Category: English

My parents called to tell me they were heading to my childhood best friend’s house to meet his blind date. At that moment, my childhood best friend, Frank, was fast asleep beside me. I thought they were joking. “Frank,” I whispered, “they’re saying they found you a blind date.” He hummed, a lazy sound, and pulled me tighter into his embrace. “Alright, Hannah. Pick out an outfit for me in a bit, maybe do my hair.” When I didn’t move, he cracked open an eye and scoffed. “Hey, what’s wrong? We’re just bed buddies. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?” I couldn’t process it. All I could do was move, a flurry of awkward motion. I couldn’t look at him. I pushed him away, scrambled to pick my clothes up off the floor, and pulled them on haphazardly. “Hannah, look at me.” Frank propped his chin on his arm, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You didn’t really think we were boyfriend and girlfriend, did you?” The phrase “bed buddies” echoed in my head. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t fasten the clasp on my bra. Frank threw back the covers, revealing the lean, sharp lines of his abdomen, and knelt on the edge of the bed. His hands moved with a familiar ease, fastening the hooks for me. I kept my head down. “Who’s the blind date?” I asked, my voice tight. I forced a bitter laugh. “Please don’t tell me your parents just grabbed some random person from a park bench.” I looked at myself in the mirror, at the constellation of red marks dotting my skin, my legs still aching from the night before. Frank, now wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, came up behind me and buried his face in my neck. “It’s Angela.” He flickered those handsome, almond-shaped eyes at me. “You remember. The senior from the art department in college. Angela.” He added, a genuine note of excitement in his voice, “You know, the thought of seeing her again… I’m actually a little nervous.” My hand, holding a tube of lipstick, froze. Of course I remembered. Frank had a massive crush on her, but before he could confess, she had moved abroad. I thought that was all in the past. Frank watched me in the mirror, his lips pursed. “Hey, Hannah. Don’t go getting any funny ideas about me.” “We grew up in diapers together. I mean, yeah, you’re… beautiful, but I see you as a brother.” “You’re my best buddy—for food, for road trips, for… bed.” It felt like a physical blow. A chill spread through my body. I looked at his smiling face and could only manage a weak, trembling smile in return. He kept going. “Besides, I know you so well. I know what you’re going to wear every day, right down to the matching underwear set.” “It’s almost… boring.” “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see you sleeping next to me, and honestly? It scares me.” “It scares me that one day, maybe we’d end up like our parents joked, actually married. My whole life, just… mapped out from start to finish.” He shuddered, as if the very thought was terrifying. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I have to go.” I wrapped myself in my coat and fled like a coward. I thought Frank and I were in a relationship. We acted like any other couple. We ate together, went on dates, hung out with friends. During games of Truth or Dare, we would kiss each other deeply and say “I love you” without a second thought. Frank would pick me up from work every single rainy day. He would secretly hold my hand under the table at family dinners. I had no idea that what I thought was a six-month relationship was just a childish game to him. “Hannah?” My mom tapped on the car window, peering in with concern. I snapped back to reality. Seeing my tear-streaked face in the rearview mirror, I quickly wiped my eyes, called out a shaky response, and got out of the car. “Mom!” I threw my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder to hide my expression. “I missed you,” I said with a laugh. My mom, holding a bag of groceries, took my arm, looking relieved. “Honey, why were you just sitting in the car? You scared me. Didn’t you see the news about people suffocating in their cars…?” I nodded along. Suddenly, her tone shifted. “By the way, Hannah, Frank’s blind date is coming over soon. Your Uncle and Aunt are taking this very seriously. I hear Frank planned this whole thing for a long time. He said he was worried the girl might feel awkward, and having you there would make her more comfortable.” “You know how close I am with his mom. So today, when we go…” She looked at me, her expression pained, trailing off. I forced a smile. “I know, Mom. Don’t worry. I’m great at breaking the ice, saying the right things. I get it.” My mom gave me a look filled with pity. Of course she knew. A photo of Frank and me sat on my nightstand. I treasured every gift he’d ever given me, not to mention the notebooks filled with a love I couldn’t hide. How could she not know? We walked home in silence. As we reached the door, I spoke up, my voice suddenly light. “Dad’s retiring next month. Let’s move to the coast.” I looked at my mother’s startled face and smiled playfully. “You two have always talked about retiring there. I don’t have any big dreams. I’d be happy just being a dance teacher, staying by your side.” Sitting in Frank’s house with my parents felt different this time. We were usually so boisterous, laughing and joking. The last time we were here, we had used a video game as an excuse to sneak into his room and kiss. This time… “Oh, Mary, you have no idea the lengths that boy of mine went to for this Angela,” Frank’s mom said to mine. “A direct pursuit would have been too simple for him. No, he had to insist on the pretense of ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ He made his father pull all sorts of strings just to get her to show up today for a ‘blind date’.” I looked around the meticulously decorated house, filled with bouquets of roses. There were platters of fruit and sweets on the table. Even their little dog was wearing a bright red sweater. And Frank was standing in front of a mirror, checking his reflection over and over, making sure he was perfect. The irony was laughable. Just last night, we were tangled in the sheets, and he was kissing the small red mole on my waist with such passion. And the underwear he was wearing right now? I bought it for him. “It’s just such a shame…” Frank’s mom sighed, taking my mother’s hand. “We always said we’d be in-laws one day. We even had a childhood betrothal for the kids!” She glanced at me. “I truly adore Hannah. She’s not just beautiful, she’s got such a wonderful, bright personality…” I lowered my eyes, not daring to speak, terrified that a single wrong move would cause my tears to fall. “Mom!” Frank frowned, clearly displeased. “You said it yourself, that was your generation’s thing. You and Aunt Mary are close, why don’t you marry her? What’s it got to do with me?” “What century are we in? Stop bringing up that old-fashioned nonsense.” He showed no regard for his mother’s feelings. He then turned to me, his tone hard, as if I had put her up to it. “Hannah, where’s the bracelet my mom gave you?” When I didn’t respond, he strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pushed up my sleeve. “The one from the betrothal thing. I’m afraid Angela will see it and get upset…” The words hung in the air. My dad and his, who had been drinking tea, stopped. My mom, who was arranging flowers for him, stopped. In an instant, the atmosphere turned ugly. My mother stared at me, then slammed the vase and scissors down on the table with a clatter. She started to stand, but Frank’s mom quickly pulled her back. Frank’s mom stood up, placing herself firmly in front of me and giving Frank a hard shove. “Frank! What do you think you’re doing?” “Putting aside the fact that nothing is settled with this Angela… you were the one who got on your knees and begged Hannah to wear that bracelet when you were seventeen!” It was as if Frank’s soul finally returned to his body. He remembered. He remembered the year someone else confessed their feelings for me. Panicked, he’d gotten drunk, stolen the family heirloom bracelet, and showed up at my house in the middle of the night, crying, pleading, even kneeling, begging me to wear it. He tugged at his collar, took a deep breath, and then smiled at me. “I’m just a little on edge. You’re right, you don’t take back a gift. You should keep it.” “It’s fine. I’ll give it back to you. I’ll go home and get it now,” I interrupted, my voice calm. “I’ll be right back. I won’t be long.” Before anyone could react, I grabbed my bag and walked out. When I returned with the bracelet and was about to knock, a chorus of cheers stopped me— “Welcome…” Frank’s smile froze the moment he saw me. “What are you doing here?” He seemed shocked that I had come back, and even more shocked that I had actually brought the bracelet. When I held it out to him, his face was a mask of disbelief. Finally, he took it and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Hannah, for the sake of our… partnership, don’t cause any trouble today.” “Angela’s a sensitive girl. Don’t say anything to upset her.” I didn’t want to engage with him. Angela was a sensitive girl, and I wasn’t? I looked at the boy I had loved for my entire youth, and a bone-deep chill threatened to swallow me whole. Ten minutes later, Angela was escorted into the house by a family friend. The parents all chatted amiably. That was why my parents were here—to subtly lay out our family’s background and future prospects for the go-between. Throughout it all, Frank sat beside Angela, his every gesture radiating care. He was nearly thirty, but he acted like a nervous teenager. I had nothing to do, which suited me fine. I was just looking for a chance to slip away. Unexpectedly, Angela turned to me, her gaze soft. “You must be Hannah. I’ve heard so much about you. The goddess of the art department, wasn’t it?” Startled to be addressed, I waved my hands dismissively. “Oh, no, not at all. That was just everyone fooling around in school.” I hoped the attention would quickly shift. But Angela persisted. “Not at all! After you performed that classical dance at the ball, the entire area under your dorm was filled with flowers the next day.” Before I could speak, she tugged playfully at Frank’s arm. “You two were childhood sweethearts. How did you not end up together? I remember you were inseparable. Everyone thought you’d get married.” Every eye in the room turned to me. I couldn’t explain it, but this seemingly harmless woman radiated a strange hostility towards me. “Her?” Frank looked at Angela, handing her a peeled apple. “In your eyes, she might be a goddess or whatever. But to me, she’s just a tomboy. The brother I grew up sharing pants with.” As if recalling a memory, Frank let out a chuckle. “You have no idea. When Hannah cried as a kid, snot and tears would just stream down her face. If I didn’t wipe that huge glob of snot for her, it would have gone right into her mouth.” “And when she was fifteen, she fainted during gym class and started talking nonsense, flailing her arms and legs around…” “I have to go, I have something to do.” I stood up, barely containing my anger, and managed a tight smile for the adults. “You all chat.” Angela looked at Frank with a concerned expression. “Did I say something wrong to upset her?” Frank glared at me, as if blaming me for ruining the mood. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I have a date with my boyfriend tonight. I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.” “When did you get a boyfriend?” I had one foot out the door when Frank grabbed my arm. “How come I don’t know about it?” In front of everyone, including Angela, my face flushed. I struggled to pull my arm free. “What business is it of yours whether I have a boyfriend or not?” I snapped. “My own parents haven’t even asked. Why should you care?” “Frank!” his father said in a low, stern voice. “Sit down! What kind of behavior is this?” I used the opportunity to bow to the adults. “Goodbye, Uncle, Auntie.” From behind me, I heard Angela’s sweet voice. “Hannah is so beautiful and performs on stage so often, she must have plenty of admirers… It’s only natural for her to be dating. I think I even saw a hickey under her scarf earlier.” Realizing she might have overstepped, she paused, adding sheepishly, “Maybe it’s because we art students are different. We painters are a bit quieter, whereas you dancers are more… open. But I respect every girl’s choice.” I didn’t hear what they said about me after that. My style had always been a bit bolder. It was a classic case of lifting one up by putting another down, using me as a foil to make her look better. And I could only imagine how Frank would join in on belittling me. But they didn’t know. My claim about having a boyfriend was a lie, but my plan to leave this place and move to the coast was very, very real. I started researching houses and job opportunities there. I threw myself into the planning, busying myself so I wouldn’t have time to think about Frank. We grew up together. He had always played the part of the warm, caring older brother next door, standing up for me whenever I was bullied. When I was ten, I was being mischievous and begged him to stay with me at the amusement park until nine at night. Both sets of parents were so worried they called the police, finally finding us playing house in a sandbox. He took all the blame, saying it was his fault. That night, his father hit him a dozen times with a feather duster. I cried, insisting it was my idea, but Frank, with a defiant lift of his brow, insisted it was all on him. Later, as I grew more beautiful and he more handsome, we became the “golden couple” in everyone’s eyes. I truly believed I had been given the script for a perfect life. [When are you free?] A message from Frank popped up. I wiped a tear from my eye. Before I could even type a question mark, another message came through. [Come get your stuff from my place. I’m inviting Angela over in a few days.] I took a deep breath, calming myself. Less than twenty-four hours ago, we were cuddling on the couch in that apartment, watching a romance movie, our passion leading us late into the night. And now… I gave a bitter smile. I unpinned his chat from the top of my list and sent a single, detached word: [K.] I locked myself in my room that day. My parents came home not long after I did. “The coast is thousands of miles away, Hannah. Once you’re there, coming back will be difficult,” my mom said, watching me cautiously. My dad, hiding behind his newspaper, was also sneaking glances at me. I pulled on my coat. “The weather there is amazing! Isn’t it your dream to retire there?” I smiled and put my arm around her shoulder. “The only thing is, the job market isn’t great. I’m thinking of opening my own dance studio… As for performing again, you know I don’t really care about that.” “But…” my mom frowned, her mouth opening and closing. “Hannah, you…” I glanced at the time. “It’s fine, Mom. I’m serious about this. I’m fine, and my head is clear. You don’t have to worry about me.” “You two, on the other hand, should start thinking about the money.” I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ve got to run. Talk later.” I thought maybe time and distance would heal the pain. I felt a sense of peace. My devout, passionate love had gone unspoken, but at least I hadn’t lost my dignity. I thought Frank and I could part amicably. I just never expected to be locked out. I stood at the door, keying in the password again and again. [INCORRECT PASSWORD] [INCORRECT PASSWORD] A flame of anger ignited in my chest. When knocking got no response, my rational mind took over. I remembered I could call him. After a series of beeps, the call was disconnected. After my fifth attempt, a text came through: [On a date. Do not disturb.] I took a long breath, resisting the urge to curse him out. [Password.] The next second, a glaring red exclamation mark stung my eyes. Frank had deleted me!

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My parents beamed at me. “How would you like a baby brother?” they asked. I clutched my ragged stuffed rabbit and shook my head with all the solemnity a four-year-old could muster. “No.” They laughed, ruffling my hair as if my words were meaningless. A year later, they returned with a plump baby boy—my “playmate,” my “protector,” my so-called safety net. But adulthood never came. When Dick developed leukemia, I was strapped to cold steel tables as needles plunged into my bones. When his kidneys failed, my mother signed the consent form for my “voluntary” donation—ignoring my pleas about my blood disorder. I bled to death on that table. When I awoke, I was four again. My mother knelt before me, her face glowing with that same maternal joy. “Kerrie, sweetie,” she cooed, “Mommy has a little secret in her tummy. A baby brother for you. Wouldn’t you like a brother to play with?” In her hands, she held two shiny new action figures. In the corner of the room stood a brand-new, baby-blue crib. I looked down at my own chubby hands, clutching the same faded pink rabbit. I was back. This time, I would not be his living blood bank. I would not be held captive by the illusion of their love. My father knelt beside her, his voice a warm, guiding whisper. “Honey, you’re always scared to sleep alone, aren’t you? With a little brother in the house, you’ll never be lonely again.” He’d said the exact same thing in my last life. But after Dick was born, I had never been more alone. The bedtime stories stopped. I was no longer lifted onto my father’s lap. Overnight, I became invisible. I was told to be mature, to be responsible, to take care of my brother. I was five years old. They expected a five-year-old to shed all jealousy and resentment and devote herself to a creature that hadn’t even been born. Back then, I’d felt a vague sense of loss. I’d tearfully told them I wanted to be their only baby forever. My mother’s face had contorted with rage. “I knew it! Girls are so jealous! First, you try to steal your father from me, and now you want to steal everything from your brother before he’s even here!” I hadn’t understood, I only knew she was angry. I’d sobbed that I was sorry, that I did want a brother. Her smile returned, but later, I heard her whisper to my father, “I saw on the news that an eight-year-old pushed her pregnant mother down the stairs. Who knows what this one might do in a fit of jealousy? We should send her to your parents’ place in the country. Just until after the baby is born.” They named him Dick. A name that meant legacy, succession. Everything would be his. The memories flickered through my mind, and my expression darkened. My mother, thinking I was just confused, took my hand and placed it on her still-flat stomach. “There’s a tiny new life in here, Kerrie. Maybe a brother, maybe a sister. Aren’t you excited?” My father joined her side. “One daughter is enough,” he joked. “I’m hoping for a boy. Someone to protect our little Kerrie when she’s older.” I’d fallen for that line before. I’d been so excited. But the Dick I got was a monster who threw toys at my head and shredded my only Barbie doll with scissors. When I complained, they’d always say the same thing: “But you’re the one who wanted a brother to play with, remember? He’s just a baby, Kerrie. He doesn’t know any better. You have to be patient with him.” They used that excuse to gaslight me through my entire childhood, right up until the moment they used it to justify taking my life. So this time, I pointed a small, steady finger at the new baby furniture and toys filling our home. “You’ve already decided to have him,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Why are you asking me?” For a moment, they were speechless, their smiles frozen in an awkward tableau. I turned without another word, clutching my worn-out rabbit, and walked upstairs. There was a large, bright room up there that had always been kept empty. It was for “guests,” they’d said. I finally understood it was for him. I went into my own small, cramped room and the tears finally came. I had spent a lifetime bending over backward for them, enduring unimaginable pain, and they still saw it as nothing more than my duty. Whenever I cried from the pain of the needles, hoping for a word of comfort, my mother would just scold me. “You’re the one who said you wanted a brother! Why else would I have had a second child? Now he’s here, and you refuse to take responsibility for him?” My hands clenched into tight fists. I had to get out of this hellhole. I spent a long time thinking, and the conclusion was inescapable: my parents did not love me. My entire upbringing was a lesson in being quiet, frugal, and obedient. I was never to be demanding. The only time I ever broke that rule was when I was three, when I cried for the stuffed rabbit. My mother had slapped me across the face, right there in the street, and left me sobbing in front of the market stall. I cried for hours until my father finally came back and bought it for me. “Mommy doesn’t have a job because she stays home to take care of you,” he’d said, his voice heavy with meaning. “I have to support this whole family by myself. The money for this rabbit could have bought us a proper steak dinner. Don’t be mad at your mother. She just wants you to be a good, sensible girl.” I was three. I thought we were destitute. I apologized to my mother profusely, promising never to ask for a toy again. But my mother’s dresses cost hundreds of dollars. My father smoked expensive imported cigarettes every day. When Dick was born, he got new toys every month. The ten dollars for my rabbit wouldn’t have broken them. They just couldn’t bear to spend money—or love—on me. Sure enough, the next morning, my mother knocked on my door. “Kerrie,” she said, feigning exhaustion, “Mommy’s not feeling well with the baby in my tummy. I can’t take good care of you right now. Would you like to go stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a few days?” I stared at her, my eyes cold. “Is it really just for a few days?” My directness made her falter, but she recovered quickly. “Of course, sweetie. As soon as Mommy feels better, we’ll come get you.” I didn’t spare her another glance. I grabbed my little backpack, stuffed my few items of clothing and my rabbit inside. “Let’s go.” It was her idea, but as I got in the car, she began to cry. “Let your father drive you. It hurts too much to watch you leave.” Anyone watching would have thought she was the most loving mother in the world. In reality, it was guilt. A “few days” was going to be at least a year. The car left the smooth highway for a winding, remote mountain road. The familiar, dilapidated village came into view. “Be a good girl for your grandparents,” my father said sternly. “Help out where you can. Don’t be selfish. And call me if you need anything.” He strapped a kid’s smartwatch to my wrist. I stared at it. “Will you actually answer?” I asked. He looked confused. “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I answer my little Kerrie’s call?” He smiled. “Don’t worry. Even with a new baby, you’ll always be my favorite. You just be good here, and I’ll be back to get you before you know it.” Liar. In my last life, my uncle’s son bullied me relentlessly, calling me a worthless burden nobody wanted. I called my father, sobbing. He said he was busy at work and hung up. I called five times that first month. He answered twice, for less than ten seconds each time. By the second month, he “forgot” to pay for the watch’s service plan, and the calls wouldn’t go through at all. I thought I had broken it. I hid in a corner and cried, blaming myself, praying they would come for me soon. It was a year and a half before my uncle, on a trip into the city, finally brought me home. The moment I stepped through the door, my mother recoiled, pinching her nose. “Kerrie, you smell like a barn! Don’t they have showers in the country?” At six years old, I was mortified, hiding my face in shame. Compared to the pale, chubby Dick, I was a skinny, sallow little monkey after a year in the sun. It was true, I wasn’t very lovable. But wasn’t she the one who sent me there in the first place? The first day at my grandparents’, my aunt was furious. “It’s bad enough their own parents won’t raise them, now they dump a little girl on us!” My uncle gave me a silent, weary look and went back inside. I squatted under the eaves of their small house with my backpack, drawing pictures in the dirt. They didn’t like me, but my father sent them money every month. They wouldn’t starve me or let me freeze. This time, I wouldn’t cry for parents who would never come. I would take care of myself and build the strength to escape them for good. My grandparents came home from the fields at sunset. They didn’t recognize me at first. “Grandpa, Grandma,” I said, walking up to them. “It’s me, Kerrie. I’ve come to stay with you.” Grandma immediately pulled me into a warm, loving hug. Grandpa’s face broke into a huge grin, and he ushered me inside for cookies. That night, as I lay on a cool straw mat, Grandma fanned me to sleep while Grandpa watched from the doorway, sighing heavily. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes. I swore I would repay their kindness. I would not let them die so tragically this time.

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My mother despised women. Even me, her own daughter. From the moment I was born, she seemed to wish me dead. I’d get beaten for wearing lipstick, for wearing a dress, and especially for getting too close to my father. Just before my college entrance exams, my misogynistic mother spread a vicious rumor at my school, claiming I was seducing my own father. She pushed me until I jumped from the fifteenth floor. And my mother, she was satisfied with that result. 1 In the hospital, the doctor joyfully took me from the neonatal specialist and announced to my mother: “It’s a girl! Her skin is so fair and bright, she’ll be a real beauty when she grows up!” At those words, my mother’s already pale face twisted. She lunged, grabbing the young female doctor by the hair and slapping her across the face, her voice a raw shriek that echoed down the hallway. “You bitch! Did you switch my son? I ate all those dried geckos! It was supposed to be a boy!” It took an older doctor and a paternity test to finally convince her. The moment she saw the report, she broke, her eyes fixed on me, filled with a venom that could kill. It was my aunt who, with quick thinking, called my father to de-escalate the situation. My mother never forgave my aunt for that phone call. When she was well enough, my father took her home. My aunt, worried, came to visit. From the hallway, she could hear my faint, weak cries. In the bedroom, my father was patiently feeding my mother a bowl of freshly cooked porridge. “David,” my mother pleaded, “swear to me. Swear you’ll only love me for the rest of your life. You can’t love her more just because she’s your daughter. You can’t hold her. You can’t kiss her.” A moment passed before my father quietly agreed. The warm glow of dusk filled the room, painting a scene of domestic harmony that sent a chill down my aunt’s spine. My father, to his credit, kept his word. In all my memories, we never once had any physical contact. But that wasn’t enough for my mother. When I was seven, I walked the three miles home from school only to be met with a stinging slap across the face. The reason? She had found a picture of me on my father’s phone. “Learning such trashy things at your age! Who taught you this?!” she screamed, jabbing the phone at my nose. I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I looked around the room, desperate for my father’s help. All I got was a brutal beating. After that, my picture never appeared on my father’s phone again. I’ll never forget the triumphant, possessive look on my mother’s face. When I was thirteen, for my father’s birthday, I snuck into his study early in the morning and left a gift on his desk—a sweater. It wasn’t expensive, but it had cost me more than half a year’s worth of allowance. That evening, I came home to find the light on in his study and my mother in the living room, a cold sneer on her face. The floor was littered with shredded fabric. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do, you little slut!” A rain of fists and feet fell upon me. I writhed on the floor in agony. The light in the study stayed on, but the door never opened. My mother often complained to the neighborhood gossips: “Such a misfortune! My own daughter is a little seductress, can’t even leave her own father alone!” Everywhere I went, I was followed by whispers. I grew used to it. Then, a new woman moved in upstairs. Mrs. Gable was kind, with a gentle voice and a warm heart. Whenever my mother kicked me out, she would bring me snacks. For me, she was one of the few rays of light in my life. But heaven didn’t let me keep that light for long. One day, I was waiting outside our apartment for my mother to finish her mahjong game. Mrs. Gable came downstairs and, after greeting me, noticed my chapped lips. She went back up and returned with a brand-new lip balm. I had never worn makeup before and didn’t realize it was a color-changing balm. I happily applied it, and then my mother returned. When she saw the rosy tint on my lips, her hand flew out and struck me across the face. 2 The blow sent me sprawling, my vision filled with stars. A front tooth, loosened by the force of the slap, wobbled in my mouth, the taste of rust spreading across my tongue. Her words were vile, so vile that neighbors poked their heads out to watch the spectacle, but no one intervened. In their eyes, I suppose, I really was the disgusting creature my mother claimed I was—a wretch trying to seduce her own father. Mrs. Gable heard the commotion and came downstairs. I didn’t want her to see me like this, broken and humiliated, or to hear the filthy rumors about me. I tried to shrink into the corner, to make myself invisible, but my mother dragged me out and shoved me in front of her. “Was it you? Did you give her this lip balm, you bitch?” “Are you trying to help her seduce my husband?” “You’re both disgusting!” I stumbled, my head bowed in shame. But Mrs. Gable stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body. I saw the pain and self-blame in her eyes. “I gave it to her,” she said, her voice firm. “She’s just a child. What harm could she possibly mean? How can you, as her mother, say such things about your own daughter?” She tried to reason with my mother, to make her see sense. But my mother was beyond reason. She shot me a cold, calculating look that made my blood run cold. She raised her hand, and Mrs. Gable stood her ground, probably not believing my mother would actually strike her. But I knew better. I had seen my mother attack countless women over the years. The thought of Mrs. Gable’s kind, gentle face being marred because of me made my whole body tremble. Before the slap could land, I lunged forward. It was the first time I had ever fought back. I only managed to cling to her arm, but it earned me an even more ferocious beating. In the chaos, my forehead slammed against a rusty railing. Blood gushed from the wound. The neighbors, startled, slammed their doors shut. My mother didn’t stop. She shoved Mrs. Gable to the ground. My vision blurred. I could hear my father’s footsteps coming up the stairs, home from work. I tried to scream for help, but my voice was a strangled whisper. Then our apartment door slammed shut, without a moment’s hesitation. Through it all, Mrs. Gable pleaded for me, her initial anger giving way to desperate bargaining. “I’ll leave! I’ll move out in a few days, I’ll never show my face here again! Just please, let the child go!” I managed to lift my head and saw that her face was streaked with tears. My mother, whether she had agreed to Mrs. Gable’s terms or was simply tired, finally stopped. She tossed me aside like a piece of trash and went inside. I never saw Mrs. Gable again. Before she left, she gave me a few things. I hid them away, too precious to use. Even with Mrs. Gable gone, my mother’s hatred for me didn’t wane. With every year I grew older, her loathing deepened. Lately, a new, calculating look had entered her eyes when she looked at me. It was as if I wasn’t her daughter, but a rival for her husband’s affection. Her stare made my skin crawl, but I found solace at school. Over the years, no matter how many times I had thought of giving up, the sight of my best friend, Tina, always gave me a reason to keep going. It was as if all the suffering I had endured was just to meet an angel like her. Tina didn’t know about my home life. But whenever she saw the bruises on my face, she would give me a hug. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” One sentence, one hug—that was the source of all my strength. My homeroom teacher also valued me for my diligence and good grades. I held onto Mrs. Gable’s final words to me—”study hard”—like a lifeline. I believed that if I just studied hard enough, one day I could escape that hell, escape that monster of a mother. Then, when I was eighteen, a senior in high school, my teacher patted my shoulder, a proud smile on his face. “Excellent work. Keep this up, and you’ll have no problem getting into the local state university.” My mock exam scores came back. I was still in the top ten of my grade. My teacher was thrilled. He treated me and a few other top students to a meal at the cafeteria’s second-floor diner. Afterward, I lagged behind the group. I was so happy I could have screamed, but years of repression had stolen my ability to smile. The thought that in just twenty more days I would be free brought tears to my eyes. “Amanda,” my teacher’s voice was gentle. He must have noticed my emotions. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You have a long road ahead of you.” Just then, Tina ran up, waving. “Amanda! Let’s walk home together!” Seeing her, so vibrant and full of life, a tiny seed of hope sprouted in my heart. Maybe, just maybe, if I could get through this, I could be like her. A bright future, an open road. That night, I came home to find my mother sitting in the living room. The familiar scene made my heart leap into my throat. I tried to hurry to my room, but she grabbed me by the hair from behind. 3 I hit the floor hard, the backpack digging into my spine. My mother kicked me a few times, then stalked over to the coffee table, muttering curses under her breath. “If it wasn’t for the junk collector, I never would have known! You little bitch, hoarding this trash!” “Skirts! Lipstick! Stealing money from the family to buy this garbage at your age!” “You’re trying to steal my husband!” She grabbed the items one by one and hurled them at me. The lip balm and snacks from Mrs. Gable, and a small dress. The food was long expired, but I had treasured it. Now it was scattered across the floor. I curled into a ball, trying to protect myself, clutching the dress that smelled of mildew from being hidden away for so long. Just hold on a little longer. It’ll be over soon. The pain was a dull, familiar ache. Hope was so close. I just had to endure. I kept telling myself that. But then came the parent-teacher conference. It was just a few days before the final exams. I didn’t think much of it; they never came to these things. I used to dream of it, but I had long since gotten used to their absence. I just thought of it as a day off. The next day, my mother wasn’t home. She seemed to have left early. For some reason, my heart was pounding. It wasn’t until I saw her downstairs that afternoon, humming as she played mahjong, that I finally relaxed. I had already contacted my old summer job boss. He’d agreed to take me on again, even providing a dorm room. The summer’s wages would be enough to cover my first year of tuition. I was so lost in my happy plans for the future that I didn’t notice the strange looks my classmates were giving me. Looks of glee, of disgust. It was Tina, abruptly pulling her hand away from mine, that brought me back to reality. “What’s wrong, Tina?” I asked, my voice trembling as I saw the strange expression on her face. “My mom said…” Tina stammered, unable to form a complete sentence, but the distance in her eyes was something I had never seen before. A boy nearby finished her sentence for her. “She said you’re a slut who’d even screw her own father!” A roar of laughter filled the classroom. The topic was clearly a hit. The room, which had been emptying out, was suddenly full and buzzing with excitement. “Wow, Amanda, I never knew you were such a freak.” “You put on a good act, don’t you? After exams, want to try it with us? We’re definitely better than your dad!” I saw the cruel delight in their eyes. The words hit me, and the color drained from my face. I grabbed whatever I could and threw it at them. They dodged easily, their taunts relentless. “Whoa, watch out! The whore is throwing a tantrum!” In that moment, all the blood rushed to my head. I wanted to kill them. It was my teacher who stopped me. I followed him to his office in a daze, my body shaking uncontrollably. But this time, he didn’t pat my shoulder. His eyes were filled with a mixture of pity and hesitation. “Amanda,” he began, “your mother told me everything. Maybe you’re still young, you don’t understand what love is…” My mind went blank. I suddenly understood why my mother, who always spent her afternoons playing cards, had been sitting right on my path home, humming a tune. A chilling coldness spread from the pit of my stomach. I turned and walked out of the office without a word. I buried my face in my collar, as if that could shield me from the world. The next few days were a living hell. Tina started deliberately ignoring me, finding other girls to walk home and eat with. The boys who collected homework would intentionally hold theirs back, and when the teacher asked, they would stand up and shout for the whole class to hear: “I don’t want to touch it. She’s dirty!” My teacher, at a loss, had someone else take over my duties. But that person would “accidentally” miss my homework too, and then giggle and repeat the same line. Suddenly, I had no one to turn to. The weight of it all was crushing me, suffocating me. That night, I went home and saw the triumphant smile on my mother’s face. And I knew. This was the result she had wanted all along. 4 The noisy crowd below pulled my attention back. A sea of young, vibrant faces stared up at me. The words of those boys from my class echoed in my ears. “What, you can’t take it anymore?” My notes from three years of high school, the culmination of all my hard work, were gone. When I finally found them, they were soaking in a bucket of filthy water, ruined beyond recognition. I heard a group of boys snickering behind me. In that moment, a profound weariness washed over me. Even breathing felt like a struggle. All I ever wanted was to live. Why was it so hard? “If you can’t take it, just die. A person like you doesn’t deserve to be alive anyway.” The boy’s words were poison. I ignored them and tried to walk away. But one of them grabbed my arm, telling me to “play” with him. In a panic, I scrambled up to the rooftop. My only intention was to escape their harassment. But I had forgotten it was the busiest time of day at school. Students, finished with lunch, were heading back to their classrooms, and they all looked up and saw me. I don’t know what my mother told them that day, but I can imagine the school was flooded with vicious rumors about me. Not a single person looking up at me had sympathy in their eyes. Only a morbid curiosity. “Is that the really smart girl from Class One? I heard she’s promiscuous, sleeps with a lot of guys.” “Her own mother said it. How could it be fake?” “She asked me to get a room with her a few days ago. I turned her down!” “I heard she’s good, though.” “What do you know? She’s dirty!” The rumors were a snowball, growing bigger and bigger, until they had crushed me. A victim’s explanation is always so weak, so powerless. Someone from the crowd below shouted for me to jump, that a twisted, immoral person like me didn’t deserve to live in this world. I stared at that stranger’s face for a long time. Then, amidst a chorus of screams, I jumped. I hit the ground hard. Blood splattered everywhere. The crowd scattered in terror, but their clothes were already stained with my blood. Not a single one of them was innocent.

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My parents called to tell me they were heading to my childhood friend’s house to meet his blind date. My childhood friend, Hugh, was fast asleep beside me. I thought it was a joke. “Hugh,” I whispered, “they said they found you a blind date.” He grunted, pulling me closer into his arms. “Cora, sweetheart, pick out an outfit for me in a bit, would you? And help me with my hair.” When I froze, Hugh cracked open an eye and let out a cynical laugh. “What’s wrong with you? We’re just hookup buddies. You didn’t actually think I was going to marry you, did you?” 1 My mind blanked. All I could do was fumble awkwardly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Hugh. I pushed him away, snatching my clothes from the floor and pulling them on haphazardly. “Cora, look at me.” Hugh propped his chin on his arm, a playful glint in his eyes. “You didn’t really think we were boyfriend and girlfriend, did you?” The words “hookup buddies” echoed in my head. My hands trembled so badly I couldn’t fasten the clasp on my bra. Hugh threw back the covers, revealing a lean, sculpted torso, and knelt on the edge of the bed. With practiced ease, his fingers found the clasp and secured it. I kept my head down. “Who’s the blind date?” I managed, forcing a bitter laugh. “Please don’t tell me your parents just grabbed some random person from a singles’ mixer.” I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, at the constellation of red marks scattered across my skin. My legs still ached. Hugh, now only in a pair of grey sweatpants, moved behind me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “It’s Isla.” He arched a brow, those handsome eyes of his crinkling. “You remember, the senior from the art department in college. Isla.” He let out a low whistle. “To be honest, just thinking about seeing her again… I’m actually a little nervous.” My hand, holding a tube of lipstick, froze. Of course, I remembered. Hugh had a massive crush on her, but before he could confess, she’d moved abroad. I thought that was all in the past… Hugh’s eyes were fixed on me. He pursed his lips. “Cora, don’t get any funny ideas. We grew up together, practically in diapers. And yeah, you’re… beautiful, no doubt. But I see you as one of the guys. “You’re my perfect partner—for meals, for road trips, for bed…” His words hit me like a physical blow, a chill spreading through my entire body. I stared at his smiling face and managed a weak curl of my lips. He went on. “Besides, I know everything about you. What you’ll wear on any given day, right down to the matching underwear set. It’s… kind of boring, you know? Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see you sleeping next to me, and I get this jolt of fear—what if that joke our families always make comes true? What if we actually got married? My whole life would be over before it even started.” He shuddered dramatically, as if the mere thought was terrifying. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I have to go.” I wrapped my coat around myself and fled like a deserter. 2 I thought Hugh and I were dating. We did everything other couples did. We ate together, went on dates, hung out with friends where, during a game of Truth or Dare, we’d casually kiss and say “I love you” without a hint of irony. Hugh would pick me up from work on rainy days. He’d secretly hold my hand under the table at family dinners. I never knew that the six months I thought were a budding romance were just a game of house to him. “Cora?” My mom tapped on the car window, her face etched with concern. I snapped back to reality. I saw my own tear-streaked face in the rearview mirror and quickly wiped it clean before getting out. “Mom!” I threw myself into her arms, hiding my face in her shoulder with a forced laugh. “I missed you.” She was holding a bag of groceries, and she took my arm, breathing a sigh of relief. “Honey, why were you just sitting in the car? You scared me. Didn’t you see that news story about someone…” I nodded along. Suddenly, her tone shifted. “Oh, by the way, Cora… Hugh’s blind date is coming over soon. Your uncle and aunt are taking this very seriously. I hear Hugh has been planning this for a long time. He said he was worried the girl might feel awkward, and having another girl there might help her relax.” She looked at me, her expression pained, hesitating. “I’ve been best friends with his mom for so many years, so when we go over today…” I knew what she was trying to say. “It’s okay, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just break the ice, say nice things. I get it.” She gave me a look filled with pity. Of course, she understood. A photo of Hugh and me sat on my bedside table. Every gift he’d ever given me was carefully stored away like a treasure. My notebooks were filled with his name, a testament to a love I couldn’t hide. How could she not know? We walked home in silence. As we opened the door, I said suddenly, “Dad’s retiring next month. Let’s move to Florida.” I looked at my mom’s stunned face and tried to sound playful. “You’ve always said you wanted to retire there. I don’t have any big dreams anyway. I can be a dance teacher, stay by your side. That’s all I need.” 3 Sitting in Hugh’s living room with my parents felt different this time. Every other time, we were laughing and fooling around. The last time, we’d used “playing video games” as an excuse to sneak off to his room and kiss. This time… “Oh, Amelia, you have no idea the lengths this boy went to for this girl, Isla,” Hugh’s mom said to mine. “I told him, ‘Just ask her out!’ But no, he had to insist on framing it as ‘dating with the intention of marriage.’ He made his father pull all sorts of strings just to get her to agree to meet today as a blind date.” I looked around the meticulously decorated house, filled with bouquets of roses. The table was laden with fruits and sweets. Even their little dog was wearing a bright red sweater. And there was Hugh, checking his reflection over and over, making sure he was perfect. The bitter irony was that just last night, we were tangled in his sheets, and he was kissing the small birthmark on my waist with such tenderness. The underwear he was wearing right now? I bought it for him. “Ah, it’s such a shame, though…” Hugh’s mom squeezed my mother’s hand wistfully. “We always said we’d be in-laws one day. We even made a childhood pact for them!” She glanced at me. “I truly adore Cora. She’s not just beautiful, she has a wonderful personality, so bright and cheerful…” I kept my eyes down, not daring to respond. I was afraid one wrong move and the tears would start falling. “Mom!” Hugh frowned, clearly displeased. “You said it yourself, that was your generation’s thing. You and Aunt Amelia are close, why don’t you two get married? What does it have to do with me? What century are we living in, still clinging to those old ideas?” He had no regard for the adults’ feelings. Then he turned to me, his tone harsh, as if I’d put his mother up to it. “Cora, where’s the bracelet my mom gave you?” When I didn’t answer, he strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pushed up my sleeve. “The one they gave you as a token for that childhood pact. I’m afraid Isla will get the wrong idea if she sees it…” The words hung in the air. My dad and his, who had been sipping tea, froze. My mom, who had been arranging flowers for him, stopped cold. The atmosphere turned instantly sour. My mom stared at me, the vase and clippers in her hand clattering onto the table. She started to get up, but Hugh’s mom pulled her back down. Then, she stood up herself, placing herself firmly in front of me and giving Hugh a hard shove. “Hugh! What do you think you’re doing? Putting aside the fact that nothing’s even started between you and this Isla… that bracelet? You were the one who got on your knees and begged Cora to wear it when you were seventeen!” It was like a switch flipped in Hugh’s mind. He remembered. He remembered that year when another boy confessed his feelings to me. Panicked, he’d gotten drunk, stolen the jade bracelet from his mother’s jewelry box, and shown up at my house in the middle of the night, crying, pleading, even kneeling, begging me to wear his family heirloom. He tugged at his collar, took a deep breath, and forced a smile at me. “I’m just a little tense. I… it’s not right to take back a gift… you can keep it.” “It’s fine. I’ll give it back. I’ll go home and get it now.” I stood up, cutting him off, my voice steady. “I’ll be quick. I won’t hold things up.” Before anyone could react, I grabbed my bag and walked out. 4 When I returned with the bracelet and was about to knock, a chorus of cheers from inside stopped me— “Welcome—” Hugh’s smile froze the moment he saw me. “What are you doing here?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to come back, let alone to actually return the bracelet. When I held it out to him, his face was a mask of disbelief. He finally took it, pocketed it, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Cora, for the sake of our… partnership, don’t you dare cause any trouble today. Isla’s a sensitive girl. Don’t say the wrong thing and upset her.” I didn’t want to even look at him. Isla was a girl, but wasn’t I? I looked at the person I had loved for my entire youth, and a bone-deep chill threatened to swallow me whole. Ten minutes later, Isla arrived, escorted by the matchmaker. The adults chatted amiably. This was why my parents had to be here—to subtly lay out our family’s finances and future prospects for the matchmaker’s benefit. Throughout it all, Hugh sat beside Isla, his every gesture radiating care. At nearly thirty, he was acting like a green, infatuated teenager. I was completely irrelevant, which suited me fine. I was just looking for a chance to slip away. But then, Isla turned her gentle gaze on me. “You must be Cora. I’ve heard so much about you. The goddess of the arts department, wasn’t it?” Startled to be addressed, I waved my hands dismissively. “Oh, no, not at all. That was just everyone fooling around in college.” I hoped the attention would quickly shift away, but Isla persisted. “Not at all! I remember you performed a classical dance at the university ball. The next day, the entire ground floor of your dorm was flooded with flowers for you.” Before I could speak, she tugged playfully at Hugh’s arm. “You two are childhood friends. How did you not end up together? I remember you were inseparable. Everyone thought you’d get married.” Every eye in the room turned to me. I don’t know how to describe it, but this seemingly harmless woman radiated a strange hostility. “Her?” Hugh looked at Isla, handing her a freshly peeled apple. “To you, she might be a girl, a goddess even. But to me, she’s just a tomboy. My best friend, the one I grew up sharing everything with.” A memory seemed to surface, and he chuckled. “You have no idea. When Cora cried as a kid, snot and tears would just stream down her face. If I didn’t wipe it for her, that big glob of snot would’ve gone right into her mouth.” He warmed to his theme. “And when she was fifteen, she fainted during gym class from running and started talking nonsense, flailing her arms around like a maniac…” “I have to go, I have something to do.” I stood up, barely containing my fury, and forced a smile at the adults. “You all enjoy your chat.” Isla looked at Hugh with a troubled expression. “Did I say something wrong to upset your little sister?” Hugh glared at me, as if blaming me for ruining the atmosphere. Before he could speak, I cut him off. “I have a date with my boyfriend tonight. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” 5 “Since when do you have a boyfriend?” I had one foot out the door when Hugh grabbed my arm. “How come I don’t know about this?” My face flushed hot in front of everyone, especially Isla. I wrenched my arm free. “Why do you care if I have a boyfriend or not?” I snapped. “My own parents haven’t even asked. It’s none of your business!” “Hugh!” his father said in a low, stern voice. “Sit down! What kind of behavior is this?” I took the opportunity to bow to the adults. “Goodbye, Uncle, Auntie.” From behind me, Isla’s sweet voice piped up. “Cora is so beautiful, and she’s always performing on stage. She must have plenty of admirers… It’s perfectly normal for her to be dating. I even saw what looked like a hickey under her scarf earlier.”

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My husband’s childhood sweetheart got blackout drunk one night and ended up with a stranger. When she resurfaced, she was pregnant, just like me. On the day I gave birth, my husband, Sebastian, handed me divorce papers. “Amanda is planning her comeback,” he said. “I have to give her and the child a proper family. If this scandal gets out, the public will destroy her.” Dragging my weakened body, I calmly signed the papers. In my past life, I had refused to step aside. I went live on social media, holding our infant daughter, and accused the award-winning actress Amanda Shaw of knowingly being the other woman. The public crucified her. She lost every endorsement, and the crushing weight of the breach-of-contract penalties drove her to suicide. Sebastian handled her funeral with a quiet composure. But afterward, he allowed her fans to harass me on the street, to throw things at me, and eventually, to set fire to our home, trying to burn me and our child alive. It was only when I saw him lock the door from the outside that I finally understood: he wanted me dead. I open my eyes again, and I’m back on the day he hands me the divorce papers. 1. Because she was premature, my daughter, Annie, was taken to the NICU incubator the moment she was born. And that’s when Sebastian handed me the divorce papers. “You know Amanda was a top-tier actress before… all this,” he said, his voice flat. “These ten months off have already killed her career momentum. If a scandal about her having a child out of wedlock breaks now, the online mob will tear her apart.” I had just clawed my way back from death’s door; the slightest movement sent searing pain through my stitches. To be reborn on this day… it meant fate was giving me a second chance. “Fine, I’ll sign,” I said, my voice raspy. “But first, you get our daughter a birth certificate. And I want a settlement.” Sebastian had clearly rehearsed a speech to counter the hysterics he’d been expecting. Hearing my calm acceptance, he let out a visible sigh of relief. “Of course. A hundred thousand dollars. Is that enough?” Sebastian was a billionaire, yet he was offering me a pittance. I gripped the bedsheet. I knew asking for more was pointless; he wouldn’t give it. I could only nod. He took care of the certificate. I verified it and signed the papers. With the agreement in hand, Sebastian left without a second glance at our child, eager to run to Amanda’s side. The room next door was filled with laughter and celebration. But I had no parents, and now, no husband. I was utterly alone. Two days later, Annie was out of the incubator. I bundled both of us up, preparing to go home. On the way, I got a call from his secretary. “Miss Quinn, please remember to share the company’s official press release.” The divorce wasn’t even finalized, yet I was no longer worthy of being called “Mrs. Hayes.” To give Amanda a graceful entrance, Sebastian had instructed me to state that our marriage ended due to “irreconcilable differences.” I agreed without hesitation, but my phone was dying. I decided to post it when I got home. When I walked into the villa, I called for the maids to close the windows, but no one answered. As I carried Annie to the nursery, I overheard them whispering in the kitchen. “The nerve of her, bringing another man’s bastard back to this house.” “Mr. Hayes is too soft on her. He doesn’t even press charges, and instead of being grateful, she’s trying to use that brat to get his money!” I froze, a cold sweat breaking out on my back despite the thick layers of clothing. Irreconcilable differences? Why were they saying I cheated? “What are you talking about?” I demanded, pushing open the kitchen door. The maids, who had always respectfully called me “Ma’am,” looked up at me with open contempt. The head maid, Mrs. Gable, was bold enough to spit in my direction. “What are we talking about? The company put out a statement. You cheated on your husband, and now we can’t even say a word about it?” I rushed back to my room, plugged in my phone, and opened social media. The top trending topic was: Sebastian Hayes Announces Divorce. The official statement read: “Due to Ms. Lara Quinn’s marital infidelity, Mr. Sebastian Hayes has terminated their marriage. This serves as public notice.” My head exploded with pain. To pave a smooth path for Amanda, Sebastian was willing to destroy my reputation. I was about to write a clarification under the trending post when my phone buzzed, nearly waking the sleeping Annie. I answered. It was a police officer, his voice jubilant. “Miss Quinn, the human trafficker confessed! You were abducted from Lakeside City!” “We’ve already contacted the Lakeside police to cross-reference families with missing children. You’ll need to come here for a DNA test within the next three days!” My heart, so thoroughly broken by Sebastian, soared. Tears streamed down my face. Ever since I was abducted and brought to this city at the age of five, I hadn’t known a single day of peace. I thought marrying Sebastian was a new beginning, but it was just another hell. But now… now I had a chance to find my real parents. My daughter would have a family who loved her! I hung up, quickly packed a few things for myself, and turned to the nursery to grab some baby supplies. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, the front door of the villa was thrown open. “Lara, who said you could go in there?” Sebastian stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in displeasure. 2. “I just need to get a few things for the baby.” “Everything in that room is for Amanda’s child. If you want something, buy it yourself.” Every single item in that nursery had been chosen by me, with love and care, for my daughter. And now he was giving it all to Amanda’s child. A child that wasn’t even his. I swallowed my disappointment and didn’t argue. But Mrs. Gable suddenly grabbed my arm, her face a hard mask, and began dragging me toward the door. “Mr. Hayes wants us to go to the postnatal care center to look after Miss Shaw.” The movement pulled at my stitches. “I just gave birth too!” I cried out to him. “I need to recover!” Sebastian didn’t even turn around. “Exactly. You have experience.” His voice was dismissive. “Stop whining. You’ve done manual labor your whole life. You’re tough. You don’t need a formal recovery period.” He got into his Maybach. I was shoved into a minivan and taken to the postnatal center. When we arrived, Amanda was lying in bed, surrounded by a dozen nurses and caregivers. Seeing me, she struggled to sit up. “Sister-in-law, you’re here! Please, sit. Giving birth is so exhausting…” Sebastian gently pushed her back down, then shot me a look. “She could run a marathon on a broken leg. This is nothing to her.” He turned his attention back to me. “Lara, if you take good care of Amanda, I’ll give you another hundred thousand. A pretty good deal, right?” Another hundred thousand. It was tempting. I bit my lip. “No. My baby is at home with no one to look after her.” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes, but Amanda grabbed his hand. “Sebastian, if she doesn’t want to take care of me, just let her go back. I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, but his gaze on me was filled with disgust. “Letting you take care of Amanda is a privilege. You’re an orphan with no money and no connections. Marrying me brought me no value, and you can’t even keep up appearances. Serving Amanda well is the most useful thing you can do right now.” He was used to belittling me, completely ignoring my pale, drawn face. He ordered Mrs. Gable to go back to the villa. But I knew she despised me for “marrying up.” There was no way she would take proper care of Annie. Sebastian waved away my protests and told me to feed Amanda her meal. I looked at the closed door, realizing I was trapped. Exhausted and hungry, I had no choice but to start feeding her. Just as a spoonful of soup reached her lips, she jerked back, crying out in mock pain. “Ah, it’s hot!” Sebastian snatched the bowl and threw it at me. The greasy chicken soup splattered all over my clothes. “What is your problem? You could have burned Amanda! You’re not eating today!” Amanda leaned against him, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sebastian, don’t be angry, she didn’t mean to…” “Don’t call her sister-in-law. I’m taking her to finalize the divorce tomorrow!” I stood there, ignored, smelling of stale soup, with no one to offer a single word of comfort. The next day, Sebastian took me from the center to the courthouse. We got the divorce certificate. Afterward, he got into his car alone. “I’m going to buy Amanda the latest designer bag. You can find your own way back.” His face was grim. “Lara, if you’re not back at the center in half an hour, you know the consequences.” The Maybach sped off. I turned and immediately hailed a cab back to the villa. The moment I stepped through the gate, I heard a baby crying from the small room in the yard. That was the security guard’s quarters! I burst through the door and saw my Annie, lying on a filthy single bed. My carefully packed diaper bag and formula were right next to her, yet her face was pale, her cries weak and listless. She probably hadn’t been fed or changed since yesterday. Forgetting all about confronting Mrs. Gable, I scooped her up, changed her, and fed her. After burping her, Annie gave me a sweet, gummy smile. My eyes welled up, a tear splashing onto her blanket. Amanda’s child had a team of nannies, while mine was forgotten, deprived of even a drop of milk. “Don’t be afraid, Annie,” I whispered. “Mommy’s going to take you away from here.” Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door. I opened it, and Sebastian’s hand swung, slapping me hard across the face. “Lara! How dare you bring all these lowlifes into my house!” 3. Clutching Annie, I was shoved into the villa by Sebastian. Amanda, bundled up like a precious doll, followed behind, surrounded by her entourage of nannies. Inside, the villa was in chaos. Several thuggish-looking men were passed out on the floor, their faces flushed from a night of heavy drinking. The place looked like it had just hosted a wild party. There were more people sleeping in the bedrooms and the study. The master bed was occupied by five people, one of them completely naked. Panic seized me. “It wasn’t me! I haven’t even been inside!” Mrs. Gable emerged, her voice choked with fake sorrow. “Mr. Hayes, last night, dozens of thugs broke in. They said Miss Quinn gave them a key and told them to come have some fun…” “They said the baby was in the way, so they threw her in the security shed…” I was trembling, shaking my head violently. “I don’t know them! I was at the postnatal center all day yesterday, how could I have given them a key?” “That’s right…” Amanda tugged on Sebastian’s sleeve. “Sister-in-law was taking such good care of me yesterday. Sebastian, maybe we should wake one of them up and ask?” The storm clouds on Sebastian’s face cleared instantly. He ordered one of his men to wake the nearest drunk. “Who let you in here?” he snarled. The man blinked blearily. “Some lady… Lara Quinn… gave us a key. Said the house was empty, invited us over to party… Hey! Another ten bottles!” He was holding a set of keys. My keys. With my little teddy bear keychain still attached. I instinctively checked my pocket. It was empty. “No, my keys were stolen! It wasn’t me!” “Still lying? It’s a good thing Amanda was worried about you and insisted on coming home. Otherwise, I would never have known you had such disgusting habits!” His voice dripped with contempt. “You wanted to have an orgy in my house!” Sebastian’s patience wore thin. He ordered Mrs. Gable to lock me in the security shed. Behind him, Amanda was cooing sweetly. “Sebastian, she was just having a little fun. Why are you so angry?” “She needs to be taught a lesson. This house is filthy now. We’ll go to one of my other villas.” The shed door was locked. Through the small glass pane, I watched them leave in a grand procession. Amanda, at the center of it all, shot me a triumphant smile. Late that night, after finally soothing a crying Annie to sleep, the lights went out. The wiring in the shed was probably faulty. I took out my phone to buy a train ticket. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key in the lock. The door creaked open, and Amanda appeared, silhouetted against the moonlight. Without Sebastian, her eyes were cold and vicious. “A hundred thousand dollars for a divorce? Lara, I really underestimated your shamelessness!” I clutched Annie and scrambled backward, but the tiny room offered no escape. “Amanda, I’ve done nothing to you. Why do you keep trying to destroy me?” “Nothing? If it weren’t for you, I would be the one married to Sebastian!” I frowned. It was true. An orphan like me had no right to marry him. Last year, I had saved his grandfather from a sudden heart attack. Out of gratitude, his grandfather had threatened to take his own life if Sebastian didn’t marry me. Sebastian had no choice but to comply. We had no wedding, just a one-sentence announcement from the company. After the marriage, he treated me like an object for his release, exhausting me night after night. I was pregnant within a month. I thought I would finally have a stable life, a family. But his grandfather passed away a week before I gave birth, leaving me completely without support. So she believed I had stolen her place as Mrs. Hayes? “But you have what you wanted now. Why won’t you just leave me alone?” “No! If you hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have gone to that bar to drown my sorrows! I wouldn’t have this bastard child!” she shrieked. “It’s all your fault! Lara, I want you dead!” She grabbed a police baton from the table and lunged at me. I dodged, and in the next second, she let out a piercing scream, throwing herself against the corner of the bed and collapsing to the floor. Sebastian burst in. “Lara! Are you insane?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “393440”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The first thing the Oscar-winning actress Melissa Lindsay did after coming back to life was march into the studio and terminate her contract. “Ms. Lindsay, the Golden Griffin Awards ceremony is just around the corner. Are you absolutely certain you want to invoke the early termination clause now?” “Once you do, the stage name ‘Melissa Lindsay’ will be permanently retired. It will vanish from public record, impossible to trace.” Without a word, Melissa pulled a black card from her purse and paid the exorbitant fee. “I’m certain.” The staffer processed the payment quickly. “The termination is successful. The paperwork will take ten days to finalize.” Ten days. Exactly the day of the Golden Griffin Awards. In her past life, she had loved her husband, Adrian Thorne, to the point of madness. But after a car crash a year later, she had watched, helpless, as he pulled her lead surgeon from her operating room to go save the life of his one true love. Given a second chance, she wanted nothing more to do with him. Leaving the office, Melissa bought a one-way ticket to America, departing in ten days. She wrapped her fur coat tighter around herself and stepped out into the biting wind. Snow swirled against the car window, the cold seeping through the glass. She rubbed her icy fingertips together, her gaze falling on the massive digital billboard in the city square. The woman on the screen was radiant, and the luxury brand ring she wore was deliberately placed on her ring finger. A week ago, that billboard had featured Melissa, the youngest actress to ever win the industry’s highest honor. It was her boss, her husband, Adrian Thorne, the CEO of Zenith Entertainment, who had personally ordered the change. He had replaced her with his beloved, Echo Towne, a social media influencer who had recently gone viral. Melissa’s eyes reddened. She looked away from the screen and opened her phone. Her last post was a photo of her hand intertwined with Adrian’s. The caption read: “To find a single heart, and never be apart.” Adrian had been the first to like it. The comments below were a sea of blessings, all gushing about their fairy-tale romance. “I knew I’d find a picture of Adrian here! His own social media is a ghost town.” “Melissa is a goddess, and Adrian is so handsome! But why is he wearing a full suit on a private island in Fiji? Isn’t he hot?” “You must be a new fan. Eight years ago, the Thorne mansion caught fire. Adrian got out, but when he realized Melissa was still inside, he ran back into the flames to save her. She was unharmed, but he suffered severe burns. He hasn’t worn a short-sleeved shirt since. Always buttons his collar to the top.” “Who doesn’t know what an incredible man Adrian Thorne is? He bought her a two-hundred-million-dollar private island just because she said she gets cold easily. I’d light incense to my ancestors if my husband were half as good…” “Other celebrity couples might fail, but not these two. Adrian is obsessed with his wife.” Reading the comments, a self-mocking smile twisted Melissa’s lips. A man who would never fail? Adrian had been cheating on her for six months. His countless nights of “working late” were all spent with Echo Towne. And she, like a fool, had believed he was working hard for their home, for their future together. Melissa’s finger paused. She scrolled past the comments, her eyes landing on the last post Adrian had liked. He would have no idea that the famous line she’d quoted was only half of the original verse. The forgotten first line was: I heard you have a divided heart, so I have come to break things off. Lost in thought, the car pulled up to their villa. The snow was coming down hard. Even with the butler holding an umbrella, flakes drifted onto Adrian’s dark eyelashes. The dusting of white couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes. “Melissa, you’re home.” He reached out to take her hand, to warm it between his. But her eyes caught sight of a woman’s hair tie on his wrist—one that wasn’t hers. A chill seeped into her heart. Before she could pull away, his hands were already covering hers, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’ve decorated the house. Come see if you like it.” He opened the door to a scene of soft, ambient lighting and the romantic scent of candles. Melissa walked to the dining table. Instead of her usual red wine, she asked the butler for a glass of sparkling water. Adrian looked puzzled. “A sudden change of taste?” Melissa lowered her eyes, her gaze briefly flickering towards her stomach before she looked up again. “Nothing. Just wanted to try something new.” Suddenly, Adrian’s phone buzzed. He glanced at Melissa, then quickly declined the call. But the phone immediately began vibrating again, insistent. He shot another look at Melissa before finally answering. His face changed. “I’m so sorry, Melissa,” he said, his voice laced with apology. “It’s an emergency at the office.” Melissa took a sip of the sparkling water. It tasted of nothing but bitterness. “It’s fine. You go handle it.” Adrian leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “I’ll finish up as quickly as I can.” Melissa’s eyelashes fluttered. She watched him walk into his study. Some emergency. In her past life, she had caught a glimpse of his phone. It was a photo from Echo Towne, posing in a nurse’s uniform. 2 Melissa silently opened her phone and tuned into Echo Towne’s live stream. A comment flashed across the screen: “It’s been ages and he hasn’t called. Is your boyfriend with someone else?” Echo Towne touched up her lipstick, then stood to show off the curves accentuated by the tight nurse’s uniform. A sly smile played on her lips. “He’s probably just held up by some stray dog on the road. What can I do? He has such a big heart.” A moment later, an account named “For_Towne” flooded the chat with 100 “virtual castles.” The user sent a message: “Baby, don’t wear that on stream.” The word “baby” felt like a boulder crushing Melissa’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Echo Towne’s eyes lit up with delight, and she pouted playfully. “I just wanted to make you jealous.” “Besides, you didn’t even spend Valentine’s Day with me. Can’t I have a little bit of revenge?” Adrian said nothing more. Instead, he gifted her 9,999 of the stream’s most expensive gift: the “Cosmic Heart.” Then another message: “One more gift. Look outside your window.” A series of loud booms echoed through the night. The sky outside Echo Towne’s window erupted in a dazzling display of fireworks. Her delighted smile was one of a person who is so thoroughly cherished, they fear nothing. “Well, viewers,” she cooed, “it seems my boyfriend is a little possessive. I have to go for now.” Meanwhile, in the dining room, the steak on the table grew cold. The scented candles had burned down to stubs. As Melissa swallowed the last of her sparkling water, Adrian finally emerged from his study. “That was Director Evans. I’ve secured the role for you in his new film. You’re the lead.” Director Evans was a legend, having won numerous international awards at a young age. A role in his film was a near-guaranteed path to an award. If she hadn’t just watched the live stream, Melissa might have actually believed him. She was silent for a moment before replying. “Most of Evans’s films are art-house pictures. They often have nude scenes. You don’t mind?” Adrian was taken aback. “Why would I be so petty?” Because all of your possessiveness is reserved for Echo Towne, she thought. The end of love always begins with the end of jealousy. Melissa lowered her gaze to hide her expression. “Tell him I’m passing. I want to take a break for a while.” Adrian’s response was gentle. “Alright. I’ll look for another one for you.” There would be no next time. In ten days, she would be gone forever. That night, Adrian held her as he always did, his body warming her cold hands and feet. The image of the billboard flashed in her mind again. Melissa feigned casualness. “Echo Towne has only had a couple of cameo roles. She’s not even a proper actress yet. How is she landing so many major endorsements?” Adrian’s body tensed for a second. “I imagine her boyfriend is backing her.” The words “her boyfriend” were a sharp, physical pain in Melissa’s heart. She tightened her grip on the corner of the duvet, her voice strained. “Is it really a good idea for Zenith to sign her? What if she wants to get married, or pregnant? Can she afford the contract termination fee?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Adrian replied, “Her boyfriend loves her so much, he would definitely pay the fee for her. He’d marry her in a heartbeat.” Perhaps realizing how final his words sounded, he paused, then added, “I’ve met him.” So that was it. That was his real plan. All Echo Towne had to do was say the word, and he would abandon everything to be with her. What did that make their past? A ten-year dream? Melissa said nothing more. Tears welled in her eyes, silently tracing paths down her temples in the darkness. Once Adrian’s breathing became deep and even, Melissa slipped out of his embrace and went to the study. The moonlight cast a lonely glow on her frail figure. She looked at a photo of them from college on the desk and smiled a bitter, self-deprecating smile, tears once again blurring her vision. Since she was a child, her goal had been singular: to become the most famous actress in the country. She had to be beautiful, talented, and in perfect shape. No scandals, no boyfriends. For eighteen years, she had been ruthlessly disciplined, believing she would dedicate her life to her art. But for Adrian, she had broken all her own rules. The day they got together, he had told her, “Melissa, I’ll never make you regret this. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world.” It turned out that promise had a ten-year expiration date. Pulling her gaze away, Melissa took out the divorce agreement she had prepared and signed her name with slow, deliberate strokes. Adrian, she thought, if you knew that in ten days, you would never be able to find me again, would you feel even a flicker of regret? 3 The next morning, Melissa went to the most exclusive private hospital in the city. Adrian called her. “The driver said you went to the hospital. Are you not feeling well?” “It’s nothing… just an irregular cycle. It’s an old problem.” As she spoke, Melissa closed her eyes, tore the paper in her hand to shreds, and dropped it into the trash can. As the pieces fluttered down, the red letters on one fragment stood out starkly. [PREGNANCY CONFIRMED] After hanging up, Melissa’s hand instinctively went to her abdomen. Memories flooded back. When they were young and struggling, Adrian had acted as her agent, drinking with investors until he was vomiting blood, all to secure her a role with ten minutes of screen time. Melissa had soaked in freezing water for three days straight on that set, her body aching with cold, refusing to give up the opportunity he had fought so hard for. That night, in their tiny, cramped apartment, Adrian had shaken her awake, his face filled with panic. “Melissa, you’re bleeding.” She had faced down demanding investors and the fury of her own family, but she had never seen that look of terror on his face before. She had believed that as long as they loved each other, they were invincible. But the doctor had told them the baby had already started to form. It was their own neglect that had cost them their child. The tears had fallen instantly. Adrian had held her, his voice choked with sobs. “I’m sorry, Melissa. It’s all my fault.” “I promise it will never happen again.” The second time she got pregnant, she had shared the good news with him, only to be met with two cold, emotionless words. “Get rid of it.” Perhaps sensing his own cruelty, he had added, “Melissa, you’re at the peak of your career right now. We can have one next time.” But “next time” never came. “Ms. Lindsay, are you sure you want to terminate?” The doctor’s voice pulled Melissa back to the present. He held the test results, his brow furrowed. “The fetus is developing perfectly. But your body is very weak. If you go through with this, you may never be able to conceive again.” Melissa’s heart trembled. In her past life, when Adrian had brought her here, he had told her the fetus wasn’t healthy. The doctor had recommended the procedure. From that day until the day she died, she had never gotten pregnant again. The lack of a child had become the greatest regret of her life. She lowered her gaze, her hand gently resting on her still-flat stomach. She could feel it. A life was growing there. Heaven had given her a second chance, and with it, this child. This time, she wouldn’t let go. She wanted this child to see the world. The snow outside had stopped. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, but it did nothing to warm the desolation in her eyes. “Thank you, Doctor. I’m keeping it.” America, she thought. There must be plenty of single mothers there. The next day at the office, her agent, Carla, rushed over with a contract, her face beaming. “Melissa, Adrian got us the endorsement for Olympia Sportswear!” Olympia was a high-end athletic brand. Their commercials always involved intense physical activity. Melissa’s face paled. She walked straight to the top floor, to Adrian’s office. She stopped at the door. Echo Towne was just coming out. “Melissa,” she cooed softly. On her neck were a series of small, red marks. “Melissa, what are you doing here?” Adrian looked flustered. He buttoned his collar, his voice holding a hint of reproach. Melissa’s breath caught. She walked past Echo Towne and into the office. “Turn down the Olympia endorsement. I’m not taking any new jobs for a while.” Adrian frowned. Melissa was a notorious workaholic. Even when she was “resting,” she only stopped making films, not other work. A thought struck him. He stared at her intently. “Melissa, are you sure it’s just an irregular cycle?” “Are you hiding something else from me?” Melissa froze. She opened her mouth, but managed to keep her voice steady. “It’s just an irregular cycle.” Adrian’s brow finally relaxed. He took her hand. “You should stop taking those birth control pills. Let your body recover.” “If you get pregnant, we’ll have it. I’ll take good care of you both.” Melissa nodded silently. He had said the same thing in her past life. But when she had actually gotten pregnant, he had dragged her to the hospital without a second thought. Adrian, do you have any idea? Last year alone, I took eleven bottles of birth control pills for you. You were the one who made me kill our child. You don’t deserve to be a father. 4 Just then, there was a knock on the door. Echo Towne’s agent came in with a folder, looking rushed. “Mr. Thorne, Echo Towne’s schedule needs your signature.” Melissa spoke up. “You handle your work. I’m going home.” Halfway out of the building, she realized her left earring was gone. She retraced her steps, and as she neared the CEO’s office, she heard Adrian’s impatient voice from within. “I told you, don’t come to me when Melissa is here.” Echo Towne was sitting on his lap, purring. “Adrian, don’t be so mean to me. She’s the one who ruined our fun.” She took his hand and placed it on her waist, her voice seductive. “I wore this especially for you. Don’t you want to see?” Adrian hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled her closer, his mouth crushing hers. The sounds of their passion seeped through the heavy wooden door. The cold of the metal doorknob traveled up Melissa’s arm and into her heart. Even though she was long past disappointed in him, hearing them together was still like a knife to the gut. Her fingers turned white as she pulled out her phone and dialed his number. The phone inside the office rang for half a second before it was silenced. No hesitation. A cold numbness spread through Melissa. She turned and walked away. Two hours later, he called back. “I was in a meeting. What’s up?” By then, Melissa had composed herself. Listening to his lie was just another bitter irony. “Nothing. I dropped an earring, but I found it.” Adrian, she thought, with an acting performance like that, you’re the one who deserves the award. Two days later, at the five-star hotel for a family dinner. Melissa reached for a piece of fish, but Adrian’s mother spun the lazy Susan away from her. “After all this time, still haven’t produced a single child. Even a dog would have had a litter in ten years.” Melissa’s silence only further enraged Adrian’s father. His disdain was palpable. “Do you know what they used to call people like you in the old days? Performers! Toys to keep people entertained. I don’t know why anyone bothers with you.” “Your priority now should be quitting your job and giving the Thorne family an heir!” Melissa finally spoke. “I understand. I will retire.” Not just retire, she thought. In five days, I’ll be gone, with my baby. Adrian squeezed her hand under the table. “Dad, Mom, don’t give Melissa a hard time. We’ll handle the matter of children ourselves.” As they were speaking, there was a knock on the door of the private room. Echo Towne appeared, holding a bottle of expensive ginseng wine, a brilliant smile on her face. “Mr. Thorne, I heard your voice and had to come say hello. This is for you.” Though she was polite, after giving him the wine, she made no move to leave. She poured herself a cup of tea from the table. “Mr. and Mrs. Thorne,” she said sweetly, “I feel such a connection to you both. If you don’t mind, I’d love to be your goddaughter!” “My sister, Melissa, is so busy. Unlike me. All I want to do is spend time with you.” Adrian’s eyes turned cold. He was about to speak when his father cut him off with a laugh. “If only I had a daughter-in-law as thoughtful as you! Unlike some people, who can’t even read a room!” His mother looked equally pleased and gestured to the empty seat beside her. “Such a good girl. Come, sit with us.” In ten years of marriage, Adrian’s parents had never once let her sit beside them. Adrian’s expression grew colder. He looked at Echo Towne. “This is a family dinner. You shouldn’t be sitting there.” Tears instantly welled in Echo Towne’s eyes. She shot a resentful glare at Melissa, then stood and left. Adrian’s expression shifted. He started to rise, but then he looked back at Melissa, who was still silently eating her food. He sat back down, his mind clearly elsewhere. His mother’s passive-aggressive comments and his father’s accusations rained down on Melissa once more. She finally stood up. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head home. You all enjoy.” She left so quickly that Adrian didn’t have time to see the look on her face. It wasn’t until she had locked herself in a bathroom stall that her strength gave out. She sank to the floor, and the tears she had been holding back finally broke free. She dug her nails into her palms, telling herself: Don’t listen. Don’t look. Don’t care. The doctor said emotional turmoil will affect the baby. The Thornes don’t need me. The baby is my only family now. Suddenly, a notification popped up on her phone. Echo Towne had posted a photo from the dinner, and she had tagged Melissa. The caption read: “Having dinner with my boyfriend’s family and ran into my big sister, Melissa! What a coincidence.” Even though no faces were fully visible, Melissa instantly recognized the Thorne family. 5 A comment was immediately pushed to the top. [TowneTowne, you and your boyfriend have to last forever!] The nausea that had just subsided came rushing back. Her eyes red, she forced herself to read through the comments, one by one. Among the sea of well-wishes, an account named “For_Towne” had replied with two simple words: We will. It was the same account Adrian used to send gifts to Echo Towne’s live stream. The blood drained from Melissa’s face. She took several deep breaths before her trembling hand tapped on the profile. It was blank. He had set it to private. Melissa stared at the screen for a long time before a bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped her lips. A moment later, tears fell like broken pearls, rolling past the corners of her forced smile and splashing onto the floor. Adrian called. “You said you weren’t feeling well. Are you better now?” Melissa wiped her tears, forcing her voice to be steady. “I’m fine now.” Adrian’s brow remained furrowed. “I’m on my way back…” Just then, Echo Towne, who had just finished pouring tea for his parents, saw Melissa’s name on his phone screen. She bit her lip, then slipped off her shoe. Her foot, clad in black silk, deliberately brushed against Adrian’s thigh under the table. Adrian’s breathing hitched. “Something came up at the office,” he said into the phone. “If you’re really not well, go to the hospital.” He hung up. The city lights shone through the window, illuminating Melissa’s face. The winter night was alive with a million lights, but none of them were for her. On the way home, the driver noticed her pale face. “Mrs. Thorne, you look terribly unwell. Should we go to the hospital?” Melissa gently shook her head. The driver said no more, delivering her home in silence. As she was about to open the car door, her wedding ring slipped from her finger and fell onto the floor mat. Melissa froze. Have I lost that much weight in just a few days? The driver offered to help her find it, but she refused. She fumbled in the dark for a long time before she finally found it. But as she held the ring, she hesitated to put it back on. After a long moment, she opened the glove compartment. “Things that don’t belong to me shouldn’t be taken by me.” With a soft click, the compartment opened, revealing dozens of condoms. In an instant, all the air was sucked out of the car. She had never been with Adrian in the car. Melissa’s chest heaved. Her hand recoiled as if from an electric shock. She scrambled to open the door. But just as she stepped out, some strange impulse made her pause. She took a photo, then slammed the glove compartment shut and got out of the car. That night, Melissa’s sleep was fitful. A wave of nausea washed over her. She mumbled, reaching for the space beside her. “Adrian…” The cold, empty sheets brought her instantly awake. She threw on a robe and let out a bitter laugh. The habits of the body are a terrifying thing. Adrian didn’t come home until noon the next day. The sun was melting the snow, making the air feel even colder. As soon as he stepped into the living room, Melissa caught the scent of gardenia perfume—Echo Towne’s signature scent—clinging to him. Melissa froze, looking at him. “Last night…” Adrian met her gaze, and for a split second, his heart seemed to stop. He pulled her into an embrace. “What’s wrong?” The scent of gardenia was overwhelming now. It was like a slow-acting poison, seeping into her organs. Melissa stared at him, searching his face for any sign of a lie. But his eyes were filled with nothing but soft, starlit affection. It turned out that even a look like that could be a lie. She stepped out of his embrace, changing the subject. “Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.” After dinner, Adrian took Melissa for a fitting for her red carpet gown. The Golden Griffin Awards were approaching, and every celebrity was pulling out all the stops to make a statement. Melissa looked at the gown sent over by Venus, the designer they had worked with for years, and felt a pang of nostalgia. For ten years, she and Adrian had worn matching Venus ensembles. They were always a pair. Now, this would be the last time. Suddenly, Echo Towne’s triumphant voice cut through the air. “Melissa, do you like my gown that much?” 6 Melissa’s eyes widened in disbelief. She turned to Adrian. In her past life, this was her gown! She and Adrian were the official faces of Venus in their country. The gowns were always custom-made to their measurements. Adrian frowned. “What are you talking about?” Echo Towne looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But you said I could choose any gown I wanted this time.” “Besides,” she added, placing a hand on her stomach, “I’m pregnant. If I don’t wear it now, I won’t get another chance.” The words struck Melissa like a bolt of lightning. She froze. No wonder he had insisted she get an abortion in her past life. She had actually believed it was for her career. It turned out he just didn’t want her child getting in the way of Echo Towne’s. Adrian’s expression shifted. He turned to Melissa. “Melissa, just pick another one.” In the past, Melissa would have fought for the dress. But this time, it suddenly didn’t seem so important. She knew Adrian would arrange for another, equally beautiful gown. But she had never wanted his guilt or his compensation. She had wanted his devotion. To be his one and only. Melissa forced a smile. “Fine. A brand that can’t make up its mind isn’t worth my time anyway.” She was talking about the brand, Venus, but Adrian’s heart felt strangely heavy. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over her. The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Adrian’s panicked face. When she woke up, she was in the hospital. Adrian’s face was a complex mask of emotions. “…Melissa, you’re pregnant?” It wasn’t a joyful exclamation. It was a question. An accusation. Melissa didn’t know what hurt more, her swollen ankle from the fall, or her heart. Her eyelashes trembled. A bitter smile touched her lips. “You think this baby came at a bad time, don’t you?” Seeing his silence, the bitterness in her heart deepened. She closed her eyes, her voice flat, almost hopeless. “Then let’s get rid of it.” No arguments. No resistance. The lesson from her past life was enough to keep her silent. This child, she was destined to lose. A flicker of guilt crossed Adrian’s face. He seemed to remember something, and let out a long sigh. “Keep it.” Melissa’s eyes snapped open. The dead ashes in her soul were suddenly rekindled with a tiny spark of hope. Adrian squeezed her hand. “What parent wouldn’t want to keep their child?” A lump formed in Melissa’s throat. She nearly burst into tears. What parent wouldn’t want their child? What couple would keep up an act for ten years? But Adrian, why did it have to be you? Adrian went to buy her dinner. Echo Towne came in, carrying a fruit basket. “Congratulations, Melissa!” The words were celebratory, but there was no smile in her eyes. Instead, they glinted with a cold, venomous light. She looked around, and seeing that Adrian was gone, her smile vanished. “You know, don’t you? My boyfriend is Adrian.” “Melissa, you’re so pathetic. Only a woman who can’t win her husband’s love would use a child to tie him down.” Melissa looked her straight in the eye. “Are you talking about yourself, Echo Towne?” “No matter how many people envy you on your live stream, you’ll never be anything more than a mistress who can’t be seen in public.” Echo Towne was stunned. The few times she had seen Melissa, she had been so quiet and submissive, it had given Echo Towne the mistaken impression that she was a pushover. She dug her nails into her palms, her face twisting with rage. Just then, the sound of Adrian’s footsteps approached. “Melissa, I bought you some porridge. It’s easy to digest.” A vicious glint appeared in Echo Towne’s eyes. She grabbed Melissa by the collar. A powerful force pulled Melissa forward, and they both crashed to the floor. Echo Towne’s venomous words wrapped around Melissa’s ear. “Let’s see who he chooses. You, or me?” 7 A cry of alarm rang out. Adrian quickened his pace, bursting through the door. Echo Towne was already sobbing, a tragic heroine. “I brought a fruit basket to see Melissa, but she started screaming at me, accusing me of seducing you and stealing her gown.” “I didn’t…” Before Melissa could finish, Echo Towne shrieked. “Blood! Adrian, my stomach hurts so much! The baby…” Her cries immediately captured Adrian’s full attention. He shot a cold, dagger-like glare at Melissa, then scooped Echo Towne into his arms and rushed away. Watching them go, the last vestiges of warmth left Melissa’s body. A sharp, cramping pain seized her abdomen. A warm liquid trickled down her legs. Melissa forced herself to her feet and called for a nurse. She was wheeled into the hallway, where she heard another nurse speaking in a troubled voice. “Dr. Campbell is the only one on duty in Obstetrics right now, but the patient from the VIP room, Ms. Lindsay, is also showing signs of a miscarriage.” Adrian froze. He was about to speak when Echo Towne looked up, her eyes brimming with pitiful tears. “I’m fine. Let Melissa go first. An A-list star like her, taking out her temper on a small-time influencer like me… I’m used to it.” Feeling the life of her own child slipping away, Melissa’s vision turned red. She grabbed the nurse’s arm, her voice a desperate plea. “Please, save my baby!” At her words, Adrian’s face twisted in disgust. “Her child isn’t important. Save Echo Towne’s.” The nurses quickly wheeled Echo Towne into the operating room. The hospital’s smell of antiseptic and blood filled Melissa’s lungs, stinging her nose. By the time it was her turn, Dr. Campbell sighed deeply. “If you had come in ten minutes earlier, we could have saved it. It’s too late.” An icy chill crept up Melissa’s spine, freezing her heart. Her baby… was gone, just like that? Her body trembling, Melissa placed a hand on her stomach. Tears she had held back for so long finally fell, tracing paths down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I couldn’t protect you this time, either.” As the anesthesia wore off, a bone-deep pain wracked her body, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. That was her flesh and blood, a part of her body. She had never even had the chance to let her baby see the world. In a daze, Melissa was wheeled out of the operating room. Adrian was still holding Echo Towne. Echo Towne looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “Adrian, can you stay with me tonight?” Her voice was choked with sobs, but the look she shot at Melissa was one of pure, triumphant provocation. Adrian was silent for a moment, then his voice was gentle. “Okay.” Seeing Melissa, he made no move to let Echo Towne go. A fire of anger burned in his eyes. “Apologize to Towne.” The storm of emotions churning inside Melissa suddenly ceased. With the death of her child, a part of her had died, too. “I was wrong. You go take care of her. I’m going home.” Adrian was stunned. He saw that the light in Melissa’s eyes had been extinguished, leaving nothing but dead, gray ash. His throat worked, and he was about to say something, but a doctor called him over to pay the bill. When he looked back, Melissa was gone. On the way home, Melissa’s grief fermented in her heart, turning to a bitter hatred. She hated her own weakness, her inability to let go, which had cost her another child. If she had just left earlier, would her baby have been saved? Suddenly, a message popped up on her phone. It was from Echo Towne. She had sent a username and password. “Log in. You’ll see a surprise.” With fingers as white as bone, Melissa logged into Adrian’s secret account: For_Towne. The latest post was a photo of Echo Towne’s flat stomach. The caption read: “Towne is pregnant. Today is the happiest day of my life.”

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Live on New Year’s Eve, my brother called me. I spoke first. “May you have peace and joy, and live a long, full life.” My brother let out a cold, sharp laugh. “But I don’t want you to have joy or a long life, Lisa. I hope you live in misery forever.” I had cut ties with my brother the year he lost everything. Now that he was a titan of industry, his first order of business was revenge. My voice remained steady. “May you have peace and joy, and live a long, full life.” His patience snapped. “Enough. I could never wish you well. If I have to wish you anything, I wish you eternal suffering.” The show’s host hesitated for a moment before gently interrupting him. “Mr. Chase… that was just a recording of your sister’s voice. When she passed… she was, as you said, in a great deal of pain.” 1 “Passed?” Matt Chase froze, then a sneer twisted his lips. “I hope you mean she’s dead.” The host paused, then simply gestured to the massive screen behind Matt. My face appeared on it. In the video, I slapped a hand over the camera lens. Rain plastered my hair and shirt to my skin, a picture of pure misery. My voice was raw with irritation. “Stop filming. I didn’t agree to this.” A moment later, a warm, magnetic voice replied, full of sincerity. “I’m not a con artist, I swear. I’m a filmmaker. I make documentaries about people’s lives. I can help you.” I turned away from the dumpster I’d been rummaging through and pressed my face close to the lens. “Oh yeah? Can you cure my cancer?” The man behind the camera fell silent. I stretched my lips into a hollow smile. “Don’t waste your time. Find someone else.” “Wait… I can try!” He grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. I looked him up and down, from his shirt and belt to his pants and shoes, and let out a short, sharp laugh. “Twenty bucks, sixty, forty, fifty,” I ticked off. “Oh, and the camera. Bought it secondhand, didn’t you? Do you have any idea how much my treatment costs?” I held up five fingers to the lens. “Half a million dollars.” The man’s breath hitched. I smiled and walked back out into the rain, bending over one dumpster after another. “Shadow? Shadow, where are you?” He followed me. “What are you looking for?” “A dog.” “Is he yours?” “No. I collapsed earlier. He licked me awake.” The man said nothing. I looked up at him. “If you’ve got nothing better to do, then leave. There are plenty of people in this world you can help. Don’t waste your time on me.” My hand covered the lens. The screen went black. 2 [AFTERLIFE — 10.11.2023, 9:32 AM — The Chase Family Heiress Needs No One’s Pity] “You’re Lisa Chase. Matt Chase’s sister, right?” I was sweeping the floor in the back kitchen of a café. I frowned at the voice. “You again?” The man’s voice came from behind the camera. “Everyone online says you’re a traitor, that you abandoned him. But they don’t know you have cancer. I want to film a documentary series about you. Can I?” I shook my head. “Let them call me a traitor. I worked hard to build that reputation. Are you trying to ruin it for me?” “Wait!” He quickly grabbed my arm. “But you’re broke. Where will you get the money for treatment? Let me help you. I have some savings.” I turned my head and smiled. “What do you think was the reason I cut ties with my brother in the first place?” He hesitated. I pulled my arm free and waved him away. “I have a job. I don’t need your help. Just go.” “I asked around. You only make two thousand a month here.” “Still don’t need it.” I turned my back to him, then glanced over my shoulder with a defiant smile. “The heiress of the Chase family never needs anyone’s pity.” The moment the words left my lips, my knees buckled and I collapsed. “Lisa!” The camera shook violently. On the floor, a pool of blood was spreading. “You…!” Brain’s voice trembled. The camera was tossed aside, and a tall, lanky man rushed to help me up. “Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital!” Just as he was about to lift me, I pushed him away with all my strength. I grabbed a rag, wiped the floor, then smeared the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t need it.” Then I walked to the sink and washed the blood from my face. Brain’s voice was shaking. “Please, I’m begging you. Let me help you.” I cleaned the last trace of blood, turned around, and looked at him with fierce intensity. “The heiress of the Chase family never needs anyone’s help.” And with that, I walked out of the frame. 3 [AFTERLIFE — 11.15.2023, 3:21 PM — The Puppy Doesn’t Know He’s Dying, Only That He Finally Has a Home] “What do you mean?” At the vet’s office, I stared in shock. The vet sighed and shook his head. “His original owner probably abandoned him because they knew he wouldn’t make it. The poor thing has been starving, getting bullied by other strays… He’s already…” I managed a small smile. “I know. You’re going to say he doesn’t have much time left, right?” The vet hesitated, then nodded. It was the same look my own oncologist gave me. Brain frowned. “Is there really nothing we can do?” “…Just keep him comfortable. Good food, warm bed.” Silence filled the room. I stroked Shadow’s head. “No wonder the two of us found each other.” Shadow’s tail wagged furiously. He rubbed against me, his tongue lolling out, his bright black eyes fixed on me. Brain gave a bitter smile. “He thinks you’re his owner now.” I paused. “Is that something to be so happy about?” Brain nodded, stroking the dog’s head. “A puppy doesn’t know he’s going to die. He only knows that he finally has a home again.” I was silent for a long moment. I patted the dog’s head. “Alright then. I’ll call you Shadow.” Shadow let out a happy “Woof!” As we left the clinic, I turned to face the camera. “You’re the one who found him and brought him to me. As repayment, I’ll agree to let you film your series.” 4 [AFTERLIFE — 12.31.2023, 9:00 PM — Then I Wish You a Long and Happy Life, Part 1] “Where did you get this?” I frowned, looking at the old videotape Brain had brought. He dangled it with a grin. “A good filmmaker has to fully understand his subject.” He popped the tape into a VCR. On the TV left behind by the last tenant, a girl with long hair in a pink dress appeared, bending down to look at the camera. Back then, my eyes still sparkled with hope. “Hello, hello! Happy New Year 2015! I wish everyone peace, joy, and all your dreams come true!” “You were so lively back then,” Brain said, sitting beside me, a smile in his eyes as he watched the video. I clutched a pillow, huddled on the tattered sofa in my tiny apartment, my head poking out from under a blanket. “Did you just dig up every video from all my old social media accounts?” “I found them interesting, so I brought them over.” I said nothing, watching my past self sit among piles of presents, a small tiara clipped in my hair. A familiar voice spoke. “Hold on, I’ll help you open them.” Matt walked into the frame and sat cross-legged beside me. I held up a hand in a “stop” gesture. “No! The Chase heiress is self-sufficient!” The camera cut, and now Matt was fastening a necklace around my neck. “Happy New Year, my little princess.” A camera flashed, capturing my huge, beaming smile. Laughter erupted as I smeared a dab of whipped cream on Matt’s nose. He froze for a second, then a grin spread across his face. “Stop messing around. Your hair is all tangled. Come here, let me brush it for you.” The video was filled with the sound of my happy laughter. Outside the screen, I found myself laughing along, a hollow echo of the past. I wiped the corner of my eye, my sigh trembling slightly. “After our parents died, everyone thought I was so pitiful. But I wasn’t. Not at all. I still had my brother, I still had my friends…” A cold draft swept through the leaky apartment. I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, tears streaming silently down my face. A warm hand enveloped my own, which was red from the cold. Brain looked at me, his expression serious. “I’ve saved up some money. Let’s go to the hospital tomorrow. We can start your treatment.” I sniffled and laughed. “Your channel has less than a hundred followers, and you’re eating instant noodles with me every day. How much money could you possibly have?” His long, pale fingers clenched on his faded jeans. “It’s… something. It could help.” I shook my head stubbornly. “No. The Chase heiress never needs anyone’s help.” I lifted my chin at him proudly. “Don’t worry. My income is enough to cover my medication. See? I bought all of these with my salary.” I grabbed a handful of colorful pills and tossed them back, swallowing them in one gulp. I winced, remaining silent for a long moment before finally pressing a hand to my chest and letting out a long sigh of relief. When I looked up, Brain was watching me, the corners of his eyes tinged with red. I let out a small laugh. “Pretty impressive, right?” Brain looked down, a bitter smile on his lips. “Yeah.” 5 [AFTERLIFE — 12.31.2023, 11:45 PM — Then I Wish You a Long and Happy Life, Part 2] On screen, after a meager meal, the two of us were leaning against the sofa, waiting for the New Year’s countdown. Brain glanced at me. “Is that all you’re going to eat?” I felt a wave of exhaustion. “My stomach hurts. Any more and I’ll just throw it up.” Brain was quiet for a moment before finally speaking. “Mr. Chase… he’s made it. His new project just broke a hundred million in revenue.” I closed my eyes. “I know.” “Go back to him, Lisa. He can get you the best treatment.” I shook my head. “Why not? Do you want to die like this?” “Did you really think I expected to live when I cut ties with him?” That shut him up. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice trembling slightly. “Why did you do it? Why not let him face this with you?” I laughed. “Our parents always taught us that the children of the Chase family never need help from anyone. And yet, our family supported a whole clan of relatives. But when my brother went bankrupt, not a single one of them was willing to help.” My breath hitched. I bit my lip before continuing. “Do you have any idea how it felt to watch my brother grovel in front of them, begging them just to pay for my tuition?” “My brother never begged anyone. After being rejected by every single one of our relatives, he took me to a tiny, one-room apartment, about the size of this one. He told me that he, alone, would bring us back to the life we once had. That’s the brother I admire. The one who, even with nothing, still had his pride and his ambition. “But…” I laughed and looked at Brain. “What do you think would happen if he knew I was sick?” Brain stared at me, speechless. “He would get on his knees and beg those relatives.” My voice trembled as I said it. “He almost did, just for my tuition money. I was lucky I was there to stop him. Ha…” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “Before I left, he and his partner were just starting to get back on their feet. Can you imagine what would happen if his partner found out the family suddenly had a bottomless money pit to deal with? Would he still have invested?” Brain’s voice was strained. “Lisa…” I held up a hand to stop him. “Cancer might take my life, but half a million dollars would have taken his.” Brain’s fists clenched at his sides. I sighed, a sad smile on my face. “The day I left, I tore him to shreds. I called him every name in the book. At the end, he was holding my arm, crying, begging me to stay, promising things would get better soon, that he’d give us our old life back. You see him now, so polished and successful. You could never imagine how pathetic he looked then. Ha…” Brain’s voice was low. “How did he finally let you go?” I remembered it all too clearly. “I told him he was a failure. That his past success was just because of our parents. I said his pathetic state was a disgrace to their memory, and if he had any shred of brotherly love left, he would let me go find my own happiness. And then… he let go. Bit by bit.” The bells for the new year began to ring. Fireworks exploded outside the window. I raised a hand and wiped the tears from my face. 6 [AFTERLIFE — 01.01.2024, 12:00 AM — Then I Wish You a Long and Happy Life, Part 3] Brain turned to look out the window. “Happy New Year, Lisa.” “Thanks.” “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy new year?” I looked up at him. “You’re asking a dying woman for a blessing?” His hand gently covered my own thin, frail one. “Please.” I watched the warm, golden fireworks burst outside the window, feeling as if I were bathed in their hopeful light. I smiled. “Then I wish you a long and happy life.” The hand on mine tightened, trembling slightly. Brain stared out the window, his expression hidden from view. The camera moved, and soon, we had both settled down for the night. But in the darkness, a figure slowly emerged. I leaned close to the camera, frowning. “Damn, forgot to turn it off.” I reached out to press the button, then paused. After a moment’s thought, I dragged a chair over and sat down in front of the lens, adjusting it left and right, a look of doubt in my eyes. “Will anyone ever really see this?” More fireworks lit up the sky, casting a warm, yellow glow on my face. I took a deep breath and gave the camera a small, gentle smile. “If anyone is watching… then I wish you all peace and joy, and long, happy lives.” I waved at the camera, and then pressed the button.

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The day the Hawthorne family, Miami’s wealthiest dynasty, came to claim me, I was one of Hollywood’s brightest rising stars. The whole city’s paparazzi were there, live-streaming my homecoming. But Brielle, the Hawthornes’ adopted daughter, stood at the door, blocking my way. “Sister,” she began, her voice dripping with faux concern, “we’ve looked into you. You’re famous for a… certain scandalous art-house film. The Hawthorne family has its standards. You’ll have to change your clothes in front of everyone before you can come in.” She smiled sweetly. “Father said that when he and my brother aren’t home, I’m the lady of the house. I hope you can understand.” In my past life, I would have been cautious, desperate to protect my image, and would have probably swallowed my pride. But this wasn’t my past life. I was reborn. I kicked over a large, ornate planter by the door, sending dirt scattering across the pristine marble. Shoving the stunned Brielle aside, I scoffed. “A joke! You want to strip me? You’re not worthy.” “Every inch of me is insured for more than you’re worth. If you so much as pluck a single hair from my head, you couldn’t afford it.” “‘Lady of the house’? We’ll see how long it takes for you to be on your knees, begging me.” 1 The moment the words left my mouth, a tidal wave of paparazzi surged forward, flashes erupting like a lightning storm, nearly blinding me. “Marissa! The rumors are true! You’re the long-lost Hawthorne heiress!” Brielle reached for my dress, and I slapped her hand away. “Don’t you dare!” “Even if I weren’t a Hawthorne, I’m still a multi-million-dollar celebrity! I’m warning you, touch me again, and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.” Brielle clutched her face, her eyes burning with fury. “You…!” This was the kind of raw confrontation the paparazzi lived for. They shoved their microphones in Brielle’s face. “Ms. Hawthorne! Marissa is a huge star! Aren’t you happy to have a sister like her?” “And besides, she’s the real Hawthorne by blood. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” A slow, calculating smile spread across Brielle’s face. “Of course I’m happy to have a sister. But this… this was Father’s wish.” “And I’m about to launch my own career, you know. I understand what’s acceptable and what isn’t. I would never sell my body for a bit of fame. So let’s be clear, no one here is better than anyone else.” She looked at me, a condescending tilt to her head. “Today, as her older sister and the lady of this house, I’m simply teaching her the Hawthorne way.” I let out a sharp laugh. “‘Lady of the house’? We’ll see what the real Hawthornes have to say about that. For now, you’re nothing but a cuckoo in the nest who thinks she’s a swan.” Just then, the family butler stepped forward, whispering to Brielle but speaking loud enough for the closest cameras to hear. He glanced at me with a sneer. “The master said actresses love their drama. He told you not to be afraid. You are the only daughter of his heart. No one will bully you!” 2 The butler’s words sent the paparazzi into a frenzy. “The master? Does that mean Marissa’s return won’t change Brielle’s status at all?” “Looks like it! So what if she’s back in the family? She’s still second-class!” My phone buzzed violently. My agent, Amy, was on the line, her voice a shrill shriek in my ear. “Marissa! My god, are you insane?! Get back here right now! Forget this family reunion!” “The live-stream has gone viral! The internet is exploding! They’re all saying you’re an ungrateful brat! This is the Hawthorne family we’re talking about!” “Do you have any idea how much Hawthorne Capital has invested in our agency?! Are you trying to kill me?!” I listened to her tirade and let out a soft laugh. “It’s fine, Amy. Just sit back and watch the show. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take the heat.” Amy’s voice was thick with tears. “My sweet girl, do you know who Kurt Hawthorne is? He’s the heir! He’s famous for being obsessed with his sister!” “You’ve made an enemy of Brielle. You think he’ll let you get away with this? The second Hawthorne Capital pulls their funding, you’ll be the first one the agency shelves!” Suddenly, there was a commotion on her end of the line. “Oh, hell! I have to go! We just got a message from Hawthorne Capital’s business affairs! Listen to me, Marissa! Come back now!” She hung up. I smiled to myself. She didn’t know that I was a major, silent partner in our agency. I’d used the fortune I’d built to invest, but I’d kept it quiet, not wanting to be accused of getting ahead because of my money. The Hawthorne family was going to ‘shelve’ me? Not likely. Seeing me hang up, Brielle leaned in, her voice a low, taunting whisper. “Looks like my brother has already made his move. I’d listen if I were you.” “So what if you have Hawthorne blood? With an attitude like that, you’ll never set foot in this house again.” Just then, a flame-red Ferrari screeched to a halt in front of the gate. The legendary Hawthorne heir, Kurt Hawthorne, stepped out, his face a mask of cold fury. Brielle’s expression transformed instantly. She ran to him, her voice a delicate, wounded cry as she grabbed his arm. “Kurt… you’re finally back…” Kurt walked straight up to me, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. “You’re Marissa?” The paparazzi held their breath, their faces alight with glee. They stretched their necks. “Mr. Hawthorne! The hottest rising star, Marissa, is your long-lost sister! How do you feel?!” Kurt scoffed. “Marissa may share our blood, that’s true. But Brielle has been in our family for years. She is, and always will be, the only sister in my heart.” “Besides,” he continued, his voice dripping with contempt, “Brielle is a few months older than her. For Marissa to come here on her first day and show her such disrespect… it’s clear she’s had a lack of proper upbringing.” My phone rang. It was my adoptive mother. She must have seen the live-stream and was furious. I ignored the call. Kurt looked at me, pressing his advantage. “I don’t care what kind of star you are. The Hawthorne estate is not a stage for your publicity stunts. If you plan on making a scene here, don’t blame me for being merciless.” The paparazzi buzzed, turning all their cameras on me, waiting for my response. I met the cameras with a smirk. “This is being live-streamed to the entire country. Everyone can see what’s happening. Who was it that tried to strip my clothes off just now? And somehow I’m the one making a scene?” “And didn’t you just pull the funding from my projects? What’s with the self-righteous act now?” “I had no idea the great Hawthorne family was so good at twisting the truth.” My words sent the live-stream chat into an explosion. A tidal wave of supportive comments flooded the screen. I didn’t even need to look to know public opinion was on my side. Brielle’s face tightened, but she quickly shifted back into her innocent-little-damsel routine. “My brother didn’t mean it like that. He just… he can’t stand to see me get hurt.” She paused, then added in a tone of magnanimous charity, “We’re the Hawthornes, Miami’s wealthiest family. We can certainly afford to feed one more person.” Her eyes reddened. “What happened today was just standard Hawthorne protocol. My sister must have misunderstood. After all, she didn’t have much of an education. She’s been working since she was very young, so she has more… real-world experience than I do. It’s only natural she’d think the worst of people.” I laughed coldly and raised my hand as if to strike her. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and cowering back. I lowered my hand, my smile dripping with scorn. “Do you know who the first person to seek me out for a DNA test was?” “Let me tell you something. Whether or not the Hawthorne family accepts me isn’t up to a little stray like you.” 3 All I knew was that after I went missing, my birth mother searched for me for years, until, consumed by guilt and despair, she took her own life. And I, after I became famous, was on screens everywhere. My grandmother saw me and recognized me instantly as her long-lost granddaughter. She came to my door time and time again, begging me to take a DNA test, desperate for me to come home. The person who wanted me back was never the high-and-mighty Mr. Hawthorne, and it certainly wasn’t the arrogant Kurt Hawthorne. Brielle’s eyes flew open. “So what if Grandmother recognized you!” she shrieked. “This is the Hawthorne house! What does her word matter here?” She pointed a trembling finger at me. “My brother is the one Father chose! He is the one and only heir to the Hawthorne fortune! If he says you can’t come in, you’ll never set foot past this gate!” I laughed inwardly. She really wasn’t family, was she? She didn’t even know who really called the shots here. I gave her a cold stare, pulled over a chair, and sat down with a cool, unbothered air. A smirk played on my lips. “Fine. Then we’ll wait for the master of the house to return.” Seeing the viewer count on the live-stream skyrocket, I smiled. If I didn’t blow this up today, these two would never learn who was really in charge. I was casually scrolling through the live chat when a furious roar cut through the air. “What is going on?! When did the Hawthorne estate become a public stage?!” I looked up. It was Arthur Hawthorne, his eyes wide with rage. I rose slowly, a mocking smile on my face. “No one’s treating this place like a stage. But some people seem to have forgotten their place and started thinking they’re the masters here.” Arthur’s eyes scanned the forest of cameras, and his face turned a furious shade of purple. “Henderson!” he bellowed at the butler. “Get these reporters out of here!” The paparazzi erupted. “On what grounds? We’re just filming Marissa!” “What a tyrant! The great Arthur Hawthorne won’t even let his own daughter in the door! Is there no decency?!” A vein throbbed in Arthur’s temple. “My daughter? Who knows if she’s just after our money! Don’t think that filming a few sleazy movies makes you a princess!” “We’re gracious enough to acknowledge her, and instead of being grateful, she comes here to ruin the Hawthorne family’s century-old reputation!” I looked at him and felt a profound sense of irony. This man, who had changed his own name just to marry into wealth, had the audacity to lecture me. Seeing my silence, Kurt thought I was scared. He arrogantly ordered the security guards, “Get them all out of here! And for the next few days, if I see a single negative headline about the Hawthorne family, there will be consequences!” The reporters exchanged uneasy glances. Most of them reluctantly lowered their cameras, seemingly forgetting that this was all being broadcast live. Brielle pointed at me, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Looks like there won’t be a family reunion today. When the great star is ready to change her clothes and walk over a pit of fire, we can talk.” Arthur looked at me with disgust. “Don’t think a little shared blood gives you the right to throw your weight around in our house! We don’t welcome women who sell their bodies!” “Now get out, before you dirty our home!” Just then, a powerful, commanding voice boomed from the entrance. “I’d like to see who dares touch a single hair on my granddaughter’s head!”

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My mother asked me which of the Levitans I would marry. This time, I didn’t choose Joe. I chose his uncle, Julian Levitan. A flicker of confusion crossed my mother’s face. After all, the entire elite of New York knew I’d been chasing Joe Levitan since we were children. For ten years, I was his shadow, his loyal puppy, and I’d loudly proclaimed I would marry no one else. A bitter smile touched my lips. I remembered my last life. After I married Joe, a chasm of ice existed between us in the marriage bed. He never touched me. I’d assumed he suffered from some private affliction, a condition too humiliating to admit, and I dedicated myself to protecting his secret. It wasn’t until our fiftieth wedding anniversary that I stumbled into the darkroom he kept locked, a sanctuary no one was ever allowed to enter. The walls were a haunting gallery, covered from floor to ceiling with photographs of my cousin, Kristen. The truth struck me like a physical blow. He wasn’t cold or incapable of passion. He just didn’t love me. So, in this new life, I’ve chosen to grant them their wish. I’ve set them free. But later, as I walked down the aisle in a gown of my own design, toward his uncle, the color drained from Joe’s face. And in that moment, he began to unravel. 1 Three days after the marriage alliance was finalized, I ran into Joe at a party. His friends spotted me first, their faces splitting into smug, mocking grins. “Hey, Joe, look what the cat dragged in. Your little shadow is here to play.” “Eleanor, honey, you’ve already locked down the Levitan name. Don’t you think you’re clinging a little tight? Can’t even let the guy have one night out with his friends?” When Joe saw me, his irritation was a palpable force. “Eleanor, are you that desperate?” he snapped, his voice low and sharp. “Forcing our families’ hands without even talking to me? Now the whole city thinks we’re engaged. You’ve really got some nerve.” His look of pure disgust was a familiar knife in my heart, but after a moment, I found my voice, calm and steady. “Your permission was never required. The man I’m marrying… it isn’t you.” A beat of silence, then the room erupted in laughter. Joe’s friends howled, clutching their sides. “Whoa, Joe, you better smooth things over with your little fiancée! Looks like she’s trying a new tactic to get your attention!” Joe’s brow furrowed. “So now we’re playing hard to get, Eleanor? Is that the new game?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Who else in my family would you possibly marry? You’ve been screaming from the rooftops that you’d only marry me since we were kids. Everyone in this city already sees you as my woman.” He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ll let the engagement announcement slide. But you need to understand something. I can give you a grand wedding, the event of the season… but the marriage license? That is reserved for the woman I truly want to marry.” My eyes shot up to his, wide with shock. In my last life, at this exact moment, Joe had dutifully followed his family’s orders, marrying me without protest. Could it be? Had he been reborn, too? Before I could read the answer in his expression, my cousin, Kristen Croft, arrived. The moment she saw Joe and me standing together, tears welled in her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks. “Ellie… Joe… I heard… I heard you’re getting married soon. I… I don’t have a gift, but I just wanted to wish you… a lifetime of happiness…” Her voice broke, and she turned and fled, sobbing. “Look what you’ve done,” Joe hissed, glaring at me before chasing after her without a second glance back. 2 When they returned, their fingers were intertwined. Kristen’s lips were swollen and bruised from kissing, and a stark, fresh love bite bloomed on the column of Joe’s throat. Every eye in the room swiveled to me, hungry for the drama, waiting for the inevitable explosion. In the past, any girl who got this close to Joe would have been met with a storm of my tears and accusations, a desperate plea for him to turn his attention back to me. Joe protectively pulled Kristen behind him, his own expression a strange mix of defiance and anticipation. But minutes ticked by, and I remained silent. Motionless. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “Well, look at you. Finally learning to act your age instead of throwing a tantrum.” When the party wound down, Joe caught my arm as I was leaving. “It’s late. I’ll give you a ride.” A free ride was a free ride. I didn’t refuse. I moved toward the back door of the car, but Joe blocked me, opening the front passenger door instead. “You sit in the back,” he commanded, then gently guided Kristen into the front seat. “Sorry, Ellie,” Kristen said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Joe’s just worried about me. I get so carsick, you know…” I said nothing, sliding into the back seat where I’d intended to sit all along. The entire drive, Joe and Kristen flirted and laughed in the front, their voices a low murmur. At a red light, Kristen pouted, asking him to apply her lip balm. Their eyes met, the space between them shrinking until their breath mingled, heavy and charged. Suddenly, Joe’s gaze shot to the rearview mirror, as if just remembering I was there. When he saw me staring impassively out the window, a strange, dark expression clouded his face. He stomped on the gas the second the light turned green. When we arrived at my brownstone, he got out and stopped me again, a break from his usual routine. He pressed a small, velvet box into my hand. His tone was one of magnanimous charity. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop with the ‘I don’t care’ act. It’s cheap,” he said. “Consider this an engagement gift.” “As long as you behave,” he continued, “you’ll get your wedding. At least in name. Everyone in New York will know you as my wife.” I looked up at him. “And the woman who gets the marriage license? Who is she? Kristen?” His face contorted with a flash of fury, but beneath it, I saw a dark, triumphant satisfaction. “I knew it. I knew you were pretending. Listen to me, and listen carefully. You will not breathe a word of this to our parents.” “What Kristen and I have… it’s not something you could ever understand! She’s kind and fragile, not like you with all your petty schemes and manipulations. If you dare hurt her, don’t blame me if I call off the wedding entirely.” I almost laughed. His own cowardice, his inability to stand up to his family, was now somehow my fault. I turned and walked away without another word. The moment I stepped inside, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Kristen. In it, Joe was carefully fastening a necklace around her neck. I recognized the designer. It was then I realized the bracelet in my hand was the cheap, complimentary gift that came with the purchase of the necklace. Their bodies were close, and in the next second, they were kissing, a deep, wet sound that echoed unnervingly in the confines of the car. A text followed. [Ellie, honey. I’m sure Joe already told you, right? After his little wedding with you, he’s going to legally marry me.] [You know, a marriage that isn’t recognized by law has no claim to the family fortune. I guess it’s finally my turn to be Mrs. Levitan for real.] 3 Kristen. She was reborn, too. It all made sense now. In our past life, she and Joe had kept their distance publicly. This time, they were inseparable, their affair on flagrant display. They must have found each other, confessed everything, and decided to live out the grand romance they were denied before. I looked down at my hands, remembering. After I married into the Levitan family last time, their corporation, Levitan Industries, suddenly flourished. Contracts and orders poured in, their assets skyrocketed, and soon they were the wealthiest family in the city. The elders all said I was their good luck charm, that I brought prosperity to the family. They adored me for it. And so, despite Joe’s perpetual coldness, I had believed I was happy. Until I saw those photographs… My mother entered my room, her expression soft. “Julian will be back from Europe in five days,” she told me. I was surprised. In my previous life, Joe’s enigmatic uncle had never married. I hadn’t expected our alliance to proceed so smoothly. All I remembered of him was a kind, older presence from my childhood. Marrying him felt safer, more reassuring, than marrying anyone else. The next day, I was at my design studio early, ready to alter my wedding gown. I had been designing it since I started fashion school, dreaming of the day I would wear it. Back then, the man I was designing it for was Joe. Every stitch, every bead, was chosen to please him. He’d forbidden any of the floral embroidery I loved, calling it old-fashioned. This time, I could finally wear the dress I wanted, for a man who wasn’t him. A few days later, after finishing the final alterations, I took a break in the lounge. Scrolling through my phone, I froze. It was Kristen’s latest post. There she was, wearing my dress. Or what was left of it. The bottom half had been hacked off, turning my elegant gown into a vulgar micro-mini. In the photo, she was grinding against Joe on a dance floor. The caption read: [Joe knew I needed something to wear tonight, so he brought me this! It feels so good to be spoiled!] Disbelief propelled me to the fifth-floor ballroom. The scene was just as the picture depicted. Kristen and Joe were lost in a frenzied dance, her hips pressed tight against him. “That’s my wedding dress,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “How could you give it to her? How could you let her destroy it like this?” Kristen saw me and immediately dissolved into tears, her face a mask of terrified innocence. “Joe… did I do something wrong? Why does Ellie look so angry? Sob…” Joe pulled her behind him. “Eleanor, it’s just a dress!” “You were going to wear it for me anyway, so what’s the big deal if Kristen borrows it for a dance?” he snapped. “Besides, I never liked that style. It’s stuffy. Just make a new one! Stop making a scene over nothing!” His shamelessness was breathtaking. “Who said this was for you to see? This is for my wedding!” Joe just shook his head, a dismissive sneer on his face. “Give it a rest, Eleanor. Your wedding, my wedding, it’s the same thing. I already agreed to marry you. This little drama act is getting old.” My eyes scanned the room and landed on a pair of fabric shears on a nearby table. I snatched them up, strode toward Kristen, and with one vicious snip, sliced through the trailing silk ribbons at her thigh. “Since you’re so confident, Joe, watch closely,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “I don’t keep things that have been sullied. And I certainly don’t keep men who are.” Joe’s face went slack, a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes. He’d never seen this fire in me, this final, cutting edge. My past tantrums had always been childish pleas for attention; this was a declaration of war. He reached for me instinctively, but just then, Kristen let out a theatrical sob. “Joe, my leg… I think it’s bleeding… Oh, but it’s okay, don’t worry about me, you should go after Eleanor… It’s all my fault…” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his gaze torn between my retreating back and her crocodile tears. Then, his face hardened. “Let her go,” he snarled, his voice laced with a cold fury. “A woman consumed by jealousy like that needs to be taught a lesson. Let her stew in it.” 4 I stared at the silk threads still clinging to my hand. Wiping away a tear I refused to let fall, I mourned the loss of my creation. Still, sacrificing one dress to see a man’s true colors… it was a worthy trade. Tonight was the family dinner where I would formally meet Julian. First impressions were everything. After composing myself and redoing my makeup, I headed down to the garage. As I approached my car, I saw another vehicle parked in the shadows, rocking gently on its suspension. It was Joe’s Maserati. Through the half-open driver’s side window, I could see him, with Kristen straddling his lap, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her body moving in a steady, urgent rhythm. Even knowing he didn’t love me, the sight was a punch to the gut, a visceral, sickening jolt. Joe’s eyes fluttered open and met mine. A flicker of panic, nothing more. Then, as if to spite me, he brushed Kristen’s hair from her face and pulled her into a deep, bruising kiss. He increased his pace, and Kristen’s breathy moans echoed through the concrete space. I lowered my gaze, turned on my heel, and got into my own car, driving away toward the Levitan family estate. On the way, I stopped to pick up the tie I’d bought as a gift for Julian. I arrived at the estate at the exact same time as Joe. As he opened his car door, I caught a glimpse of used condom wrappers scattered on the passenger seat. His eyes landed on the gift bag in my hand, and the flicker of embarrassment on his face vanished, replaced by a familiar, smug certainty. “A present for me? Let me see.” Fearing he’d snatch it, I quickly hid it behind my back. “It’s not for you!” He let out a low, condescending chuckle, as if my defiance was a cute but tiresome game. He lit a cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke into the cool night air. “You saw what was happening in the garage.” “I know you love me, Eleanor. I know you can’t live without me.” “But I was clear before. The wedding is for you, the marriage license is for Kristen. If anything, she’s the one making a sacrifice here.” “She will be my legal wife. What we do… it’s normal. She’ll probably stay over at our house sometimes. You’ll have to get used to it. I’m telling you this for your own good.” Even though I had no intention of marrying him, the sheer, unvarnished audacity of his words shocked me. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm again. “My uncle Julian is coming tonight. The entire family relies on him, so this dinner is important. I’m giving you a lot of face by even being here with you. When we go inside, if the elders ask about the marriage license, you tell them we’ve already filed the papers.” “And one more thing,” he added, his grip tightening. “After dinner, you are going to apologize to Kristen for what you did to her this afternoon.” “Don’t forget, until that wedding happens, I can change my mind at any time.” With his ultimatum delivered, he strode into the house and took his seat at the dining table. I took a deep breath. It’s okay. He’ll find out soon enough who I’m really here to marry. I entered the dining room. Julian hadn’t arrived yet, but the rest of the family was seated. I deliberately avoided Joe, choosing a seat that left an empty chair next to me for Julian. Joe saw me, and with a frown, he got up and moved to the seat right beside me. “Stop being so dramatic,” he muttered. “I saved you a seat. There’s no need for all this.” I scowled, about to tell him that the seat was for his uncle, when a tall, commanding figure appeared in the doorway. Dressed in a bespoke suit, Julian Levitan walked in, his presence filling the room with an effortless, quiet power. 5 I hadn’t seen him in years. Julian was even more handsome than I remembered, matured into a man who radiated an unmistakable aura of worldly success and refined confidence. Everyone in the room stood up. In his years abroad, Julian had built an empire of his own, one that now propped up the entire Levitan family enterprise back in New York. All eyes were on him, but his gaze found and held only mine. When he saw Joe standing beside me, a shadow, dark and unreadable, passed through his eyes. I opened my mouth to explain, but at that exact moment, Joe’s phone rang. He excused himself, saying he had to go greet someone. I glanced at Julian, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. But he was already moving, striding across the room and taking the very seat Joe had just vacated, right next to me. “I hope I haven’t kept you all waiting too long,” he said, his voice a warm baritone. “Please, let’s eat.” He gestured for me to sit, and then, to my astonishment, he began to peel a shrimp for me. “It was Joe,” I started, trying to explain. “He just sat there on his own—” “It’s alright,” he said, his focus entirely on the task at hand. “Let’s eat first.” He filled my plate with all my favorite dishes, an assortment of meats and perfectly cooked vegetables. A small mountain of shrimp shells quickly grew on my side plate. He deftly deboned a piece of fish for me, his care and attention to detail so thorough it was almost overwhelming. My cheeks were puffed with food when the dining room door opened again, and Kristen’s overly cheerful voice rang out. “Hello, everyone! Good evening!” The Levitan family’s expressions soured. Kristen was my uncle’s illegitimate daughter, a permanent black mark on our family’s reputation, and she was generally scorned by the city’s upper crust. If not for my family’s influence, she wouldn’t have even been allowed in the door. Joe’s father, the family patriarch, slammed his glass down. “Joe! What is the meaning of this? Bringing an outsider to a private family dinner!” Kristen’s eyes immediately reddened, and she scurried behind Joe like a frightened mouse. Joe, full of righteous indignation, shielded her. “Kristen is Eleanor’s cousin, which makes her my family too. There’s no reason she can’t be here.” His defiant gaze then fell upon Julian, who was now seated beside me. Joe’s face froze, but he didn’t dare say a word. As he watched Julian place another piece of food on my plate and refill my soup bowl, his expression grew darker and darker. My phone buzzed with a text from him. [What the hell do you think you’re doing? Just because I brought Kristen, you’re going to use my uncle to make me jealous? Is that it?!] I flipped my phone over, ignoring it. Across the table, Joe seethed, his glare so intense it felt like it could burn a hole through me. Just then, Mr. Levitan raised his glass. “As you all know, we have wonderful news to celebrate, something the whole city is talking about.” “This dinner tonight is to make it all official.” “We’ll be discussing the timeline for filing the license and planning the wedding. Everything will be settled tonight…” Before he could finish, Joe jumped in. “Dad, don’t worry. We’ve pretty much handled the license already. We’ll take care of it ourselves, you and Mom don’t need to stress about it.” He looked at me, his eyes wide with meaning. “Right, Eleanor?” I kept my eyes down, refusing to meet his gaze. It wasn’t my wedding he was talking about. There was nothing for me to say. Joe’s face went rigid with anger and disapproval. My phone buzzed again. [SAY SOMETHING! If you keep this up, I swear to God I will cancel the wedding!] [Eleanor, do not test me.] Annoyed, I opened my phone and blocked his number. When he realized what I’d done, his eyes widened in disbelief, the veins on his hands standing out in sharp relief. At that moment, under the table, Julian’s hand gently found mine. His voice, calm and steady, cut through the tension. “For all the arrangements, I will respect Eleanor’s wishes completely. Whatever she decides, we will do.” The warmth of his palm spread through me, and my heart skipped a beat. Hearing this, Joe nodded eagerly. “Yes! Exactly! Uncle Julian is right! Mom, Dad, Eleanor and I have it all figured out. You two just get ready to come to our wedding!” The other family members looked at him, baffled. Finally, his father’s patience snapped. “We are discussing your uncle’s marriage! Why do you keep interrupting!”

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At eighteen, my family’s fortune changed overnight. Father’s business boomed—we moved into a mansion with staff. My brother went to a top U.S. university, marrying into wealth. But I missed finals due to flu. Parents married me off to a rural bachelor. Locked in a cellar, abused daily. When I escaped home, they sneered: “Why didn’t you die in the mountains?” My brother “cheered me up” by shoving me into traffic. ICU-bound with fractures, I heard his whisper: “We didn’t get rich from business. It was your winning lottery ticket.” I died bitter. Then woke up—back to the day I bought that ticket. 1 “Here’s your ticket. Hold on to it tight. You never know, you might just win the grand prize.” Staring at the lottery ticket in my hand, my mind reeled. I was back. I had been reborn, sent back to the very day I bought that ticket. In my past life, I had bought this exact same ticket, only for my brother to burst into my room and snatch it away. I’d never had much luck, so I never really believed I could win and eventually forgot all about it. Soon after, my father’s business suddenly boomed. We moved into a mansion, and my family became one of the city’s newly minted elite. My brother was sent off to study in the States. I had asked to study abroad too, but my mother shot me down. “You’re a girl. You’ll get married one day. What’s the point of studying abroad? It’s just a waste of money.” But I was the top student in my entire grade. After buying that ticket, however, my luck seemed to run out. On the day of my final exams, I came down with a severe case of food poisoning, collapsing in the exam hall. I failed. My parents married me off to a pair of bachelor brothers in a remote village, where I was locked in a cellar and abused daily. When I finally escaped and made it home, covered in scars, my parents only had reproaches for me. “Look at you, dressed like a beggar! You’re a disgrace to this family! Why didn’t you just die in that village?” My sister-in-law, draped in jewels, pinched her nose in disgust. “Is this really your sister?” she whispered to my brother. “She’s worse than a beggar.” Only my brother held me close. “Sis, you’ve suffered so much.” He took me out to “clear my head.” In a spot with no security cameras, he shoved me into the path of a speeding truck. I was rushed to the ICU with broken bones all over my body. As I lay dying, my brother, dressed in a magnificent suit, leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Let me tell you the truth, so you can die in peace. Our family never struck it rich in business. It was all from the lottery ticket you bought that day. It won a hundred million dollars. That’s how we started the company. That’s how I got to go to America. So, really, I should thank you.” He paused, a cold smile playing on his lips. “But as long as you’re alive, there’s a risk you might find out. What if you decided to cause trouble? That’s why Mom and Dad sent you to that village. They even told the locals to be rough with you. We never thought you’d actually escape… But this time, you’re finished. You can die peacefully now. Our whole family will be grateful.” I died, my heart filled with rage. Remembering my past life, I clenched the lottery ticket in my hand and made a silent vow. This time, I would not let them steal my hundred million dollars. “Sis, I knew I’d find you here!” I spun around. My brother, Joel, was standing right in front of me. His eyes lit up when he saw my clenched fist, and he lunged for it. 2 “What’s that in your hand, sis? Is that a lottery ticket? Let me see.” Joel grabbed my wrist, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. When he couldn’t pry my fingers open, he kicked me hard in the shin. A sharp pain shot up my leg, and I instinctively loosened my grip. “Heh, I knew you were hiding a ticket!” he gloated. He looked down at my hand, and his expression faltered. My palm was empty. “Where’s the ticket? Where did you hide it?” Joel demanded, his eyes scanning me frantically. I rubbed my bruised leg, my voice trembling. “What ticket? I was just walking past the store. I didn’t buy anything.” He clearly didn’t believe me. He patted me down from head to toe, and when he found nothing, a look of panic crossed his face. He ignored me and stormed into the lottery shop, grabbing the owner by the collar. “Who just bought a ticket?” The owner, used to dealing with all sorts of strange customers, shoved Joel’s hand away. “I have hundreds of customers a day. How am I supposed to remember all of them?” Joel wanted to buy the winning ticket himself, but his memory was hazy after all this time. He could only remember the first few numbers. He took a deep breath, his eyes darting around. Then he dragged me back in front of him, his gaze menacing. “You buy it.” “And you’d better choose carefully,” he hissed, “or you’ll be sorry.” A chill ran down my spine. I finally understood. He’s been reborn, too. To ensure he got the winning ticket this time, he had followed me here and was now forcing me to buy it for him. I selected a ticket using the first few numbers he gave me. Even with the ticket in his hand, Joel was still suspicious, his eyes constantly darting toward me, certain I had another one hidden somewhere. At dinner that night, Joel tapped his chopsticks restlessly against his bowl. My mother immediately fussed over him. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Did someone at school upset you? Mom will take care of them for you.” My father put down his chopsticks, his expression serious. “That’s right, son. Did one of your classmates look down on you again?” Joel waited for the right moment, then looked up, a sneer on his face as he pointed at me. “She bought a lottery ticket and wouldn’t let me see it.” 3 My parents exchanged a look. My father was the first to speak, his voice sharp. “What’s wrong with you? I’ve told you, as the older sister, you need to let your brother have his way! What did you do to upset him this time? Apologize to him, now!” My mother sighed, her rough hand gently stroking mine. “Ava, sweetie, it’s not that Mom is scolding you, but your brother is the only boy in this family. As his sister, you need to learn to take care of him.” The feel of her hand on mine sent a shiver through me. The horrors of my past life flashed before my eyes. “My sister bought a lottery ticket, but she hid it from me and lied about it,” Joel said, a triumphant look in his eyes. “Mom, what do you think we should do?” My father slammed his chopsticks down. “Hand over the ticket! It’s not like you’re going to win anyway. What’s the harm in letting your brother have it?” Joel chuckled. “I’m just afraid my dear sister will look down on us once she wins the grand prize.” My mother stood up, pushed me into my room, and searched me from top to bottom, even checking the lining of my underwear. “Ava, where did you hide it? Hand it over now!” she screamed, pointing a finger at me. My eyes welled up with tears. “I told you, I didn’t buy another ticket! Why won’t you believe me?” I sobbed. “That was the only one I bought, the one Joel has.” Joel frowned, his eyes full of suspicion. After all, he had arrived in a hurry and hadn’t actually seen me go into the shop. Once the door was closed, I carefully pulled the real lottery ticket out from where I had hidden it in my hair. Thank God I’d had the foresight to do that. But I knew my room was no longer safe. The next time I went to the bathroom, I sealed the ticket in a waterproof bag and hid it in the toilet tank. Joel took a few days off from school, still not giving up. He constantly snooped around my room. I watched him tear the place apart, completely unfazed. My mother also took me out shopping, and while I was in the fitting room, she went through my bag. Of course, they found nothing. The ticket was hidden in a place they would never imagine. Soon, it was the day of the lottery drawing. Just like in my past life, my ticket won the grand prize: one hundred million dollars! Soon, I would be able to claim my prize and finally right the wrongs of my past. When I came home from school, the atmosphere in the house was tense. The moment I walked through the door, my mother slapped me across the face, leaving a stinging red mark. “If the toilet hadn’t clogged, I never would have found this!” she sneered, dangling the winning ticket in front of my face. 4 “See, Mom? I told you she hid another ticket!” my brother gloated. I rushed to the bathroom. The toilet tank was empty. My father kicked me to the ground, his fists clenched. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Hiding it from us! You really think you’re some kind of lucky charm?” He held up the ticket with a sneer. “Today, your little fantasy comes to an end!” He gripped the ticket with both hands, ready to tear it in two. “Dad, no!” Joel screamed, lunging forward and grabbing our father’s leg. “Don’t tear it! That ticket is worth a hundred million!” “A hundred million? Are you joking? Even if someone did win, it wouldn’t be your sister!” “The winning numbers have been announced!” Joel yelled, his voice shaking. “It’s this ticket! We can buy a mansion! I’m sick of living in this dump! And I’ll marry a rich, beautiful woman and give you grandchildren!” My parents stared in disbelief. They glanced at the numbers on the TV screen and their faces lit up with ecstatic joy. “We’re rich! We’re rich!” I scrambled up from the floor, tears streaming down my face, my body trembling with rage. “That’s my ticket! You can’t just take it!” “The money you used to buy it came from me, didn’t it?” my mother shrieked. “What are you crying about? Let me tell you, you’re not getting a single cent of that hundred million!” But she didn’t give me an allowance. I had earned that money by tutoring. Ignoring my cries and struggles, the three of them got ready to go claim their prize, locking me in my bedroom before they left. “Sis, you really are the chosen one. A hundred-million-dollar ticket, just like that,” Joel’s voice mocked me from the other side of the door. “But this time, you get to watch us collect the money! Regret it! Suffer!” I watched them leave, the look of anguish on my face slowly transforming into a smile. The real show was about to begin. I used the opportunity to pack my bags and my documents, then rented a small apartment so I could focus on studying for my exams. On their way to the lottery center, Joel video-called me. His arrogant face filled the screen. “So, sis, you were reborn too, huh? How’s it feel? Too bad you’re still no match for me, even in this life. You still have to watch me get the hundred million.” He lowered his voice. “And don’t even think about calling the police. It won’t do you any good. We’re family. Your money is our money. The police can’t do anything.” “Feeling hopeless? If you’re that desperate, just jump out the window. Maybe you’ll get to the lottery ticket before we do.” They swaggered into the lottery center. My father marched up to the counter and announced, “We’re here to claim our prize! The hundred-million-dollar prize!” “What? A hundred million?” It was a weekend, and the place was crowded. People stopped what they were doing and stared, their whispers turning into a roar. “A hundred million! Is that the grand prize from today’s drawing?” “Someone actually won!” “Oh my God, why couldn’t it have been me?” A crowd quickly formed around my family. “That’s right! We won the hundred million!” Joel declared, holding the ticket high for everyone to see. “You can call the reporters now. You’ll be on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow, and you’ll have us to thank!” “Oh, and one more thing,” my father added, turning to the reporters who had started to arrive. “I want everyone to be a witness!” Surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras, my father announced, “This hundred-million-dollar prize belongs to the three of us, and my daughter, Ava, gets nothing! And from this day forward, we are disowning her. After she graduates, she’s on her own!” Ignoring the murmurs from the crowd, he smiled confidently at the owner. “Let’s claim our prize!” The owner was sweating, his face flushed with excitement. He took the ticket with trembling hands and examined it carefully. Then, he froze. The crowd held its breath, waiting for the miracle to be confirmed. After a long moment, the owner slowly looked up. “What? Is something wrong?” a few people murmured. “Did they not win?” “They won,” the owner said. “They won ten dollars.”

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