Category: English

1 Three years gone at the Boston branch. At the New Year’s HQ conference, the Chairman praised me for doubling Boston’s profits, calling me a hero. He turned to my girlfriend, Isabelle, joking that after our seven years together, she should finally transfer me back so we could marry. My heart soared. The grind was about to pay off. I was coming home. But Isabelle, all business, announced, “Liam transfers to HQ. Noah stays in Boston.” She said Liam needed HQ experience for his future, then looked at me, her voice soft but firm. “Noah, you’re the bigger person. You wouldn’t want me accused of favoritism, right?” The room fell silent. Liam took the transfer order, trying to hide his gleam. “Isabelle, is this right? Noah’s waited three years…” She ignored him, leaning in. “You understand, don’t you? Boston and New York aren’t far. I’ll visit every weekend, bring you those macarons you love.” I looked at the paper in Liam’s hand, the one that should have been mine. A cold numbness settled in. I nodded. “You’re right. Professionalism first.” But Isabelle, the distance between our cities had never felt greater. And that promised return journey? I’m done waiting for it. … When the meeting broke, the New York sky was a heavy, oppressive gray. Everyone else had the good sense to clear out quickly, but Liam clutched a folder to his chest and scurried over to Isabelle, a triumphant glint in his eye, though he feigned shyness. “Isabelle, thank you so much for this opportunity. I just… I hope Noah won’t get the wrong idea…” Isabelle didn’t even look up at him, her fingers still tracing patterns on the back of my hand. “This was a company decision. It has nothing to do with my personal life.” Her tone was distant, professional. “Noah sees the big picture. He’s not going to get flustered like you.” Liam shot a quick glance at me before bowing his head. “Yes, of course. I’ll work hard. Noah… I guess you’ll have to hold down the fort in Boston.” I said nothing, just silently pulled my hand away from hers. Only when Liam was gone did Isabelle slowly rise to her feet. She shrugged off her coat and draped it over my shoulders. “Are you angry?” she asked. “Liam is fresh out of college, he’s inexperienced. A structured training program at HQ is the only way he’ll grow. He’ll go back to Boston eventually. Think of it this way, I’m forging a top-tier asset for you.” I didn’t argue. I just picked up my briefcase and stood up. She rushed to my side, taking the case from my hand. “Come on, I’ll drive you to your hotel.” In the underground parking garage, as soon as I got in the car, Isabelle produced a small, elegant box of macarons. “I had someone wait in line for these.” She broke a piece off and held it to my lips. But for the first time, I didn’t open my mouth. “I’m not hungry.” She awkwardly pulled her hand back and reached across me to buckle my seatbelt. As she leaned in, I caught the scent of the woody perfume I’d given her last year. But my eyes were drawn to something else. A fluffy blue charm was looped around the seatbelt strap. She paused for a second, then smoothly plucked it off. “Ugh, that kid, Liam. He was in my car yesterday to pick up some files and complained the belt was chafing his neck. He put this on.” She tossed the blue fluff into the glove compartment with an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, he’s such a handful. Boys and their silly little trinkets.” The glove compartment. That’s where I used to keep my allergy pills. Now, my small bottle was shoved into a corner, crowded out by a half-eaten roll of mints, liquor-filled chocolates, and a mini Funko Pop. All of them, if I recalled correctly, were Liam’s favorites. My mind flashed back to those thousand-plus days in Boston. To see her, I’d work through Thursday night at the office, plow through a full day’s worth of files on Friday, just so I could catch the last flight to New York before 6 p.m. Sometimes, thunderstorms delayed the flight, and I’d be stuck at the airport until dawn. She always used to say, “Noah, we’re so far apart. You really don’t have to fly out so often.” At the time, I thought she was worried about me. Now I understood. Maybe she was just afraid I’d walk in on the cozy nest she was building for someone else. Isabelle, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me, started the car. “Have you booked your flight back? I can’t take you to the airport tomorrow. I have to show Liam around the different departments, get him settled in.” She said it so casually, and it hit me then. She’d long since accepted me going to the airport alone as a matter of course. I turned my head to look at her, my voice quiet but clear. “Isabelle, I’ve bought 157 round-trip tickets between Boston and New York. Every single one of them ended with you.” I let that hang in the air for a moment. “But before my mom passed, she told me if you knock on a door for seven years and it doesn’t open, it’s time to find a new path.” Isabelle slammed on the brakes. She reached over and pinched my cheek, a forced smile on her face. “She was just worried about you, Noah. She didn’t mean it. Look, I’ll reimburse you for all the tickets. And I meant what I said in the meeting, from now on, I’ll be the one flying to you. No more exhausting trips for you, okay?” She unwrapped one of the chocolates from the glove box and pushed it into my mouth. A sweetness that was never meant for me melted on my tongue. “Be good,” she murmured. “Don’t start a fight now. Once the Boston project is wrapped up, I promise, I will bring you home.” The car stopped in front of the hotel, but Isabelle didn’t even kill the engine. She glanced at her watch, then at me. “Noah, I really am swamped this afternoon. You go on up and get some rest.” She leaned closer, intending to smooth a stray lock of hair from my temple. I flinched back, almost a reflex. “Isabelle. Seven years was the deal. If you can’t do it, I’m done waiting.” She let out a short, cold laugh. “Don’t be silly, Noah. Boston is damp, remember to take your medicine.” The next morning, I was back at headquarters. When the head of HR saw my marriage leave application, he blinked in surprise, then a knowing grin spread across his face. “Congratulations, Noah! Ten days, approved. I knew it. Figured Isabelle was just posturing yesterday. One night with you setting her straight, and she’d be begging you to marry her.” The colleagues who overheard his not-so-subtle teasing spread the news like wildfire. Within half an hour, the entire company knew. In the breakroom, a few senior managers I knew well clapped me on the shoulder. “About time you two made it official, Noah. Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!” I just offered a polite smile, neither confirming nor denying anything. “I’ve still got some work to hand off. We’ll talk later.” I went to deliver one last report to the Chairman’s office. Before I even reached the door, I saw something through the crack that made the air catch in my throat. In the adjoining executive office, Liam was standing in front of Isabelle’s desk, wearing a thin white shirt, almost transparent under the office lights. Isabelle was focused entirely on him, her fingers patiently redoing the buttons. It seemed he’d buttoned it wrong. “This shirt isn’t appropriate for the office. Don’t wear it again,” she chided, but her eyes held a softness I had never seen before. Liam smiled, leaning closer, his posture intimate. “But I wanted you to see me in it.” Isabelle sighed, but it was fond. She playfully tapped his nose. “I was trying to forge a top-tier asset, not raise a little troublemaker.” A bitter smile touched my lips. I raised my hand and knocked on the door. The two of them sprang apart. When Isabelle saw it was me, the warmth on her face instantly vanished. “Noah? What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be on a flight back to Boston?” She saw the report in my hand and let out a breath of relief. “Oh, you had another report to drop off. You could have just had Liam grab it.” Isabelle reached for it, but Liam was faster, snatching it from my grasp. “Noah, I can handle this. Isabelle was just saying how quick I am on the uptake and what a good job I’m doing.” Isabelle nodded. “Liam’s right, Noah. He’s a natural.” For a moment, they looked like the perfect mentor and mentee. Just then, the Chairman pushed the door open. He boomed with laughter as he walked in. “Isabelle, this is fantastic! Noah’s marriage leave application just landed on my desk. So, are you two lovebirds getting married in Boston or here in New York? We have to make sure our company’s golden couple has a wedding to remember!” Isabelle’s hand froze mid-air. She looked up at me, her expression shifting from shock to pure rage. “Chairman, nothing’s set in stone yet. You know how rumors are, hahaha.” The Chairman, sensing the sudden tension, awkwardly cleared his throat and made a quick excuse to leave. The moment the door clicked shut, Isabelle was on her feet, stalking toward me. “You’ve got some nerve, Noah. Submitting a marriage leave application! What is this, are you trying to force my hand? I thought you were the career-driven one! When did you become the kind of man who resorts to this kind of pressure?” Her voice was sharp, accusatory. From the side, Liam let out a perfectly timed gasp. “Noah, you applied for marriage leave? But… Isabelle is supposed to take me to scout a new site this afternoon. She won’t have time to help you with wedding plans.” Isabelle shot me a look of pure disgust and swept the coffee mug off her desk. It shattered on the floor. It was the one I’d had custom-made for her. “Liam, I’m sorry you had to see that. This afternoon’s schedule is unchanged. You can go get ready.” Liam’s eyebrow quirked up, and he shot me a smirk full of meaning. “Of course, Isabelle. I’ll see you at the usual spot.” With that, he was gone. Isabelle’s voice softened, but the edge was still there. “Noah, drop these pathetic little schemes. My career is taking off right now. I will not let my personal life derail my plans. Either you take this leave and go on a vacation—my treat—or, if you’re so set on getting married, you can go find yourself another bride.” I didn’t back down like I always did. I met her cold gaze. “Fine. You said it, not me.” It was the most peaceful week I’d had in years. I almost forgot Isabelle even existed. She didn’t contact me for days, clearly waiting for me to break, for me to send the usual flood of panicked, apologetic texts. But I was enjoying the quiet. I even took a walk along the shore, feeling the sea breeze on my face for the first time in ages. I’d always preferred New York. The wind here was gentle, caressing. Not like Boston’s, which was always damp and carried a sense of brokenness. My three years there, I was always a stranger, an outsider. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, the only thing in my ears the echo of promises Isabelle had made to me by the sea. Then, on Friday afternoon, a text from her finally came through: “The Pier, 7 p.m. Happy seventh anniversary.” I stared at the words, and for a moment, my resolve wavered. The lights of the New York waterfront twinkled, reflecting in Isabelle’s eyes, which for the first time in a long time, looked at me with something resembling affection. She pushed a small jewelry box across the table. “Happy seventh anniversary, Noah.” My fingertips had just brushed the velvet when her phone buzzed. On the screen, one name glared at me: Liam. Isabelle answered, and Liam’s panicked, tearful voice filled the silence. “Isabelle, the power’s out in my apartment! I’m scared of the dark… I was cutting fruit and I sliced my hand, it’s bleeding so much…” The warmth in Isabelle’s eyes vanished, replaced by sheer panic. She gripped her phone, her voice tight with anxiety. “Is it bleeding? Is it bad? Do you have a bandage? Don’t move, I’m coming!” Such a touching display of concern. I pulled my hand back from the box. Whatever was inside didn’t matter anymore. She seemed to have completely forgotten I was even there until Liam let out another cry on the other end of the line. Isabelle looked up at me, her tone gentle but resolute. “Noah, Liam’s all alone in the city. He must be terrified. He can’t handle this. I have to go. Can you just… wait for me for a little while?” She didn’t wait for my answer. She was already grabbing her coat and rushing out of the restaurant. In Boston, I had lived alone, learned to change lightbulbs alone, endured the crushing loneliness alone. I went from being helpless to being able to fix a leaky pipe and haul heavy furniture up flights of stairs. And through all of it, she was never there. The truth was, I had learned to live without her a long time ago. Half an hour later, Liam appeared at our table, a small bandage on his finger. He stood behind Isabelle like a shy, guilty child. “Noah, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz. I can’t believe I ruined your anniversary.” Isabelle pulled out a chair for him, then sat down right beside him. “Noah, Liam worked with you, remember? Don’t make him feel uncomfortable.” When the waiter brought our food, Isabelle held up a hand, stopping the plate of escargots. “Cancel this. Bring the fish soup instead.” The escargots. She used to order them for me on every date. “Your stomach is sensitive, Noah. You shouldn’t eat anything too rich at night. Just have something light with Liam.” I couldn’t even remember. Who was the one with the sensitive stomach? She then ordered a black truffle steak, meticulously cut a piece, and placed it on my plate. “You need to eat more, Noah. You’ve been working too hard in Boston.” I stared at the piece of meat, a lump forming in my throat. Isabelle had forgotten. I’m allergic to truffles. Right before I left for Boston, I’d accidentally eaten some and ended up in the ICU. She’d sat by my bedside and sworn she would never let me near them again. Meanwhile, she was leaning over Liam, patiently picking the garnishes off his plate. “Liam, your digestion is weak. Don’t force yourself to eat anything you don’t like.” Expressionless, I raised the fork to my lips and put the steak in my mouth. With my other hand, under the table, I fumbled for my allergy pills and swallowed them down with the meat. Liam’s hand “slipped,” and he spilled his soup. “Oh, my shirt…” he whined, his nose twitching as if he were about to cry. Isabelle reacted instantly, grabbing the silk pocket square that was sitting next to me, still in its gift wrapping. It was my anniversary gift to her. She pulled it out and began dabbing at the stain on his shirt. “How can you be so clumsy? Isn’t this your favorite shirt?” Liam mumbled, “Thank you, Isabelle. I only like it because of the person who gave it to me.” After she was done, Isabelle tossed the now-stained silk onto the table. She looked up and saw me staring at the wadded-up fabric. A flash of irritation crossed her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just a piece of cloth. Liam would have had a meltdown if his shirt was ruined. You’ve always been the bigger person, Noah. Don’t make a scene over something so small, okay?” I let out a humorless laugh. “No problem. It’s found its purpose.” I stood up and walked to the front to pay the bill. Isabelle followed me out, reaching for my hand. “Noah, I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” I stepped aside, turning my gaze to the dark, churning river. “Isabelle, there is no tomorrow for us.” She laughed, completely dismissing my words. “Don’t be dramatic. Go home and get some rest.” I turned my back on her and walked away. The next day, Isabelle’s call came while I was in front of a mirror, adjusting my suit. “Noah, I have to go to a wedding reception tonight, so I need to get ready. I can’t go shopping with you today.” I looked at my reflection in the crisp white suit, my voice perfectly calm. “Okay.” She paused, a hint of guilt in her tone. “Liam’s never been to an event like this. I thought it would be a good learning experience for him. You’ve always hated these formal things anyway, it’s all just schmoozing. You’re better off relaxing. I’ll bring you back some late-night snacks, okay?” I held the phone to my ear, admiring my own sharp silhouette in the mirror. “I understand.” I hung up and turned to the best man beside me. “Could you straighten my bowtie? I don’t want it covering my collar.” The Avery family wedding was being held at the most exclusive hotel in New York. When Isabelle arrived with Liam on her arm, they turned more than a few heads. Standing side-by-side, they looked like a power couple. Someone sidled up to her, nudging her playfully. “Isabelle, is this him? The guy you’ve been with for seven years?” Isabelle just smiled, a noncommittal, ambiguous expression on her face. Liam, however, confidently tightened his grip on her arm and nodded to the crowd. Isabelle scanned the room, a strange, hollow feeling settling in her chest. She instinctively patted her pockets, but they were empty. Normally, before any event, Noah would have already ordered her something to eat and had hangover remedies ready. The ceremony began. The lights dimmed, and all eyes turned toward the grand entrance. “And now, let’s welcome our groom!” The doors swung open. Isabelle was only half-paying attention, lost in her thoughts. But when her eyes focused on the figure walking down the aisle, the wine glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.

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1 I had some free time on my hands, so I decided to clear out the junk photos in the shared cloud album I kept with my husband, Michael. A sync notification suddenly popped up at the top of the screen. “First gift for our baby has been uploaded.” I tapped on it. It was a photo of an ultrasound scan, taken from a very deliberate, aesthetic angle, with a fresh bouquet of red roses resting right next to it. The caption on the photo read: “Michael, the baby is perfectly healthy! We miss you so much!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped my phone. I immediately dialed Michael’s number. He was supposed to be out of town on a business trip. “Why is there an ultrasound picture in our shared cloud album?” The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, his relaxed, easy laughter came through the receiver. “Oh, you mean that? It is from one of my frat brothers. His wife just got pregnant and he sent it to me to share the good news. I must have accidentally hit sync when I saved it. Do not overthink it, babe.” I forced a smile, said okay, and hung up the phone. Then, I tapped the information icon on that photo to pull up the metadata. Location: Our master bedroom. Time: Nine o clock last night. The exact same time he told me he was stuck in a client meeting and told me to go to sleep early. I took a deep breath, fighting down the sudden wave of nausea rising in my throat, and started scrolling back through our recently synced photos. There were hundreds of them. A total mess. Most of them were architectural blueprints I had taken pictures of, mixed with random daily snapshots. I kept scrolling until I hit a selfie he had sent me exactly one week ago. In the photo, he was wearing the expensive dress shirt I bought for his birthday. He was sitting in a hotel room with floor to ceiling windows, a gorgeous city skyline glowing in the background. His text that night had said: “Honey, just checked into the hotel. Absolutely exhausted. Miss you.” I had replied: “Work hard, but get some rest.” Now, I pulled up the metadata for that exact selfie. Location: The Grand Plaza Hotel. Less than three miles away from our own house. A freezing chill shot straight up my spine, paralyzing my limbs. The blood drained from my face. His so called business trips were just him booking a room down the street to screw his younger brother’s wife. My phone buzzed against my palm. It was a text from Michael’s mother, Martha. “Stella, pick up some fresh fruit on your way over for dinner tonight. Brooke is not feeling well today. I am making her a special pot of chicken soup to build her strength.” I stared at the text message and a hollow laugh escaped my throat. My smile was absolutely freezing. I typed back: “Sure, Martha.” Carrying a basket of imported fruit, I rang the doorbell of Martha’s suburban house. The door was opened by Wyatt, Michael’s younger brother. He gave me a goofy, good natured smile. “Hey, Stella. Come on in.” I nodded and walked into the foyer. Martha was just walking out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl of chicken soup. When she saw me, her face broke into an exaggerated, wrinkly smile. “Stella, you made it. Have a seat. Brooke is feeling a bit weak today, so she is resting in the guest bedroom.” Without missing a beat, she carried the soup straight toward the bedroom, muttering loudly enough for me to hear: “Oh, my precious grandchild, you need to grow up big and strong.” I sat perfectly still on the living room sofa. Listening to Martha dote on Brooke with absolute devotion, my heart sank like a heavy stone, feeling numb and completely frozen. Michael and I had been married for three years, and we still did not have kids. My career as an architect was hitting a massive upward trajectory. A massive commercial project called The Zenith Project was the absolute culmination of my blood, sweat, and tears over the last two years. It was about to enter the final bidding and review stage. Michael had always played the supportive husband, telling me we were in no rush to have a baby. Martha never said anything directly to my face, but every time she looked at Brooke, her envy and her deep dissatisfaction with me practically spilled out of her eyes. Now I understood. It was not that they were not in a rush. It was because they already had a better option incubating in the next room. Wyatt poured me a glass of water and sat across from me, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. “So, is Michael’s business trip going well?” “Very well.” I picked up the water glass, my eyes drifting lightly toward the closed bedroom door. “What is wrong with Brooke? Did you take her to the doctor?” Wyatt’s face flushed red immediately. He scratched the back of his head with a foolish grin. “Not yet. Brooke said she probably just ate something bad. She just needs to sleep it off.” I nodded slowly and stopped asking. A few minutes later, Brooke walked out of the bedroom, leaning heavily on Martha’s arm. She was wearing a loose cotton nightgown, her face intentionally bare of makeup to look pale. The second her eyes met mine, she flinched and looked away like she had been burned. She forced a weak, fragile smile onto her face. “Hi, Stella.” “Hey. You look a little pale. Are you going to be okay?” I asked, my voice dripping with gentle concern. “I am fine, really. Just an old stomach issue acting up,” she said, her hand subconsciously drifting down to shield her flat stomach. My gaze drifted down, landing on her other wrist. She was wearing a stunning pink tourmaline bracelet. The color was rich and vibrant. One look and you knew it cost an absolute fortune. Last month, right before Michael’s birthday, I asked him what he wanted. He told me he did not want anything, and instead, he bought me a fancy fountain pen. He had looked me in the eyes and said: “My wife is going to be the most famous architect in the city. Only this pen is worthy of your sketches.” A few days later, I accidentally saw his credit card statement. There was a jewelry purchase for ten thousand dollars. When I asked him about it, he smoothly lied and said he bought a bracelet for his mother to make the old lady happy. And now, that exact bracelet, the one meant for his mother, was resting securely on his mistress’s wrist. Martha’s eyes glued themselves to the jewelry, the wrinkles on her face practically blooming with pride. “Michael is just so thoughtful. He knew Brooke loved this style, so he went out of his way to have a friend bring it back from Europe. My Michael just knows how to treat people right.” She finished her sentence with a sharp, pointed glare in my direction. “Unlike some people, who only care about their jobs all day and completely neglect their own family.” Brooke immediately stepped in to play the peacemaker, her voice so soft and pathetic it could squeeze out water. “Mom, please do not say that about Stella. It is a good thing that she is so dedicated to her career.” She shot me a comforting, apologetic look, playing the role of the most innocent, kindhearted victim in the house. I laughed. “Martha is absolutely right.” I set my water glass down on the coffee table and slowly stood up, shattering their pathetic illusion of domestic harmony. “I really have been too focused on my work. It is definitely time I started paying closer attention to family matters.” My eyes locked onto the tourmaline stones catching the light on Brooke’s wrist. They stared back like sharp little nails. “For instance, I really should start paying attention to exactly whose wrist is wearing the ten thousand dollar bracelet my husband supposedly bought for his mother.” 2 The color drained from Martha and Brooke’s faces in an instant. I stared dead into Brooke’s eyes, speaking slowly and clearly, making sure every single syllable echoed in the silent living room. “After all, some things just lose their sparkle when they are worn by a thief.” Every ounce of blood vanished from Brooke’s cheeks. Martha did not catch the hidden meaning behind my words. She just assumed I was throwing an irrational tantrum. Her wrinkled face instantly contorted into a furious scowl. “Stella, what kind of attitude is that? If Michael gave something to Brooke, then it belongs to Brooke! Do not think just because you make a decent paycheck you can act like a tyrant in this house! You have zero respect for your elders!” Wyatt jumped up from his chair, his eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Stella, Brooke is already sick! How can you say something so cruel to her?” I looked at the three of them. One playing dumb to cover her tracks, one genuinely stupid enough to defend the woman cheating on him, and one aggressively protecting her golden boy’s secret. It was utterly pathetic. “I am tired.” I refused to waste another breath on them. I turned on my heel and walked straight out the front door. Behind me, Martha’s shrill insults pierced the air. “You are completely out of control! What a lack of manners! Michael is cursed for marrying a wretched woman like you!” When I returned to my cold, empty house, I went straight to my home office and booted up my computer. I logged into the shared cloud drive Michael and I used to store important documents and old vacation photos. I clicked on the search bar and typed out three words. The Zenith Project. A long list of email logs and file transfers populated the screen. Sender: Michael. Recipient: An anonymous email address. I clicked on the oldest file transfer. The date was exactly three months ago. The attachment was the very first preliminary sketch I had poured my soul into for The Zenith Project. Michael’s attached note read: “Brooke, here is the first draft. Take a look and let me know your thoughts so we can adjust it.” My fingertips began to tremble uncontrollably against the mouse. I clicked on the second file. The date was two months ago. The attachment contained the revised structural blueprints and 3D rendering files. Michael wrote: “I had her change the lighting in the central atrium just like you wanted. It looks much more spacious now. What do you think?” Third file. Fourth file. I clicked through them all until I reached the very last one. The timestamp was from exactly three days ago. The exact day he claimed he was leaving for his business trip. The attachment was my final, perfected design proposal, containing all the core architectural parameters and the complete material inventory list. The message attached to it contained only one sentence. “Baby, it is all done. Just wait for the show.” That single line of text slithered through the screen like a venomous snake, sinking its fangs directly into my brain. My entire body went completely rigid. Ice flooded my veins. He had betrayed much more than our marriage. He had conspired with his entire family, using his gentle, loving facade to completely steal my career, my dreams, and everything I had built. The Zenith Project. That name had been carved into my soul since the day I graduated. It was the child I had birthed through hundreds of sleepless nights and thousands of discarded sketches. And now, my own husband was wrapping my entire life’s work in a neat little bow, handing it to his mistress so she could step on my corpse and climb her way to absolute glory. A violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up until my throat burned. When my stomach was entirely empty, I slowly lifted my head and stared at the pale, ruined woman looking back at me in the mirror. The fragile heartbreak in her eyes shattered completely, replaced by a razor sharp, freezing absolute fury. Michael. Brooke. You want my life’s work? Fine. I will give it to you. I just hope you survive the weight of it. I walked back to my desk and dialed the number of my closest friend, Valerie. She was the most ruthless divorce attorney in the city. Cold, calculating, and holding a flawless winning record. “Valerie,” I said, my voice completely dead and calm. “I need you to run a deep background check on two people. Michael and Brooke.” Valerie’s efficiency was terrifying. By the very next afternoon, a thick manila envelope was sitting on the table in front of me at a quiet coffee shop. “Stella,” she looked at me, her eyes heavy with serious concern. “You need to brace yourself for what is inside this envelope.” I tore the seal open. The first page was a master list of hotel bookings for Michael and Brooke. Starting exactly six months ago, the list was densely packed. At least twice a week. From boutique motels to five star luxury suites, the locations covered the entire city. The second page detailed the transaction history of Michael’s private bank accounts. The designer bags, the luxury jewelry, the limited edition clothes he bought for Brooke. The total amount easily crossed into the seven figure mark. And the absolute most expensive gift he had ever given me was that five hundred dollar fountain pen. The irony was physically sickening. The third page was a corporate registration document. Company Name: Aura Design. Legal Representative: Brooke. But the business was registered using my social security number and my professional architecture credentials. He used my identity to open a design firm for his mistress. This meant that if this company ever faced a single legal dispute, a massive lawsuit, or crippling debt, the person legally responsible for burning to the ground would be me. 3 “It gets much worse.” Valerie tapped her manicured finger against the final page of banking records. “Starting six months ago, Michael has been systematically draining your joint marital assets. The vast majority of that liquid cash has been funneled directly into the corporate accounts of Aura Design.” I stared at the numbers. “What is his endgame?” My voice was incredibly soft, almost unnervingly calm. “He is burning your house down while you are still inside.” Valerie did not sugarcoat a single word. “First, he uses your money and your blueprints to elevate Brooke and Aura Design to the top of the industry. Then, he bankrupts the joint company you share with him, files for dissolution, leaves you completely penniless, and forces you to shoulder a mountain of debt you can never repay.” I stared at the cold, hard text printed on the paper. I had known Michael for five years. We had been married for three. I used to genuinely believe he was the light of my life. When I worked late at the design firm, he would drive across the city at midnight just to bring me dinner. He tracked my cycle on his phone, always having painkillers and a heating pad ready before I even asked. He treated me like a princess completely sheltered from the cruelty of the real world. He made me blindly believe I had married the greatest love story on earth. But it was never love. It was a meticulous, psychotic manipulation spanning years. While he was smiling and kissing my forehead, his hands were hidden behind his back, sharpening the blade he planned to plunge into my spine. “Stella, how do you want to play this?” Valerie’s voice broke through my thoughts. I closed the manila folder and looked up. The afternoon sun filtering through the cafe window was blindingly bright. “Valerie, start drafting the divorce papers.” “But before I sign them, I am going to rip the sky open and watch his entire family plummet to the concrete.” The final review panel for The Zenith Project was scheduled for the following week. It was the grand, glittering stage they had built for themselves. And it was the perfect place for me to burn it all down. On the day of the review panel, I wore a striking, blood red dress. When I walked into the convention center, the main hall was already packed. The audience was filled with the absolute titans of the architectural industry and dozens of media outlets. I found a quiet, inconspicuous seat in the very back row. My eyes cut through the crowd and locked onto the radiant woman standing near the front of the stage. Brooke. She was wearing a custom white Chanel suit, her makeup absolutely flawless. She moved with practiced elegance, smiling and charming the judges with total confidence. Sitting dead center in the front row was Michael and his family. Martha was wearing a tailored silk dress, her face glowing with triumph. She grabbed the arm of the executive sitting next to her, loudly bragging about her perfect family. “My Brooke is just brilliant! Designing a masterpiece like this at her age!” “Exactly! Not like some wives I know, who do absolutely nothing but drain their husbands bank accounts.” Michael’s eyes never left Brooke. The adoration and pride on his face looked exactly like a man admiring a priceless painting he was about to unveil to the world. They looked like the perfect, happy family, glowing with success. It made me look like the bitter, shadowy villain lurking in the dark. The panel officially began. The host took the microphone, his voice booming with excitement as he introduced The Zenith Project to the eager crowd. Then, using his most dramatic tone, he invited the lead designer to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a massive round of applause to the brilliant rising star of the architecture world, Brooke, as she presents her incredible vision!” A massive spotlight hit Brooke. She walked up the steps to the podium, every single step radiating confidence and grace. The massive LED screen behind her lit up, displaying the 3D renderings I had drawn a thousand times. It showcased the design philosophy I had rewritten until my fingers bled. My blood. My sweat. My soul. All being presented in her soft, gentle voice, calmly claiming it as her own. She delivered the presentation perfectly. She had memorized my notes flawlessly. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Down in the front row, Martha was wiping joyful tears from her eyes with a tissue, muttering about how blessed their family was. Michael’s face was a portrait of pure, unadulterated victory. The presentation ended, and the floor opened for the Q&A segment. A senior judge stood up, his face full of genuine admiration. “Miss Brooke, your design is absolutely breathtaking. The spiral staircase in the central atrium, mimicking the blooming vines of a wisteria tree, is a stroke of absolute genius. Could you share the inspiration behind that specific detail?” The confident smile on Brooke’s face froze for a fraction of a second. She clearly had not prepped for a question diving that deep into the emotional core of the design. Panic flashed in her eyes. She stammered for a few painful seconds before forcing out a generic, fabricated answer. “The inspiration comes from… my deep love for life, and my admiration for the resilience of nature.” A wave of polite, appreciative laughter rippled through the crowd. I laughed, too. The inspiration for that staircase came from the massive, century old wisteria tree growing in my late grandmother’s backyard. What the hell did that have to do with her love for life? A few minutes later, the host returned to the stage to announce the final verdict. “After a unanimous vote from our distinguished panel of judges, the development contract for The Zenith Project is officially awarded to Aura Design!” The applause was deafening. Camera flashes exploded across the room like a lightning storm. Brooke stood in the center of the stage, overwhelmed with emotion, bowing over and over again to the cheering crowd. Michael and Martha rushed the stage. Under the blinding lights and the gaze of the media, the three of them pulled each other into a massive, tearful hug. It was the absolute peak of their lives. I sat quietly in the dark corner, watching them. Like watching a pathetic comedy right before the curtain drops. Brooke turned to walk off the stage, ready to step into her new life of fame and luxury. But in that exact second, every single massive LED screen in the convention center instantly went pitch black.

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Eight months ago, I was ecstatic. I thought my wife’s rejection of her old flame meant that I had finally, truly become the only one she would ever lean on. That day, the man had shown up with a terminal diagnosis, crying and begging my wife to have his child. She had simply looked at him with cold indifference, said, “The man I love is Luke,” and turned right into my arms. Not long after, my wife told me the company was sending her overseas to launch a new market. She’d be gone for a year. As much as I hated the thought of it, I smiled and helped her pack, reminding her to take care of herself. Until today—our wedding anniversary. I flew across the ocean to surprise her, to give her the grand romantic gesture she deserved. But the moment I pushed open the door to her apartment, I saw her. She was holding the arm of that same old flame, her belly so round with pregnancy it was impossible to miss, a radiant smile on her face. The so-called business trip, I realized, was nothing but a perfectly crafted lie so she could have a baby for the man she’d supposedly left behind. 1 I let out a bitter, silent laugh and tossed the carefully chosen gift I was holding into the nearest trash can. “Honey, happy eighth anniversary. I’m so sorry I can’t be there to celebrate with you.” It was my wife, Ava, calling. I stood there in silence for a moment before I could manage to speak. “It’s okay.” “I’ll make it up to you when I get back, I promise,” she said, her voice bright. “I have a huge surprise for you.” You already have. I watched as Ava leaned her entire body against her old flame, Daniel, her face a picture of pure happiness. The sight was a knife in my gut. “Honey, this trip is exhausting,” she went on. “The workload is insane, it never ends.” Still lying. My hand tightened around my phone. When we first got married, Ava told me that the greatest poison to a relationship was deceit. “Honey,” she’d said, “if you ever stop loving me, you have to tell me. Don’t lie. Don’t hurt me.” And yet, here she was, lying to me, hurting me more than I ever thought possible. The air felt thick, heavy. I couldn’t breathe. “Honey? Are you still there?” I tilted my head back, fighting to keep the tears from falling. My voice came out as a strained rasp. “Just got caught up with work.” I heard her sigh in relief on the other end. “Okay, well, I won’t keep you then. Love you, honey!” The line went dead. I watched as Daniel helped her into a car, his arm wrapped protectively around her. The moment the car door closed, the tears I’d been holding back finally streamed down my face. I didn’t understand. Why lie? Don’t lie, don’t hurt me. Weren’t those her words? I took a taxi back to the airport. I had arrived full of hope. I left in utter despair. A message from Ava popped up on my phone: [Honey, I bought you a gift. It’s that new gaming console you wanted. It’s already been shipped home.] I typed back a single letter: [K] Was this guilt? Was she trying to buy my forgiveness after the fact? What a joke. When I got back, I threw myself into my work, staying at the office until the early hours of the morning. My coworkers joked that I was trying to rack up overtime pay to buy Ava an extravagant welcome-home present. They had no idea I was just trying to work myself to exhaustion, to numb the part of my brain that wouldn’t stop thinking about her. I first met Ava at her father’s funeral. She didn’t cry. She just stood there, staring blankly as they lowered the casket into the ground. Seeing her like that, my heart ached. I walked over and offered a few clumsy words of comfort. What happened next surprised everyone, including me. She attached herself to me. When I was at work, she’d find any excuse to be near my desk, inventing elaborate reasons to just hang around. On weekends, she’d drag me out to dinner, to go shopping, to see movies. She just bulldozed her way into my life. Finally, I had to ask her why. “Everyone else who gets close to me just sees a pretty face,” she’d said. “Their intentions are never pure. But you’re different. I can feel it. You genuinely care about me.” “My dad’s gone, and my mom is always working. I just… I really wanted someone in my life who truly, genuinely cared.” 2 “Luke, would you be that person for me?” Looking at the raw hope in her eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. I held out my hand. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Luke.” She beamed. It was a smile that lit up her entire face. After that day, we became inseparable. She told me everything. She shared her joys when she was happy and confessed her fears when she was sad. We explored every corner of the city together. A coworker pulled me aside once and warned me not to get too attached, telling me she had an old flame she could never quite get over. I just smiled. It didn’t matter. I only saw her as a friend. But the more time I spent with her, the more my heart went out to her. Her father was gone, her mother was a workaholic, and everyone else around her was only interested in her looks. She didn’t have a single real friend in the world. She deserved to be loved. Later, her mother was in a car accident. On her deathbed, she grabbed my hand. “Luke, I can see it. You genuinely care for Ava, and I am so grateful you came into her life.” “Her father is gone, and now I’m going too. I can’t bear the thought of leaving her all alone in this world.” “Luke, can you promise me you’ll always take care of her?” How could I refuse a dying mother’s last wish? Ava and I got married. After the wedding, I devoted myself to her. I gave her all the love I had. I practically split myself in two, balancing a demanding job with my determination to build a happy home for her. Sometimes, when I’d mention how tired I was, she’d give me a playful smile and start massaging my shoulders. “God was so good to me,” she’d say. “He brought you into my life.” “Honey, it’s going to be you and me, forever.” But she was the first to break that promise. She was the one who shattered everything. I saw her again two months later. She and Daniel were walking out of the airport, and she was holding a baby. “Honey, Daniel adopted this baby overseas! Isn’t he just adorable?” she said with a bright smile. I couldn’t smile back. I just nodded numbly. Daniel chimed in, a smug grin on his face. “I ran into Ava abroad. She saw how much I was struggling to care for the baby on my own and insisted I come back with her. She said she could help me out.” I ignored the challenge in his eyes and turned to Ava. She couldn’t meet my gaze. She looked down and mumbled, “Daniel’s a single dad, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. We have a spare room, so I thought he and the baby could stay with us. That way we can help out when we have time.” I just stared at her, speechless. That house was our home, the sanctuary we had built together. And she wanted him to live in it. The knife in my gut twisted again. My voice was a croak when I finally managed to speak. “Fine.” Ava’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Honey, I knew you’d understand! You’re the best!” I forced a smile of my own. It wasn’t that I was the best. It was that in that moment, my heart had shattered completely. I just didn’t care anymore. That night, as we were getting ready for bed, Ava said, “You go ahead and sleep, honey. The baby might get fussy tonight, I’ll come back after I get him settled.” I waited all night. She never came back. The next morning, she had an excuse ready. “The baby cried all night long. He didn’t fall asleep until dawn. Look, I have dark circles under my eyes.” “Yeah, Ava was a real lifesaver last night,” Daniel added, his tone dripping with provocation. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. You’re not going to get the wrong idea, are you, Luke?” I said nothing. I just turned and started making breakfast. “Honey, the baby’s one-month celebration is in a couple of days. I was thinking of helping Daniel throw a little party. What do you think?” My hand paused over the cutting board. “Fine,” I said, my face a blank mask. “Thanks, honey!” Ava exclaimed, and immediately went to discuss the party details with Daniel. 3 Watching them, I pressed my lips into a thin, hard line. Every time I gave in, every time I stepped back, Ava just pushed the boundaries further. Maybe she’d gotten used to it. After all, since the day we got married, I had always been the one to compromise. I believed that in a marriage, one person had to be the one to yield. Two strong-willed people would never last. Since she wouldn’t be the one to bend, I would. But everyone has a breaking point. And I had reached mine. This time, I wouldn’t back down. This time, I was letting go. On the day of the baby’s party, Ava invited a crowd of guests. It was a huge affair. Her best friend cooed, “Ava, the baby looks just like you! You have the exact same eyes.” Ava’s expression flickered with panic. “Don’t be silly. You can’t tell who babies look like when they’re this young.” She turned to me, offering a rushed explanation. “Honey, don’t listen to her. Daniel adopted him. I’ve just been taking care of him so much, maybe he’s starting to look a little like me.” “You know what they say,” she added with a nervous laugh, “a baby starts to look like the person who spends the most time with them.” I just smiled, saying nothing. Honestly, she didn’t need to explain. During the party, Daniel raised his glass to me. “Luke, a toast. I want to thank you for letting me and my son stay in your home, and for letting Ava help take care of him.” He downed his glass in one gulp. “I’ll drink to that. You do what you want.” All our friends were looking at me. I stayed seated. That place wasn’t my home anymore. And as for Ava, soon enough, she would be out of my life too. “Honey, Daniel’s toasting you,” Ava said, her tone chiding. “I have things to do later,” I said calmly. “I can’t drink.” Ava’s face clouded over. “What could be so important? Today is the baby’s celebration. Daniel is trying to thank you, and you won’t even drink with him? You’re just going to sit there looking miserable?” She walked over, picked up my glass, and held it out to me. “Fine. Then I’ll toast you. You can at least drink to that, can’t you?” I stared at her, my voice quiet. “Have you forgotten? I’m allergic to alcohol.” Ava froze. She quickly apologized. “Oh my god, honey, I’m so sorry. I forgot.” But she never used to forget. Every time I had a business trip or a dinner with clients, she would remind me, again and again, not to drink. Daniel smoothly stepped in. “Well, if Luke can’t drink, he can’t drink. My mistake. I didn’t know about your allergy. I’ll drink one for you as an apology!” I looked at him with cold eyes. Ava bit her lip. “Honey, are you angry?” “No.” I looked down. Ava let out a sigh of relief. “Honey, I really did just forget. It won’t happen again.” “Mm.” As the party wound down, everyone gathered around the baby, showering him with praise. Ava was beaming. “Honey, come look!” she called, waving me over. I shook my head. “There’s no need.” “Why not?” she frowned. “Don’t you like children?” She ran over and grabbed my arm. “Come on, just take a look. You’ll love him. Our kids will be this cute one day.” “We’re not going to have children.” “What?” Ava stopped, stunned. I looked up, my gaze steady and calm. “I said, we’re not going to have children. I’ve already drawn up the divorce papers.” “Ava, let’s get a divorce.” She just stared at me, her face a mask of shock. I didn’t look at her again. I stood up to leave. “The papers are at the house. I’ll go home first. You can sign them when you get back.” “Stop right there!” Ava finally found her voice, shouting at my back. “Luke, you explain yourself! What did I do wrong? Why do you want to divorce me? Is it just because I let Daniel and his adopted son stay with us?”

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Five years later to the day, I walked into the interview room under a new identity: Arthur Stone. Sitting at the head of the table was a rising star in the business world, Leslie Reed, a woman I once had a complicated history with. Her gaze lingered on my photo. “Twenty-eight? Already have a child?” she asked, her tone detached. Meeting her probing stare, I calmly replied, “Yes, my name is Arthur Stone. Married with one daughter.” The man I am today is no longer the disgraced young master with a large birthmark on his face, mocked by others. I changed my name and removed that birthmark. Naturally, she wouldn’t recognize me. Flashback to five years ago, the day my family went bankrupt, I forced Leslie Reed to spend one last night with me. Waking up the next morning, I threw the last of my money at her. “You can get out now. Go find another rich man. You don’t have to demean yourself by serving an ugly freak like me anymore.” Afterward, I was driven out of my home by the asset liquidators, the birthmark on my face a laughingstock for all to point at. Meanwhile, her friends gloated, congratulating her: “With a beautiful face like Leslie’s, how many rich and handsome men are lining up? Why would you ever stoop to that ugly man?” “Now that he’s bankrupt, he surely won’t bother you anymore.” From impoverished campus beauty to business magnate, Leslie Reed took five years to transform. And I, too, completely reinvented myself in those five years, starting anew with a fresh identity. 1. I never imagined the resume I submitted would land in Leslie Reed’s hands, for her to formally interview me. The moment I pushed open the door, my breath hitched for a second. Leslie Reed sat at her office desk, a cascade of long hair falling behind her. A pair of rimless glasses perched on her elegant nose, and her slender fingers were turning the pages of my resume. Her gaze shifted from my photo to my face, her expression cool and aloof: “Arthur Stone? Graduated from Sterling University? Applying for a personal assistant?” She tapped her finger on the desk, then lazily lifted her eyelids. “Do you know what a personal assistant does?” “To put it crudely, it’s a housekeeper. I have a lot of daily tasks, and you’ll need to pay attention to many details.” She continued speaking, but my thoughts drifted to the night we parted years ago. That year, she wore a faded shirt, awkwardly straddling me, tearing at the buttons of my collar, kissing me without any grace. I forced a cynical laugh: “I’m bankrupt now. You don’t have to work so hard. “You must be the happiest one, finally free from having to debase yourself to serve a freak like me. My face must disgust you, right? “Don’t worry, even bankrupt, I can still afford to buy one more night with you.” She remained silent, her beautiful eyes betraying no clear emotion, as if ashamed yet indignant, before skillfully nestling into my embrace again. When it ended, I threw a card at her, buying out my absurd first half of life. “Made up your mind?” Her finger tapped the desk, her voice cold and sharp, her pupils calm and dark. She hadn’t recognized me. I instinctively touched my face; the large bluish birthmark was gone, as were the red rashes caused by layers of makeup. The man I was now had a slightly gaunt face, unadorned, plain and unassuming, completely unrecognizable from before. Not to mention I’d changed my name. “Yes, I have.” I suppressed the swirling emotions, resuming a temporary, false calm. “Excellent. You can start today. Mr. Evans will brief you on the situation.” She raised her hand, dismissing me, without another glance. I discreetly exited. The moment the office door closed, my suspended heart finally settled. If I could, I never wanted to have too much contact with Leslie Reed again in this lifetime. She was the unattainable beauty of the academy; dirty, despicable, bitter, and ugly were my epithets. It was I who insisted on using money to buy out and crush Leslie Reed’s self-esteem. And selfishly, I made her bear me a daughter. Tragically, our daughter has now been diagnosed with a brain tumor and requires surgery. Like an unbreakable karmic bond, it had come full circle, and for the sake of our child, I found myself back at her company. For the next few days, I was somewhat distracted. My daughter’s surgery was imminent, and there was so much to prepare. The third time I asked Leslie Reed for leave, her answer was merciless: “Last time. Next time, don’t bother coming in.” I knew. But today was my daughter’s birthday, and she so desperately wanted to go to the amusement park. With the surgery imminent, I was truly afraid there wouldn’t be another chance. Gritting my teeth, I still played with my daughter at the amusement park until the afternoon. On the way back, the sky suddenly opened up with a torrential downpour, and we huddled under a street awning. Just as I opened my phone to call a ride, my daughter suddenly broke free of my hand, wobbling after a dropped toy. By the time I reacted, she had already dashed into the rain. Watching a distant car speed out of the rain, my heart leaped into my throat. Just as I was about to scream, a fair hand, quicker than mine, snatched my daughter back. “Arthur Stone!” Amidst the pouring rain, the woman’s voice was cold and low. I stared up, dazed, as if in a dream. Leslie Reed stood before me, tightly holding my daughter’s hand. She didn’t have an umbrella; water streamed ceaselessly down her hair, cheeks, and chin, soaking her expensive suit. Her eyes were as aloof and stern as ever, but now, a hint of suppressed anger showed through. “Thank you, Ms. Reed…” I hurriedly hid my child behind me, not prompting her to say thank you as usual. Leslie Reed glanced at us, her tone leaving no room for argument: “Get in the car.” 2. Leslie Reed’s cold demeanor was too intimidating. I led my daughter into the car, my heart pounding, unconsciously crumpling my clothes. Water still dripped from the stray hairs on her forehead. She picked up a towel and handed it to me: “Don’t let the child catch a chill.” I was still stunned, but Sunny had already taken it, thanking “Auntie” in a clear voice. Leslie Reed’s expression softened considerably. Her gaze fell on my bewildered face, and she frowned again: “You took leave today just to get soaked in the rain?” Realizing her words sounded a bit sharp, she rubbed her throbbing temples. “Where to?” “City Hospital.” Sunny spoke up first, defending me: “Daddy is here with me for my birthday today. I haven’t been out to play for so long because I’ve been in the hospital.” Leslie Reed paused, looking at the unafraid girl before her. Her face was somewhat thin, with a sickly pallor that made her large eyes appear bright and round. When she blinked at people, it stirred a strange, indescribable emotion in Leslie Reed’s heart. She felt the child was vaguely familiar, and almost instinctively asked: “Where’s the child’s mother?” “She passed away. A long time ago.” I quickly spoke, the first words I uttered since getting in the car. Of course, it was a lie. Of course, after I left without a word, Leslie Reed hadn’t escaped the abyss. She became pregnant, and for some reason, insisted on having the child. Rumors swallowed her whole like a tide. At twenty-three, she gave birth to a baby girl in a small clinic on a street corner. Without even looking at the child, she was told by the doctor that the baby had suffocated and couldn’t be saved. It was as if it was destined, she thought. She and that man were destined for no happy ending. But she didn’t know that the child hadn’t died; I had taken her abroad. A person like her, how could I let her life be ruined by something as dirty as me? “Thank you, Ms. Reed. My child has been a bit busy recently with some issues, but it won’t happen again. I’ll make sure to complete my work properly.” As my words fell, Leslie Reed’s gaze shifted from my daughter to me. On the woman’s beautiful, stern face, her dark eyes were deep, making my heart skip a beat. I instinctively looked away. Leslie Reed had nothing more to say, leaning back in her seat, closing her eyes to rest. She simply instructed the driver, “To City Hospital.” The car quickly arrived at its destination. Leslie Reed got out first. She pulled out a black umbrella, her slender fingers lightly clutching the handle, gesturing for me to get out. “Thank you, Ms. Reed, no need to see us off. I’ll return the umbrella tomorrow.” I mumbled, just wanting to escape quickly. “I only have one umbrella.” She stood in front of the car door, her light voice sounding before me. The implication was clear: if I lent it to you, what would I use? I had no choice but to give up, holding my daughter and sharing the umbrella with her. Being so close to her, Leslie Reed could faintly smell the laundry detergent clinging to my shirt. For some reason, it felt familiar, and her chest inexplicably tightened, her heart beginning to beat erratically. She took a deep breath, and to distract herself, she spoke: “Less than a month on the job, a few scattered hours of leave before, and now a whole day. You’re busier than I am.” I was both ashamed and agitated, lowering my gaze and saying nothing. Inside the hospital, I handed Sunny over to the doctor for her check-up. Glancing back, Leslie Reed was still standing behind me, with no intention of leaving. I walked up to her, forcing a laugh. “Does Ms. Reed have any other arrangements? My personal matters are handled; I can return to the company to work.” She didn’t answer me, only asked, “What’s wrong with the child?” I didn’t understand what she meant, but I answered truthfully, “She has a tumor and needs surgery.” “In that case, I suggest you look for a different job.” I paused, looking up at her. Her expression was as indifferent as ever. “Being my personal assistant is very demanding. I don’t need someone who’s constantly distracted and just trying to coast by.” She abruptly changed the subject, speaking from a position of authority. Her words were direct, almost harsh. A ringing filled my ears. My eyes reddened at the edges, and I let out a cold laugh. “I’ve only been employed for a week, Ms. Reed. How do you conclude I’m just coasting by?” “My leave was due to legitimate reasons, and it was taken while ensuring my work was completed. I don’t believe I’ve been negligent in any way.” Leslie Reed listened to every word, then fell uncharacteristically silent. She stared intently into my eyes, noticing a different emotion in me for the first time. From the moment she first saw me, she found me strangely quiet, or rather, evasive. Like a rat scurrying from the light. Now, as she met my gaze, seeing my constantly shifting, dodging eyes, something seemed familiar. So she abruptly asked, “Have we met somewhere before?” 3. My blood froze for a moment, and my clenched palms felt clammy with tension. “Is Ms. Reed trying to change the subject? Do you find my previous statement too accurate to refute?” I lifted my head, trying to cut off Leslie Reed’s absurd notion with a sharp retort. She paused noticeably for two seconds. Those two seconds stretched, pulling at my heart. “You’re not wrong, I am.” She scoffed softly, her tone echoing a hint of self-mockery. With that, she turned and left. The next day, everything at the company proceeded as usual. Leslie Reed appeared, but didn’t spare me a single glance, as if nothing had happened. Towards the end of the workday, Mr. Evans emerged from the office, looking rather displeased. He mumbled softly, “What’s wrong with Ms. Reed this time? She suddenly asked me to look up a college classmate.” The words “college classmate” pierced my ears. My heart, however, churned like a surging tide. I spoke with difficulty, “Mr. Evans, who is the person Ms. Reed is looking for? Perhaps I know them too.” “Oh right, you both went to Sterling University. It’s a man named Jasper Hayes.” He even kindly flipped over the printed photo for me to see. The man in the photo was tall and slender, with a somber expression. A thin layer of white powder covered his face, but the greenish-black birthmark clung to his cheek like a demonic claw, almost leaping out. Leslie Reed was looking for me! This news was like a thorn, lodged in my heart, making me increasingly uneasy. So much so that when Leslie Reed called me into her office as usual at noon, I was still somewhat dazed. As I made her coffee, I could feel her cold gaze laced with intense scrutiny. “Arthur Stone, you also went to Sterling University? Which department?” “I find you somewhat familiar.” My entire body tensed, I gripped the coffee cup tightly, my breathing laced with a tremor. “Communications. I participated in a few volunteer activities during university, perhaps I crossed paths with you then, Ms. Reed.” “Oh, is that so?” She took the coffee cup, her gaze falling on the rippling liquid inside, and smiled enigmatically. Then she abruptly asked, “Do you know Jasper Hayes from the Business and Economics department?” “I think I heard the name, but I don’t really remember.” I forced a smile as I replied, glad that Leslie Reed didn’t seem to notice the perfunctoriness in my words, only letting out a soft hum. I quickly finished organizing the documents on my desk and exited the office. But I didn’t notice the woman behind me, her gaze shifting from my retreating back to her desk. She picked up the two photos lying there, trying to overlap them. After work that day, my long-unused email mysteriously received another message. It was from my former academic advisor, saying my thesis needed to be sampled for review and asking for a contact number. The doctor beside me was giving me instructions for Sunny’s pre-operative care. So much so that I didn’t question the authenticity, I hastily replied with a string of numbers, then turned off my phone to listen attentively. Leaving the clinic, I walked down the corridor towards Sunny’s room. But I froze at the sight before me. In the distance, Sunny was holding Leslie Reed’s hand, waving at me from afar. My hand gripped the doorknob tightly, my whole body taut like a string. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, and quickened my pace. Sunny was looking up, talking, her voice gradually becoming clear: “I’m not afraid of pain. I’ll be like Mama. Mama fought a big monster on her face and won, so Sunny will definitely defeat the demon in her body too.” The child’s words were jumbled. Leslie Reed seemed not to understand, paused, and asked something. I broke out in a cold sweat, quickly interjecting to stop Sunny from saying more: “Sunny!” A passing nurse greeted me, complimenting, “Mr. Stone, Sunny really looks like her mother, practically carved from the same mold.” “She’s not. Her mother passed away a long time ago.” No one knew my panic at that moment. My violently pounding heart almost burst my eardrums, and my voice was parched. The young nurse awkwardly walked past. Leslie Reed nodded at me, her gaze indifferent, seemingly not taking the nurse’s words to heart. I breathed a sigh of relief. I took Sunny’s hand and thanked Leslie Reed. Sunny’s surgery was less than two days away. I was struggling with how to ask Leslie Reed for leave. Mr. Evans walked out of the office, his face full of worry. Our eyes met, and he looked like he wanted to say something but held back. He sighed, then finally spoke: “Arthur, tell me the truth, which university did you actually graduate from? This can’t be faked.” My hand trembled, and cold sweat immediately beaded on my forehead. I could only feign helplessness, forcing a smile. “What do you mean, Mr. Evans? Didn’t I graduate from Sterling University?” “Ms. Reed asked me to investigate you. There’s no Arthur Stone in the Communications department at Sterling University.” Something exploded in my head. In that moment, my mind went blank, unable to think. “You’d better think about how you’re going to explain this to Ms. Reed later.” He advised. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. After a full minute, my clogged brain finally started to think. I quickly drafted a resignation letter, cleared my desk, and marched straight into Leslie Reed’s office. “I apologize, Ms. Reed. I admit I didn’t graduate from Sterling University. I falsified my qualifications and lied to you. “Sunny needs surgery in two days. I can’t handle this job, nor do I have the face to continue. “Thank you for your care this past month. I’ve left my resignation letter here.” I couldn’t give Leslie Reed a chance to investigate further. Otherwise, she would discover that Arthur Stone, five years ago, was actually Jasper Hayes. For this, I gritted my teeth, lowering my head as I stepped forward, ready to throw the resignation letter onto Leslie Reed’s desk and run. But a slender hand gripped my wrist, with surprising strength. I looked up, falling into Leslie Reed’s dark eyes, which held an infinite storm. She spoke, syllable by syllable, in an incredibly certain and assured tone. Her words, uttered through clenched teeth, dragged me back to my most unbearable past: “Jasper, how long are you going to keep playing games with me?”

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Five years later, my memories were extracted and broadcast live on giant screens around the world. A massive, stark “”Wronged”” blared at the top of the screens. The crowds instantly erupted. Someone questioned, “”Isn’t this the mastermind behind that massive international smuggling case? He’s been dead for five years, so why is he stirring up trouble again now?”” Another person angrily declared, “”It’s him! He caused his fiancée to fail her mission, breaking her legs, condemning her to a wheelchair for life! Who is so blind as to try to clear his name?!”” Recalling the past, I was the most wanted criminal in the capital, and the one who personally brought me to justice was my childhood sweetheart and fiancée, Violet. She personally escorted me to the execution ground, her voice chilling: “”Flynn, I once told you that the next time we meet, I would personally take your life.”” Ultimately, I fell under the gun that belonged to my foster father. 1 “”Flynn, that ingrate, poisoned old Chief Cohen and caused the death of our youngest sister, Lucy! He’s a heartless monster! Who stole his brain chip from the evidence locker to clear his name?!”” In the cemetery, eldest sister Anya stared at the two tombstones before her, then at the global broadcast playing across the sky, her voice laced with seething anger. Violet had just wiped the mist from Chief Cohen’s tombstone. Her fists clenched, veins bulging, as she looked at the sky screen. Second brother, Alex, supported Violet, looking down at her empty trouser legs. Instantly, tears streamed down the face of the man known as the police force’s heartthrob. “”Honey, if it weren’t for our third brother, you wouldn’t have lost your legs! And our fourth sister, Lucy…”” Alex looked on the verge of collapsing in tears. Violet sat in her wheelchair, suppressing the rage between her brows, yet she gently consoled him, “”Alex, you’re still unwell. Don’t let your emotions fluctuate too much. Don’t cry for someone who isn’t worth it!”” Watching Violet, who once said she would love me forever, her hand now tightly clasped in Alex’s. This scene sharply pierced my heart, which had long since stopped beating. I couldn’t help but speak out to correct them: “”I didn’t kill Chief Cohen, and I didn’t…”” But no one heard my voice. Violet stood tall and resolute, like an unyielding pine tree. At this moment, she looked again at the massive “Wronged” character on the sky screen, which was constantly dripping blood, then snapped at Anya. “”Stealing right under your noses, are you all useless?!”” “”Go investigate! Anyone who dares to clear Flynn’s name is making an enemy of me, Violet Cohen!”” Anya’s face was filled with cold fury. “”Flynn, that traitor!”” “”If I had known he’d turn out so rotten, I should have kicked him out the moment Chief Cohen brought him home!”” I never thought my most trusted sister would use the word “”traitor”” to describe me. Those two words twisted in my heart like a knife, causing me to convulse with pain. Chief Cohen was a kind soul; he adopted many orphans. Anya was the eldest, Alex was the second brother, Lucy was the fourth sister, and I was the third. Only Violet was his biological child, our youngest sister. Chief Cohen dedicated his life to his beloved career. He always told us to be loyal to our country, loyal to its people. Yet now, I was branded as the 21st century’s biggest and most heinous criminal, destined to live in infamy as a disgrace to justice. The sky screen in front of the courthouse was packed with people, who discussed my wanted poster: “”Wasn’t he and Julian the main culprits in that massive international smuggling case five years ago? I seem to remember Flynn’s father was the most wanted criminal twenty years ago, and he was even personally killed by Chief Cohen’s team.”” “”This Flynn, Anya, Alex, and Lucy are all orphans adopted by Violet’s father. Except for Flynn, the rest of the children are all exceptionally talented. He’s truly a lost cause, born evil!”” “”Chief Cohen lost both his legs and was forced to retire because of him. And yet, this useless Flynn, for money, went to work for Julian, the head of that international crime syndicate!”” Countless vicious curses transformed into black mist, seeping into my limbs, tearing at my soul. Just then, the screen’s image began to move, A pain from the depths of my soul gnawed at my heart, as if an invisible hand was using iron tongs to wrench memories from my brain. Violet, looking at the face that appeared on the sky screen, her eyes red, struggled to control the tremor in her voice, “”Dad?!”” On the screen, Chief Cohen, ruler in hand, angrily made Violet kneel in the courtyard, and strictly forbade us from bringing her food. This wasn’t the first time Violet had taken the blame for me and been punished by Chief Cohen. I’d stolen a few steamed buns from the kitchen, intending to bring them to her. I just happened to see Chief Cohen hitting Violet’s back again with the ruler. “”Serves you right! You’re only sixteen and you dare to think about getting married? Did Aaron agree, that you’re so eager for my approval!”” “”Dad, you believe me! Aaron also said he’d be good to me! Please just let me marry him!”” Listening to Violet’s words, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, mouthing to her, “”I promise to love you and protect you forever!”” But the beautiful past memories did not evoke any sadness in Violet; instead, they ignited a furious humiliation in her eyes. It was as if this memory from the past had become a blood-stained blade, once again deeply piercing her already broken heart. Alex’s tears instantly welled up. He sobbed, choking out, “”Violet, I miss Dad so much. If only Dad were still alive…”” At the mention of Chief Cohen, Violet instantly gripped her wheelchair tightly, her fingers clenching so hard that blood welled up. She pounded on the wheelchair, roaring. “”Why! Why! Has the person who stole Flynn’s brain chip not been found yet?!”” Anya shook her head in silence. “”Little sister… the surveillance footage is still being restored, and the signal source is being traced. The tech department hasn’t given us any news.”” And my memories continued to play, At twenty-one, I was sentenced to a year and six months for intentionally causing grievous bodily harm at the police academy. The first thing I did upon my release was break up with Violet, who had come to pick me up. Violet, confused, asked me why, and even said, “”Aaron, everyone’s waiting for you to come home for dinner.”” My disgusted gaze swept over her. “”Ha! Spending another second with those orphans, those kids without a proper upbringing, makes me sick!”” “”I beg you, don’t really think of yourself as a savior, okay? From childhood to now, I’ve absolutely hated your meddling!”” Violet grabbed my arm, her eyes full of urgency, “”Aaron, didn’t you promise you’d marry me a long time ago? What’s wrong with you?”” My face was etched with cruel madness. “”Violet, you’re really shameless. Do you really want to marry the person who killed your dad?”” My words stunned her, and tears instantly filled her eyes. The crowd in front of the sky screen also erupted in a frenzy. “”Beast! Sure enough, dirty blood flows in his veins, he’s ungrateful!”” “”See! Flynn personally admitted to killing old Chief Cohen. Why do good people get no reward, while this beast can get away with murder for so many years, and then kill so many more?!”” “”Chief Cohen worked so hard to raise Flynn, he probably never expected this ingrate to bite him to death, did he?”” At this point, an old man stroked the head of a child next to him and said in a deep voice. “”Child, remember! You must never become a person like that!”” Hearing those words, my heart felt like it was smashed to the ground, torn into pieces, bleeding profusely! At this moment, I realized there was something even more agonizing than being called “”traitorous to one’s master”” and “”disgrace to the police force””— In the eyes of these future generations of the nation, I had become synonymous with crime, a classic example of a negative role model. “”Flynn!”” In the scene replayed, Violet, unable to control her anger any longer, punched the wall, her hand bleeding profusely. I watched this scene, a sudden bitterness welling up in my heart. I trembled, reaching out to touch her hand, but my ghostly form could only pass through her again and again. “”No, no, Violet, can’t you listen to my explanation?”” I shook my head frantically, the sharp pain in my heart making my soul tremble, my eyes burning. Alex watched the blood flowing from her hand, heartbroken, tears streaming down his face. “”I saw Flynn poison Dad back then, but I couldn’t believe he would actually do such a thing. It’s all my fault.”” Anya’s eyes practically spat fire. “”How can you blame yourself for this? Flynn was a wolf in sheep’s clothing! Even I couldn’t see through him!”” Hearing Anya’s heart-wrenching words, I cried out in despair, “”No! It’s not what you think, I…”” Before I could finish, a piercing pain swept over me. I felt a familiar aura around my brain chip, but my head was splitting, and I could only watch helplessly as my memories were torn from my soul. The sky screen changed again, the timeline advancing two years. At twenty-three, I single-handedly stormed into Julian’s territory. Violet, as Julian’s confidante, stood beside her. The crowd immediately erupted, “”Oh my god! Captain Cohen is there too! That useless Flynn wouldn’t betray her, would he? You know Julian’s methods are not just any kind of ruthless!”” “”Exactly! You know, no matter who it is, to successfully go undercover, the price is not just any ordinary big deal. Back then, I heard Captain Cohen even personally tested poisons for this mission.”” Even though everyone knew the outcome, people continued to pray to the sky screen. But the next second, ignoring Violet’s warning glance, I said to Julian, “”I advise you to stop the transaction immediately. The cops are already lying in wait at the door, waiting for you to bring out that shipment!”” “”Because…”” My right hand slowly rose. As Violet’s face dramatically changed, my tone was decisive. “”She, Violet Cohen, is the undercover agent!”” In an instant, the entire place exploded. “”Flynn, that bastard, actually betrayed Captain Cohen! Just to show loyalty to Julian? Did a dog eat his conscience?!”” “”Flynn’s father, Patrick, being caught probably had something to do with Julian too, right? I heard a rumor that Julian was an informant for the organization back then, then betrayed them and rose again with the people Patrick left behind!”” “”Stabbing Patrick in the back and stabbing the police in the back, black on both sides! Those two are truly a perfect match!”” The paused image on the screen began to move again. In the dungeon, Violet’s hands were chained, suspended in mid-air, her wrists raw, bone exposed. She was utterly tortured, more beast than human, as if she’d just been dragged from a pool of blood. Julian watched, chuckling, as I picked up a red-hot branding iron and rolled it fiercely across Violet’s chest. “”Is this your initiation, Mr. Flynn?”” The sound of burning flesh was bone-chilling; soon, it was a bloody mess. I sneered, smashing the bones in Violet’s knees with a hammer, my hand not even trembling. “”Julian, I can give you far more than this!”” With that, the blade in my hand easily pierced Violet’s chest. At the same time, all the viewers in front of the sky screen covered their mouths, Anya’s anger almost squeezed through her clenched teeth. Her eyes red, she spat, “”Flynn! You’re an animal!”” “”Ah—”” With a bloodcurdling scream, Violet’s body slumped to the ground, her breath gone. Julian’s roar scraped against my eardrums like a chilling wind. “”Who told you to kill her?! Dying quickly is too easy for her!”” But Violet was already lifeless. After Julian, as usual, tossed her to the cops as a provocation, I was tied up and punished by a furious Julian. She stuck silver needles one by one into my fingers, forcing me to endure the excruciating pain while fully conscious. The scene was too brutal, and some onlookers couldn’t bear to watch any longer. “”Julian really lives up to her name, ‘Satan.’ Her methods are truly venomous!”” “”If Flynn hadn’t gone easy, Captain Cohen would probably be…”” Alex angrily pointed at the woman who had spoken. “”Gone easy? Are you crazy? If Flynn hadn’t known Violet’s heart was on the right side, she would have died! Don’t forget, Violet’s legs were personally broken by Flynn!”” “”Wait, her heart?!”” Violet’s expression suddenly became odd. Before she could think it through, the sky screen moved again. When Violet clearly saw who the two people on the sky screen were, her eyes widened abruptly. In the image, I dragged Alex by his hair into the dungeon, his body scraping against the rough stone floor, leaving a long trail of blood. Julian sat calmly on the sofa, applauding, a mysterious smile on her lips. “”Interesting, interesting! Flynn, you truly are Patrick’s son! So much like your dad!”” “”If I’m not mistaken, this Alex is supposed to be your brother, right? He just came to advise you to turn yourself in. No need to beat him so badly, is there? Oh, look at his miserable state, even I’m starting to feel a little soft-hearted.”” Under Julian’s playful gaze, I splashed a bucket of salt water over Alex’s head. The intense pain made Alex’s eyes snap open instantly. When he saw me, like a demon before him, he cried out in terror, “”Aaron, what are you… what are you going to do?”” With my back to Julian, I brutally snapped Alex’s arm bone. “”Idiot! Spent too much time with Violet and now you think you’re a savior too? Give it a rest!”” “”Ah—”” Alex let out an even more horrific shriek. The dungeon door opened, and several men approached Alex with evil grins. I waved them over, motioning for the men to take him away. “”Don’t worry, these men will make you feel good and comfortable. Consider it repayment for your ‘kindness’ in trying to save me!”” Julian’s laughter was gleeful. “”This show is truly captivating. I can’t help but applaud your ‘deep’ camaraderie!”” “”Since that’s the case, how about I give you two brothers another grand gift?”” Violet’s eyes were bloodshot as she watched the scene, unable to hold back a mouthful of fresh blood that she coughed out. Alex covered his face, weeping profusely. Anya’s eyes flashed with furious coldness. “”That animal! He actually brought men to…”” My actions completely ignited the anger of the audience. They hurled every vile curse imaginable at me. “”How could he do that?! Just one bullet to kill him is too merciful. I wish I could dig up his corpse and feed it to the dogs!”” The image on the sky screen froze at that moment, and the person sent to search for the whereabouts of my brain chip appeared at the courthouse entrance. He handed the detector to Violet, and my brain chip’s location clearly showed up on the map as being inside the courthouse. Violet’s eyes were filled with shock. “”How dare they show up here?”” “”Damn it! They chose this place to clear Flynn’s name! I’ll risk everything to kill that person!”” Anya’s chest heaved with anger. She looked at the frozen image on the sky screen above the courthouse dome, a ruthless glint in her eyes. Violet, her face ashen, ordered, “”Anya, search inside the courthouse as fast as you can!”” Just as Anya was about to agree, a face appeared on the large screen before her, a face she would never forget in her lifetime. Julian had her men bring in my fourth sister, Lucy. Lucy was the last child Chief Cohen adopted, and she was the most attached to me, besides Violet. More importantly, she was in love with second brother, Alex.

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1 The day after I bought my new car, the brakes failed catastrophically. I was violently thrown from the vehicle, lying on the ground barely clinging to life. My wife, Sienna, rushed to the scene after getting the news. But the first thing she did was snatch the dash cam, completely ignoring my agonizing pleas for help. I was rushed to the hospital, fighting for my life for days, with one critical condition notice after another. During this time, Sienna vanished as if she’d evaporated into thin air. She was nowhere to be seen. Later, doctors confirmed permanent nerve damage. I would spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair, reliant on medication. It was then that I learned Sienna’s beloved crush, Quentin, had won an award for his thesis on brake technology improvement. And I was his so-called “test subject”! The hospital contacted Sienna to inform her of my condition, but she coldly retorted, “Tell him to stop faking it. Quentin’s experiment is perfectly safe; he’s probably just scraped his knee!” … After years of marriage, my wife, Sienna, gave me my first truly expensive gift… a cutting-edge concept car, worth a fortune. Who knew that the very next day, on a winding road, the brakes would fail? No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop it from accelerating wildly. To avoid hitting innocent people, I had no choice but to swerve hard and crash into the mountainside. Just as I was about to hit, Sienna called. I answered, and with a heavy heart, said goodbye to her. “Where are you?!” she cried, frantic. At the time, I was relieved, thinking she was worried about my safety. But later, I realized that wasn’t it at all. I told her the address. The moment I finished the last word, the car slammed into the mountain, and I was thrown out. Luckily, there was a dense thicket of bushes nearby. With something to cushion the impact, I didn’t hit the mountainside directly. But I heard the sound of my entire body’s joints shattering. A gash on my head bled profusely, obscuring my vision. I couldn’t see what was happening in front of me, only feeling a car pull up on this rarely traveled road. I cried for help, a weak whisper of “Help me!” That’s when I saw a familiar figure. It was my wife, Sienna. But after getting out of the car, she walked straight towards my vehicle, which was already starting to smoke. I thought she was coming to save me. I was even worried about her safety, desperately throwing pebbles, afraid the car would explode. But she stubbornly pried open the car door with a tool and got in. At that moment, my tears and blood mixed, and seeing her actions, I assumed she was trying to rescue me. However, after she retrieved the dash cam, she walked over and glanced at me. In that instant, her eyes were chillingly indifferent. “Sienna! Save me… save me…” She merely said to me, coldly, “Quentin’s waiting for the brake test results. I don’t have time to help you. You won’t die anyway, just bear with it.” Then, her car drove off. And on that remote mountain road, it was a full half-hour before anyone discovered me. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, my brain had been deprived of blood for a long time, and I had broken bones and fractures throughout my entire body. The doctor urgently called out, asking if there were any family members. “Family! Quickly notify his family, his condition is too severe, it’s very likely… he won’t make it.” A young nurse frantically searched through my belongings for any contact information. She unlocked my phone with my fingerprint and found the top-pinned contact. She dialed. That familiar voice answered, and after less than thirty seconds, she just snapped, “Aren’t you annoying? I told you I’m busy. Go home by yourself after the hospital, don’t bother me.” The call was hung up. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances… The young nurse dialed again, but the call was immediately disconnected. I don’t know how it was eventually resolved, but until I was wheeled into the operating room, I never saw Sienna. 2 “This patient is so unfortunate. How many days has he been hospitalized? He’s been resuscitated several times, but there’s not a single family member here.” “The hospital even covered his medical expenses.” “Poor guy. They say he’s facing paralysis; his nerves are damaged.” The nurse spoke as she changed my dressing. My body was almost entirely fitted with steel pins to fix the shattered bones, and I couldn’t move at all. I could even smell a gradually unpleasant odor coming from myself. The nurse patiently helped me change my adult diaper. I nodded, wanting to thank her, but the words wouldn’t come out. The young nurse quickly said, “Don’t talk, don’t strain your wounds. Don’t be embarrassed, we’re all taking care of everyone in this critical care ward. I’ll be happy as long as you recover and get discharged.” She smiled and left. It was visiting hours for the critical care ward. Family members outside walked in an orderly fashion. Almost every room had a family member accompanying the patient, except mine. The head nurse watched from a distance, and I heard her ask the nurse, “His parents are apparently gone, and he only has a wife. You said for so many days, we couldn’t even reach her.” “We finally got through, but she kept hanging up.” By now, I couldn’t shed another tear. My entire body ached to death. Just then, my test results came back. The doctor walked over with a grave expression. “Mr. Jiang, I have some bad news for you.” My eyes were fixed on the doctor. I had already guessed, but couldn’t quite believe it. When she personally said there was an eighty percent chance of permanent nerve damage, rendering me unable to walk and requiring lifelong medication and a wheelchair, I broke down. “We still need to call your wife to inform her; this is a very serious matter.” She personally dialed Sienna’s number on her own phone. The moment the call connected, it wasn’t Sienna’s voice that answered. “Is that brother-in-law? I won an award today, and Sienna threw a party for me. She drank too much, so she’s not coming home. She’s resting at my place. Don’t call anymore, Sienna says you annoy her.” He chuckled after saying that. “Goodnight, brother-in-law. Get some sleep, don’t get yourself worked up.” The instant he hung up, the head nurse was already cursing under her breath. I tried to move my fingers, to tell them there was one more person they could contact. They finally noticed when I knocked the medicine box beside my bed onto the floor. They handed me my phone. I laboriously slid my finger, found that number, and as the head nurse dialed, my body trembled uncontrollably. I didn’t know if she would still answer my call, or if she even remembered me. “What’s wrong?” A voice answered. The head nurse skillfully explained the situation. The other party immediately sounded anxious. “Thank you so much. I’ll buy the next available flight and try to arrive by midnight.” The moment the call ended, my heart finally settled. Until midnight, the head nurse and the nurse taking care of me waited for that person. But after a long wait, no one appeared. Just when I thought I was going to be abandoned again, someone rushed in, looking disheveled. “Hello! I’m Jean, Ethan’s sister. How is he doing now?” The head nurse, seeing her striking resemblance to me, quickly said, “Not well. He’s inside. We’ll take you in.” The moment my sister saw me, her eyes turned red. For twenty whole years, after our parents divorced, I hadn’t seen my sister. Even when our parents passed away, we each handled our own funerals. The first time she called me was when I got married. She prepared a lavish dowry for me but didn’t attend the wedding. I once thought she didn’t want to acknowledge me as her brother. But I never expected her to rush here by plane from out of town when I was injured and close to death. 3 “Where’s his wife?” When Jean asked that question, everyone present fell silent. Until the head nurse, with a voice full of indignation, said, “Even when we reached her, she wouldn’t come. She thought the patient was faking it…” My sister didn’t speak, but her clenched fists and trembling body told me of her anger. That night, she signed countless critical condition notices, watching me being resuscitated again and again, powerless, she could only press her face against the glass window. The last time I was wheeled out of the operating room, she stared at me for a long time. “It’s okay. Sister has money. I’ll do everything I can to cure you.” My sister ran up and down, contacting the best doctors for me, arranging expert consultations, and even preparing to sell her house to pay for my treatment. That night, I experienced multi-organ failure, leading to a massive emergency resuscitation by the entire department. After twelve hours of surgery, I saw my wife, Sienna, for the first time. She walked past me, arm-in-arm with Quentin. Quentin even glanced at me and said, “He’s practically dead, isn’t he? Still trying to save him?” Sienna tugged at him, quickly covering his eyes. “Don’t look at such unpleasant things, it’ll affect you. Right now, what’s important is getting Ethan’s injury data to complete your report.” “You’re the best, Senior Sister! If you hadn’t volunteered to let your husband be my data test subject, I might not have graduated with my doctorate.” Data test subject? When I was wheeled into the critical care ward, Sienna was asking the nurse about my room. “The one admitted for a car accident, Ethan Jiang. His injuries shouldn’t be serious. Which room is he in?” The nurse glanced at her. “Are you the patient’s…?” “I’m his wife…” As her words fell, the nurse pointed to me, who had just come out of a 12-hour surgery. “That’s him… the one just out of surgery, that’s your husband.” “What?!” She looked utterly incredulous. The facts were undeniable, yet Quentin put his arm around my wife and said, “Is brother-in-law really faking it so convincingly?” Sienna still seemed a bit nervous, but she quickly pulled Quentin away and left, still without visiting me. Thanks to my sister’s persistence, my condition improved. The day I was moved out of the critical care ward, I could already sit up in bed. The experts my sister hired were truly skilled. I smiled, praising them. My phone, however, kept buzzing. When I opened it, it was flooded with news about Quentin winning an award for his brake system test. Because of the success of his experiment, which advanced car safety, he was lauded by major media outlets. In one interview, a reporter asked, “Such large-scale tests require real human test subjects. Traditionally, it’s usually the researchers themselves, or their family and friends, and it often comes with a great cost. Therefore, those willing to be test subjects usually have a very close relationship with the researcher. Mr. Quentin, your test subject…” Quentin looked at Sienna, who was sitting below. “My test subject loves me very much.” At that moment, the room erupted. And today was Quentin’s award ceremony, a grand affair at the city’s central performing arts center. I checked the time, opened the cloud backup of my dash cam footage on my phone, and called the police. “Hello, I suspect Mr. Quentin and Ms. Sienna are involved in attempted murder.” 4 The moment I hung up, I felt the fire in my heart hadn’t extinguished at all. By now, I was basically certain that I was the test subject for Quentin’s experiment, and without my knowledge, Sienna and Quentin had swapped out my car’s brakes. The day after I got the car, Sienna asked me to run an errand for her, specifically picking that little-traveled road. That’s why she was able to arrive so quickly after my accident. It meant she had been following not far behind, calculating the data. So, I unknowingly became a sacrifice. And I no longer had legal guardians in name; only she, my wife, had the right to decide my fate. Whatever happened seemed to have no impact on Quentin. She was truly considerate. After understanding all this, my hands trembled uncontrollably. My sister, Jean, came in with food. “The doctor said you can have a small amount of liquid food, so I bought some for you. Eat up.” She carefully blew on it to cool it, then repeatedly checked to make sure it wouldn’t burn me before giving it to me. Just as I finished eating, Jean was wiping my mouth when Sienna’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Ethan! I knew why you wouldn’t leave the hospital! Turns out you have another woman taking care of you here. Who is she?!” Sienna hadn’t shown up until now, and her first appearance was to spread rumors. Behind her, Quentin followed, looking like he’d been crying. The two of them stormed over. Sienna grabbed my wrist and demanded, “Did you call the police on us?” “Go explain everything to the police right now!” Behind the two of them, not only were there police officers, but also several reporters. After all, Quentin’s project was huge this time, attracting a lot of attention, and I called the police during his award ceremony. Seeing how quickly they arrived at the hospital, they must have been desperate to clear Quentin’s name. Sienna, clutching my arm, whispered in my ear, “Ethan, this experiment is very important to Quentin. Just say you filed a false report out of jealousy and help him out this once. I’ll remember this good deed of yours, and I’ll treat you well in the future.” Treat me well? I’d heard that phrase too many times, from our marriage until now, every time she made a mistake, it was that same line. At first, I was young and thought she had time to change, but now I wasn’t that fool anymore. I ignored her words. Sienna, however, was confident I would obey. She said confidently to the police, “I told you, my husband was just unhappy and deliberately filed a false report. We’ve certainly wasted your time, and I apologize on his behalf.” The reporters whispered amongst themselves. Quentin proudly said, “Brother-in-law, you can’t just be jealous of me because you haven’t achieved anything, can you? This time, I can’t let it go for Senior Sister’s sake. You must apologize to me.” As he spoke, the police officers’ expressions turned grim. “Mr. Jiang, if you really just filed a false report as a joke, it constitutes an illegal act and could result in administrative detention. Are you sure?” When the police asked, Sienna immediately interjected, “Yes, I’m sure! But seeing as he’s still seriously ill, can’t you postpone the enforcement for a few days?” Hearing her words, my sister kept looking at me, wanting to know my opinion. I spoke directly. “I didn’t file a false report. I have evidence.” At that moment, Quentin, who had initially been condescendingly badmouthing me to the reporters, instantly turned his head to look at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “What nonsense are you talking?!” Sienna said. “You’re the one talking nonsense,” my sister yelled at her. At this, Sienna suddenly found her voice. “Everyone, my husband must want to be with this other woman, that’s why he’s deliberately trying to get me locked up. This must be fake, even if there’s evidence, it’s fabricated, you can’t believe it.” I smiled helplessly and said to her, “Take a closer look… This is my real sister, Jean, the one who left with my father, the one I told you about!”

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I gently touched my flat stomach, my gaze turning ice-cold as it landed on the man standing in front of me. A man I had known for seven years, who now felt like a total stranger. Nate had just returned from his corporate deployment in Colombia, but he didn’t come back alone. Standing right beside him was a heavily pregnant woman with a deep, sun-baked tan. His eyes darted everywhere, terrified to meet my gaze. His voice dripped with pathetic guilt. “Avery, it was the booze. I swear to you. I had way too much to drink that night, and I made a massive mistake.” “Her name is Jessica. She was my local translator down in Bogota. She helped me out of some really dangerous spots during the project. Letting her keep this baby is just giving her a lifeline.” “Don’t panic, okay? You and I are still getting married. Once the baby is born, I’ll send her straight back to South America.” “The kid is innocent, Ave. You wouldn’t want me to be a deadbeat dad, right?” He practically begged, trying to paint his betrayal as some noble sacrifice. The very last shred of hope in my chest shattered into dust. I let out a dry, mocking laugh and gave him a single, emotionless nod. “Okay.” I turned my back on them, pulled out my phone, and scrolled down to a number I hadn’t called in a very long time. “Let’s get married,” I said the second the call connected. 1. Nate looked entirely too guilty to even glance in my direction. Jessica stood close to him, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of his expensive suit sleeve. She played the part of a terrified victim perfectly, but the look she shot me over his shoulder held a sickening flash of absolute triumph. Nate was still rambling, desperately trying to justify the nightmare he brought into my home. “You have to understand, the slums where Jessica grew up are brutal.” “She saved my life down there, Avery. I couldn’t just leave her pregnant with my flesh and blood, living in fear in a place like that.” My heart didn’t even ache anymore. It had gone entirely numb. Before this deployment, we had been planning our wedding. I had waited for him to come home so we could finally pick a venue. Now, his words felt like a backhand across my face. A sharp cramp twisted low in my abdomen. I looked down, hiding the agonizing pain in my eyes. I was hiding my own poorly timed secret, too. The lab results confirming I was three months pregnant were sitting right inside my designer purse. I had practically been vibrating with joy this morning, counting down the seconds until I could tell Nate he was going to be a father. Clearly, that conversation was never going to happen. A bitter smile touched my lips as I looked at Nate’s pleading face. I slowly nodded. If this was how it was going to be, then I didn’t want this man anymore. He was garbage, and I was throwing him out. Nate was so wrapped up in the relief of my apparent agreement that he immediately turned to comfort Jessica. His voice was sickeningly sweet. “See? Don’t be scared. I told you Avery is the kindest, most reasonable woman in the world.” He completely missed the absolute zero-degree blizzard raging in my eyes. Listening to him praise my “kindness” made my blood run freezing cold. Looking at them, they looked like the real couple. I was just the extra. I turned on my heel and walked out the door in total silence, pressing the phone to my ear. The line picked up on the second ring. Rowan’s voice filtered through the speaker. He still had that same lazy, arrogant drawl from our childhood. But the moment he heard my voice, he went dead silent. When he finally spoke again, his normally smooth tone was actually trembling. “Avery. Are you dead serious right now?” His words rushed out in a frantic blur, as if giving me a second to breathe would make me take it all back. “No takebacks, Ave. It’s done.” “I’m booking the next flight out of London. Wait for me.” The line went dead with a soft click. Staring at the disconnected screen, the tight knot between my eyebrows finally relaxed. But the cynical laughter bubbling up in my chest only grew louder. I had been with Nate for seven grueling years. Every single time I brought up marriage, he brushed me off. He said he needed to establish his career first. He said we needed more money. Earlier this year, I practically handed him a million-dollar contract on a silver platter. He finally bought a ring. He finally proposed. And then, three months in South America was all it took to destroy everything. Yet, there was another man. A man who only needed three words from me to drop his entire life on another continent and fly home. I shook my head, pushed open the heavy glass doors of the building, and headed straight for the hospital. 2. The doctor stared at my charts, her brow heavily furrowed. “Ms. Davis, are you absolutely certain about this?” “Given your medical history, a successful pregnancy is a miracle. Are you really sure you want to terminate?” A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I had spent my entire twenties building Nate’s empire alongside him. I had entertained his clients, drank myself sick to close his deals, and run my own health straight into the ground. My body was wrecked. The older I got, the harder it became to conceive. This baby was a complete surprise, but it was a surprise I had prayed for in secret for years. Meeting the doctor’s tragic, sympathetic gaze, I simply closed my eyes and gave a firm nod. The procedure was quick. By the time I walked out of the recovery wing, my face was as white as a sheet of paper. I was taking slow, agonizing steps toward the main lobby exit when I turned a corner and walked right into Nate and Jessica. Nate was so hyper-focused on his new pregnant girlfriend that he didn’t even look where he was going. He slammed his shoulder hard into mine, sending me crashing onto the hard linoleum floor. A sharp cry ripped from my throat. A cold sweat immediately broke out across my forehead as raw pain shot through my recovering body. Hearing my voice, Nate finally snapped his head down. Shock and panic flooded his face. He lunged forward and tried to haul me up by my arms. “Avery? What the hell are you doing at the hospital?” “Are you okay?” I ripped my arms out of his grip. I opened my mouth to tell him to back off, but Jessica beat me to it. She suddenly grabbed her stomach and let out a bloodcurdling shriek. “Nate! Oh my god, my baby! My stomach hurts so bad!” All the color drained from Nate’s face in an instant. His panic over me vanished, entirely replaced by a terrifying, protective rage. “Avery, did you do this on purpose?” he roared. Jessica gripped Nate’s sleeve, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Nate, what if something happens to our baby? I’m so scared!” Nate shot me a look so full of venom it actually took my breath away. He scooped Jessica up into his arms, shoved me back down to the floor with his boot, and sprinted down the hall toward the emergency clinic. Before he disappeared, he threw one last threat over his shoulder. “If anything happens to my kid, Avery, I swear to God I will make you pay!” I sat collapsed on the freezing hospital floor. Passersby stopped and stared at me in pity, rushing over to help me stand. A hollow, miserable laugh escaped my lips. I thanked the strangers, ignored their sympathetic whispers, and dragged my broken body out of the building like a walking joke. 3. The second I dragged myself into our apartment, my legs gave out. I collapsed into bed and fell into a dark, feverish sleep. I had no idea how many hours passed before large, rough hands started shaking my shoulders. Nate stood over my bed, looking entirely too self-righteous. “You’ve been home this whole time? I’ve been shouting your name from the foyer. Are you deaf?” I swallowed down the wave of nausea and forced myself to sit up, glaring right at him. “I need to rest. What do you want, Nate?” He shifted his weight, looking the tiniest bit uncomfortable. “Do you have any idea how reckless you were today?” “Thank God Jessica is fine. The doctor said she just needs strict bed rest.” I had zero energy to deal with his delusions. I turned my back on him and pulled the covers up, ready to go back to sleep. But Nate wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his voice rising in demand. “Jessica is coming here to recover.” “She doesn’t know a single soul in this country. She needs someone to look after her 24/7 right now.” “You’re a great cook, Ave. You can make her those organic meals and help build her strength back up.” My lungs completely locked up. I was suddenly seized by a violent fit of coughing. Watching me choke on air, Nate didn’t show a single ounce of pity. Instead, he just started barking orders. “The master bedroom has the best lighting and the most space. It’s perfect for a pregnant woman. Clean your stuff out and give it to Jessica.” I swallowed the bitter taste of bile burning in my throat. My voice came out like cracked ice. “And where exactly am I supposed to sleep?” Nate waved his hand like I was being ridiculous. “What about the guest quarters down by the laundry room? Just take the maid’s bed.” “It’s not forever, Ave. Just until she pops the kid out. Be reasonable.” 4. I stared at the face of the man I had worshipped for seven years. His handsome features, the ones I used to trace with my fingers while he slept, suddenly looked twisted, hideous, and pathetic. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I started laughing. I laughed so hard my ribs screamed and hot tears spilled down my cheeks. Seeing my manic reaction, Nate’s ego took a hit. His tone turned instantly aggressive. “Avery, we already talked about this! I told you she was keeping the kid!” “You literally agreed to this this morning! What the hell is this psychotic act for?” My laughter died instantly. I violently wiped the tears from my face. Before I could tear into him, the bedroom door slowly pushed open. Jessica stood in the doorway, trembling like a frightened doe. Her English was heavily accented, dripping with fake, sickening concern. “Nate, please. You cannot fight with Avery because of me.” “If my baby brings you trouble, I will pack my bags right now.” Her voice cracked with perfect theatrical timing. “I can go back to the slums. It is okay. I am used to suffering.” Her manipulative little speech worked like absolute magic. Nate’s face flushed dark red with furious protective instinct. “Avery, knock it off right now!” he screamed at me. “I made a mistake! A mistake literally any guy would make if he was lonely enough!” “I already promised I’d put a ring on your finger! But Jessica and this baby are my responsibility too!” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to be a garbage human being who abandons his own child?” The words I was about to scream at him died in the back of my throat. I was staring at a monster I didn’t even recognize. Taking my silence as submission, Nate puffed his chest out with arrogant pride. He pulled Jessica into his arms, petting her hair and lowering his voice to a gentle purr. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to stay off your feet? Go rest in the living room. I’ll handle things in here.” Jessica looked up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. “I trust you, Nate. You are my hero. I just hate seeing Avery so mad at you.” He gently kissed the top of her head. The intimacy of it made my stomach violently revolt. I couldn’t stand the sight of them for one more second. I threw the blankets off and walked right past them toward the door. But Jessica’s shrill voice stopped me in my tracks. “Avery, wait. You should take this.” 5. Jessica walked over to my bedside table and picked up a silver picture frame. It was the photo from the night Nate proposed. In the picture, I was crying tears of pure joy, and Nate was looking at me like I hung the moon and the stars. Jessica held the frame out to me, taking slow, deliberate steps in my direction. The terrified act was gone. Her lips curved into an incredibly wicked, mocking smirk. I took a step back, totally disgusted by the thought of her touching me. Suddenly, she let go. The heavy silver frame crashed onto the hardwood floor. The glass shattered into a hundred jagged pieces. Before I could even blink, Jessica threw herself backward and let out a blood-chilling scream. “Avery, if you hate me, just hit me! Do whatever you want to me once I deliver!” “Why would you try to hurt my baby?!” I stared down at her miserable acting routine, a cold smirk forming on my own lips. But Nate was completely blind. He charged into the room like a rabid dog. He grabbed the collar of my silk pajama shirt, twisting the fabric so tight it choked me. “Avery, you vindictive bitch! Are you out of your mind?!” “How can you be so evil? She’s carrying my child!” I clawed at his hands, trying to breathe, but his grip was like iron. Down on the floor, Jessica clutched her perfectly fine stomach, wailing at the ceiling. “Avery, I swear I didn’t mean to steal him. We were just so drunk.” “I don’t want your man. I’m leaving the second the baby is born.” “But this baby is an innocent soul. Please, don’t punish an unborn child for our sins!” Hearing her hysterical crying pushed Nate over the edge. His face contorted with absolute hatred. He shoved me backward with all his strength. He aimed right for my stomach. I crashed backward, hitting the sharp corner of the vanity before crumpling to the floor. The surgical pain flared up so bright and hot I folded perfectly in half, unable to breathe, let alone speak. Nate simply bent down, scooped his mistress off the floor, and glared down at me with supreme disgust. “Don’t act like a victim, Avery. I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine.” “What is this pathetic little act anyway? Are you going to pretend you’re pregnant too?” He sneered, his lip curling up. “If you have a problem, take it up with me. Keep your filthy hands off Jessica and my kid.” He turned on his heel and carried her out of the room without looking back once. His heavy boots crunched right over our shattered engagement photo, grinding the memory into the floorboards. Covered in a layer of cold sweat, I reached out a shaking hand and pulled the torn photograph from the glass. When Nate had proposed, he had sworn on his life that he would never betray me. He had looked at me with such fierce, unshakable devotion. Just minutes ago, those exact same eyes had looked at me like I was radioactive trash. Without a single drop of hesitation, I ripped the photograph down the middle. The love was dead. Keeping this stupid piece of paper would only infect the rest of my life. 6. It took a long time for the agonizing fire in my pelvis to fade. I dragged myself off the floor, took a scalding hot shower to wash away the sticky sweat, and began violently throwing things into my suitcases. This penthouse was supposed to be our marital home. I had poured my soul into this place, turning an empty glass box into a warm, inviting sanctuary for our future family. Now, the walls felt like the jaws of a beast trying to swallow me whole. I threw out the customized artwork we made together. I trashed the matching mugs. I threw away every single thing that had his fingerprints on it. By the time I was down to just my basic clothes and my passport, I was panting, completely exhausted. Just as I zipped up my final piece of luggage, the front door clicked open. Nate had taken Jessica for a walk. They stepped into the master bedroom. Nate took one look at the completely barren room, paused, and then nodded with a huge, satisfied grin. “I knew you’d come to your senses, Ave.” “This is perfect actually. Jessica didn’t really like your taste in bedding anyway. We’ll just buy everything brand new.” My jaw practically hit the floor. I stared at him, utterly stunned by his sheer, sociopathic audacity. My body was too weak to even scream at him. I simply turned around and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. Nate immediately stepped in my way, blocking the door. “Hey, make that seafood risotto you’re so good at. Jessica is starving.” “You can finish organizing your little maid’s room later. Pregnant women need to eat constantly to keep their blood sugar up.” “Whatever. You’ve never been pregnant, so you wouldn’t get it anyway.” “Just get in the kitchen.” Even knowing I was leaving him, hearing him casually dismiss my fertility felt like a knife twisting straight into my ribs. I stared blankly down at my own two hands. Before I met Nate, I didn’t even know how to boil water. I was a spoiled rich girl who ordered takeout every night. But Nate loved home-cooked meals, so I spent months burning my fingers and chopping my own skin just to learn how to feed him. A hollow chuckle escaped my throat. I didn’t bother arguing. I pulled my purse over my shoulder and stood up straight. Nate was horribly impatient. He shoved my shoulder, physically pushing me toward the staircase. “Come on, move. This is your duty now.” “Thank God Jessica is built tough. If she was fragile, she would have lost the baby with all the times you’ve attacked her today.” 7. Jessica hovered safely behind Nate’s broad shoulders, playing the traumatized victim to perfection. Hearing him defend her, she peeked her head out timidly. “Avery, please don’t be mad. I promise I’m not trying to take your place.” I stared at her with dead, shark-like eyes. She rested a hand on her swollen belly. Her voice was sugar-sweet, but the glare she shot me was pure poison. “I really appreciate you cooking for me, Avery. I hate being a burden, but the baby is just growing so fast.” I rolled my eyes at her absolute garbage acting. But Nate bought it hook, line, and sinker. He practically melted. “You are so brave, Jess. Seriously.” “Avery understands. She’s not holding a grudge.” My stomach did a violent flip. I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting, shoved past them, and walked straight for the top of the stairs. Seeing me completely ignore his authority, Nate’s fragile male ego snapped. He roared my name down the hallway. “Avery Davis, what the actual hell is your problem?!” “I told you I let your little temper tantrum slide! I forgave you for assaulting my pregnant girlfriend!” “Why are you still walking around with that miserable dead look on your face?!” He lunged forward to grab my arm and drag me back. But Jessica beat him to it. She closed the distance and clamped her hand around my wrist like a vice. “Avery, are you still punishing me?” “I’ll get on my knees and apologize, okay? Just talk to us!” Her grip was brutal. I felt her sharp acrylic nails bite deep into the tender flesh of my inner arm. The sharp pain triggered my survival instinct. I violently yanked my arm back with everything I had left in the tank. The momentum threw my balance completely off. My foot slipped on the slick hardwood edge of the top step. Gravity ripped me backward. I tumbled down the long marble staircase, my bones cracking against the stone over and over again. The last thing I saw was the ceiling spinning wildly before everything went pitch black. 8. When I finally dragged my heavy eyelids open, I was blinded by fluorescent lights and assaulted by the sterile stench of bleach. The private hospital room was entirely empty. I stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, my brain thick and sluggish with painkillers, trying to piece together how I survived. The heavy door clicked open. Nate strolled into the room. He looked incredibly annoyed, completely devoid of any real concern. “You awake?” I slowly turned my head away, offering him the side of my face. Nate walked over and tried to grab my hand. I ripped it away like his skin was made of acid. “Come on, Ave. You tripped and fell like an idiot, but the doctors say nothing is broken. Stop being so dramatic.” When I continued to treat him like empty air, his irritation spiked into outright anger. “What, are you going to run around telling people Jessica pushed you?” He scoffed, his face twisting into an ugly sneer. “You are acting completely insane. If Jessica hadn’t begged me to go easy on you, and if you hadn’t taken that spill down the stairs, I would have dumped you on the street for what you did.” But it was his next sentence that truly gutted me. “You’ve been incredibly hostile to Jess. So, to make up for it, we made a decision.” “When Jessica’s kid is born, we’re putting your name on the birth certificate as the mother.” “It’s a win-win. You finally get to live out your little fantasy of being a mom.” “Since you clearly can’t give me a kid of your own.” I had spent countless nights lying on Nate’s chest, whispering about the names we would give our future babies. We had picked out nursery colors. We had built a whole imaginary life. And now, he was pouring battery acid directly into my open wounds. I closed my eyes. My heart rate stayed perfectly flat. My voice came out dead and calm. “We are done, Nate. The engagement is over.” 9. Nate reacted like I had just punched him in the throat. “Over?” “Avery, what fresh hell is this?!” “Stop acting like a psychotic child!” He scrubbed his hands aggressively over his face, pacing the side of the bed. “You’re almost thirty, Avery! Who the hell else is going to put up with you?” “Jessica is literally giving you her baby as a gift! You should be on your knees thanking her!” A dark, incredibly twisted smile slowly spread across my face. I looked him dead in the eye and enunciated every single word. “I don’t want your bastard kid, Nate.” Nate’s jaw dropped. He looked utterly paralyzed, opening his mouth to scream at me again. But a nurse suddenly burst into the room, out of breath. “Sir! Where is the family for Jessica? Her blood pressure is spiking!” Nate’s anger vanished. Panic washed over his features. He spun toward the door but pointed a shaking finger at me. “This is all your fault! You caused this stress! You owe her, Avery!” My smile only grew wider and colder. I hadn’t missed the tiny, victorious smirk Jessica shot me right as I was tumbling down those stairs. I watched his desperate, pathetic back disappear into the hallway and let out a genuine laugh. I closed my eyes, letting the quiet of the room sink in. A few minutes later, the door clicked open again. A familiar, deep voice echoed in the room. “Jesus, Avery. I leave you alone for one day and you end up looking like a car wreck.”

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After being canceled and chased off the internet, I quit the entertainment industry, went home, and started selling bags as an intern sales associate at a luxury boutique. My arch-nemesis specifically came to the store just to humiliate me. She demanded that I get on my knees to serve her, threatening to have me fired on the spot if I refused, claiming she was the brand CEO’s handpicked global spokesperson for the upcoming season. Did no one tell her that my family literally owns this brand? “I’m sorry, but when did I ever say I was going to sign you?” 01 When I announced my retirement from acting, reporters asked me what I planned to do next. I casually replied that I was going home to help my parents sell bags. I was mercilessly mocked by the entire internet. But little did they know, they probably couldn’t even afford the bags my family sells… VALERIA is a top-tier luxury brand founded by my grandparents. Under my parents’ management, it has grown to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Hermès and Louis Vuitton as a global ultra-luxury powerhouse. Even our most basic entry-level bag costs tens of thousands of dollars. To build my character and business acumen, my parents insisted I start from the very bottom. I was assigned to one of our flagship boutiques as an intern sales associate. Who would have thought that on my very first day, my former nemesis would come looking for trouble. The moment Stella Monroe walked through the doors, her tone was dripping with passive-aggression. “Well, well, if it isn’t Harper Kensington? Did you think that by becoming a VALERIA salesgirl, you’d magically be able to afford the bags here?” The customer is always right. I bit my tongue and endured it. But she escalated, blatantly stepping her muddy shoe onto the glass coffee table I had just polished: “Kneel down.” Me: ? “These shoes are VALERIA. Don’t you guys offer complimentary maintenance? Maintain them for me.” Me: … Stella and I used to compete for the same type of roles. To get ahead of me, she had spent a fortune buying hit pieces and hiring bot farms to manipulate public opinion against me. The fact that I was cyberbullied to the point of leaving the industry had everything to do with her. It was just my own stubbornness; I hadn’t wanted to rely on my family’s connections. But even now that I had retired, she still wouldn’t let me be. “Ma’am, please take off your shoes. I’ll have a specialist take care of them.” “No, I want you to do it,” Stella smirked. “And I want you on your knees while you wipe them!” My face went cold: “I’m sorry, ma’am, our brand doesn’t offer that specific service.” “Harper, I am your client now! I am your God! You have to do whatever God tells you to do! You’re just a lowly salesgirl, what right do you have to talk back to me?!” “Believe it or not, I can have VALERIA fire you right this second!” Oh, wow. So powerful? She’d have to convince my parents to disown me first. I stayed silent, and Stella assumed I was scared. She looked incredibly smug: “You should be scared. After all, I’m about to become VALERIA’s spokesperson for the next season. If you wait until then to get on your knees, it’ll be too late.” I paused: “Spokesperson?” “Yeah. A resource that countless A-listers are fighting for. My agent is already in talks with the head of VALERIA’s marketing department.” I fell deep into thought. The department my parents wanted me to take over was Marketing. When did I ever agree to sign this piece of trash? 02 Of course, I didn’t serve Stella. Failing to get her way, she started finding faults. I brought out over a dozen different items, and she complained about every single one. Finally, she settled on a basic bag that cost a little under twenty thousand dollars. That was fine, but when it was time to check out, she suddenly pushed me aside and pointed to the store manager standing nearby: “You ring me up. The commission for this sale goes to you.” Manager Brenda Higgins beamed with joy and quickly started bagging the item. Just as the payment was about to go through, I suddenly remembered something. “Wait, this bag cannot be sold.” Stella was furious: “What do you mean?” “This specific bag was reserved by a client a long time ago.” Brenda thought I was just trying to steal her commission: “Harper, you’re new, so I didn’t want to scold you, but was that the proper attitude for serving a VIP? Furthermore, you say it’s reserved, but I’m the store manager, how come I don’t know about it?” “Yeah, Manager Brenda, how could you not know?” I gave her a cold glance and pulled up the system data on the tablet. The warehouse had sent a message three days ago, allocating this exact bag to our store for a client’s reservation. The client had specifically chosen in-store pickup at our location. “As the manager of a flagship store, how could you forget something so important? The client could walk through those doors at any minute. How would you explain this to them? This is a VVIP who spends over a million dollars a year.” Brenda’s face turned an ugly shade of gray. After Stella left, Brenda immediately began to mock me. “A loser who couldn’t survive in Hollywood really thinks she’s still a star.” I looked at her: “Excuse me, what did you say?” “What? Can’t handle the truth?” Brenda, oblivious to my true identity, laughed brazenly. “The whole country knows you came to work the register because you couldn’t hack it as an actress. It’s hilarious. Take a good look at your name tag. You’re just an intern.” She had a highly punchable look on her face. “And I am the manager of this store. Don’t you know the store manager has the ultimate authority here? Little girl, whether you pass your probation and become a permanent employee is entirely up to me.” …Oh, I was shaking in my boots. I couldn’t be bothered to entertain her, but the drama for the day wasn’t over. Right before closing, my former agent suddenly texted me. Stella had uploaded a video of me working as a salesgirl, and it was going viral. 03 It turned out that earlier today, during a busy moment when I was running back and forth grabbing inventory, Stella had secretly recorded me. “My old friend Harper is actually working as a salesgirl now. So pitiful. She’s definitely the most tragic former star I’ve ever seen. So, I went out of my way to support her at work today. #GirlsHelpGirls! I hope Harper gets through these tough times soon.” …What a twisted version of GHG. Uninformed netizens flooded the comments, praising her for being beautiful and kind-hearted. She also “accidentally” let slip that she might be collaborating with VALERIA soon. Her fans celebrated all night, guessing what kind of collaboration it would be. —Even if she was just a brand ambassador, for Stella, it would be a massive elevation in status. My situation, however, was vastly different. For me, there was only mockery. When I was an actress, the biggest thing I was hated for was my “Princess Syndrome.” When I first debuted, I didn’t understand the manipulative games of the industry. Whenever someone dug a hole for me, I jumped right in. In the end, I was edited on reality TV to look like I had a terrible temper and severe Princess Syndrome. Stella was the exact opposite; she portrayed herself as hardworking, gentle, and considerate. Only later did I find out that her team had bribed the editors to intentionally cut footage to make me look awful, just to make her look better by comparison. And now, I was a salesgirl. The trolls laughed at me: “Haha, the fake princess’s royal dreams are shattered.” “The fake princess dreamt of buying VALERIA, so she went to be a salesgirl there.” “Can the fake princess afford VALERIA today? Nope, still can’t.” Oh, right. “Fake Princess” was the new nickname the trolls had given me. That night, I didn’t go back to my small rented apartment in the city. Instead, I went to my parents’ massive estate in the Hamptons for dinner. My parents had seen the news too, and their hearts ached for me. “Harper, why don’t we just issue a clarification? Let’s tell everyone you’re the heir to VALERIA.” “No need, Mom and Dad. I still need to conduct my undercover investigation at the store.” That’s right. I had another motive for volunteering to be an intern salesgirl. That specific boutique had an alarmingly high customer churn rate. I volunteered to find out why. Before I uncovered the truth, I couldn’t blow my cover. My mom kept piling prime steak onto my plate: “You’re so stubborn. You never want to rely on us.” “By the way, Mom, what’s the deal with the spokesperson for next season?” “Isn’t that for you to decide? You’ve been in that industry; you definitely know the landscape better than we do. Commercial value is only one aspect. More importantly, they need to have good character and not damage VALERIA’s image.” “You didn’t say you were going to sign Stella Monroe, did you?” My mom shook her head: “I know you two don’t get along. Even if she were the last celebrity on earth, I wouldn’t sign her. It’s just that she recently hooked up with a sugar daddy who does business with our family, and he keeps recommending her to your dad.” No wonder. Because of her sugar daddy’s recommendation, Stella thought the deal was in the bag. But she didn’t know that my parents are fiercely protective of me. What does a business partner matter? Their precious daughter is their whole world! My mom asked if we should clarify the spokesperson rumors. Not only did I say no, but I also told the marketing department to intentionally leak some vague, promising rumors. Stella fell for it completely and was ecstatic. She bought PR articles in advance, hyping herself up subtly and overtly. Her fans and the media even started calling her “VALERIA’s Own Daughter.” Well, now things were getting fun. 04 Historically, VALERIA had only ever signed male global spokespersons. Under my initiative, my parents planned to sign our first female spokesperson this time. An international ultra-luxury brand, and the first female spokesperson in its history—wouldn’t that essentially be treating her like their “Own Daughter”? Within half a month, Stella hyped up the rumor ten times and dragged down other female stars to elevate herself five times. Without even realizing it, she had made countless enemies for herself. I hosted a live stream to address the whole “selling bags” situation. “Yes, I am working as a sales associate.” “I won’t be making a comeback, and this isn’t a PR stunt. I just realized I didn’t have the talent to be an actress.” “Who knows, maybe I have a talent for selling bags? Everyone is welcome to come shop at VALERIA.” In front of the camera, I was poised and elegant, facing the attacks with grace and confidence. By the end of the live stream, I had actually gained quite a few new fans. A few days later. While doing inventory at the store, I discovered a bag was missing. When I asked the other associates, they acted like it was normal: “The store manager probably borrowed it.” “Borrowed it?” “She said Stella needed to do a live stream at the mall, so she borrowed it for her to show off…” I couldn’t believe my ears. “That’s a limited-edition exotic leather bag! There are less than two hundred of them globally! Is she out of her mind, lending it out to someone?!” I was furious. Today, I was going to teach certain people a lesson! Speak of the devil, Stella arrived. Word on the street was that she saw I had gained fans from my live stream, so she jumped on the bandwagon and started a “shopping” live stream of her own. She had that limited-edition emerald green bag slung over her arm. “We’re at VALERIA! Everyone knows this is a brand I frequent. Look, the one I’m carrying today is VALERIA’s latest global limited edition. It’s incredibly hard to get~” She signaled her crew to push the camera closer for a macro shot of the bag. I was lurking in her live stream, glancing at the chat. They were all praising her— “Wow, I know that bag! It’s insanely expensive!” “Aww, our Stella is such a cute, wealthy heiress.” “Who knows, maybe VALERIA gifted it to her. After all, Stella is VALERIA’s ‘Own Daughter’~” “Wait? Is that Harper in the store?” “It is! Two actresses who debuted together: one is selling the bags, the other is endorsing them. Tsk tsk.” At that moment, Stella announced she was going to do a “What’s in my bag” segment. “Here are my tissues.” “Here’s my cardholder.” “Ah, and this is my VALERIA Black Card. You can only get upgraded to this VIP Black Card if you spend over a million dollars a year. You get a lot of perks, like— You guys know, some luxury stores won’t bring out all their new arrivals for you to see. But with this card, when I go to the counter, I can pick from every new arrival in the store.” She could barely hide her urge to show off. I sneered aloud: “But that card of yours is already expired.” “What?” Stella rolled her eyes at me. “Harper, you’ve probably never even seen this card before, right? I’ll forgive you. If you don’t know what you’re talking about, don’t speak.” I spoke loudly and clearly: “The Black Card was upgraded and redesigned two years ago with a new pattern. That card in your hand expired at least two years ago.” “Furthermore, for clients holding the VIP Black Card, there’s absolutely no need to come to the counter personally. We deliver the new arrivals directly to their mansions for them to choose from at their leisure.” As my words fell, a comical silence filled the room. 05 Stella’s live stream was forced to pause. She was livid. Actually, I wasn’t even finished. I wanted to look up the registered owner of that card. It was more than likely someone else’s. She had gotten her hands on an expired Black Card from somewhere and dared to show it off without knowing a thing about how it worked. Stella and her crew surrounded me, uttering threats. “Harper, once I officially become VALERIA’s spokesperson, you are dead meat!” “Oh, I’ll be waiting.” Her agent wasn’t about to be outdone: “Little girl, do you not understand how this industry works? I have plenty of ways to ruin you.” “Such as?” “I can make sure you can’t survive in this city! Unless you clarify things right now, apologize, and say you made it all up.” The agent was a greasy, overweight man with a sleazy look in his eyes. “And if I don’t? A young girl walking home alone at night… things can get dangerous.” “Sure,” I agreed quickly. The live stream resumed. The number of viewers had doubled; everyone was here for the drama. Stella smiled sweetly: “Sorry for the wait, everyone. The signal was bad just now. My card is actually a personalized, custom-designed card. Harper just saw it wrong.” The camera turned to me. I smiled faintly, and in front of millions of viewers, I dialed my phone. “Hello, 911? I’d like to report a theft. Someone stole a bag from our store valued at $180,000.” 06 The color drained from both Stella’s and Brenda’s faces. The police arrived quickly. Stella panicked: “I bought this bag myself! The store manager can testify!” Brenda nodded sycophantically. Police Officer: “Then please show us the receipt.” Stella was dumbfounded. Brenda quickly changed her tune: “It was borrowed!” “Borrowed?” “Yes, I lent it to her! I am the manager of this store. Officer, someone intentionally filed a false police report, thinking everyone has as much free time as she does. You must teach her a lesson.” She glared at me. But Manager Brenda didn’t know that I was waiting for exactly that sentence. “Well, that makes things easy, Officer. Manager Brenda just confessed to stealing the bag.” Brenda shrieked: “Are you deaf? I said it was borrowed!” “Borrowed from whom? Do you have a loan agreement?” “I am the store manager! I don’t need a loan agreement from anyone!” “Brenda, you must be confused,” I looked at her coldly. “You are only a store manager, not the owner of VALERIA. Every item on display in this store belongs to VALERIA, not you! What right do you have to lend a bag to someone else?” “Taking company property without permission is theft.” “Or perhaps—you used to do this all the time?” Brenda was left speechless, her face ashen. The police took her away. Stella managed to escape being arrested, but because of the huge commotion, a massive crowd of onlookers had already gathered. In no time, videos of the incident from every angle were all over the internet. Stella was trending again. If the card and the bag were fake, what else was real? Was her collaboration with VALERIA fake too? Stella was mocked relentlessly across the internet. But, this was only the beginning. 07 Later, Stella’s agent actually came looking for me. I didn’t even give him a chance to speak; I just played the recording of him threatening me. “Tell me, if this gets out, what will people think?” “I’m guessing the internet will say: an agent with such blatant disregard for the law couldn’t possibly manage any decent artists.” “Tsk. Even if you don’t care about Stella, do you really want to drag down all the other artists you manage?” Hearing this, the agent completely changed his tune, begging for a settlement. However, surprisingly, Brenda soon returned to work. She hadn’t received any punishment and continued to serve as the store manager. In fact, she was even more arrogant than before. She started making things difficult for me openly, leading the others to ostracize me. I investigated the past complaint records. I found that every time Brenda received a severe customer complaint, she returned to work completely unscathed. A coworker quietly told me that Brenda’s husband was a mid-level executive. Her past complaints, and even the recent “stolen bag” incident, were all suppressed by her husband. No wonder. I went home and reported this to my parents. My dad said: “Good job, sweetie. You can just fire her directly.” I shook my head: “Firing her directly wouldn’t be fun.” “Then what do you want to do?” I chewed on some lobster and said slowly: “During this time, I’ve noticed the discipline at our physical stores is very loose, and there’s even a phenomenon of ‘judging customers by their appearance.’ I plan to make an example out of someone for all the store managers globally, and Brenda is the perfect target. It’s not too late to execute her once I’ve sharpened my knife.” My dad laughed heartily: “That’s my girl.” 08 On Sunday, Brenda and I were on shift together. In the evening, a customer came into the store. She was an older woman, slightly hunched over, dressed very plainly, and the tote bag in her hand even had patches on it. Brenda rolled her eyes, sat down on the VIP sofa, and started playing on her phone. The older woman said she wanted to look at some bags. Brenda replied impatiently: “They’re all on the shelves. Look for yourself.” The woman then said she was looking for a dark-colored shoulder bag. “We don’t have any! Do you even know how much a bag here costs? Can you afford it?” The older woman froze. I quickly went over, poured her some tea, brought out all the shoulder bags we had, and let her choose. She didn’t like the first few she looked at. Brenda gloated from the side: “Serves you right for having zero sales. Go wait on the poor ghost.” “Shut up. Is that how you speak to a customer? Ma’am, please ignore her. It’s your right to buy or not; don’t lower yourself to her level.” The older woman thanked me profusely. Then, she pointed at three bags I had brought out and said, emotionally: “I’ll take them all.” Me: “Excuse me?” “And please recommend a men’s briefcase for me too.” “Oh, and do you have clothes here? Put together an outfit for me, shoes included.” Brenda was dumbfounded: “Do you know how much all of this will cost? You can’t afford it!” The older woman finally lost her temper: “Who says I can’t afford it? My son’s tech startup just went public. I could buy out your entire store!” Brenda was completely stunned. It turned out she was a literal gold mine. The older woman bought a massive pile of items. Finally, from her patched-up tote bag, she pulled out the keys to a Maserati. Before leaving, she glared at Brenda. “If it weren’t for this young lady’s good attitude, I would definitely file a formal complaint against you!” Brenda had already changed her tune, bowing and scraping: “Ma’am! Let me walk you to the parking lot. How about this, let me add you on WhatsApp. Next time you come, let me know in advance, and I will definitely give you the best service.” “Get lost! Don’t even think about getting a single cent of commission from me!” Brenda: “…” Hehe, having a VIP customer back you up feels amazing. After the customer left, Brenda glared at me, venting her frustration. “Harper, how did you speak to me just now? Telling a senior colleague to shut up, are you polite? Is that how your parents raised you?” I completely ignored her. She was furious: “Looks like I’ll have to teach you a lesson myself!” Brenda rushed over and tried to slap me. I ducked and dodged it. In return, I gave her two slaps. “You want to talk to me about politeness? That was for the customer just now.” I followed up with a few more slaps. “And these are for all the customers you’ve looked down on in the past.” Brenda screamed: “You little bitch! Believe it or not, I’ll ruin you!” I curled my lips into a smile and walked away gracefully.

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On our wedding anniversary, I put on sexy lingerie and nervously sent my sexually indifferent husband a selfie. Our chat history was nothing but 1s and 2s. Me: “Working late tonight?” Him: “1” — meaning yes. Me: “Coming home tonight?” Him: “2” — meaning no. This time, instead of a number, he sent a 60-second voice message. I played it. A woman’s moans came through: “Wait until I finish having sex with Professor Moore, then I’ll send him back.” “You take care of his daily needs. I’ll take care of his physical needs. Nice and clear division of labor.” My hands trembling, I closed the app, got dressed, and drove to the lab. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan holding a woman, moving wildly. Heavy breathing, stifled moans — he had never treated me like that. But I was his wife. I stood outside the door for a very, very long time. Finally, I raised my hand and knocked. When Ethan emerged, his expression was calm. Not a trace of embarrassment at being caught in the act. His dark eyes settled on my face. After a moment’s pause, he spoke deliberately: “Let’s talk about this at home.” His slender hand reached toward me. I didn’t move. For the past twenty years, whether it was dates, confessions, proposals, or even the pathetically rare sex we had — I’d initiated all of it. “Fiona?” For once, he used my nickname, but his head was still tilted to the side, his gaze directed behind him. Looking at that woman whose face he was carefully blocking with his body, shielding her from view. My nose stung. I forced a dry laugh: “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Only then did he turn his head. The look in his eyes now held guilt and pleading. “Fiona, can we just go home first? Please?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my collar and roughly pulled me aside. Then he turned back and gently instructed the woman: “You should go. Quickly!” The clicking of high heels drew closer and closer. Ethan’s gaze followed her retreating figure, growing more distant. He watched her so intently that he didn’t even notice the cut on my cheek from where I’d been scraped against a nail on the wall. Ethan hadn’t always been this cold to me. During those college years when his condition improved, he’d acted like a normal person, caring about my joys and sorrows. After we married, he’d cancel urgent meetings and experiments on nights when I had my period, using his burning palms to warm my stomach. He’d clumsily write me love letters by hand before my birthday, trying to make up for the regrets of our youth. But those warm, sweet memories couldn’t compete with the pain on my face right now. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. Taking a deep breath, I shook off his hand: “Stop looking. She’s gone.” His body stiffened. He hesitated, not daring to turn around. This time I didn’t wait for him. I headed to the car first. We arrived home close to 11 PM. The moment I changed out of my shoes, hands lifted me from behind and placed me on the sofa. I turned to see Ethan retrieving the first aid kit, kneeling before me. The concern in his eyes didn’t seem fake. “I’m sorry…” I didn’t respond, letting him carefully treat my wound while his neck was still covered in hickeys. Just like years ago when we exchanged wedding rings, when he’d publicly vowed to love me forever. The same posture. The same eyes. But everything had changed. Blood-stained cotton balls fell into the trash. As Ethan closed the first aid kit, I held out my hand to him: “Your phone.” He didn’t move, but the concern in his eyes faded, replaced by barely suppressed impatience. “Don’t make trouble for her. I’ll end things with her.”

I bit down hard and laughed. This man’s earlier concern, his kneeling — it was all for this moment. So I wouldn’t make trouble for the woman who held his heart. How could I possibly listen? Brushing past him, I grabbed his phone from the table. The lock screen showed that woman’s shy, smiling face. The password was still my birthday. But the pinned chat on his SnapChat had been changed to this woman named Chloe. Their chat thread was incredibly active. He replied to her every message instantly. But my chat with him was a wasteland. The last message was from half a month ago. “Coming home for dinner?” He hadn’t replied. The next day after work, he’d sent a dismissive: “Too busy, forgot.” I knew he had a national-level project underway, so I’d been understanding, not making a fuss, racking my brains to make him nutritious, healthy meals. But I never imagined that all the care I gave him, he’d spent on someone else. Even his “busy” was just being busy screwing someone in the lab. [Your wife hasn’t seen you in half a month. Are you coming home tonight?] [Bored with her. Not going.] The hand gripping the phone trembled slightly. Twenty years. The best years of a woman’s youth. I’d spent it all on this man, and all I got in return was “bored with her.” Those words blurred through my tears into an indistinct mess. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes open wide, reading word by word. Reading how this rigid man who’d lecture about physics even during sex had dressed up in costumes to play elaborate roleplay games for this woman. Reading how at the science award ceremony I’d begged him multiple times to take me to — events he’d always refused — he’d brought her instead, letting her accept congratulations in my place, under my name. Reading how when Chloe asked him “Do you like your wife or me?” he’d replied without hesitation: “She’s old now, loose down there too. Can’t compare to you.” Turning the entire first half of my life — spent devotedly helping him ascend to greatness — into one massive joke. My eyes burned. I returned the phone to Ethan. The more I read, the more I felt like a complete fool. “Fiona, I’m a man. I have needs and desires. Things with her got out of hand, we couldn’t help ourselves.” “I hope you can understand and not make a scene. Let’s just end this here, okay?” His voice remained gentle. Even his lies sounded so convincing. But I stubbornly wanted answers. I pointed at the pinned profile picture, my voice hoarse: “Of all people to cheat with, why her? Why the woman who killed your parents?” I raised my voice, grabbing his collar, my words tearing through the air: “Have you forgotten how your parents could have lived, but she ran them over again and again, grinding them into pulp?” Ethan turned his face away. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “She was young then. It wasn’t intentional.” “And my parents shouldn’t have been out that late at night. They brought it on themselves…” I carefully savored those two sentences. And couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Laughing at my own blindness. When Ethan’s parents died and his relatives refused to take him in, Chloe — afraid he’d press charges — had systematically driven him insane. She’d made him crawl on the ground and drink urine, bark like a dog, spreading videos of it everywhere. His miserable state was burned into my memory for twenty years. Even after he recovered, I’d kept track of Chloe’s whereabouts. But I never anticipated this. Not only had Ethan forgiven his parents’ murderer first, he’d climbed into bed with her. During every night he’d lied about working late, he’d tried every position with her. He said they couldn’t help themselves, overcome by passion. So what were my meddling twenty years worth? Thunder rumbled as his phone rang simultaneously. Ethan didn’t even glance at me before answering. “Ethan, my thesis data got rejected. If I miss tonight’s deadline, my entire project is ruined…” Chloe’s voice was sweet and cloying. The man’s throat bobbed as he immediately rushed to the entrance to change shoes, not forgetting to coo at her: “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right now.” He responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if I didn’t exist. I whirled around and blocked his path: “You’re not going!” Ethan frowned, irritation rising in his eyes. “Fiona! This is about Chloe’s future. She’s not useless like you. Get out of my way!” The word “useless” nailed me in place. I forgot how to react. Ethan’s patience completely evaporated. He grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. My wound struck the corner of a cabinet. I hissed in pain. Instinctively, I called out: “Ethan, it hurts…” The only response was the earth-shattering slam of the door.

Liquid dripped down my face. I didn’t bother with it. Like a walking corpse, I pulled out tonight’s lunch box of food I’d lovingly prepared. Opened the lid, grabbed my fork, and mechanically stuffed the still-warm food into my mouth, chewing as if punishing myself. But thinking about how this lunch box had also been at the lab tonight made my mouth, my stomach, churn with revulsion — like I’d swallowed countless needles. I rushed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. As tears streamed from my eyes, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan’s supervisor. “Fiona, Ethan’s at City General Hospital. Get here quick!” Instinctively, I asked: “What happened? Is he okay?” Before he could answer, a strange woman’s sobbing voice came through the phone: “If it weren’t for helping me get that corporate data, you wouldn’t have been forced to drink so much you got gastric bleeding!” “I’ll go heat up some milk for you right now…” Ethan’s weak voice protested: “Don’t… just stay with me. Let her do that kind of grunt work.” “Is that… appropriate?” “Why wouldn’t it be? Taking care of people is her only talent. Remember this — your hands are meant for writing papers, conducting experiments, winning awards. They shouldn’t be wasted in a kitchen…” My throat felt like it had been scraped raw, like a fire burning it over and over. I stared at my gaunt, withered reflection in the mirror. Suddenly I understood. In this genius physicist’s eyes, I — his wife — was only fit for menial labor. Only fit to serve. Elevate his mistress to the clouds. Reduce his wife to a maid. What a perfect arrangement. “Fiona, Ethan’s bleeding quite a bit. When are you coming?” I wiped away my tears and spoke slowly into the still-connected call: “Boss, I won’t be coming to the hospital. But feel free to invite me to the public denouncement when his affair with Miss Chloe gets exposed!” I hung up. My heart felt no better. I drifted ghost-like to the bedroom, gazing at the bright moon hanging high. Suddenly, I laughed softly. Ethan had probably long forgotten that back then, I’d been the top student at our university besides him. He’d already been specially recruited by the National Physics Research Institute. For my sake, he’d secretly torn up that offer letter, insisting on going to another city with me for college. I’d gotten angry at him for the first time: “Are you crazy? How can you waste your talent like this?” He’d stubbornly shaken his head, his eyes redder than blood. “Wherever you go, I go. Without you, I don’t want anything!” He’d even taken that offer letter covered in tape and knelt at my parents’ door, kowtowing repeatedly. “Uncle, Aunt, please believe me. Fiona is my entire life.” “I’d rather die than let her down.” When Ethan was serious, stars would appear in his eyes. And I’d naturally believed him completely. When he said forever, I thought he meant forever. Later, I gave up my studies, became a homemaker, lost myself in his ever-ascending career, becoming increasingly marked by domestic mundanity. I earned no praise, only insults calling me “useless.” Life really is full of reversals. Just like tonight — I’d gone to the lab to tell him he was going to be a father. What should have been a surprise turned into a nightmare.

The next day, when I returned home from the lawyer’s office, my parents suddenly called. Their tone was unusually stern. “Fiona! Tell us the truth. Did you do something to betray Ethan?” I was stunned. I didn’t know how to explain that Ethan had cheated and I wanted a divorce. After a few seconds of stunned silence, I chose to deflect. “Mom, Dad, nothing like that happened…” My mother’s heavy breathing came through the phone. “Our house got splashed with red paint by some woman named Chloe. She says you’re shameless, that you seduce her husband every night!” “What’s going on? The neighbors are all pointing fingers at us, saying you couldn’t control yourself, that while Ethan was working late, you were out there sleeping around…” My hot-tempered father snatched the phone away, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Are you really that cheap? That desperate? Because of you, people are talking behind our backs. Your mother’s fainted several times… If you don’t fix this, we’re cutting you off!” Bang! The call disconnected. Almost simultaneously, a soft laugh came from the bedroom. The door opened. Chloe stood inside. She looked younger than her profile picture, with luminously pale skin and bright eyes. In her hands were the shredded pieces of my pregnancy test results. “Like the gift I sent your parents?” She smiled sweetly. But it made my blood run cold. I pulled out my phone to call the police while demanding: “How did you get in here?” She slapped the phone out of my hand. Shaking her head with a mocking laugh: “Stupid! Your husband gave me the key, obviously.” I stood frozen, my entire body shaking with rage. She looked at me, tilting her head with a smile. “Can’t handle this already?” “What if I told you I don’t just have your house key — I also have his project authorship rights and his research institute paycard? What would you do then?” I took a breath, forcing down the fury rising in my chest. “You saw it yourself. I’m carrying his child. I’m his legitimate wife. He won’t destroy his academic career and future for you!” She froze for a second. Then burst out laughing. “Really?” She suddenly stood up, slowly walking toward me, her eyes dropping to my still-flat stomach. Lips curling, her voice drawling slowly: “You think having a baby will tie him down? Just like you thought spending twenty years with him would guarantee you his whole life?” “Stupid! So stupid!” She threw her head back, laughing wildly. Her voice was shrill and piercing. Then I watched as her hands slowly moved to her own stomach. Her clothes were thin. Thin enough that I could clearly see her swollen belly. Chloe glanced at my stunned expression, her face unable to hide her gloating. “Fourteen weeks along. Ethan said once he finishes this current project, he’ll tell you he wants a divorce. He’s even reported it to his superiors.” “If I were you, I’d spread my legs and find another man…” Fourteen weeks… Fourteen weeks ago, she’d already had a key to my home. She’d probably been in my marital bed, on the sofa, even in the shower — in every corner of our shared home. He’d mounted this woman, taking her again and again. The clinking sounds of lab equipment bottles came crashing back into my ears. Boom! My carefully maintained composure shattered under the weight of my rage. I grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at her. Ahhh! She couldn’t dodge in time. It hit her squarely, blood streaming from her forehead. The suffocating pressure I’d been holding back, mixed with fury over my parents being terrorized, formed a tidal wave. I didn’t stop. Instead, I lunged at her like a madwoman. Straddling her body, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the table. Bang! Her piercing screams were music to my ears in that deadly silent space. The blood spurred me into deeper frenzy. I tore at her scalp while cursing at the top of my lungs: “Bitch! Whore! Husband-stealing slut! Why don’t you just die! I’ll kill you!” I’d lost all reason. Completely consumed by rage. Chloe’s face was covered in blood. Her forehead crimson, her nose crimson, her mouth crimson. She screamed until her voice went hoarse. But I showed no mercy, clawing at her face, biting her ear, kicking her stomach with my feet. She shrieked as blood seeped from between her legs in a spreading stain. I stared at the bright red beneath her, pausing for a few seconds. Just those few seconds — and my lower abdomen took a brutal kick. Pain exploded across my belly. My entire body flew backward. Splurch! Flesh pierced through. The tip of an umbrella protruding from the entryway plunged deep into my body. No! I heard Ethan’s terrified scream.

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I lost a bet during a game with my friends, and my punishment was being forced to post a specific status on my social media: [I’m two months pregnant. I suddenly really wanted some grapes, but my husband refused to buy them for me. Then I wanted some green grapes, and he still refused. The marriage is over, we’ve broken up, I got rid of the baby, and I finally ate my grapes. From now on, the creature known as a ‘husband’ no longer exists in my world.] The male lead of my loveless, ghost-town of a marriage was instantly summoned back from overseas overnight by our panicked parents. After a grueling three-way interrogation, the truth came out. When the man who took the blame for my prank finally came home, he had his assistant haul in three massive boxes of red grapes and three boxes of green grapes. His face was as cold as the Grim Reaper himself. “Since you love eating them so much, this time, I’m going to let you eat until you drop.” 1 After hitting “Post” on that status, I casually tossed my phone onto the luxurious marble table and lazily scanned the room. “How was that? Satisfied?” My friends around the table all gave me a thumbs-up. Leo even cursed in absolute disbelief, picking up my phone to verify it. “Serena, you are insane! You seriously didn’t filter a single person from seeing this.” I couldn’t be bothered to respond to their flattery, simply waving my hand to deal the next round of cards. I was used to doing whatever I wanted. As for the absolute tsunami this post would cause once my parents and my in-laws saw it? I didn’t even want to think about it. While shuffling the cards, Chloe leaned in close to me. With an “I-know-exactly-what-you’re-doing” smirk, she offered her expert analysis on my bold move: “If you didn’t want to post it, who could force you? You did this on purpose. You just wanted to summon CEO Thorne back from overseas, didn’t you?” Chloe had been reading way too many billionaire romance novels lately. Her head was full of cliché, dramatic plotlines. I decided not to argue with her and just gave a dismissive reply: “Mhm. You’re completely right.” In our elite New York social circle, whenever anyone brought up me and Ethan Thorne, they would always sigh and call it a spectacularly doomed, toxic karma. When we first met as college freshmen, I was the arrogant, high-and-mighty heiress of the Vance family, sitting comfortably at the absolute center of the Manhattan socialite scene. Whenever the Thorne family was mentioned, people would scoff and call them “tasteless new money who didn’t belong in high society.” Naturally, Ethan was completely ostracized by our circle. And I was the undisputed ringleader of that isolation campaign. But the eighteen-year-old Ethan couldn’t have cared less. His demeanor back then was entirely different from how he is now. He was loud, arrogant, and perfectly content doing his own thing. To crush his arrogance, I personally stepped onto the battlefield. I pretended to be deeply in love with him, chasing him relentlessly for over six months. Just when he had completely fallen for me, I ruthlessly dumped him. Then, I joined my friends in kicking him while he was down, mercilessly mocking him for thinking he was ever good enough for me. With such bad blood between us, we were supposed to hate each other for the rest of our lives. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. Three years ago, a massive economic crisis hit, severely impacting all the old-money families in New York. Desperate for capital and protection, my father swallowed his pride and went begging to the Thorne family—the only ones who emerged from the crisis unscathed—proposing a corporate marriage. I didn’t dare tell my father about the horrible things I had done to Ethan in college. I spent every day living in pure terror, waiting for my father to be thrown out onto the street. But to my utter shock, the Thorne family agreed. At first, I was certain this was Ethan’s grand revenge. The Thorne family was no longer just “new money.” Their business empire had expanded at a terrifying rate, becoming a top-tier conglomerate that everyone in the city looked up to. And Ethan, who had entered the family business early, was already a high-ranking executive, flying all over the world. Forget about revenge—in our three years of marriage, I had only seen him a grand total of three times. The first year, I lived in constant fear, treating every day like walking on eggshells, terrified that one wrong move would anger my billionaire husband. The second year, I comfortably spent my exorbitant allowance, lived in our massive, empty penthouse, and completely forgot my place. Chloe was hopelessly obsessed with our dynamic, treating us like her favorite fictional couple. “CEO Thorne is absolutely true love to you! Why do you think he travels the world working himself to the bone? It’s so you can buy priceless jewelry without blinking and rent out private islands for your parties!” I didn’t say a word. A few cards slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor. “I’m done. I fold this round.” If I hadn’t known that Ethan was keeping a bright, beautiful woman in his luxury mansion in Dubai, my romantically delusional brain might have actually believed he was tolerating me out of lingering affection. But as time went on, I figured it out. This marriage was completely optional to him. He just married me to have a mascot sitting at home to shut down the public gossip. This mascot could be Serena Vance, or it could be literally anyone else. 2 I was woken up by our housekeeper. The consequence of staying up all night drinking was that my sleep schedule was completely flipped. It had been exactly twenty-three hours since I made that fateful post. “Ma’am, the main estate sent a car for you. It’s waiting downstairs.” I frustratedly ran a hand through my messy hair, trying to calculate what important date today was. After washing up, I checked my phone. One look nearly gave me a heart attack. Aside from the countless frantic, concerned messages from my parents and in-laws, even Ethan—whom I hadn’t spoken to in four or five months—had sent me a single “?”. My hand trembled, and I replied with a “?” of my own. He replied instantly: > [I’m at the main estate. Come over.] My brain practically exploded. It was months away from Thanksgiving. Why the hell was Ethan suddenly back in the country?! On the ride to the estate, I scrolled through all the unread messages and finally remembered the post I made last night after losing that stupid game. Ethan’s time was unbelievably valuable. Even during our wedding vows, his assistant was standing nearby checking his watch. Now, because of a joke post, he was summoned back from Dubai overnight by our parents?! When I stepped out of the car, my legs felt like jelly. The Ethan I was most familiar with was the arrogant, reckless boy from our youth. The day he got his driver’s license, he totaled an obscenely expensive supercar. He didn’t even flinch, just kicked the shattered headlight and complained, “What a piece of junk.” He was not this terrifying, awe-inspiring CEO. From his perfectly tailored cuffs to his impeccably styled hair, every single movement screamed “corporate elite.” It was as if he was born in a boardroom. Right now, this corporate elite was occupying a single armchair, while our four parents sat opposite him on the sofa, looking incredibly stern, like a tribunal preparing to pass judgment. The moment I walked in, my mother-in-law’s expression softened. She smiled and came over to take my hand. “It’s my fault. I didn’t realize Serena was feeling so wronged.” My own mother followed closely behind, casting a hesitant, pointed look at my stomach. Thanks to my frequent, spontaneous vacations around the world, I had successfully created the illusion that I regularly flew out to visit Ethan. Therefore, they had absolutely no idea about the true, nonexistent state of our marriage. In their eyes, while Ethan and I might not have a fiery, passionate romance, we were mutually supportive and harmonious. I opened my mouth, struggling to find the words, and silently explained: “Mom… I’m not pregnant…” Compared to my mother-in-law, my own mother knew exactly what kind of trouble I was capable of causing. She instantly gave me a “I knew you were pulling some kind of stunt” look and stood back, waiting to see how I would clean up my own mess. Three other pairs of eyes stared directly at me, waiting for my explanation. I had never faced an interrogation like this in my life. Desperate, I looked at Ethan, praying that the male lead of this ghost-town marriage would throw me a lifeline. The man fought cutthroat corporate wars in Dubai, only for a massive scandal to drop on his head in New York. Yet, Ethan didn’t seem angry at all. And from the looks of it, he hadn’t sold me out yet. Time ticked by. Just as I was losing all hope and frantically trying to piece together a lie in my head… Ethan finally spoke: “I’ve been too busy with work lately, and I haven’t had time to spend with Serena. She was just throwing a tantrum at me. It’s a misunderstanding. I’m sorry for making you all worry.” Ethan was too brilliant and intimidating. He held absolute authority in the family. As soon as he said those words, the four elders immediately understood and nodded in relief. “We were just overreacting. But since you’re already back, you need to spend more time with Serena.” Ethan nodded in agreement. 3 For the entire ride back to our penthouse, I didn’t dare say a word. I drafted a dozen apologies in my head, only to swallow them back down every time. I was stressing so much my face probably looked like a wrinkled prune. When Ethan, pulling his suitcase with one hand and loosening his tie with the other, headed straight for the master bedroom, I finally snapped out of it and blocked his path. Under his confused gaze, I explained awkwardly: “The room is a bit messy. You should go shower in the guest room first, and I’ll bring your luggage in for you.” It was more than “a bit messy.” There was absolutely nothing belonging to Ethan in that master bedroom. He only came back to sleep here one night a year. The last time he was here, the moment he left for the airport on New Year’s Day, I packed up all his belongings and threw them into the guest room. “I’m just going to change my clothes and leave. I have a business dinner in a bit.” Ethan truly was a workaholic. Even though it was already nine o’clock at night, and he had only been back just long enough to take the blame for my prank, he had already scheduled a business meeting. He easily sidestepped me and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. By the time I reacted, it was too late. Ethan stood at the entrance of the massive walk-in closet, staring in absolute silence at the mountains of women’s clothing from every season. “Where are my clothes?” I laughed nervously. “I… I sent them out to be dry-cleaned and maintained. When they were delivered back, the staff didn’t know, so they accidentally put them in the guest room. I haven’t had time to move them back yet.” I didn’t expect this pathetic lie to fool Ethan. He just gave me a deep, unreadable look, took off his suit jacket, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt. It was like he had stripped off his cold, elite exterior. For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of the reckless, youthful Ethan I used to know. The doorbell rang. The next second, Ethan’s secretary walked in with several people, carrying large and small boxes into the apartment. When I finally saw what was inside those boxes, the room spun. My karma had finally arrived. Ethan appeared behind me, gesturing with his chin toward the boxes of red and green grapes. “Eat. Since you love them so much, this time, you’re going to eat until you drop.” I wanted to cry. “I’m sorry.” His face was as cold as ice. “I’ll be back in two hours. You can finish them all by then, right?” When Ethan returned from his business dinner, the apartment was in chaos. The housekeeper was busy moving his belongings back into the master bedroom, while I was squatting in the living room, frantically stuffing grapes into my mouth. I really tried my best. I managed to finish half a box. I thought that showing genuine effort would at least earn me a sliver of forgiveness. But when he saw my cheeks bulging with grapes, his expression grew even colder. He had clearly been drinking. His breathing wasn’t as steady as it had been two hours ago. He walked up and looked down at me. “Serena, where is your brain?” Honestly, no matter how bossy I acted behind his back these past three years, the moment I was in front of Ethan, I couldn’t help but cower. After all, when you have a guilty conscience, you’re always afraid of getting caught. “But I really tried my best! I seriously can’t finish them.” I was so pathetic! I sounded so weak, my voice was literally trembling. He reached out to pull me up, his brow furrowed deeply. “Get up. Go wash up and go to sleep.” He was letting me off the hook. I let out a massive sigh of relief and practically skipped to the bathroom. But the moment I laid down in bed, karma struck again. In just one short hour, I had to run to the bathroom three times. Ethan, sleeping next to me, finally lost his patience. Resigned to his fate, he got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and grabbed a cashmere blanket to wrap me tightly over my pajamas. “Get up. We’re going to the hospital.” I was so weak and dehydrated from diarrhea that I couldn’t even stand up straight. I waved him off weakly. “It’s fine. I’ll just find some stomach medicine.” Ethan’s patience had entirely run out. Ignoring my protests, he scooped me up into his arms. The last time I was this physically close to him was on our wedding day. 4 The wedding was entirely planned by our in-laws. The Thorne family favored traditional ceremonies, so everything from the bridal pickup to the reception was very grounded and classic. At 9:00 AM, the designated auspicious time, I sat drowsily on the edge of the bed. The priceless diamond tiara on my head was so heavy I could barely breathe. The sound of festivities grew louder. Surrounded by a crowd of groomsmen, Ethan calmly and flawlessly passed all the ridiculous “tests” my bridesmaids had set up. That day, he actually had a smile on his face. In a daze, I almost forgot that this was supposed to be a dull, arranged corporate marriage. When he finally found my hidden bridal shoe, the way he picked me up was incredibly gentle and reverent. Amidst the cheering crowd, a suspicious hint of red crept up the tips of his ears. For a moment, I forgot all our past grudges. Leaning against his chest, my heart pounded like a drum. That was the only moment of genuine warmth in our three years of marriage. When the driver pulled the car around today, Ethan had already been holding me at the entrance of our building for ten minutes. Miraculously, my churning stomach quieted down for those ten minutes. I felt incredibly warm. Because we had been holding the same position for so long, I tried to shift slightly in his arms. He looked down at me. The night was too dark for me to see his expression clearly, but I felt the arm around my waist pull me even tighter against him. I gathered my courage, raised my arms to wrap around his neck, and rested my head on his shoulder. “When is the driver getting here?” “Almost.” His voice was right next to my ear, his breath brushing against my skin, tickling me like a feather. Being young and impulsive, my heart was effortlessly stirred with thoughts I definitely shouldn’t be having. This highly inappropriate fluttering feeling lasted until the next day. The following morning, my face flushed as I reminisced about the decidedly not-safe-for-work dream I had the night before. I pushed open the bedroom door and walked out. The male lead of my dream was sitting in the living room wearing loungewear, a laptop balanced on his knees, looking intensely focused. “Why are you still here?!” My voice pitched up in shock, sounding a bit grating. “Serena, my name is also on the deed to this apartment.” I knew I had misspoken, so I quickly tried to explain while calming my racing heart. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, aren’t you going back?” “Back where?” “Dubai.” It had been three years. I had never, ever woken up the next morning to find Ethan still in the apartment. He kept looking at his laptop and replied coolly, “I’m taking a vacation. For a month.” I was shocked beyond belief. Ethan, the CEO of a multinational conglomerate, with a million things on his plate, right in the prime of his career, taking a one-month vacation? It felt incredibly extravagant. When Chloe heard my rant, she bravely defended Ethan: “Even a dog would shake its head at that! Machines get downtime for maintenance, but Ethan doesn’t?” I replied in agony: “Do you know what this means?! It means I can no longer stay out all night! I have to come home for three meals a day on time and play the role of the perfect, dutiful wife!” Looking at the text message my mother-in-law just sent, I felt even more dead inside. “It also means I might actually have to give Ethan a baby!” My mother-in-law told us to “work hard” and said she believed in Ethan’s abilities. I put my phone down and looked up, meeting Ethan’s gaze. He had clearly just finished replying to our parents’ messages too. His eyes held a rare hint of unnatural awkwardness. 5 Living alone with Ethan was awkward beyond description. Our only shared topic of conversation was that we went to the same Ivy League university. And in our only shared memories, I had repeatedly played him for a fool. After suffering through an entire day of awkward silence, I finally couldn’t take it anymore and tried to break the ice. I carefully chose my words: “Um… do you remember…” Every single mutual topic we had was a landmine. I suddenly felt like I was being too reckless, but the words were already out. Ethan generously looked up and gave me his full attention. I braced myself and stepped right on the landmine. “Carter’s kid… he’s already two years old.” Carter was the only son of the Carter family, a notorious playboy. In college, he worshipped the ground Ethan walked on, and his lifestyle was obscenely lavish. When our friend group used to get together, we would always bring him up, mocking him for slumming it with Ethan, saying he was useless and would probably die in a pile of women. Yet, out of everyone in our social circle, he was the first one to get married and the first to have a kid. When Ethan went abroad, Carter completely disappeared from our radar. The next time we heard about him, it was because he was marrying a young, brilliant university professor from a highly respected, academic family. It was an opulent, century-defining wedding that made everyone envious, giving their little-known, older-woman-younger-man romance the perfect happy ending. Ethan looked at me, seemingly speechless. He finally said, “Carter’s son is my godson.” My eyes widened in pure shock. “How did I not know this?” I realized with a jolt how terrible of a wife I was. My knowledge of his social circle was stuck in our college days. I thought everything had stayed in the past, and I knew absolutely nothing about his current life. Ethan casually dropped another bombshell. “And you are his godmother. For his one-month celebration, I gave him a solid gold lock on your behalf.” So it wasn’t like I had imagined. He didn’t just come back once a year and essentially live permanently in Dubai. For Carter’s son’s one-month and two-year birthdays, Ethan had flown back personally, and even stopped by our apartment each time. It’s just that our timing was terrible, and we never actually crossed paths. “On his first birthday, I called you to ask if you wanted to come with me.” Before I could object, he continued: “A man answered the phone. He said you were sleeping and told me to screw off.” I practically slid right off the sofa, my legs trembling and my heart hammering in my chest. Ethan, however, looked completely unfazed by the possibility that he had been cheated on, and gently helped me back up. “Listen to me, it’s not what you think.” No man would ever casually answer my phone, and I definitely wouldn’t be sleeping next to another man. Except for one person: my younger cousin, Mason. He was two years younger than me. We grew up so close we practically shared everything. He wasn’t my biological brother, but he might as well have been. Ethan knew Mason existed, but their only interaction happened back in college… when I dumped Ethan. To ensure my humiliation of him was complete, I chose to break up with him at Mason’s birthday party. In front of everyone, the usually wild and arrogant young heir lost all his composure. He grabbed my hand, and his first instinct was to apologize. He had no idea what he had done wrong; he just desperately, humbly apologized and begged me not to end it. I impatiently shook off his hand, looking down at him with extreme arrogance. “Out of all the boyfriends I’ve had, you are the hardest to get rid of. A breakup is a breakup. I’m bored of you. Understand?” The scene was pure chaos. Looking back on it now, I genuinely felt like I couldn’t breathe. Mockery and insults flew from every direction, piercing Ethan like knives. But his eyes were only on me. Even though so many people looked down on his background, he was always proud. He had this lazy, indifferent look in his eyes, and occasionally, when he felt like it, he would use his wealth to aggressively shut down the snobby cliques that tried to corner him. None of us wanted to admit it, but we—this group of people—didn’t actually look down on him. We weren’t isolating him. We were just deeply insecure that our status was being challenged by him, and we couldn’t do anything about it. Wearing the crown of “old money,” we were secretly jealous of Ethan’s freedom and audacity. And no one wanted to admit that ever since Ethan beat a trash-talking rich kid half to death and then casually threw down a massive stack of cash to settle it, we had subconsciously started to fear him. The ability to force a powerful family’s heir to swallow his pride and accept a payout—that required terrifying financial power. My harsh words struck a massive blow to Ethan. Someone laughed: “Look at him. He looks like an abandoned dog.” Mason shoved his way to the front of the crowd, kicked the devastated Ethan to the ground, and laughed with his hands on his hips. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think you’re good enough for my sister? We wouldn’t even let you be her dog; you’re bad luck.” Given that background, I didn’t even dare invite Mason to our wedding. “So, what is the truth?” Ethan looked at me, his tone perfectly calm. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I prepared for the worst. “That was Mason.” Ethan’s expression softened. It wasn’t the angry, resentful reaction I had expected upon hearing his enemy’s name. Instead, he seemed to suddenly relax, the tension leaving his face. “Okay, I understand.” The storm I had braced myself for never came. Ethan answered a phone call. I sneaked a glance at him, and he caught me staring. The person on the other end seemed to be a close friend. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. He kept his eyes on me, but said to the phone, “Yeah, she’s home. Alright, let me ask her.” I snapped back to reality when I heard him ask me: “Do you have any plans later? Let’s go see our godson.” Caught red-handed staring at him, I felt incredibly guilty. I nodded frantically, agreeing to whatever he said. 6 Carter should absolutely hate my guts. In college, he followed Ethan’s every command. When I was dating Ethan, Carter treated me with the utmost respect, always greeting me with a huge smile. Later, when I teamed up with everyone to orchestrate that massive humiliation against Ethan, Carter stormed into my house, looking so terrifying I thought he was going to murder me. Somehow, he held back his rage. He just pointed at me and said, “Serena, don’t you ever regret this.” How could I not regret it? I regretted it to death. The moment Ethan was kicked out of Mason’s party, I instantly regretted it. A spot in my chest went numb with pain, but I still had to force a smile and deal with the empty flattery of my friends. I fully expected Carter to give me the cold shoulder today. But the moment I stepped through his front doors, he and his wife were holding a little toddler, greeting us with warm smiles. Honestly, I knew almost everyone in the room by reputation. Every single one of them was a top-tier talent in their respective fields, armed with power and influence. Birds of a feather flock together. I thought about my group of aimless, partying friends, and for a moment, I felt so inferior I couldn’t even lift my head. Someone joked, “When it comes to being protective of a wife, Ethan is on another level. It’s been three years, and you finally bring her out for us to see.” Ethan peeled an orange for me, meticulously removing the white pith. “Serena and I don’t get to see each other much. Whenever I come back, I barely have enough time to spend with her. Why would I waste time on you guys?” Even though I knew he was just playing the part for the crowd, my heart still betrayingly started hammering against my ribs. I looked up at him, and he was looking back at me. His gaze was intense and gentle, just like it was all those years ago. Someone walked in. When he saw me, he froze for a second before easily falling into familiar banter. “Long time no see, sister-in-law. You’re looking even more beautiful.” I looked up at him, taking a long time to dig his identity out of my memory. He was Ethan’s absolute best friend, Colin. They had known each other long before Ethan’s family struck it rich. After graduating, he followed Ethan overseas as his right-hand man. He had fought his way up and was now a powerhouse executive in the Thorne empire. When we got married, he was still in Dubai managing the mines. So, this was our first time seeing each other in six years. I smiled back. “It really has been a long time.” The little toddler, encouraged by his mom, waddled over to me. He timidly hugged my leg and handed me a paper airplane he had folded himself. “Godmother, you’re even prettier than my mommy.” Everyone burst out laughing. Blushing, I accepted my godson’s gift and dug a piece of chocolate out of my purse for him. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. Ethan stared at the chocolate in my hand, looking uncharacteristically distracted. The arrogant, eighteen-year-old Ethan had one fatal flaw: he was prone to low blood sugar. But he never cared. He still drank himself into a stupor every night. At the underground street racing tracks on the outskirts of the city, he would get behind the wheel of a supercar and slam the gas pedal like he had a death wish. While I was chasing him, I found out about this. I started stocking my purse with all kinds of snacks. Different types of candies, chocolates, and even a bottle of glucose water were always on hand. A dizzy, disoriented Ethan peeled open a candy I gave him, popped it into his mouth, and spit it out a second later. “Disgusting.” I patiently offered him other options. “I have other brands. See which one you like?” “They’re all disgusting.” To capture his heart, I put in an insane amount of effort. I heard there was a private, artisanal chocolate shop in the UK famous for its handmade chocolates. I flew thousands of miles just to buy it, carefully protecting it all the way back to New York. Finally, I earned a genuine look of appreciation from Ethan. After that, I always kept it stocked in my bag. When we were dating, every time we met, the first thing I did was pop a piece of that chocolate into his mouth. The little toddler was a good kid who knew how to share. He broke off a piece and gave it to his mom. Carter’s wife ate it and looked incredibly surprised. “I know this brand! But didn’t the owner of this shop turn out to be an international fugitive? He got interviewed by local media because his chocolate was so good, which blew his cover, and he was arrested and sent to prison, right?” As soon as she said that, everyone turned to look at me. Back in college, Ethan used to brag endlessly. He told anyone who would listen that his girlfriend was the absolute best, flying to the UK once a month like clockwork just to buy his favorite chocolate. So almost everyone in the room knew the backstory. I laughed awkwardly. “Um, I actually made this myself.” I didn’t understand why, even after breaking up with Ethan, I kept up the habit of flying all the way to the UK to buy that specific chocolate. Until one day, I went back to the shop, and it was completely empty. The only person left was the fugitive’s apprentice, sitting there crying over the recipe. I stayed in the UK for over six months. I enrolled in baking classes, visited every chocolate factory in the surrounding countries, and finally found a master chocolatier who could reverse-engineer and recreate the exact flavor. I learned the craft from him.

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