on me tonight. My heart was pounding. Friend F: As if she’d do anything. She’s so obsessed with Diego, even if she knew, she’d just swallow it. Diego: Alright, enough. Tonight was a close call , everyone be more careful going forward. Wallace, quick thinking tonight. I owe you one. Wallace: Don’t mention it. But hey Diego, that video you made was pretty good , send it to me privately for… appreciation purposes? The filth went on from there. I looked at those familiar profile pictures on the screen , people I had genuinely cared about, treated to dinners, shown up for when they needed help. They had all become monsters wearing human faces. I didn’t cry. In the face of a rage this absolute, tears felt like a waste. I pulled out my own phone and, screen by screen, page by page, photographed every single chat message, every photo, every video in the album. It took half an hour. When I was done, I backed everything up to three separate cloud accounts. Then I put Diego’s phone back exactly where it had been. I lay back down. Closed my eyes. In the dark, my mind was razor-sharp. You think I’m naive. You think I’m easy to manage. You love watching this play out so much. Fine. Let’s play. I was going to show every single one of them what happens when you push a patient person all the way to the edge.

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I rushed home after two days away on a business trip, excited to celebrate the second birthday of my Call duck. But all I found was a duck’s head and a note from my husband, Ethan. 「Dada kept crying in the middle of the night. The neighbors complained about the noise, so I tied her beak shut for the night. I didn’t think she’d actually die from it.」 I read it over and over again, refusing to believe what I was seeing. Ethan and I had chosen not to have children. Dada was like our baby. How could he do something like that to her? I went door to door, frantically asking every neighbor if they’d complained about Dada making noise. At the very last unit, the door was slightly ajar. A pregnant woman was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone. “My husband is so good to me. I told him I was craving roast duck, and he went right out and bought me this gorgeous, plump one. It’s so tender.” The man beside her leaned over and kissed her cheek. “As long as you’re happy. You and the baby are all that matter.” When I got a clear look at that man’s face, the box I was holding — the one with Dada’s head inside — slipped from my hands and hit the floor. That man was Ethan. My husband of five years. —

The sound of the box hitting the floor caught their attention. When Ethan looked up, his eyes met mine. A flash of panic crossed his face. The pregnant woman looked confused. “What’s wrong? Is someone at the door?” She started to turn around, but Ethan pressed his hand against her head to stop her. “It’s nothing. Just some kid being stupid, left something outside. They’re already gone.” His panicked look had hardened into something cold and threatening. He mouthed a single word at me. “Go.” My heart dropped like a stone. Tears streamed down my face — but he didn’t flinch. Not even a little. When my parents died, he’d kissed every single tear away and swore he would never let me cry again. Even when things got passionate between us, he’d always held back, afraid of hurting me. But now, looking at me sobbing, all I saw in his eyes was irritation — his whole heart was focused on protecting another woman. My legs felt like lead. I couldn’t move. His expression shifted to outright anger. “She’s pregnant. Take your disgusting trash and leave before you upset her — you don’t want that on your conscience.” Disgusting trash. I looked down at the small box of ashes in my hands, eyes blurred with tears, my mind flooding with memories. I’d been in a car accident years ago that left me unable to conceive easily. On our wedding day, Ethan had given me Dada as a gift. His eyes had been so steady, so full of love. *”Dada will be with us from now on. Having you is enough for me.”* I’d blamed myself so many times for not being able to give us a child. But he’d always told me it didn’t matter. His phone camera roll was packed with photos and videos of me playing with Dada. And now he’d used my beloved pet to impress his mistress. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan. *”Go home. I’ll explain everything when I get back.”* But before I could move, the pregnant woman had already turned around and spotted me. I recognized that young girl. I’d seen her on Ethan’s computer before. He’d told me she was a struggling college student his company was sponsoring. Her name was Yvonne. Ethan shot to his feet, startled. “She’s a neighbor from upstairs. Probably got the wrong floor.” Yvonne gave a sweet smile. “The duck is done roasting. Why don’t we invite her to eat with us?” A sentence I’d been subconsciously blocking out suddenly resurfaced in my mind. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering — was it possible that what was cooking in that kitchen right now was my Dada? Sure enough, I caught a brief, unmistakable flicker of unease on Ethan’s face. —

Before Yvonne could say another word, Ethan had already lunged forward and dragged me out into the hallway. “Go home. I’ll be there soon.” His voice dropped to a warning growl. “Don’t make me regret this, Rachel.” I grabbed his arm, dazed. “Was it Dada?” His body went rigid for just a fraction of a second — and I felt every bit of it through my palm. He shoved me off in silence, then impatiently kicked the box of ashes across the floor toward me with his foot. “Stop making a scene.” The door slammed in my face. The smell of roasting meat drifted out from inside. I doubled over and dry-heaved against the wall. I sank to my knees on the floor and carefully placed Dada’s head back into the box. The Call duck who used to nuzzle me with her soft white feathers was now someone’s dinner. The man who had promised me forever had built himself a second life. I felt completely hollowed out. I sent Ethan a message. “I want a divorce.” I went home and pulled out my suitcase, quietly packing up my things. Everywhere I looked, I saw memories — me, Ethan, and Dada. I packed all of Dada’s belongings too. Before long, another woman would move in here, and everything left behind would just get thrown away. The front door rattled. A familiar set of footsteps. Ethan stopped in front of me and placed his hand over mine, stilling my packing. “Rachel, don’t act like a child throwing a tantrum.” I looked down. A single tear slipped off my face and landed on his hand. He went still. I looked up and wiped my eyes. Before we got married, my friends always said that once you tied the knot, you had to grow up — you couldn’t be spoiled or needy anymore. But Ethan always pushed back on that immediately. “I’ll treat her like a princess for the rest of her life.” I let out a short, bitter laugh and pushed his hand away. “Go take care of your girlfriend then, Ethan.” I picked up my suitcase. Near the door, he grabbed my shoulder. “Rachel, I’m doing this for us. Everyone we know already has kids. Don’t you want a family?” His voice was earnest. “Once Yvonne has the baby, I’ll pay her off and walk away. You’ll raise the child. You’ll be the only mother it ever knows.” I was speechless. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Seeing that I’d gone quiet, he pressed on. “Rachel, you’re the only one I love. Haven’t I always taken care of you?” Just a few minutes ago, I’d been looking at Yvonne’s Instagram in the building’s community group chat. On my birthday, Ethan had claimed he was out of town on business. He sent me a necklace worth hundreds of thousands of dollars instead. Everyone thought it was so romantic. But that same day, he’d bought Yvonne a $5 million apartment and spent the night with her. The day I was in my car accident, he ran every red light to get to the hospital. Everyone said that proved how deeply he loved me. But right before he’d gotten that call, he’d been in a hotel room with Yvonne — a year into trying to get her pregnant. Hadn’t he been good to me? He had. But he’d been even better to Yvonne. Maybe his kindness to me was nothing more than guilt for what he was doing behind my back. My voice came out hoarse. “I’m the one who took away your chance to be a father. I’m sorry. Is that enough? I want a divorce.” Ethan tightened his grip on my shoulder. His patience was running out. “So what do you want me to do? Tell Yvonne to get rid of the baby? You can’t have children, so you think nobody else should give me one? Rachel, don’t be selfish.” His words cut right through me. My legs nearly gave out. After we got married, Ethan’s parents had somehow found out that I had difficulty conceiving. They raged at me for failing to provide an heir. Ethan knelt in the rain all night to stand up for me. He begged them to accept me.

He always told me he didn’t care about having kids. He said he’d shield me from every nasty word people said. But no one else’s cruelty could ever match his. *You’re being selfish. You want me to die without children.* While we were still arguing, a phone rang. A soft, sweet voice carried through the speaker. “Babe, where’d you go? The baby and I miss you.” Ethan’s expression shifted instantly. “Rachel, just listen to me. The only reason I got involved with Yvonne is because I felt sorry for her — her family is poor. I only love you.” He dropped that line and rushed out the door. Before, if I even hinted at a breakup, he would cling to me for days. Now I’d said divorce, and he walked out without a second glance. He said he chose Yvonne because she was poor. So what was his excuse for betraying me? Was it because I had no parents left, no one to run to — only him? Before I could process any of it, a figure appeared in front of me. A hard slap cracked across my face. Yvonne’s expression was pure venom. “You shameless bitch! You’re old news!” I held my cheek, staring at her in shock. It took me a moment to realize she’d distracted Ethan on purpose — to get me alone. I looked at her with pure contempt. “Yvonne, I am Ethan’s legal wife. If anyone here is the other woman, it’s you. Don’t talk to me about shameless.” My feelings for Ethan were dead. I was done fighting for him. But this woman had torn apart my marriage. There was no reason in the world I should be polite to her. I raised my hand and slapped her back. Yvonne let out a sharp, furious shriek. “I’m carrying Ethan’s son! His heir! How dare you hit me!” She spat out her next line like she’d just won something. “You can’t even have children. What kind of woman does that make you?” His heir? I laughed coldly. “If I refuse to sign the divorce papers, your baby will always be illegitimate. And half of Ethan’s company belongs to me.” Yvonne stroked her stomach, smiling. “Rachel, you’re so naive. A while back, Ethan had you sign some documents — he told you it was paperwork for a vacation property he was gifting you. But the last page was a stock transfer agreement.” She looked me up and down with contempt. “Your thirty percent of shares are in my name now. So is Ethan’s twenty. Even if you divorce and go after assets, there won’t be much left for you.” The blood drained from my body. That day was the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. Ethan had surprised me with the gift of a vacation island to cheer me up. He’d been unusually tender and attentive that day — all because he’d needed me distracted enough to sign those documents. Everything I thought was love had been a calculated move. My eyes went red. My voice cracked. “Get out.” Yvonne tilted her chin up. Her gaze drifted down to the box I was holding. “You actually think that’s your stupid duck in there?” I went completely still. She smiled. “I knew you two had a Call duck. So I asked Ethan to bring her over to me for some fun. But she kept making noise at night, and Ethan didn’t want her disturbing my sleep or stressing the baby — so he tied her beak shut. We didn’t think she’d be so fragile. By morning, she looked like she was already half dead.” Yvonne pulled out her phone without a care in the world, and hit play on a video. Dada’s cries tore through the air — raw, desperate sounds that left me shaking, unable to speak. “I know you both treated that duck like your child. But she was just a duck. She can’t possibly compare to the baby I’m carrying. Honestly? Ethan always thought it was embarrassing and ridiculous that you treated a duck like a person.” A sharp pain tore through my chest. She smiled like someone savoring a victory. “You think I actually wanted roast duck? I just wanted to test Ethan. I wanted to see exactly how much he loved me.” She paused. “I didn’t expect him to say yes so fast.”

My eyes were burning red. I completely lost control. I lunged forward and grabbed her by the hair. “You killed my Dada. So let your baby pay for it.” I was Rachel. I’d fought my way up alongside Ethan for years. Everyone respected me. Why the hell should I take this from his mistress? I pulled up the recording I’d just made of what Ethan said and played it out loud. “He told me himself — he only picked you because you were poor. After the baby’s born, I’ll be the one raising it. You really think he loves you that much? He’s a businessman. Whatever he feels for you, it won’t last.” Yvonne went wild. She threw herself at me, clawing and fighting. “Liar! Ethan said he’d make me his wife! He gave me those shares because he wants to divorce you!” The shares. It finally clicked. Ethan had been afraid that if I found out the truth, I’d leave. So he stripped away my assets first. A woman with no parents, no money, and nowhere to go — he figured I’d have no choice but to stay. But he was wrong. My Aunt Claire had built a business empire in Europe. When my parents died, she’d wanted to take me with her. She’d told me once: *If you ever choose the wrong man, come find me. Anytime.* I’d already been in contact with her. She was sending someone to get me soon. Yvonne had her hands around my throat. I stumbled backward into the table. A box of condoms fell to the floor. She let out a cold laugh. “Strawberry flavor — our favorite. But now when Ethan and I sleep together, we don’t bother with those anymore. If you need them, I can gift them to you.” Her words ignited something in me. I shoved her down hard. When she hit the ground, I hit her — once, twice. Her lip split. She tore open her own shirt. She bared the red marks covering her skin, then turned them toward me like a trophy. “See all of this? Ethan left every single one. Men are driven by desire — I’m already pregnant and he still can’t keep his hands off me. I doubt he even wants to touch you anymore. You’re boring. You’re old to him.” I froze. It was true — Ethan had never been passionate with me in bed. He always said it was because he loved me too much to be rough with me. That I was precious to him. Something cracked open inside me. I snapped. I grabbed her face, pressing down, my hands shaking as I drove her head against the floor. “Shut up! Give me back my Dada!” She thrashed wildly, stretching toward her phone to call for help. “I’m pregnant! If anything happens to me, Ethan will destroy you!” The sound of Dada’s desperate cries was still echoing in my head. I could barely see straight. My hands wouldn’t stop. Then the door burst open. A foot drove hard into my stomach — no hesitation, full force. “Rachel! Have you lost your mind!” The impact hurled me to the floor. Through blurred vision, I saw Ethan’s face — pale, horrified. Something warm spread beneath me. I looked down. A dark red stain was pooling around me, soaking into the floor. The pain in my stomach was unbearable. Before everything went black, I heard Ethan’s voice screaming. “Rachel! Call 911!” When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. My whole body felt like it had been run over. My throat was raw. I tried to speak. Nothing came out. The doctor let out a slow breath of relief. “You can’t take falls like that when you’re pregnant. We almost lost the baby.” I lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The child I’d waited so long for had decided to show up now — right when I’d found out about the affair, right when I’d asked for a divorce. I reached down and pressed my hand against my still-flat stomach. The doctor said, “If everything goes smoothly, you’ll need to take care of yourself for the rest of the pregnancy.” I’d lost my parents. I’d lost my husband. I’d lost Dada. If I lost this baby too, I didn’t know how I would keep going. But the problem now was this: how was I going to make Ethan believe the baby was already gone? My child didn’t deserve a father like him.

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The night I was discharged from the hospital, Cherry shattered what was left of my soul. With a chilling casualness, she told me the name of the person who had kept me prisoner five years ago—the person who had delighted in my systematic destruction. It was Bianca. Bianca. My younger brother Jace’s wife. The news felt like a physical explosion inside my skull. My voice shook as I begged her to tell me she was joking, but Cherry just continued, her face a mask of terrifying serenity. She told me that five years ago, Jace had discovered he was sterile. His mother-in-law already despised him, looking for any excuse to throw him out of the prestigious family he’d married into. To protect Jace’s position as a pampered son-in-law, Cherry had struck a deal with him. She agreed to let me—his own brother—be used as his surrogate. But Bianca had always nursed a sick, twisted grudge against me. So, the three of them conspired. They locked me away, subjecting me to day after day of unimaginable torment, until they finally broke me—until they destroyed the very thing that made me a man. I fought back the bile rising in my throat, my lips trembling uncontrollably. I asked her why she was telling me this now. Cherry let out a long, theatrical sigh, as if she were finally dropping a heavy burden she’d been forced to carry. She said she was tired of the secrets. She told me the child she’d given me—Noah—was her way of paying back the debt. She even laughed, a small, dainty sound. “They say men soften up once they become fathers. I guess it’s true. You’re so much more… compliant lately. You’ve finally learned how to be good.” I forced the corners of my mouth to twitch into something resembling a smile. I didn’t say a word. She didn’t know. I wasn’t becoming “good.” I was becoming a ghost. And I had a secret of my own that I had never confessed to her. … The truth was a tidal wave, but even as I drowned, I caught the dissonance in her words. “The child you ‘owed’ me… what does that mean?” Cherry hesitated, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. She rubbed her neck, then decided to go for broke. “Before all of that happened… when I was pregnant with your first? I didn’t want it. I wasn’t ready to be tied down to you like that. So… I put some oil on the top of the stairs.” The world tilted. My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. That baby—the one I had spent every night talking to through her skin, the one I had built a nursery for in my heart—wasn’t lost to a tragic accident. She had murdered him. He was seven months along. He was a person. Two more months and he would have seen the light of day. Instead, his own mother snuffed him out for her own convenience. My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. I gasped for air, my lungs refusing to expand. Seeing my distress, Cherry grabbed my hand, pressing her lips to my knuckles with a sickening tenderness. “I know it hurts, Calvin. But we have Noah now. It’s the same thing.” I looked at the infant sleeping in the bassinet, tears blurring my vision. “It’s not the same.” Cherry’s brow furrowed. She dropped my hand, her voice turning sharp and cold. “How is it different? A child is a child. Just look at Noah as if that other baby came back to you. Problem solved.” “Besides,” she continued, her tone rising with indignation, “after the miscarriage, I saw how depressed you were. I dropped everything to nurse you back to health. I cooked every meal. I stayed by your side every second just to see you smile again… Calvin, I don’t owe you anything anymore!” A new child and a few home-cooked meals. That was her price for the soul-shredding agony of losing a son. I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t. Cherry’s raised voice woke Noah. He began to wail. She immediately scooped him up, cooing to him with a softness I once found beautiful. When she’d first told me she was pregnant with Noah, she seemed even more thrilled than I was. She’d prepped the room months in advance; the closets were bursting with tiny clothes. She used to let me feel her belly, listening as I read stories to the bump. This child was bathed in a maternal love the first one never knew. She really did love Noah. But now, the more she loved him, the more my heart screamed. Because Noah wasn’t Cherry’s. He was Bianca’s—the woman who had kept me in the dark and broken my body. They had been lying to me from the very start. Cherry brought Noah over to me, gesturing for me to hold him. I looked at the child with bloodshot eyes, my arms remaining frozen at my sides. A flash of disgust crossed Cherry’s face. “And here I thought you’d finally learned your place. I see you’ve still got that temper.” “If you’re going to be like this, then forget the baptism party tomorrow. We can just head down to the courthouse and sign the divorce papers right now!” I stared at her, wanting to rip her chest open to see if there was a heart in there or just a block of ice. Five years ago, she’d threatened divorce too. It was right after I’d caught her in bed with Jace, our “adopted” brother. My world, which I had painstakingly tried to tape back together, shattered all over again. I had lost my mind. I’d attacked Jace, filming the aftermath, screaming that I’d send it to his mother-in-law. Cherry had ended my hysteria with a single, stinging slap. “I was just in a bad mood,” she’d said. “I drank too much. If you can’t handle it, then leave.” A bad mood. Back then, my greatest fear was her being unhappy. I was ashamed of my “unclean” body, ashamed of what had happened to me. I had knelt at her feet, sobbing, begging her not to leave. I had even started hitting myself, convinced that her cheating was my fault—that I wasn’t man enough to keep her satisfied. Cherry had pulled my spiraling body into her arms then. “Cal, stop! You’ve already lost one child. If you keep this up, you’re going to break yourself.” That was the reason she gave me to keep living. Now I realized she wasn’t worried about me. She just didn’t want her brother’s dream of being a “father” to die with me. Seeing my face go pale, Cherry assumed she had won again. The “divorce” threat always worked. “Cal,” she whispered. “Just be good, and we can be a happy family of three. You’re tired. Go to sleep. I’ll take care of the baby tonight.” That night, Noah cried four times in the next room. Cherry handled him alone. She didn’t come to me. I didn’t go to her. The next day was the party. I sat in my room, listening to the muffled voices of guests praising the “beautiful baby boy.” I felt nothing. The door clicked open. A soft, feminine voice drifted in. “Brother-in-law? Why are you hiding in here?” Jace walked in, leading five-year-old Benny by the hand. Benny was Bianca’s son. The moment he saw me, he sprinted over and threw his arms around my legs. “Uncle Cal! I missed you so much!” That face was a miniature of Bianca’s, but his eyes… his eyes were mine. The questions that had haunted me for years were suddenly answered in the curve of a child’s eyelid. My stomach turned. I shoved Benny away with a force that sent him sprawling. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” Benny hit the floor hard, looking up in shock. Jace, however, just smirked. In the past, whenever Jace saw Benny getting close to me, he’d turn passive-aggressive. Last Father’s Day, Benny had made me a card. Jace had flown into a rage, and to punish me, he’d kissed Cherry right in front of my face. “You try to steal my son, I’ll take your wife,” he’d hissed. I’d tried to tear him apart, but Cherry had held me back. “He’s just jealous because the kid likes you. It was just a kiss, Cal. Don’t be so dramatic.” I had responded by smashing every vase in the house. Jace found it hilarious. He realized that the more affection Benny showed me, the more “intimate” Cherry would get with him to “balance things out.” He loved watching me go insane. Jace didn’t even pick Benny up. He just looked at me. “What’s wrong, Cal? Benny loves you. He’s been begging to see you since you went to the hospital.” Just then, Cherry walked in holding Noah. She frowned at Jace. “I told you not to bring the boy in here.” Jace draped an arm around Cherry’s shoulder, his voice dripping with false innocence. “I just thought Cal might want to hold his son.” My blood ran cold. He knew. He knew Cherry had confessed everything. He brought Benny here specifically to twist the knife. I grabbed a glass vase from the nightstand and hurled it at them. Cherry pulled Jace out of the way, her eyes wide with fury. “Calvin! Have you lost your mind?” “Yes! I’m f***ing insane!” I lunged for Jace, my hands aiming for his throat. A second later, Cherry’s boot connected with my abdomen. It wasn’t a shove; it was a deliberate, powerful kick. She hit me right where my surgical wounds were still healing. The pain was blinding. I collapsed, cold sweat pouring down my face. “Cal…” Cherry’s expression flickered with a brief moment of regret. She started toward me. Suddenly, a shout came from the hallway. “Fire! There’s a fire in the kitchen!” Thick, oily smoke began billowing under the door. Cherry didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Jace with one hand and Noah with the other, and she ran. She didn’t look back. I lay on the floor, paralyzed by the pain in my gut, gasping for air that was rapidly turning to ash. Just as I felt my consciousness slipping, a figure burst through the smoke. “Calvin! Where are you?” I blinked, trying to focus. When the woman’s face came into view, my entire body locked up. Five years of suppressed agony came screaming back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” I shrieked, thrashing wildly. But Bianca pinned my limbs down with a strength I remembered all too well. She held me just like she had in that basement. “Shut up! Do you want to die?” Being touched by her was worse than death. I fought, I screamed, and then I simply went limp, vomiting onto the floor. Once we were outside in the fresh air, Bianca—covered in scratches from my struggle—dumped me onto the grass with a snarl. The world went black. I woke up in a hospital bed. Cherry wasn’t there. She sent a text instead. I’m so sorry. Jace was right next to me and I had Noah… I couldn’t reach you. But as soon as I got out, I told Bianca to go back for you. I’m too busy with Noah and the insurance adjusters for the fire. Bianca will stay and look after you while you recover. “Cherry, are you serious?” I whispered into the phone when I finally got her to pick up. My voice was a broken rasp. “You know what she did to me…” Cherry’s voice was clipped, impatient. “Stop being so dramatic, Calvin. That was years ago. Get over it.” In the background, I heard Jace’s voice. “Cherry, honey, I think I twisted my ankle during the fire. Come help me to the bathroom?” The call disconnected. She wasn’t just taking care of the baby; she was nursing Jace. She had chosen to save him, chosen to care for him, and handed me over to my rapist. It was a knife that had been lodged in my back for five years, and she had just hammered it in to the hilt. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Bianca sat by my bed, looking smug. She poured a glass of water and held it out. I knocked it out of her hand. She didn’t even get angry as the water soaked her sleeve. “Don’t be like that, Cal. After all, we were ‘married’ for quite a while in that basement. Think of how many nights we shared.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. My hands gripped the bedsheets so hard my knuckles turned white. Bianca’s eyes dropped to my mouth. “Still biting your lip when you’re scared? Some things never change.” She reached out to touch my face. I reacted like a wounded animal, grabbing a piece of the shattered water glass from the floor and slashing it across her forearm. “Get out!” I screamed. The glass sliced my own palm open, blood blooming across my hand, but I felt no pain. Bianca, startled, finally backed away and left the room. The day I was discharged, Cherry finally showed up. She brought a bouquet of camellias—my favorite. She took me to the bistro where we had our first date. She ordered the spicy tofu I’d craved during my “recovery” at home. On the drive back, she talked incessantly about Noah—how he’d smiled, how he’d even peed on her face and she thought it was the cutest thing in the world. I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the blurred city. As we passed the courthouse, I spoke for the first time that day. “I want a divorce.” Cherry slammed on the brakes. “What?” She looked at me with genuine disbelief. The man who had been too broken to even consider leaving, even after the cheating, was finally saying the words. Her phone buzzed. A message from Bianca. Busy? Calvin gets out today. Want me to go pick him up? In an instant, Cherry’s eyes turned murderous. “Is that why? You’re leaving me for her?” “What?” “You spent a few days with her and now you’re hooked again? Is that it? Now that you know there’s a kid between you, you can’t wait to crawl back into her bed and relive the ‘glory days’ of being her toy? You pathetic slut.” The words hit me like a physical assault. I couldn’t believe this was how she saw me. “I didn’t—” Cherry unbuckled her seatbelt and lunged across the center console, pinning me against the door. “You like being forced, don’t you? Is that what you need?” She began ripping the buttons off my shirt, her teeth sinking into the skin of my neck. “Cherry, stop! Get off me!” I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and slapped her across the face. “Go back to your brother! Leave me alone!” Cherry’s eyes went red. She reached over, opened the passenger door, and shoved me out of the car. I tumbled onto the pavement. She sped off, leaving me disheveled and exposed, as pedestrians stopped to stare and whisper. I wrapped my arms around myself, shielding my torn clothes, and began the long walk home. The villa Cherry had bought for my “recovery” was gone, a charred skeleton of a house. That peaceful time we’d spent there—the illusion of a happy family—had gone up in smoke. When I entered our temporary apartment, I walked straight into Cherry and Jace wrapped around each other on the sofa. They didn’t even look embarrassed. I walked past them without a word. I was packing my bags when Jace strolled into the bedroom. He was wearing a silk robe that left nothing to the imagination, his skin covered in fresh marks. “You know, Calvin, my wife let you sleep in her bed for years. It’s only fair I get a turn with Cherry. I’m still the one getting the short end of the stick here.” I ignored him and kept folding my shirts. My silence irritated him. He stepped forward and grabbed a tiny, hand-knitted sweater from my suitcase—something I’d made for my first son. He dropped it on the floor and ground his heel into it. “The kid’s dead, Cal. What’s the point of keeping this trash?” I froze. Jace leaned in, a sadistic glint in his eyes. “You know, while Cherry was playing nursemaid to you, I told her I was having nightmares. I told her the ghost of that ‘accident’ baby was coming for me. Do you know what she did?” My heart stopped. “She took the box of ashes you kept on the mantel. She found a local occultist, someone who specializes in ‘binding’ spirits. And then she buried your brat in the dirt right next to the municipal landfill… to keep him from ‘haunting’ me.” Something inside me snapped. I lunged at Jace like a demon, clawing and tearing at him, my fingers locking around his throat. Cherry rushed in and ripped me off him, delivering a backhand that made my ears ring. She threw a set of papers onto the bed. Her signature was already there. “Sign them, Calvin. But think hard. Do you really think Bianca is going to marry you once I’m gone?” I let out a harsh, jagged laugh. I didn’t even look at her as I signed my name. Cherry’s face contorted into something ugly. Just then, Noah started crying in the other room. She looked at me coldly. “I’m keeping custody. Since you’re leaving, you can give him his last feeding.” I stared at her. I had never “fed” Noah. Cherry had always insisted on the nanny doing it, or she did it herself. She used to tell me it was okay, that she knew I had “barriers” and we could take it slow. Now, she was using the baby as a weapon. “I’m not doing it.” I grabbed my suitcase, but she snatched my wrist. Her voice was ice. “You’re going to do it.” She shoved me onto the bed and, before I could react, she produced a pair of zip-ties, wrenching my hands behind my back and securing them. My shirt was torn open in the struggle. She picked up a bowl of mashed baby food. I thrashed, screaming. “Cherry! You monster! Let me go!” Bianca and Jace appeared in the doorway, watching the show. Cherry didn’t care. She pinched my jaw open and forced a spoonful of the cold, sticky mush into my mouth. She held my mouth shut, forcing me to chew. I couldn’t swallow; I couldn’t spit it out. I just felt the humiliation of the saliva-soaked mass in my mouth. Then, she pressed her fingers into my jaw, forcing me to lean over the crying infant. She tilted my head, forcing me to pass the food from my mouth into Noah’s. In that moment, the last shred of my dignity was ground into the dirt. “Why…” I sobbed, my eyes squeezed shut. “Why are you doing this to me?” Cherry leaned into my ear. “See, Cal? Noah stopped crying. He ate. Are you really going to walk away and never see him again?” Revolting. She was absolutely revolting. Eventually, she cut the ties. “Think about it. Can you really give up your son? Can you give up me?” She picked up the satisfied baby and walked out. Jace and Bianca followed, wearing matching grins. I lay on the bed like a broken doll. My tears had run dry. She asked if I could give them up. How could I not? I didn’t want her. I didn’t want the child. I changed my clothes, wiped my face, and left a document on the bedside table next to the divorce papers. Then I walked out of that house and didn’t look back. Cherry returned to the room an hour later, expecting to find a broken man ready to apologize. Instead, she found an empty room and a missing suitcase. He was actually gone. She began smashing things in a frenzy until she saw the paper I’d left behind. Her face went deathly pale. Her hands shook as she picked up the DNA test.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “427405”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

One year of marriage, and my husband hadn’t so much as brushed his skin against mine. I was at my breaking point, standing on the jagged edge of doing something reckless, when the air in front of me suddenly fractured. Strange, glowing lines of text began to drift across my vision—scrolling like a live comment feed on a viral video. The text claimed my husband wasn’t paralyzed at all. It described him as a six-foot-three specimen of pure muscle with a washboard stomach. The comments were graphic, debating the “wild life” the female lead would eventually have with him, filled with details that made my face flush a deep crimson. I stared at Brooks, lying there in his hospital bed at home. Was this “crippled” husband of mine actually a wolf in sheep’s clothing? I didn’t have time to process the madness. Fueled by a mix of fury and curiosity, I ripped the cashmere throw off his legs and straddled him right there on the bed. 1 Three hundred and sixty-four days into my marriage with Brooks Barret, I finally made a decision: Today, I was going to find a distraction. A “side piece,” if you will. Don’t judge me. It wasn’t about being scandalous; it was about survival. I was twenty-two, in the prime of my life, and I’d spent a full year married to a man who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—even hold my hand. By day, I was his glorified nurse, feeding him and making sure he was hydrated. By night, I retreated to the small guest room next door to count sheep. By the time I hit ten thousand, I’d find myself staring at the ceiling, whispering, “Tatum, what the hell are you doing?” Was it for the money? The Barrets were old-money wealthy, sure, but Brooks’s mother treated me like a common thief. Every cent of my monthly allowance was scrutinized. Buying a new lipstick felt like an interrogation at the border. Was it for him? What could I possibly want from a man who couldn’t move from the waist down? Outside, the late spring sun was gorgeous, dancing over the climbing roses in the courtyard. I stood at the door of Brooks’s study, watching his profile as he sat in his wheelchair, immersed in a book. I had to admit, the man was devastatingly handsome. Deep-set eyes, a high bridge to his nose, and a jawline so sharp it looked like it could cut glass. Even sitting down, you could tell he was built—broad shoulders, long limbs. There was something tragic about a man that powerful being confined to a chair, like a lion in a glass box. A waste. Truly. I pulled my gaze away, giving myself a silent pep talk. Tatum, today is the day. That trainer who just moved into the penthouse downstairs? He’s smiled at you three times this week. That’s a green light if I ever saw one. I slipped into my most form-fitting dress, swiped on a layer of cherry-red gloss, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” The voice was low, vibrating through the hallway. I turned. Brooks had wheeled himself into the corridor, his dark eyes fixed on me. They were like twin inkwells, so deep they made my skin crawl with an inexplicable nervousness. “Just… out. For a walk,” I said, my voice betraying me by dropping an octave. He studied me for a long beat, then lowered his gaze. “Don’t stay out too late.” I murmured a quick agreement and practically bolted out of the house. By the time I reached the community garden, my guilt had turned to irritation. Why was I the one feeling twitchy? I was allowed to go shopping. I was allowed to exist. I wasn’t his property. The trainer from the penthouse was out walking his golden retriever. He spotted me from a distance and waved, a bright grin on his face. “Looking beautiful today, Tatum!” My heart lifted. I was just about to walk over and strike up a conversation when— The world exploded in neon text. [LOL, the side-character wife is actually going out to cheat!] [Girls, get in here! The livestream is getting juicy!] [Tatum is such a moron. She really thinks the male lead is paralyzed? She’s literally ignoring a six-foot-three god with an eight-pack for a basic gym bro?] I froze, blinking rapidly. The words floated in the air like digital graffiti, drifting past my eyes. What the hell? I looked around. The trainer was still playing with his dog; neighbors were power-walking by. No one else reacted to the glowing sentences hanging in the air. Was I the only one seeing this? [LMAO, the actual heroine doesn’t even show up for another three chapters. The wife is already losing her mind.] [Relax, babes! The real show starts when the heroine arrives. Brooks has that lethal athleticism, if you know what I mean. Total alpha energy.] [SPOILER ALERT: He sneaks into his private gym every night. Five hundred pushups, minimum.] [If the wife actually touches him, I’ll scream. Our sweet heroine needs him to stay pure!] [I’m literally drooling thinking about the heroine’s ‘long nights’ with him once he ‘recovers.’ Power-bottom energy.] I stood there, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning. Brooks isn’t paralyzed? Eight-pack? Lethal athleticism? Were they talking about… Brooks? My Brooks? The man I had to help use the bathroom? I pinched my arm hard. It hurt. This wasn’t a dream. The text kept scrolling: [HIGH ENERGY ALERT! Does the wife see us?] [Impossible. The system has her blocked. She’s just an NPC.] [I don’t know, the last world we watched had a glitch. She looks spooked.] I took a deep, shuddering breath. I forced my face into a mask of indifference and turned back toward the house. “Tatum? Leaving already?” the trainer called out. I didn’t even look back. 2 Back inside, Brooks was still in the study, in the exact same position. I stood in the doorway, watching him for a long time. He was turning a page, the sunlight casting a halo of gold over his features. His lashes were thick, casting soft shadows on his cheekbones. He looked exactly the same. But my eyes drifted, uncontrollable now, toward his legs. The cashmere blanket covered everything. For a year, I’d never seen those legs move. I’d bathed him, and his muscles always felt soft, useless. But the comments said… “Is there something on my face?” Brooks looked up, catching my stare. My heart skipped a beat. “You’re just… handsome,” I blurted out, a total lie. He blinked, seemingly caught off guard. I caught a faint, fleeting trace of a flush on the tips of his ears. I stared at that hint of red, my mind racing. Faking it for a year? Why? The Barrets were rich, sure, but his parents were gone. The company was run by a board. A paralyzed man wasn’t a threat to anyone. His uncle was a shark, but Brooks-in-a-wheelchair was out of the way. Unless… he wasn’t just hiding. He was waiting. The comments said the “heroine” would arrive in three chapters. Was I in a book? A “supporting character” destined to be discarded? And what was this “long nights” nonsense? I’ll admit it: I was pissed. That evening, I brought in his nightly basin of warm water to soak his feet. Usually, I’d just set it down, pull off his socks, dunk his feet, and give them a perfunctory scrub. Tonight was different. I set the basin down and knelt before him, but I didn’t reach for his shoes immediately. “Everything okay?” he asked, looking down at me. I looked up, flashing a bright, manic smile. “I just realized I haven’t been taking very good care of you, honey. Let me really look after you tonight.” His expression stiffened for a fraction of a second. I ignored it. I slid his feet out of his slippers and eased them into the water. The temperature was perfect. I wrapped my hands around his ankles and slowly, deliberately, began to slide my palms upward. His calf muscle twitched. It was microscopic, a mere flicker of life, but because I was hyper-focused, I felt it. My stomach did a somersault. A paralyzed man doesn’t have reactive muscle fibers. I didn’t look up. I kept moving my hands higher, massaging with intent. “You have such long legs, Brooks. It’s such a shame. If you could stand, you’d be the most striking man in any room.” He didn’t say a word. When I reached his knees, I felt the quadriceps beneath his slacks turn as hard as granite. But as soon as I squeezed, the muscle went slack again. He was fighting it. He was exercising immense self-control. Interesting. When I finished, I dried his feet and stood up with the basin. “Get some rest.” “Yeah.” I reached the door and glanced back. He was sitting with his back to me, his shoulders set in a rigid, tense line. I smiled to myself. Back in my room, I lay on the bed, eyes wide. The comments said he practiced boxing and did five hundred pushups a night. The room next to the study was the home gym—it was always locked. They told me it was for his safety, so he wouldn’t try to go in there alone and hurt himself. Now I realized: the lock wasn’t to keep him out. It was to keep me out. I waited until 1:00 AM. The house was as silent as a tomb. I crept out of bed, barefoot, and slipped into the hallway. Brooks’s bedroom door was closed, but a sliver of light escaped from the bottom. Still awake? I hugged the wall, inching toward the door. I peeked through the crack. Empty. The wheelchair was empty. The bed was empty. My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned toward the end of the hall. The gym door was slightly ajar, and the dull, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a heavy bag echoed through the air. I moved like a ghost, peering through the gap. And then, I stopped breathing. In the center of the gym, a massive man, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was laying into a punching bag. The overhead lights caught the rippling muscles of his back. His shoulder blades moved like gears, his physique lean and lethal, like a predator. Every punch landed with a force that made the heavy bag groan. He was easily six-foot-three. Broad shoulders, a tapering waist, and abs so defined they looked carved from marble. The line of his hips disappeared into his low-slung gym shorts— I swallowed hard. This was my “paralyzed” husband? The comments hadn’t lied. He trained for another twenty minutes, his final blow sending the bag flying back at a violent angle. He stopped, chest heaving, sweat dripping down the carved valleys of his stomach. I prepared to retreat— But he turned his head suddenly, his gaze piercing the darkness toward the door. My heart nearly leaped out of my throat. I dropped into a crouch. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footsteps approached. I covered my mouth, holding my breath until it burned. The footsteps stopped at the door for two agonizing seconds, then slowly faded away. I slumped against the floor, my legs shaking. 3 The next morning, I was sporting dark circles under my eyes as I served him breakfast. He sat in his chair, taking the bowl of oatmeal, and gave me a long look. “Didn’t sleep well?” “Oh? No, no. I slept great,” I lied, waving a hand dismissively. He didn’t press it. He just went back to his meal. I watched his hand—the way his fingers gripped the spoon. Strong, capable, steady. These were the hands that had been brutalizing a heavy bag just hours ago. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He’d let me wait on him hand and foot for a year. He’d played the part so perfectly, even letting me help him in the bathroom! Was he laughing at me the whole time? And then there was this “heroine” coming in three chapters. What was I? A placeholder? A footstool? The text started scrolling again: [The wife is acting weird today. She’s staring at Brooks like she wants to eat him.] [Did she find out? No way.] [Nah, Brooks has been playing this role for a year. He’s basically an Oscar winner at this point.] [Poor Tatum. Once the heroine arrives, she’s getting written out.] Written out? My grip tightened on my spoon. Did that mean death? Divorce? Exile? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going quietly. I set my spoon down and looked Brooks in the eye. He was the picture of harmlessness. “Brooks,” I said. He looked up. I gave him my most radiant, fake smile. “It’s beautiful out. Let me take you for a walk in the gardens.” He paused, then nodded. “Fine.” I wheeled him to the sunniest spot in the courtyard. Then, I knelt before him, looking up into his face. The sun was behind him, casting his features in shadow, making his dark eyes seem even deeper. “Brooks,” I whispered. “Yes?” “This past year… has it been hard for you?” His eyes flickered. “What do you mean?” I didn’t answer. I stood up and moved behind him, pushing the chair slowly. There was a path made of uneven cobblestones. I steered him right over them, letting the chair jolt and vibrate violently. His body shook with the impact, but he didn’t move to steady himself. He didn’t stand. I looked at his legs. The blanket hid everything. But I noticed his hands—they were gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles were white. It wasn’t fear. It was control. He was forcing himself to stay seated. I suppressed a cold laugh. “Wait here, Brooks. I’ll go get you some water.” “Alright.” I turned toward the house. Halfway there, I glanced back. He was looking down at his legs. I couldn’t see his face, but I saw his fingers tap a rhythmic beat against the cashmere throw. It looked like a code. I walked inside as if I hadn’t seen a thing. 4 That night, I made a choice. If the comments said I was going to be “written out,” I was going to get mine first. Six-foot-three, washboard abs, and that lethal build? Why should the “heroine” get all the fun? When I brought his foot-soaking water that night, I wore my thinnest silk nightgown. No bra. When I bent over to set the basin down, the neckline dipped dangerously low. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his gaze snag on me for a heartbeat before he jerked his head away. “Brooks, let me give you a real massage tonight,” I said, kneeling and pulling his hand onto my lap. “You’ve been so patient this year. It must be miserable, being trapped in this body.” His fingers twitched. He tried to pull away. I held on tight. “Don’t be shy. A wife is supposed to take care of her husband.” He stopped resisting, but his entire body went taut. I pulled his feet from the water, dried them, and rested them against my thighs. Then, I began to knead his calves, moving slowly upward. His muscles were like stones, vibrating slightly under my touch. “Does that feel good?” I asked, looking up. He was staring down at me, his eyes dark with something terrifying. “Tatum.” “Mmm?” “What exactly are you doing?” I blinked, playing the innocent. “Taking care of my husband. What else?” He stared at me for a long time, then reached out and gripped my chin. It wasn’t painful, but it was authoritative. “You’ve been different today,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Ever since this morning.” My heart was thumping like a drum, but I kept smiling. “You’re imagining things. I just realized I haven’t been a very good wife this year, and I want to make it up to you.” He searched my eyes for an eternity, as if trying to read my soul. Finally, he let go and leaned back. “That’s enough. Go to bed.” I didn’t move. “I said, go to bed.” I stood up, took the basin, and walked to the door. I looked back one last time. He was looking down, his legs under the blanket perfectly straight and rigid. I smiled. No rush. We had all night. 5 But my plans met a sudden roadblock. Before I could make my next move, the “Heroine” arrived. The next day, Brooks’s mother showed up unannounced. And she wasn’t alone. “This is Maisie,” my mother-in-law said, beaming as she held the young woman’s hand. “I’ve hired her to help look after Brooks. You’ve had a long year, Tatum. You deserve a break. Maisie will take over from here.” I looked at Maisie. Heart-shaped face, soft brows, and eyes that always looked like they were on the verge of happy tears. She was slender—the kind of girl a man could wrap a single hand around her waist. She spoke in a voice like spun sugar. The text exploded: [AHHHH! The heroine is finally here! My sweet Maisie!] [I’ve waited three chapters for this! Totally worth it.] [Brooks, look at her! That’s your soulmate!] [Tatum can pack her bags now. Bye-bye, side character.] I gripped my glass of water so hard I thought it might shatter. So this was the “Heroine.” The comments claimed she was the “Chosen One”—kind, gentle, the only one who could “save” the broken hero. Maisie walked over to Brooks, leaning down with a soft, saccharine voice. “Mr. Barret, it’s such an honor. I’m Maisie. I’ll be taking very good care of you.” Brooks looked at her, gave a curt nod, and remained expressionless. But the fans were losing it: [That look! He’s totally into her!] [The stoic hero and the healing angel. I’m literally sobbing.] [Just wait, in a few chapters he’ll stand up just for her.] [Tatum, get out of the shot. You’re ruining the aesthetic.] I stood there, watching Maisie flutter around him. She brought him water; she adjusted his blanket with “tender” hands; she charmed his mother with every word. His mother was glowing. “See? What a lovely girl.” I stood in the corner, feeling like a ghost in my own home. 6 Maisie cooked dinner. Four courses, perfectly plated. My mother-in-law was full of praise. “Maisie, this is delicious! Brooks, try some.” Brooks took a bite. I noticed a slight furrow in his brow. Maisie watched him, her eyes shining. “Do you like it, Mr. Barret?” “It’s fine,” he murmured. Maisie blushed. [He said it’s fine! He’s usually so silent!] [She’s so cute when she blushes.] [They’re perfect for each other. I’m dead.] I ate my dinner in silence. My stomach hurt. That night, I tossed and turned. The “Fated Heroine” was here. He was supposed to fall for her, stand up for her, and have those “long nights” with her. And me? I was just the girl who’d be kicked to the curb. I stared at the ceiling, fuming. Suddenly, I heard a faint noise. I sat up. There it was again. Coming from the gym. I crept to the door and peeked out. The gym door was ajar, light spilling into the hall. But tonight was different. Someone was standing at the door. Maisie. She was wearing a white, lacy nightgown, peering into the gym. My heart hammered. Then, the massive shadow inside stopped moving. Brooks walked to the door, looking down at Maisie. The light was behind him, turning him into a dark, imposing silhouette. “It’s late. Why aren’t you in bed?” his voice was a low rumble. Maisie looked up, her eyes watery. “I… I couldn’t sleep. I heard a noise and… Mr. Barret, your legs…” Brooks was silent for a beat. “You saw.” “I won’t tell anyone!” she gasped, waving her hands. “I promise! Your secret is safe with me!” Brooks looked at her for a long time, then a faint smirk played on his lips. It was a look I’d never seen him give me. “Come in,” he said. Maisie blinked, then followed him into the gym. The door clicked shut. I sat on the floor of the hallway, frozen. [OMG! She’s already in the inner circle!] [Late night gym session? We know where this is going…] [Is he finally going to open up to her?] [Tatum is literally sleeping next door while her husband is with the real lead. Brutal.] I clenched my fists. Fine. Great. Perfect. 7 The next morning, I went downstairs with heavy eyes. Maisie was already in the kitchen, humming a song as she fried eggs. She wore a cute floral apron. “Morning, Tatum! Breakfast is almost ready.” “Morning,” I muttered, sitting at the table. Brooks was already there in his chair, a cup of black coffee in front of him. He glanced at me, lingering on my tired face. “Rough night?” “No. I slept like a baby,” I snapped. Maisie brought a plate of eggs to Brooks. “Here you go, Mr. Barret. Over-easy, just the way you like them.” Brooks took a bite. Maisie watched him expectantly. “How is it?” “Good.” She beamed. Then she set a plate in front of me. The eggs were rubbery, the edges burnt to a crisp. [Maisie is so thoughtful! She knows exactly how he likes his eggs.] [LMAO, did she burn Tatum’s on purpose?] [Heroine vibes: I only cook well for the male lead. The side character gets the scraps.] I ate the burnt eggs without a word. After breakfast, the mother-in-law returned. She held Maisie’s hands. “Maisie, I’m trusting you with him. Let me know if you need anything at all.” “You’re too kind, Mrs. Barret. It’s my pleasure,” Maisie chirped. The mother-in-law glanced at me, her tone cooling. “Tatum, since Maisie is here to help, you can finally take a back seat.” Translation: Get lost. “Of course,” I said with a tight smile. Once his mother left, Maisie was everywhere. Water for Brooks. Meds for Brooks. Reading the paper to Brooks. I sat on the sofa like a piece of furniture. In the afternoon, Brooks wanted some sun. Maisie jumped up. “I’ll take you!” Before I could even stand, she was already wheeling him out. I stood by the window, watching them in the garden. The sun was bright. Maisie was kneeling by his chair, looking up at him, laughing. Brooks was looking down at her, saying something I couldn’t hear. [This is so aesthetic. Screenshotting for my wallpaper.] [The way he looks at her is so tender. I’m melting.] [Tatum is watching from the window like a creep.] [Write her out already! She’s in the way.] I turned away from the window. Back in my room, I sat on the bed. The comments said in a few chapters, he’d stand up for her. They’d fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after. And I’d be gone. Is that it? Is that the end of my story? I don’t think so. 8 That night, I couldn’t sleep. At 1:00 AM, the gym noises started again. I crept to the door. Again, Maisie was there in her nightgown. Brooks came out, they whispered, and he reached out— My heart stopped as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His movement was so gentle, as if she were made of porcelain. Maisie looked up at him with stars in her eyes. The door shut behind them. I went back to bed, but I didn’t sleep a wink. By dawn, I had made a decision. If the “Heroine” wanted a fight, she was going to get one. Why should she get the six-foot-three god with the lethal build? That night, after my shower, I put on my most provocative silk slip. No underwear. I walked to Brooks’s bedroom and knocked. “Enter.” I pushed the door open. He was leaning against the headboard, reading a book. He wore charcoal pajamas, the top two buttons undone. When he saw me, his breath hitched. “Tatum?” I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. His throat moved as he swallowed. “Brooks,” I whispered. He didn’t speak. I reached out and placed my hand on his chest. Through the thin fabric, I could feel the hard, rhythmic thumping of his heart and the terrifyingly solid lines of his muscle. “This past year must have been so exhausting for you,” I said softly. “Pretending to be paralyzed… it must be such a burden.”

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The Whitmans finally “reclaimed” me from the middle-of-nowhere three months ago. Since then, Tiffany has treated me like her personal recycling bin. This was the tenth time she’d shoved one of her rejected online dating prospects onto me. She literally tossed her phone into my lap, her face twisted in a look of pure elitist disgust. She called me a “hillbilly” and described the guy as some kind of “prehistoric bore.” “I’m not giving you my leftovers to be mean,” she said, her voice dripping with that fake, sisterly concern that actually felt like a slap. “It’s just… you’re so plain and clumsy. You’ll never survive a real social event. Consider this practice so you don’t embarrass Mom and Dad later.” I was about to beg her to stop, to tell her I was already drowning in the chores the house staff “forgot” to do, when the air in front of me suddenly shimmered. Floating text—scrolling comments, like a live stream feed—erupted in my vision. [God, the sister is such an idiot. That’s not a ‘prehistoric bore.’ That’s Old Money.] [Exactly. He was raised by the old guard. He’s formal, sure, but he’s got the looks, the heart, and a bank account that could buy the Whitmans ten times over.] [Wait until they realize that once he commits, he doesn’t just buy dinner. He buys zip codes. His family connections are the kind the New York elite would kill for.] [Forget being a ‘True Heiress.’ With him, she’d be the Queen.] I swallowed my refusal. I looked down at the phone, then back at my sister, and nodded obediently. “Thank you, Tiffany. I’ll… I’ll practice hard.” Fine. I didn’t want to be the “long-lost Whitman daughter” anymore. I wanted to be the one who owned the building they lived in. … When Tiffany dropped the phone into my arms, the screen was still glowing. It was the latest folding model, a piece of tech so sleek it made my old hand-me-down—which took three minutes just to load a text—look like a literal brick. In the past, every time she dumped a guy on me, I’d have to memorize her passwords, log into my own glitchy device, and wait for the messages to sync. By the time I could reply, the conversation was usually dead. On the screen, a wall of unread messages hung in the chat box. The man’s profile picture was a simple, unpretentious shot of a mountain landscape. His tone was just as plain, almost awkwardly so. [If you come to the estate, what kind of car would you prefer to be picked up in?] [I usually ride my horses, and if I go into the city, I prefer the subway or my bike to avoid the noise. I’m not entirely sure what’s in the garage right now. I’ll ask the staff and get back to you.] Tiffany had clearly ghosted him after that. After hours of silence, he had sent a cautious follow-up: [Are you perhaps hesitant about meeting me?] I didn’t reply immediately. Instead, I scrolled up through their history. Tiffany had mentioned wanting “luxury pastries” once. The next day, he’d sent a box of homemade buttermilk biscuits. He wrote: [These are a family tradition. My grandmother’s recipe. They aren’t always available, but they’re my favorite. If you like them, I’ll just buy the bakery’s contract so you can have them whenever you want.] Further down, Tiffany said she wanted a birthday party on a yacht in the Hamptons. His response was grave: [Yacht parties are chaotic. Too much noise, too little security—especially with the crowds this time of year.] [If you’re open to it, we could have a quiet dinner at my family’s manor. I’d like to introduce you to my elders.] That must have been the dealbreaker for Tiffany. To her, this guy wasn’t just “basic”—he was cheap and pretentious. She probably thought “family manor” was code for a dilapidated farmhouse filled with senile relatives. She found him so repulsive she couldn’t even be bothered to block him. I took a deep breath and began to type. [I’m not hesitant. I was just overthinking what I should wear for my birthday.] He was silent for a moment. Then: [You’re spending it alone? You sound… unhappy. Is it because of the yacht party?] He seemed to sigh through the text, already compromising. [Fine. We can do the yacht. But you have to stay with me the whole time. Don’t drink anything that leaves your sight. Don’t take anything from strangers. And we leave by 11:00 PM…] I cut him off. [I don’t want a yacht party anymore.] I paused, then added: [And I don’t think I’m ready to meet your family yet.] Silence again. Two minutes passed. [Are you angry with me?] The live feed sparked in my eyes again. [OMG, what is she doing? He’s giving her an opening!] [She’s being too picky. He’s patient, but he’s not going to put up with a brat forever.] [His family raised him on dignity and respect. If she pushes too hard, he’ll just move on to the next arrangement!] My palms were sweating. I rephrased the thought in my head three times before hitting send. [What I mean is… I’ve decided against the yacht. I just want to see you. I want to spend my birthday with you.] [But about your family… I feel like it’s too soon. I’m just a girl living under her parents’ roof. I haven’t accomplished anything yet. I’m not sure I’m someone your elders would be proud of.] I bit my lip and kept typing. [Can it just be the two of us first? If… if you end up liking me, could you help me? Help me become someone who deserves to stand beside you? Someone your family would approve of?] [I promise I’ll put in two hundred percent of the effort.] I flipped the phone face-down on the desk, my heart hammering against my ribs. To be honest, I was terrified. These words were the polar opposite of Tiffany’s shallow “socialite” persona. If the people in his life were as sharp as the comments suggested, they’d see through a fake in seconds. I needed to build my own foundation before I could face them. The phone buzzed. I flipped it over. A long block of text had appeared. It wasn’t a text message; it was a letter. Formal, sincere, and deeply moving. At the end, he wrote: [It brings me great joy to see you thinking of our future with such maturity. You have my word: I will do everything in my power to support your growth.] Below the message was a notification for a wire transfer: $50,000. The memo read: Birthday compensation. That evening, a new contact added me on Signal. He introduced himself as the Chief of Staff for a Mr. Winthrop. He was blunt and efficient, asking if I wanted a direct introduction to any Fortune 500 board or if I’d prefer a turn-key business registered in my name. I stared at the screen. The options were dazzling. They were “instant win” buttons. I typed back carefully: [Could I… could I just get an internship at his company?] The three dots of a reply appeared, then vanished. [An internship?] the assistant finally asked. The comments flared up. [Lol, she’s totally going for the ‘office romance’ trope. Trying to get close to the boss.] [I bet she just wants to show up in Louboutins and act like she owns the place. Typical.] [Giving her a shell company is easy. Putting her in the actual corporate structure as an intern? That’s a massive drain on resources.] [Exactly. Winthrop’s firm is all Ivy League PhDs. She’s going to be a disaster.] But I wasn’t. I had worked three jobs in college to pay for my Master’s degree. I wasn’t from a “Legacy” school, but I had clawed my way through every exam and every midnight shift. I was on the verge of a senior role at a top firm when the Whitmans “found” me and dragged me into their world of gilded cages. I was about to type out a long, professional justification when the assistant replied. [Understood.] [I will arrange a position for you to learn the fundamentals. Once you complete the basic rotation, you will move into a specialized leadership track. This includes executive coaching, linguistics, and high-level networking—the same curriculum Mr. Winthrop himself underwent.] I nearly fell off my chair. The same curriculum as the CEO? I finally learned his full name: Darian Winthrop. The name didn’t ring any bells locally. I Googled him and found… nothing. Not on Instagram, not in the tabloids. Finally, after digging through academic journals and international trade filings, I found him. He lived mostly abroad. He was the silent power behind Aether Group. He had no “reputation” in our local circles because quite frankly, no one here was important enough to be in his orbit. When I realized the sheer scale of Darian Winthrop’s net worth, I felt a wave of vertigo. The “family manor” was a historic estate in the English countryside with a private stable where a single horse cost more than the Whitman family business. If I could survive this internship, I wouldn’t need a dowry. I’d have a career that could sustain me for a lifetime. [She’s so calculated,] the comments hissed. [Searching his name like that? She’s a professional gold digger.] [Unlike Tiffany. Tiffany is real. She just follows her heart. If she doesn’t like a guy, she moves on. That’s class.] [Just wait. When he finds out she’s a fraud, he’s going to hunt for Tiffany and crush this little social climber.] I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. They were right. I was deceiving him. Eventually, the truth would come out, and when it did, the fallout would be catastrophic. The only thing I could do was make myself indispensable. If I made him happy enough—or became valuable enough—maybe there would be room for an explanation. I messaged Darian. [Did your assistant tell you? I’m so excited. I really want to work hard so I can stand by your side one day.] [Please don’t give me any special treatment. I want to start from the bottom.] [Thank you. You’re the best. I think I like you more than anyone else in the world.] I cringed the moment I hit send. That was the tone I’d used for the eighth guy Tiffany had passed me—a playboy who lived for flattery. Darian was the kind of man who wrote letters. Would he find me shallow? My heart raced as the reply came in: [Do whatever makes you happy.] [I like you best, too.] The contract arrived the next morning. Darian wanted me to start at the local branch to learn the ropes. He’d even bought a small apartment near the office so I wouldn’t have to commute. Tiffany walked by my room as I was packing. “Pearl? What are you doing?” I didn’t have time to hide the papers. She snatched them up. “The new guy got me a job. I’m looking at the contract.” Tiffany’s face darkened. “I told him I wanted to ‘visit’ his office once, and he said it would distract the staff. Now he’s giving you a job?” She scanned the pages, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “An internship?” “Three thousand a month? You’re actually going to slave away as a corporate mule for pocket change?” I looked down, saying nothing. But her hand stopped on a page bearing the Aether Group watermark. “How did he get you into Aether?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Do you know who they are? They’re old-world wealth. Untouchable.” My heart skipped. I quickly flipped the page back to the local address. “Their headquarters are in London or something. I’m just working at a satellite office. I don’t really understand the fine print… maybe they just outsource their filing to his company.” Tiffany looked at the contract again, then tossed it back onto the bed, satisfied. “Well, since I basically found you a job, I assume you won’t be needing an allowance from Mom and Dad anymore?” The first month I was back, they’d given me the same allowance as her. She’d been livid. Since the second month, I hadn’t seen a cent anyway. I nodded. “That’s fair. Thank you, Tiffany. I’d hate to just be a burden on the family.” She huffed a smug laugh and headed upstairs to tell our parents to cut me off financially. I closed the door, sat on my narrow bed, and texted Darian. [I start tomorrow. I’m so nervous. Can I ask you for advice? Is there anything I should watch out for?] I knew his personality—he loved to mentor, to provide structure. Thirty minutes later, an attachment appeared. Title: 1,000 Essential Protocols for Interns. Sub-title: (Pearl’s Private Edition). The next morning, I carried my suitcase downstairs. My parents were at the breakfast table. “Pearl? Where are you going?” my mother asked, barely looking up from her tablet. “The internship is far. I’m moving into the company housing.” My father’s brow furrowed. “You’re a Whitman. Working as a low-level clerk is beneath your station. It’s embarrassing.” I stood tall, keeping my voice neutral. “Tiffany’s suitors are from good families. If I just reject them, it looks bad on us. If I work for them, it keeps the relationship amicable. It’s better for the family name.” Tiffany swiped a piece of toast as she walked by. “She wasn’t raised with us, Dad. She doesn’t have our standards. If she wants to throw herself at a man I didn’t even want, let her. Let her see how hard the real world is. She’ll come crawling back once she realizes how good she has it here.” My parents went silent. They didn’t stop me. They just told me not to tell anyone I was a Whitman. The “apartment” Darian bought was actually a luxury penthouse. A housekeeper came daily to cook and clean. I was left entirely alone to focus. I was the first in the office and the last to leave. I studied every manual, practiced every protocol, and applied everything Darian taught me in real-time. I was running. Running because I was terrified that one day he’d realize I wasn’t the girl he started talking to. Terrified my parents would drag me back to marry some business associate. Terrified it would all vanish. Tiffany started a family group chat, “to check in on me.” I played along. Every day, I posted photos: a desk piled with files, the empty office at midnight, a plastic tray from the cafeteria. Tiffany would send voice notes of her laughing. “Truly, some people were just born to be beasts of burden.” “No matter how much money you throw at a peasant, they still want to work in the dirt.” The comments in my head were a roar. [She’s playing them! She never shows the penthouse or the private chef!] [What a manipulative snake. She’s letting them think she’s suffering while she lives like a princess.] I smiled, locked my phone, and went back to memorizing the quarterly projections. Whenever I struggled, I asked Darian. He loved it. He’d send pages of explanations, blending theory with decades of family wisdom. In return, I showered him with the kind of affection and praise he’d clearly never received in his stiff, formal life. A month later, I was promoted to a full-time associate. That afternoon, his assistant handed me my passport. “Mr. Winthrop has made the arrangements. You fly to the London headquarters tomorrow. The next phase of your training begins now.” My hands shook as I held the passport. I was finally going to see the world he lived in. But as I went back to the penthouse to pack, the comments went haywire. [Holy sh*t—Darian is back in the country!] [He spent all night comparing the data between Pearl and Tiffany! He knows!] [Finally! She’s dead meat.] [He’s going to find the real Tiffany and make sure this fraud never works in this industry again!] I froze. My knees went weak. I didn’t think. I just grabbed my bag, shoved my passport inside, and ran for the door. I’d pay him back. Every cent of the tuition, the rent, the food—I’d work my whole life to return it. But I couldn’t let him lock me in a room or hand me over to my parents. I threw open the door— And Darian was standing right there. He was much taller than his photos. He wore a dark wool overcoat, his collar buttoned to the top with obsessive precision. His features were sharp—a high brow, a straight nose, and lips pressed into a thin, stern line. He looked at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. My legs gave out. I stumbled back into the foyer, my voice a trembling wreck. “Mr… Mr. Winthrop.”

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