Category: English

For the very last tour group of my guiding career, I never expected to be hosting my ex-boyfriend, Carter, on his honeymoon. I stood at one end of the suspension bridge, framing him and his new wife through the camera lens. Through the viewfinder, I watched the woman cling to Carter’s arm. Her voice was dripping with sweetness. “I read online that couples who kiss on this bridge will stay together forever.” Carter’s gaze swept over me. He paused for a fraction of a second, then lowered his head and kissed her. His tone was unwavering. “That’s right. We’re never going to be apart.” I quickly lowered my head, pretending to fiddle with the camera settings. I fought back the tears threatening to spill, blaming the sharp coastal wind for making my eyes sting. Three years ago, on this exact spot, I was the one he kissed. Back then, he told me that this suspension bridge represented a promise through life and death. He promised to bring me here every single year. But Carter would never know that I didn’t have “forever” anymore. My eighth round of treatment had failed. The doctors told me I had, at most, three days left to live. 1 After the photos, Carter’s wife joined the rest of the group to pick wild lavender. Only Carter and I were left at the head of the bridge. I kept my head down, pulling my sun hat lower and adjusting my mask to cover half my face. But the next second, he reached out and grabbed my employee lanyard. The thin cord bit into the back of my neck, forcing me to tilt my head up and meet his eyes. “Summer. It really is you.” “Ran out of gambling money, so you switched careers to be a tour guide?” His eyes were sharp, carrying the weight of a heavy winter snow. The icy glare made me shiver. He had recognized me. Since when? A short distance away, the girl named Madison came jogging over. “Babe, do you know the guide?” Those fingers suddenly tightened. I let out a low gasp of pain as the lanyard snapped. He let out an incredibly soft scoff. “No. I mistook her for someone else.” The ID badge fell to the dirt. I bent down to pick it up, but as I stood back up, my vision went completely black for a moment. I quickly grabbed the wooden railing, keeping my head bowed as I waited for the dizzy spell to pass. “Let’s go.” Carter wrapped his arm around Madison and walked away. I clutched the broken lanyard. It still held the residual heat of his palm. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t finish guiding this group. Ben, our head tour guide, was standing on the other side of the bridge. When I walked over, he had just hung up his phone. He looked at me with an incredibly complex expression. “Summer, did you offend Carter, the CEO of our private VIP group?” “He just called corporate. He specifically demanded that you stay with them for the entire trip. He said if your service leaves him unsatisfied, he’s pulling his investment.” “Carter is the majority shareholder, and his wife, Madison, is the daughter of our second-largest investor. If we piss them off, our local branch is…” Is dead. Fourteen of my colleagues would lose their jobs, all because of me. My fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of my shirt. I had forgotten. Three years had passed. Carter was no longer that eager, bowing junior sales rep. He was in a completely different league now. With a snap of his fingers, he could crush an entire travel agency. “I understand.” I returned to the group, pasting on a polite smile as I checked the three couples into their hotel rooms. But the moment I finished and returned to the tiny staff room, a knock sounded at the door. Madison stood there in a silk slip dress, her fresh, youthful face glowing with a bright smile. “Excuse me, Summer. I really don’t like our room number. Your room, 208, is actually quite nice. Could you let us have it?” I looked past her to Carter in pure shock, only to see him raise an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?” Ben’s warning echoed in my ears. I spoke immediately. “Of course. It’s just that tour guides aren’t allowed to stay in the guest presidential suites, and the hotel is fully booked…” “Did you really think you were worthy of staying in our suite?” Carter’s gaze swept across the floor with utter contempt. “This room is small and filthy anyway. Who knows what kind of pests might crawl out of the corners.” “As a guide, it isn’t too much to ask for you to sleep in the hallway so you’re available whenever we call, right?” A dull, throbbing pain struck my heart. I clenched my hands into fists. “No. It isn’t.” I turned around and walked toward the cheap dresser. “I’ll just grab my bag and head out to the hall…” “Get the hell out right now. Wait until I call you.” A large hand grabbed my collar and shoved me violently toward the door. I stumbled forward, losing my footing. My forehead smashed into the hallway wall. A sickening thud echoed through the corridor right before Carter slammed the door shut behind me. Agony exploded from my brow, shooting straight to the crown of my head. My throat tightened. I almost threw up on the carpet. Thank God the hotel had thick wallpaper to soften the blow. I touched my forehead. No blood. After the eighth failed chemo treatment, my blood platelet count had plummeted to catastrophic levels. My blood simply couldn’t clot anymore. A single bleed meant I would just bleed to death. I wasn’t afraid of dying. But I refused to die right in front of Carter. Leaning against the wall, I slowly slid down to the floor, enduring the sensation that my skull was splitting open. From inside the room, Madison’s soft moans drifted through the wood, accompanied by Carter’s heavy breathing, filled with intense possessiveness. “Babe, why are you so… slow down, you’re going too fast…” Carter let out a low, husky laugh. “I finally married the woman of my dreams. How could I not be in a rush?” The woman of his dreams. He had completely moved on. He had found a new love. My head was pounding harder now. I fumbled around, trying to find my painkillers, only to realize I had left the bottle in my backpack inside the room. “Babe, be gentle. Someone is right outside the door…” Carter didn’t reply, but the sounds that followed grew even more frantic. When it was finally over, he called out to me. “Summer.” I gritted my teeth, using the wall to pull myself up. Just as I managed to stand straight, the door was violently yanked open. Carter stood over me, tossing a crumpled bundle of fabric at my chest. It was the jacket I had casually left on the bed. “If you’re not dead.” “Get in here and change the sheets.” The staff room was cramped and windowless. The aftermath smell was suffocating. Madison had gone to take a shower. Fighting down a wave of severe nausea, I stripped the bed and bundled the damp sheets into my arms, rushing toward the door. Behind me, Carter lit a cigarette. He let out a cold, mocking laugh. “And here I thought you actually had a spine.” The harsh scent of tobacco burned my eyes. I hurried out into the hall. I found four backup pain pills in my jacket pocket. I swallowed one dry, then curled up against the doorframe, shivering until dawn broke. The next day involved a mountain hike. Carter specifically demanded that I lead the two of them. Ben knew how sick I was and offered to take my place. But Carter silenced him with a single glare, leaving Ben to mouth a silent apology to me. I gave Ben a reassuring nod, swallowed another pill, and took their heavy backpacks, leading the way up the trail. Everything was going fine until we reached a steep set of stone steps. My foot slipped on some loose gravel. The sheer weight of their bags dragged me backward. In a moment of sheer panic, I grabbed onto a jagged rock protruding from the cliffside, barely managing to steady myself. Madison started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Babe! She’s trying to drag us down with her to die!” I forced the rising panic down my throat and turned around. They had already retreated to a wide, safe plateau. Carter was holding a crying Madison in his arms, stroking her hair. He looked at me with venom in his eyes. “If you want to die, do it yourself. Don’t try to take us down with you.” For a split second, I felt entirely unmoored from reality. Three years ago, our breakup had been an ugly, explosive mess. To force him to pay off my “gambling debts,” I had pressed a kitchen knife to his throat, demanding a wire transfer. He didn’t hesitate. He sent me every penny he had, begging me to stop gambling, pleading with me to let us live a normal life together. But I refused. I pulled out a massive accidental death insurance policy and told him to fake a fall from a twenty-eighth-floor balcony so I could take the payout and win back everything I had lost in Vegas. He stared at me in absolute disbelief for a long time. The warmth in his eyes froze over, leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred. He said, “Summer, if you’re rotting from the inside out, leave me out of it.” “If you want to die, go ahead. But don’t expect me to be your sacrificial lamb.” A sharp slap to my left cheek snapped me back to the present. The stinging pain cleared my vision. Madison was sobbing, tears streaming down her flawless makeup. “You absolute psycho! We just got married and you almost got us killed!” “I’m telling my dad! I’m going to make sure your pathetic little agency goes bankrupt!” The force of the slap made my head spin. I shook my head in a daze. “I didn’t…” “You still won’t admit it!” She raised her hand and delivered another vicious slap. She wound up to strike me a third time. Carter stood by the side, watching me with dead eyes. As she hit me, he even reached out a protective arm, resting his hand on the small of her back to keep her steady. When the third slap landed, I took it without flinching. Then I opened my mouth. “I am so sorry. It was my fault. Please don’t file a complaint against me.” Madison shrieked, “We almost lost our lives! What good is a pathetic apology!” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. It took exactly one second for me to drop to my knees. “I’m sorry. You can keep hitting me if it makes you feel better. Just please let the agency go.” A sheer cliff drop was less than ten inches away from me. Madison trembled with rage and fear. She turned and threw herself into Carter’s chest, crying hysterically. “Babe, I want to grow old with you. I want us to have beautiful kids. We can’t die out here!” Carter comforted her with a soft, gentle voice. “I’m here. We aren’t going to die.” Then he violently yanked the heavy backpacks off my shoulders. The sudden force threw me off balance, and I swayed dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. He acted like he didn’t even notice. Standing over me, he delivered his verdict. “I’m taking my wife back to rest. You can sit here and reflect on what you’ve done.” “You are not allowed to come down this mountain before sunset. If you do, shutting your agency down will be the least of your worries.” By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature plummeted. When I finally made my way down to the base of the mountain, I saw a roaring bonfire. The entire VIP group was sitting around it, chatting and laughing. Madison was still furious. She turned her head away, refusing to look at me. Carter sat poking the fire with a long stick, equally silent. The chill of the mountain descent had seeped deep into my bones. Every step toward the fire felt impossibly heavy. “Carter. Madison. Everything that happened today was entirely my fault. I apologize.” Carter finally looked at me. With chilling apathy, he pointed at two bottles of hard liquor sitting on the dirt. “Drink the liquor, and we’ll forgive you.” Madison protested immediately. “Babe! That’s letting her off too easy! She literally tried to murder us!” Her accusations were getting more ridiculous by the minute. The rest of the tourists stared at me in shock. Ben was terrified, waving his hands frantically to de-escalate the situation. Terrified of bringing ruin to the agency, I tried to explain. “I didn’t. I just slipped…” Carter cut me off with a voice made of ice. “So you don’t want to drink?” I froze. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to drink. I physically couldn’t. My oncologist had been crystal clear. My intracranial pressure was critically high. Alcohol would rapidly accelerate my death. According to the natural progression of the disease, I could have held on until they boarded their flight the day after tomorrow. But if I drank this… “Drink it, and I will personally inject capital into your local branch.” “Refuse, and every single one of you can pack your bags. You’ll never work in this industry again.” Carter’s cold words sealed my fate. I pinched the webbing between my thumb and index finger hard. “I’ll drink.” Ben swallowed hard. He pasted on an awkward smile and tried to snatch the bottles. “Mr. Kensington, Summer has a really weak stomach. How about I drink for her?” “I’ve got a great liver. Forget two bottles, I could put away ten for you right now!” Carter’s dark eyes locked onto him. “Are you her boyfriend, or her husband?” “No, I’m just her coworker…” “Then what gives you the right to drink for her?” Ben broke out in a cold sweat, intimidated into silence. I didn’t want Ben to suffer because of me. I reached out and took the bottles back. “You’re a man of your word, Carter.” I took a deep breath, tilted my head back, and drained the first bottle as fast as humanly possible. When I finally lowered my head, it felt like a bomb had detonated inside my skull. Blinding pain caused my vision to flicker, reducing the world to a watery blur. But there was still one bottle left. I fumbled blindly until my fingers closed around the glass neck. I drank the second one with the same desperate speed. Involuntary tears poured down my cheeks. My throat constricted violently. It was the terrifying precursor to severe, violent vomiting. Biting my lower lip so hard I tasted iron, I used every ounce of willpower I possessed to force the rolling nausea down. Squinting through the blur, I found Carter’s silhouette. I couldn’t read his expression, but I knew he was furious. “I finished them, Carter.” “Thank you for the investment.” I bowed deeply, then turned and began walking toward where I remembered the restrooms were. But the alcohol hit my bloodstream too fast. Halfway there, I felt my blood pressure skyrocket. Every single heartbeat tugged at my brain, dragging it through shattered glass. I clamped my jaw shut, stumbling wildly until I found the restroom door. I barely managed to lock it behind me before I collapsed over the toilet, vomiting until the world spun into absolute darkness and I passed out on the tiles. When I woke up and dragged myself out of the bathroom, it was past two in the morning. The bonfire was dead. The crowd was gone. My vision had finally cleared just enough. My legs gave out completely, and I crumpled onto the ground. Digging into my pocket, I found my last two pain pills and swallowed them dry. Footsteps approached. I fought to open my eyes. Carter was standing over me, looking down from his pedestal. Under the pale moonlight, the same eyes that used to crinkle with joy when he shoved my frozen hands into his pockets after closing a big sale were now overflowing with pure, unadulterated hate. “Summer. Why aren’t you dead yet?” I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have the strength to form words. “Back when you needed cash for the casino, couldn’t you put away eighteen bottles before throwing up? Now you can’t even handle two? Drop the act.” He glanced at the restroom, then sneered at me. “You stole every cent I had and ran off, leaving me with a hundred grand in debt to loan sharks.” “I thought someone as vicious as you would be living the high life. But look at you. A stray dog, bowing and scraping just for a little corporate handout?” The painkillers finally kicked in. I struggled to push myself into a sitting position. When I spoke, my voice was raw gravel. “I drank the liquor, Carter. Please just remember your promise.” Veins popped on his neck. Every word was forced through clenched teeth. “Is this pathetic agency really that important to you?!” “You told me you’d rather die than stop gambling! Well, if you aren’t gambling anymore, what the hell are you still breathing for! Look at yourself! You puke your guts out and all you care about is the agency! Then why did you do that to me…” “Summer is over there!” A chorus of frantic shouts interrupted Carter’s inexplicable rage. The agency staff had found us. Ben practically bowed in half, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kensington. Summer didn’t mean any disrespect. She’s always had a terrible reaction to alcohol…” A few colleagues rushed over and scrambled to pull me up. I swayed heavily, collapsing against Ben’s shoulder. Carter’s gaze felt like a knife carving into my spine. He spoke with glacial calm. “Don’t forget. You’re taking us to see the sunrise at three.” Ben tried to play peacemaker. “Mr. Kensington, three in the morning is freezing. Besides, I’m the local sunrise expert. Let me take you guys.” Carter stared him down, his face a mask of hostility. “Are you tired of being employed?” Ben went completely rigid. The other guides exchanged terrified glances. Nobody dared to breathe. I let out a quiet sigh in my heart. Over the last three years, across eight rounds of chemo, my colleagues had chipped in to pay for half of my medical bills. They barely made ends meet themselves. I couldn’t drag them down. I pushed gently away from Ben and nodded. “I’ll head to the beach right now to wait for you and Madison. Remember to dress warmly. The ocean wind is biting.” When we reached the beach, my colleagues wrapped a thick woolen blanket around my shoulders, lingering to give me endless instructions before finally leaving. I sat in the sand, hugging my knees, staring out at the pitch-black ocean. The freezing wind made my skull feel like it was cracking open. But my pills were gone. All I could do was endure it. I didn’t know how much time had passed before Carter arrived with his arm around Madison. Madison rolled her eyes. “Just looking at her ruins my mood… Achoo!” “Careful, don’t catch a cold.” Carter gently pulled her coat tighter. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed me. He issued a flat command. “Give the blanket to my wife.” But my hearing was already gone. The crash of the waves and the howling wind rushed toward me, but I lived in total silence. I knew it was almost time to go. A sudden lightness hit my shoulders. The blanket was snatched away. I turned my head in confusion, but my eyes could only register blurry, shifting shadows. I saw them speaking, though I heard nothing. Then they walked a short distance ahead of me, sitting down to stare at the horizon. I remembered now. Carter brought his new wife here to watch the sunrise. Three years ago, Carter had brought me here to do the exact same thing. That day, we kissed on the suspension bridge. We took photos in the lavender fields. We talked by the bonfire all night, then rushed to the beach, leaning against each other as we waited for the sun. Carter had told me the suspension bridge meant life and death together. He said we would come back every year. But Carter, I didn’t have forever. I was destined to die, and you were destined to find someone new. The freezing wind dragged across my cheek. I felt my heartbeat slowing, fading into a sluggish rhythm. Every breath required monumental effort.

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1 My wife, the city’s top crisis negotiator, had saved countless hostages. But when our daughter was kidnapped, her negotiations failed, and the kidnapper killed her. I sat on the cold floor, clutching our daughter’s blood-stained plush toy. She, meanwhile, calmly sorted her files, ready to leave the station. “The kidnappers were irrational, their demands kept shifting. No one could have reached them. I did everything I could.” But that night, her young assistant Doug posted on his private Instagram story: [First live negotiation and I messed up—said the wrong thing, angered the kidnappers, nearly got the hostage killed. My mentor saved the day and comforted me.] [She’s going to teach me all her secrets. A special perk just for me? My heart is fluttering~] The photo showed her wrist, wearing the braided bracelet our daughter made for her birthday. My hands shook as I typed a reply: [No need to wonder. Let her husband answer: Yes, it’s a perk just for you.] Seconds later, my phone rang. Monica’s usually gentle voice was tight with anger. “That was just the assistant’s dumb joke. Are you really overreacting? You’ll ruin his career!” “You’re not thinking straight. Delete that comment now, or we’re—” I hung up. The people responsible for my daughter’s death were laughing and living freely. What right did they have? … An hour later, I had over twenty missed calls from Monica. I didn’t answer a single one. The text messages kept chiming. “Since you insist on blaming him for this, then there’s no point in us continuing. I’ll have the divorce papers sent to the house. Just sign them.” I stared at the screen for a long moment before replying with a single word: “Okay.” She went completely silent. No follow-up questions, no further threats. I packaged all the photos from Doug’s Instagram, the group dinner selfies, and a leaked audio snippet of him provoking the kidnappers during the negotiation. I tried to send the file to her. “Monica, our daughter is dead. Are you really telling me he bears absolutely no responsibility?” A red exclamation mark popped up. Message failed to send. She had blocked my number. When I refreshed Instagram, Doug’s profile had been scrubbed clean. The previous stories were gone, replaced by a single new post: [I was so nervous shadowing Captain Monica today. I misspoke and almost ruined everything, but thankfully her quick reflexes saved the situation. The team dinner tonight was just Captain Monica worrying that I might develop PTSD, so she was counseling me. I’m so sorry if anyone misunderstood.] The photo attached showed him looking down, hands clasped in prayer, looking incredibly innocent. Monica commented underneath: [Don’t be scared. We learn from our mistakes. I’ll guide you.] A flood of comforting replies immediately followed. “It’s totally normal for rookies to make mistakes! Captain Monica is so protective of her team!” “Someone is being way too sensitive, aren’t they? Yes, it’s tragic the kid didn’t make it, but you can’t just take it out on innocent people.” “Doug is so lucky to have such an amazing boss.” I forced a bitter smile, silently committing every single one of those names to memory. Back then, I had pulled every string and burned every favor I had to get Monica transferred into the elite Crisis Negotiation Unit so she could realize her potential. I exhausted my family’s resources to build her case portfolio and establish her reputation. Now she was an industry legend. Naturally, everyone around her basked in the glory, to the point where even a rookie assistant felt entitled to walk all over me. They probably assumed that without her, I was nothing, forced to swallow whatever disrespect they threw my way. Doug replied to every comment with a shy emoji, and to Monica, he sent an animated sticker with heart eyes. When the doorbell rang, I was packing away my daughter’s old photos and toys. Standing on the porch was one of Monica’s colleagues. He held a manila envelope and a small cardboard box. “Captain Monica asked me to drop this off,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “These are the divorce papers. And… Doug said you might be feeling down, so he told me to give you this to calm your nerves.” “The box says it’s some kind of herbal sleep aid.” “Though, honestly, Alec, you look pretty calm to me.” I shoved the box back into his chest. “Tell him I am perfectly calm.” I closed the door, pulled the divorce papers from the envelope, and meticulously signed my name on the dotted line. 2 My phone buzzed. It was a message from the Director of the Negotiation Bureau. “Alec, can you reconsider? The other transfers are fine, but how can you reassign Monica and Doug to the border conflict zone?” “I know you’re grieving your daughter, and I understand you’re angry with Monica. But you can’t be this reckless with departmental operations. This isn’t a game. You’re ruining two top-tier negotiators. Think about all the hostages who won’t be saved without them.” I replied coldly, “You’re right. I completely forgot about you. You are suspended pending review. Command will send someone to replace you.” Without waiting for a reply, I called Internal Affairs and instructed them to seize full control of the Negotiation Unit’s personnel roster. “Anyone—and I mean anyone—who pleads for leniency on behalf of Monica or Doug is to be immediately reassigned to the conflict zone rotation. If they refuse, terminate them and demand full reimbursement for their tactical training costs.” I stroked my daughter’s favorite stuffed bunny, enunciating every word clearly. Every single team member who had defended Doug in those comments had been recruited through my influence. I was the one who ran their simulation drills, analyzed their case studies, and trained them from the ground up. Now, all they cared about was kissing up to Monica, completely forgetting who gave them their badges in the first place. Birds of a feather. They were all sycophants. People with corrupted morals have no business being crisis negotiators. They needed to go to the most dangerous, volatile regions to test their courage and learn what responsibility and boundaries actually meant. After hanging up, I noticed over twenty missed calls from Monica. She must have been going insane. She even sent a new contact request on a secondary app. The verification message simply read: ANSWER THE PHONE NOW! As I was reading it, a new call came through. The moment I answered, her rage exploded through the speaker. “Are you out of your mind?! I’m about to be nominated for the International Crisis Envoy, and Doug is slated for the core tactical team! You reassigned us to a war zone?!” “Alec, what happened to our daughter was a tragic accident! I am hurting just as much as you are!” “Those kidnappers were complete psychopaths! No negotiator on earth could have saved her! It wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t Doug’s fault!” “I’ve explained this to you a hundred times, but you just won’t let it go! The reason I didn’t let you listen to the audio logs was because I knew it would break you! And how do you repay me? You spread malicious rumors and abuse your administrative power to ruin his career!” Her usually composed voice was trembling with fury. I asked quietly, “When you rushed out that night, did you really have an emergency dispatch? And was Doug’s ‘slip of the tongue’ truly an innocent mistake, and you were just giving him psychological counseling?” “Or did you two plan it all along, using a field assignment as a cover for a date?” The heavy breathing on the other end abruptly stopped. Two seconds of dead silence passed. Then, she feigned outrage. “What the hell are you talking about… you’re completely irrational…” Then, I heard Doug’s smug voice in the background. “Captain, don’t argue with Alec. We finally got a chance to relax, let’s not let him ruin the mood. When we get back, I’ll apologize to him personally. I’ll take whatever punishment he wants.” The call immediately disconnected. I guess she didn’t want this little argument ruining her romantic getaway. I clutched the plush bunny to my chest, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. “Daddy is going to get justice for you, sweetie.” I didn’t know how long I cried before I passed out. I only knew that when I woke up, my head felt like it was splitting open. The next morning, rubbing my temples, I walked downstairs for a cold coffee. Monica walked into the living room holding a storage box. Seeing me, she paused, her expression softening into forced gentleness. “You’re awake? I organized all of Lily’s drawings. See if this looks okay.” “I know how much these mean to you. I didn’t let anyone else touch them. I drove back overnight to do it myself.” Before I could tell her I’d do it myself, a figure walked out of the guest room wearing my pajamas. They were a matching set Monica had bought for us, something I only ever wore around the house. He was holding a microfiber cloth and quickly jogged over to Monica. “Captain, take a break. Let me wipe down the tables. If Alec doesn’t mind, I can help organize too?” Monica shifted slightly, avoiding his hand, her tone slightly awkward. “No need. Alec can handle it.” She turned to me, offering a quick explanation. “It was pouring rain when we drove back. Doug’s clothes got soaked. I told him to go back to the barracks to change, but he insisted on helping out to make amends, so I gave him a set of your clothes for now.” Doug wrung the cloth in his hands, speaking softly. “Alec, I am so sorry about yesterday. I didn’t dare touch any of Lily’s things. I just wanted to help dust. Please don’t hold a grudge.” “Enough. The past is the past,” Monica interrupted him, her tone softening as she looked at me. “Alec, he means well. Don’t overthink it.” She paused, adding, “I cleared my schedule for next week. I’ll stay home with you for a few days. We won’t talk about work until after her memorial service.” I didn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on the corner of a drawing sticking out of the storage box—it was Lily’s family portrait. She had drawn the three of us holding hands tightly. As Doug was wiping the table, his elbow ‘accidentally’ knocked into the box. A few drawings spilled out onto the floor. He scrambled to pick them up, but he lost his footing and stepped squarely onto the family portrait. His shoe left a thick, muddy footprint right over the drawing. “Oh no!” he gasped, his face turning pale. “I’m so sorry, Alec! I swear I didn’t mean to!” Monica frowned deeply, but her anger wasn’t directed at Doug. She turned to me. “Look what happens when you don’t secure the box properly.” She bent down, picked up the drawing, and tried to rub the dirt off with her thumb. Her tone was impatient. “Forget it. I’ll get it framed later. The glass will hide the stain.” I watched her brush it off so casually, my entire body shaking. “That was my daughter’s last drawing.” My voice trembled. “You told him not to touch anything. Is he deaf?” Doug was still frantically trying to wipe the paper, his tears falling and blurring the crayon lines. “I really didn’t mean to… Captain, I…” “Enough!” Watching the drawing smear further, I violently shoved him backward. “Who gave you the right to touch her things!” Doug lost his balance and hit the floor hard. Tears streamed down his face instantly. “Alec… I…” “Alec! Are you crazy?!” Monica screamed. She rushed over and helped Doug up. “He just stepped on a piece of paper by accident! Did you really have to hit him?” She glared at me with absolute venom. “Lily is gone. I am just as heartbroken as you are. But you can’t act like a rabid dog, treating everyone like your enemy!” She grabbed Doug’s arm and dragged him toward the door, throwing one last threat over her shoulder. “Take my name and Doug’s off the transfer list right now, or I’m filing the divorce papers tomorrow!” I stared at the ruined drawing on the floor, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms they bled. From the day my daughter died, I never wanted her back anyway.

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1 I stood at the rehearsal for my beach wedding, but my heart was in my shoes. The man who was supposed to be riding beside me, my fiancé, was instead cradling his adopted sister in his arms. The two of them were laughing together on horseback, a picture-perfect couple. When I frowned, my displeasure obvious, he just arched a brow and coldly accused me of being uncharitable. He said his sister was just helping me with the rehearsal and that I should thank her. The sister, however, was even more audacious. She leaned in, kissed him provocatively on the lips, and then turned to me with a smirk. “Just testing it out for you. The whole kissing-on-horseback thing works perfectly.” Just as I was about to fire back, a voice echoed in my mind. It was the white stallion, complaining. This trashy couple is unbelievable, it grumbled. The cuddling was bad enough, but then they started an acrobatic routine up here. Nearly threw my back out. I froze, and then a slow, wicked smile spread across my face. So that’s how it was. I let out a soft, sharp whistle. The next second, the stallion reared up violently, sending the pair on its back tumbling to the ground. If they wanted to play saints, then I’d be happy to help them on their way. I’d send them straight to meet their maker. … I narrowed my eyes, staring down the coastline. There, on my white stallion, Storm, sat two people. My fiancé, Patrick, held Daisy in his arms. They whispered to each other, their smiles sickeningly sweet, as if they were the ones getting married today. I folded my arms, watching the scene with cold amusement. Interesting. Beside me, the wedding planner whispered to her assistant. “What’s going on? Shouldn’t it be the bride and groom on the horse?” “I have no idea. Who is that girl?” “She looks happier than the bride…” I heard every word but said nothing. The horse stopped a few feet away from me. Patrick pulled on the reins, his expression as serene as a benevolent saint. “Cassie, Daisy was just testing the horse for you. You should thank her.” “She’s a pure soul, a woman of God. Don’t get the wrong idea.” His face was unnaturally flushed, a look of deep satisfaction in his eyes. Daisy tilted her head, her smile a mask of innocence. “Don’t misunderstand, Cassie. The horse looked so tall, I was afraid you’d be too scared to ride him.” I almost laughed out loud. This horse? I’d raised him from a foal. I’d be scared? Daisy shifted, pressing a quick kiss to Patrick’s lips. Then she turned back to me, beaming. “See, Cassie? I tested it for you. Kissing on horseback? Totally doable.” A stunned silence fell over the crew. Someone audibly gasped. Patrick, after a brief pause, just chuckled and ruffled Daisy’s hair. “You’re such a little rascal. Always playing games.” “Have you had enough fun?” I asked, my voice dangerously sweet. “If not, you can continue the show tomorrow, in front of all our guests.” Patrick’s hand froze. His brow furrowed with irritation. “Cassie, Daisy is my sister. And she’s a devout woman. Don’t take it too far.” His sister. A devout woman. The same excuses he’d been using for the past six months. It all started half a year ago, when he returned after his long period of service at a remote monastery. Our families had arranged our marriage when we were children, and with his return, the wedding was back on the agenda. I’d been content with the arrangement. I’d heard he was a man of principle, pious and kind—a suitable partner. But from the day he came back, Daisy was a constant presence. She was an orphan the family had taken in, a “fellow devotee” who had spent time at the monastery with Patrick. At first, she just dropped by occasionally. Soon, it was every day. Once, I walked in on her changing clothes in Patrick’s room. He was standing right behind her, a robe in his hands, about to place it on her shoulders. Daisy saw me and didn’t even flinch. “Oh, Cassie. My clothes got wet, so I’m just borrowing something from my brother.” Afterward, I confronted Patrick. “I don’t appreciate relationships without boundaries. This is the first time.” He seemed taken aback, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You’re misunderstanding.” I held up a hand. “Just remember. Three strikes.” I didn’t elaborate. I just left. A month later, I found them shopping for lingerie. Patrick even reached out and adjusted the strap on her bra. She saw me and smirked. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Cassie. I’m just hopeless at picking these things out, so I asked my brother for help.” I looked straight at Patrick. “That’s strike two.” He scowled, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You’re so worldly. She’s my sister. I was just helping.” I still didn’t raise my voice. I just said, “You told me you knew the difference between a fiancée and a sister. I hope you remember that.” He stared at me for a long time without a word. Today was strike three. He had publicly kissed his “sister.” There’s no brother-sister relationship in the world that looks like that. My patience had run out. I took a deep breath, ready to unleash my fury. Suddenly, a voice echoed in my mind. [This pair of humans has no respect for a horse’s dignity.] [The cuddling was bad enough, but then they started an acrobatic routine. Nearly threw my back out.] [My poor mistress’s perfect wedding… they’ve ruined it.] I slowly turned my head, my eyes locking on Storm. Acrobatics? A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. I finally understood. So, they’d broken more than just boundaries. I’d been waiting on this beach for hours, the cold sea wind whipping at my skin, while he was off somewhere playing his “acrobatic” games with his adopted sister. I remembered a conversation we’d had a month ago. “Cassie,” Patrick had said, his tone serious. “Although I’ve returned to secular life, I’ve spent years in devotion. I will honor our marriage contract, but for the first three years, I will not touch you. I hope you can understand.” I’d nodded at the time. I wasn’t a saint, but I could respect his faith. I see now. He wasn’t keeping his body pure for me. He was keeping it for her. I looked up at Patrick. He was whispering something to Daisy, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me. She playfully tapped his chest, and he caught her wrist, holding it gently. The nauseating feeling of betrayal and deception washed over me. The two things I despised most in the world, served up on a silver platter. This marriage? I was done with it. 2 Patrick, with Daisy still in his arms, rode Storm around the venue, surveying the setup with a satisfied air. The sea breeze tangled her hair, and Patrick, ever the gentleman, gently tucked the strands behind her ear, using the red braided bracelet on his wrist to tie it back. I watched, my eyes narrowing. That was the promise bracelet we’d gotten together at a festival, blessed for a long and happy union. Patrick caught my gaze and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a string.” I gave him a slow, knowing smile. “Are you testing my limits?” He knew I cared. And he did it anyway. Daisy immediately untied the bracelet and held it out to me. “If you don’t like it, Cassie, you can have it back.” Then her hand “slipped.” The red cord fell into the sand and was instantly swallowed by a wave. “Oops!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, but there wasn’t a shred of apology in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Cassie. My hand slipped.” Patrick wrapped an arm around her waist, his voice dripping with affection. “It’s fine. She won’t blame you.” Suddenly, I laughed. “Of course not. It’s just a string.” I reached down, untied the matching bracelet from my own wrist, and tossed it into the ocean. Patrick’s jaw tightened. His lips parted as if to say something, but he remained silent. I turned my attention to Storm. “You two should get down now. That’s my horse.” Daisy started to dismount, but Patrick held her back. He looked at me, his eyes cold as steel. “I’m giving this horse to Daisy.” My eyes narrowed to slits. He was giving her my horse? On what authority? [Mistress, no!] Storm’s panicked voice screamed in my head. [I don’t want to go with her! She eats horse tartare right in front of me!] So, a fake saint after all. Daisy beamed from her perch on Storm’s back. “This horse is special to me and Patrick now, Cassie.” A blush crept up her cheeks. “Riding him together today… it’s a memory we’ll always have. You should just let me have him. You have so many other horses at your family’s stable, you won’t even miss one.” I scoffed. Their memory? How pathetic. “No.” Patrick froze, clearly not expecting a direct refusal. His voice was laced with impatience. “It’s just a horse. If Daisy likes him, just give him to her.” I wagged a finger at him, enunciating each word. “I. Said. No.” A muscle twitched in Patrick’s jaw. He was getting angry. He suddenly raised the riding crop and brought it down hard on Storm’s flank. Storm whinnied in pain. My heart clenched. The horse spun in place, trembling, a raw red welt already forming on his hindquarters. Patrick gripped the reins, his eyes filled with a challenging, warning glare. “An animal is an animal. It needs to be taught a lesson when it misbehaves.” His words were a thinly veiled threat. As if he weren’t taming a horse, but me. I clenched my fists. I had been satisfied with this marriage because I believed in Patrick’s character. But would a truly kind man treat an animal like this? It all became crystal clear. He wasn’t a man of God. He was a hypocrite. I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. “Dad, officially notify the Montgomerys. The wedding is off.” 3 Patrick looked down at me from his high horse, a mocking smile on his face. “What kind of act is this, Cassie? You think you can just call off the wedding?” He sighed dramatically. “If only we had a choice.” So that’s what he thought. The Montgomery family business was on the brink of collapse, desperate for a cash injection from my family. We, on the other hand, had a long list of suitable marriage candidates. If it weren’t for his carefully crafted image as a pious man, I might never have agreed. The wedding was tomorrow. He was betting that I’d cave to protect our families’ reputations. He had bet wrong. I, Cassandra Hale, don’t check the clock before I flip the table. “If you’re so reluctant, there’s no reason to continue,” I said, then turned to the wedding planner. “You’ll be paid in full. Cancel everything for tomorrow.” The color drained from Patrick’s face. “Cassandra, don’t be childish.” Daisy chimed in, her voice syrupy sweet. “Cassie, this is a union between two families. It’ll sound so bad if you cancel now.” She paused, feigning concern. “Besides, being left at the altar is so humiliating for a woman.” Patrick snorted. “Don’t coddle her. If she can’t understand something so simple, she’s not fit to be a wife.” He patted Storm’s head forcefully. “Just like this horse. You can’t spoil them.” Storm let out a pained whinny. [Mistress, help me.] [They were whipping me while they were insulting you.] [They tampered with your medication… said something about once the Montgomerys are stable, a grieving widower would be best… they’re not good people!] A roar filled my ears. I remembered the strange pains in my chest over the past few months. I’d chalked it up to stress from work, a weakened immune system. But they didn’t want me to live. Rage flooded my veins. I stepped in front of the horse. “Don’t touch my horse! Get down, now!” Patrick didn’t move. Daisy didn’t move. I glared at them, my voice low and dangerous. “The only reason he’s calm is because I’m here. Don’t push your luck.” Patrick laughed, a sound full of contempt. “Cassie, there isn’t a horse I can’t ride.” I knew what he was really saying. There isn’t a person I can’t control. This whole series of provocations today… it was a compliance test. Too bad for him, he had miscalculated. I may bow to God, but I don’t bow to false prophets. And I certainly don’t bow to sanctimonious hypocrites. “I am telling you for the last time. Get. Down. Now. Or you will face the consequences.” Daisy giggled, covering her mouth. “Oh, you look so scary, Cassie. Patrick, you’ll protect me, won’t you?” He looked down at her, his eyes soft. “Of course.” I stared at them, my voice flat. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not getting down?” Patrick’s gaze was indifferent. “I told you, this horse belongs to Daisy now. When she gets down is her decision.” Daisy shot me a triumphant smile. “Thank you, Patrick.” She dug her heels into Storm’s sides. “Giddy-up!” The horse started walking toward the ocean. I took a deep breath and put two fingers to my lips. A piercing whistle cut through the air. Storm understood my command instantly. The next second, he reared up, his body almost vertical. “Ah!” Daisy screamed, falling backward. Patrick instinctively grabbed for the reins, but he had no control. They both tumbled from the horse, landing with a heavy thud on the wet sand. The scene erupted into chaos. Crew members screamed and scattered. Patrick scrambled to his feet, his face contorted with rage. “What the hell did you do? You spooked him! If Daisy is hurt, I’ll kill you!” “Help me! Patrick, help me!” Daisy shrieked. She had fallen directly under Storm’s belly and was curled in a ball, covering her head. The horse’s hooves danced around her, inches from crushing her. Patrick’s face went pale, and he lunged forward without a second thought. Any last shred of hesitation I had vanished. I whistled again. Storm’s eyes fixed on his target. His front hooves shot up into the air. And came down, square in Patrick’s groin. A bloodcurdling scream echoed across the beach. Patrick curled into a ball, clutching himself, writhing in the sand. 4 I smirked. Enough. I let out one last, short whistle. Storm galloped away, disappearing down the beach. The crew finally rushed forward, surrounding Patrick. “Call an ambulance!” “He’s bleeding! I think he’s bleeding!” I walked over slowly and stood over him, looking down. “I told you. You shouldn’t have ridden my horse.” He was drenched in a cold sweat, but his eyes still glared at me with pure hatred. “You… you…” Daisy finally pulled herself up from the sand, trembling, and pointed a shaking finger at me. “It was you! You did this on purpose! You told the horse to trample him!” I laughed coldly. “You brought this on yourselves. I warned you. You didn’t listen.” “You!” Before she could say more, a commotion started at the edge of the beach. Patrick’s parents had arrived. They hurried toward us, their eyes locked on me. “Cassie, what’s going on? Why are you canceling the wedding?” It seemed my parents had called them. As they got closer, they saw the scene. Patrick’s mother shrieked and ran to her son. “Patrick! What happened to you?” Daisy burst into tears. “Mom, it was Cassie! She made the horse go crazy and hurt Patrick!” Mrs. Montgomery’s head snapped toward me, her eyes filled with suspicion. “You want to see the truth?” I asked, then gestured to the camera crew. “Play the rehearsal footage.” The videographer scrambled to set up the camera, projecting the video onto a large monitor. On the screen, Patrick and Daisy rode together, laughing. Daisy turned and kissed him. He smiled and ruffled her hair. I hit pause. “This is why I’m canceling the wedding. This brother and sister are a little too close. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of true love.” Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery’s faces turned an ugly shade of red. Mrs. Montgomery looked at Daisy as if seeing her for the first time. Daisy panicked. “Mom, Dad, let me explain…” Patrick, still on the ground, groaned through the pain. “Mom, it’s not Daisy’s fault… Cassie was being unreasonable…” I held up my hands and shrugged. “See? They’re perfect for each other. It’s only right that I step aside.” Daisy pointed frantically at the screen. “Mom, Dad, watch the rest! She set us up to fall! She’s the one who got Patrick hurt!” The video continued playing. It clearly showed me whistling. Daisy’s eyes lit up. “See? It was her! She did it!” I kept my voice casual. “I’m not a horse whisperer. I was just trying to get you to stop. That horse has a wild streak. I warned you more than three times, but you wouldn’t listen.” I glanced at her, my voice dropping. “He was originally going to trample you. It was you who screamed for him to save you. You’re the one who got him hurt.” Daisy froze. The video was undeniable. Patrick had been on his feet, disheveled but unharmed. It was Daisy’s screams that made him play the hero. The color drained from her face. Mrs. Montgomery’s was even paler. SLAP. The sound was sharp and clear. “You ungrateful viper! We took you in, and this is how you repay us? Seducing my son, nearly getting him killed!” Mrs. Montgomery was shaking with rage. Mr. Montgomery’s face was like thunder. After all, their family desperately needed my family’s money. My dowry alone was three billion dollars. Daisy clutched her cheek, tears streaming down her face. She opened her mouth to argue, but one look at her adoptive parents’ faces and she snapped it shut. The wail of an ambulance grew closer. Paramedics examined Patrick, their expressions grim. “Oh, god. His groin… I think it’s… severed.” A dead silence fell over the beach. I hid my triumphant smile behind a mask of pity and sorrow. I pressed my palms together. “Amen.” The man of God had truly become celibate. And next, it was the saint’s turn.

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Seafood allergy. I was struggling to breathe, slipping rapidly into anaphylactic shock. Yet my husband pinned down my trembling hand, refusing to call an ambulance. “What’s the rush? The bill is 500 bucks. You haven’t sent me your half of 250 yet.” His childhood friend, Vanessa, was sitting right across the table, frowning at me. “Stop acting. Vanessa isn’t even full yet.” I clawed at my throat, unable to force out a single syllable. His expression turned cold as he shoved the restaurant check right into my face. “Don’t try to dodge the bill! We agreed to split everything down the middle. Even if you drop dead, you still owe me!” Suddenly, Vanessa dropped her fork, whining that a piece of lobster shell had scratched her hand. Carter instantly panicked. He cradled her fingers, screaming at the waiter for a first aid kit, tenderly blowing on a wound that was completely invisible. As I used the absolute last ounce of my strength to dial 911, he was still barking at me for ruining the mood. In that terrifying, suffocating moment, the truth finally hit me. It wasn’t that he lacked common sense. It was just that my life, in his eyes, was worth less than 250 dollars. I was entirely done with this meticulously calculated, nickel-and-dime marriage. … 1 “Roselyn, stop playing dead.” “The bill is 500 bucks. Your half is 250. Venmo me.” Carter’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, muffled and miles away. A tide of suffocation crashed over me. I clawed desperately at my own throat. My windpipe felt like it was filling with wet cement. Seafood allergy. Severe, fatal anaphylactic shock. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, but not a single sound came out. I used every last ounce of strength in my body to grab Carter’s arm. “Help… me…” Smack. Carter slapped my trembling hand away. His eyes were filled with absolute disgust. “What’s the rush? We haven’t even settled the check.” He pulled out his phone, opened his payment QR code, and shoved the screen roughly into my face. “We agreed before we got married. We go fifty-fifty on all expenses. Rules are rules.” “Don’t even think about skipping out on the bill, Roselyn. Even if you drop dead right here, you still owe me that 250 bucks.” Black spots danced across my vision. My consciousness was shattering. This was my husband of three years. As I lay dying, the only thing he cared about was 250 dollars. Sitting across the table was Vanessa, Carter’s childhood friend. She looked at me with a deep frown, her tone dripping with impatience. “God, Roselyn, your acting is so over the top. You had one bite of a vegan dumpling. Is this really necessary?” “You know Carter hates it when people act like drama queens. Just drop the act. I’m not even full yet.” Her words sent a freezing chill straight through my heart. I had told them both, very clearly, about my severe seafood allergy. I couldn’t touch anything from the ocean. But that “vegan” dumpling she just fed me? It was stuffed with pureed shrimp. Vanessa had placed it on my plate with her own hands. She had smiled and said, “Try this one, Roselyn. The vegan menu here is to die for.” I believed her. And then, I plunged straight into hell. “Ouch,” Vanessa suddenly gasped softly, dropping her fork. “Carter, I think a piece of lobster shell just scratched my finger.” The face that had just looked at me with freezing indifference instantly melted into absolute panic. Carter leaned over the table, gently cradling Vanessa’s hand in his own, shouting at the top of his lungs. “How could you be so careless! Waiter! Get a first aid kit! Now!” He blew gently on a wound that didn’t even exist, his eyes pooling with nauseating tenderness. “Does it hurt? Should we go to the ER?” Meanwhile, I, his actual wife, was collapsing onto the expensive restaurant floor, convulsing in the grip of anaphylactic shock. He didn’t even spare me a single glance. Pure survival instinct forced my shaking hands into my purse. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 with the last flicker of life I had left. “Hello… please help…” Before I could finish the sentence, Carter whipped his head around, snatched the phone right out of my hand, and ended the call. “Are you insane?” he roared. “Vanessa is right here. Why the hell are you calling an ambulance? You’re ruining the mood!” “I told you, pay me the money first! Stop embarrassing me in public!” In that fractured moment, the truth finally dawned on me. It wasn’t that he lacked common sense. It was just that my life, in his eyes, was worth less than 250 dollars. And it was certainly worth less than an invisible scratch on Vanessa’s finger. I looked at his handsome, stone-cold face. The very last ember of love I held for this man sputtered and died. I was entirely done with this meticulously calculated, nickel-and-dime marriage. My eyelids grew impossibly heavy. Right before the darkness swallowed me whole, I heard Vanessa’s sickeningly sweet voice. “Just ignore her, Carter, she’s such a buzzkill. Let’s go somewhere else. I’m still hungry.” 2 When I woke up, the sterile bite of rubbing alcohol flooded my senses. I was lying in a hospital bed in the emergency room. There was an IV dripping into my vein and an oxygen mask strapped over my face. The attending doctor let out a heavy sigh of relief when he saw my eyes open. “Thank God you’re awake. Five minutes later, and even a miracle wouldn’t have brought you back.” “Severe anaphylactic shock with laryngeal edema. Do you have any idea how close you came to checking out?” I opened my mouth, feeling terribly weak, but my vocal cords refused to work. The doctor shook his head. “You called 911 yourself, didn’t you? Thank God your phone’s GPS was accurate. Where is your family? Something this critical, and you’re all alone?” Family? My so-called family, Carter Pierce, was probably sitting in some other five-star restaurant right now, gazing lovingly into Vanessa’s eyes. I closed my eyes. A single, cold tear slipped down my cheek. A nurse walked in to change my IV bag. She looked at me with deep pity. “Your husband was just here. The billing department was pressing him, so he fronted the money for the resuscitation and then left.” She paused, looking incredibly awkward. “Oh, right. He asked me to pass on a message. He said the total emergency fee was 3000 dollars. He covered it, but he wants you to remember to Venmo him your half. 1500 dollars.” My eyes snapped open. A wave of absurd, boiling rage washed over me. I almost died, and he was still trying to go fifty-fifty with me? This marriage had been a pathetic joke from day one. Three years ago, Carter’s tech firm was hemorrhaging money. The supply chain broke, and bankruptcy was breathing down his neck. It was my father, Arthur Croft, who stepped in with a massive capital injection to save him. To repay the favor, and to permanently tie himself to the Croft family’s vast network, he proposed to me. I had been in love with him for ten years. I genuinely thought my dreams had come true. But on our wedding night, he threw a printed contract on the bed. A postnuptial financial segregation agreement. He had looked at me with dead eyes and said, “I married you for business, Roselyn. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’ll ever fall in love with you.” “From today on, every single expense is split down the middle. Rent, utilities, groceries. Down to the last cent.” “These are the rules. It is the absolute bare minimum of respect I expect in this corporate merger we call a marriage.” Like an idiot, I thought my devotion would eventually melt the ice around his heart. I was so incredibly wrong. For three years, I lived like a glorified roommate. When I cooked dinner at home, I had to calculate the market value of the ingredients and send him the invoice. If I turned on the AC, I had to track the kilowatt-hours I consumed. We even bought our own separate rolls of toilet paper. He wasn’t broke. He was a multi-millionaire. He was just exclusively stingy with me. He would buy Vanessa designer bags worth tens of thousands of dollars without blinking an eye. But he would give me the silent treatment for three days if I left a hallway light on for too long. I thought I could endure it. Until today, when I nearly died over 250 dollars. I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Ignoring the violent trembling in my muscles, I forced myself to sit up. I wanted a divorce. Right here. Right now. The moment my feet touched the cold linoleum floor, the hospital door swung open. Carter and Vanessa walked in. He was holding a ludicrously expensive gift basket of imported organic supplements. Clearly, it wasn’t for me. Seeing me out of bed, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. His tone was like scraping ice. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now, Roselyn? The doctor said you need to stay under observation.” I stared at him, my eyes completely hollow. “We’re getting a divorce, Carter.” Carter froze. Then, he let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “A divorce? Have you completely lost your mind?” “Over 250 dollars? Can you be an adult for five seconds?” Vanessa chimed in, leaning against the doorframe. “Honestly, Roselyn. Carter just has strong principles. You don’t have to be so petty.” “Married couples fight all the time. It’s normal.” “Principles?” I locked eyes with Carter, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Your principle is watching me die?” Carter’s face darkened with rage. “Don’t push your luck, Roselyn. If it weren’t for your father’s influence, do you really think you’d be sitting there as Mrs. Pierce?” “I know exactly what game you’re playing. You faked a reaction to guilt-trip me into giving you more attention. Well, guess what? Keep your pathetic pity-party to yourself!” He slammed the gift basket onto the bedside table and turned to Vanessa, his voice instantly softening. “Does your finger still hurt? Have some of this tea, it’ll help calm your nerves.” Vanessa shot me a triumphant smirk and wrapped her arms around Carter’s waist. “You’re the best, Carter.” Watching them play out this sickening soap opera in my hospital room made my stomach heave. I pointed a shaking finger at the door and screamed with every shred of breath in my lungs. “Get out! Both of you, get the hell out!” My hostility finally struck a nerve. Carter stepped forward, raising his hand high in the air as if to strike me. “Remember your place, Roselyn!” I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink. I just stared right through him. “Touch me, Carter. I dare you.” Maybe it was the absolute, glacial finality in my eyes. His hand froze in mid-air. Finally, he scoffed, grabbed Vanessa’s hand, and spun around. “You are completely unreasonable.” The moment the door clicked shut, I collapsed back onto the mattress, utterly drained. I pulled out my phone and dialed my father’s private number. “Dad. I need your best divorce attorneys.” “I want Carter Pierce stripped down to his last dime.” 3 When my dad heard what happened, he nearly had a heart attack. He rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night. Looking at my ghostly pale face, his eyes turned rimmed with red. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. I should never have let you marry that animal.” I gripped his warm hand tightly. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Dad. I’m going to make him pay.” He nodded, his jaw set in stone. “You have my word. Even if it costs me everything I have, I will get you justice.” First thing the next morning, my father’s elite legal team walked into my room. I handed over three years’ worth of agonizing ledgers. The exact fifty-fifty expense spreadsheets, the Venmo receipts, and the audio recordings of Carter’s relentless emotional abuse. The lead attorney reviewed the file, his expression grim. “Ms. Croft, this postnuptial agreement is ironclad. It clearly dictates a strict separation of assets and liabilities.” “Furthermore, Carter is incredibly cunning. Even though his firm has skyrocketed in value over the last three years, he funneled the vast majority of his assets into pre-marital trusts or shell companies under his parents’ names.” “Taking him for everything he has is going to be an uphill battle.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Difficult doesn’t mean impossible.” “The only reason he’s sitting on an empire is because of the capital my dad injected into his dying firm. And he repaid us by nickel-and-diming me into the dirt.” “But this isn’t just about money anymore.” I looked the lawyer dead in the eye. “Subpoena the security footage from that restaurant yesterday.” I had a gut feeling. That shrimp puree was no accident. The lawyers moved with lethal efficiency. By noon, I was watching the CCTV footage on a tablet. The video was crystal clear. While I had stepped away to the restroom, Vanessa reached across the table. She took a specialized container of shrimp puree and dumped it directly into my boiling vegan hotpot. Her movements were slick, practiced. Carter was sitting right across from her, scrolling on his phone, completely oblivious to the poison she was preparing for me. My hands turned to ice as I watched the screen. This wasn’t negligence. This was premeditated murder. Vanessa wanted me in a body bag. I backed up the file to three separate cloud servers. This was my opening move. I stayed under observation for two more days. Carter didn’t visit once. Instead, he sent me an itemized invoice every morning at 8:00 AM sharp. “Hospital room: $2000/day. Your share: $1000.” “Medication: $800. Your share: $400.” Looking at those sterile numbers, I felt absolutely nothing. I didn’t transfer a single cent. Instead, I had the lawyers draft the divorce papers and served them directly to his executive office. The moment he received them, he finally showed up at the hospital. He stormed in and hurled the legal documents right at my face. He was vibrating with rage. “Roselyn! You’re actually serious about this?” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? My company is weeks away from a massive IPO! If you file for divorce now, it’s going to tank the stock price!” I looked at him with eerie calm. “Am I really worth less than your stock options, Carter?” “Stop acting like a lunatic!” He tore at his designer tie, panting heavily. “If you want a bigger allowance, just say so. I’ll write you a check. Stop this circus, get discharged, and go home.” He truly believed I was still the same submissive, desperate girl who worshipped the ground he walked on. “I don’t want your money. I want your head on a spike,” I said, my voice completely flat. Carter froze. He definitely didn’t expect to hear that tone coming from my mouth. “You’re sick in the head,” he muttered, taking a step back as if looking at a stranger. “I’m not sick. I’m finally awake.” Right on cue, Vanessa walked into the room. She was carrying a designer thermos. The moment she saw Carter, her face morphed into a mask of pure innocence and worry. “Carter, I brought you some homemade soup… Roselyn, please stop fighting with him. He’s been under so much stress lately.” She walked up to the edge of my bed. Leaning down, she whispered so only I could hear. “You’re a tough bitch to kill, Roselyn. Too bad it didn’t work.” Staring at her sickeningly flawless face, something inside me snapped. I lunged upward, grabbing a fistful of her expensive hair extensions, and slammed her face down against the metal edge of the bedside table. “Did you honestly think nobody was watching, Vanessa?” She shrieked like a banshee. “Ah! Let go of me! Carter, help me!” Carter’s face drained of color. He bolted forward and physically ripped me off her. “Are you insane! Don’t you dare touch her!” He shoved me backward. My weakened body hit the hospital wall hard, the impact forcing a sharp gasp from my lungs. He pulled Vanessa up, his hands hovering over her like she was made of glass. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” Vanessa covered her cheek, crying perfect, cinematic tears. “I just wanted to check on her… why is she attacking me…” “Apologize to her! Right now!” Carter screamed at me, his veins popping. I smirked, wiped a smudge of dust off my hospital gown, and picked up the tablet. I hit play and turned the screen toward him. “Open your eyes, Carter. Watch exactly how your precious little angel tried to put me in a coffin.” On the screen, Vanessa’s hand clearly dumped the lethal seafood directly into my broth. Carter’s face instantly went rigid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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