Category: English

My wife, who’d been dead for seven years, was back. Not only that, she’d brought a man with her. And she expected me to just step aside and hand over my title as her husband. “Seth nearly lost his sight saving me. I’ve already promised to marry him,” she said, her voice dripping with an unearned authority. “If you sign the divorce papers quietly, I’ll let you continue living here.” I was silent for a moment, then answered coolly, “Actually, I’m already married to someone else.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be difficult, Patrick. Everyone knows you’re still head over heels in love with me.” 1 But I wasn’t the same Patrick Rhodes from seven years ago—the pathetic fool who would have done anything for her, the man who had groveled at her feet until he had no dignity left. “I have no reason to lie. I’m married.” Echo shot me a look of pure contempt, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Stop the act, Patrick. I’m not here to ask for your permission. I’m informing you. Whether you like it or not, I’m marrying Seth.” Seth stepped forward, lacing his fingers with hers. His voice was a soft, cloying melody of faux innocence. “Echo, darling, please don’t fight with Patrick. It’s just my bad luck. Maybe you should just send me back.” He made a show of turning to leave, but his hand clutched the hem of her dress, and the look he shot me was a triumphant glare. It was a pathetic, transparent performance. Echo’s expression softened instantly. “Seth, don’t say that. You promised we’d be together forever.” She turned back to me, her confidence bafflingly absolute. “Don’t worry. Patrick is crazy about me. He’ll do anything I say. We’ll get married, I promise.” Seven years, and her delusional self-assurance had only gotten worse. Before I could speak, she fixed me with a threatening stare. “You’ve enjoyed seven years as the Sterling family’s golden boy. It’s time to let Seth have his turn. He’s suffered enough. I won’t let you bully him.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “I haven’t done a thing. Don’t try to pin this on me.” Echo’s eyes narrowed. She looked me up and down as if I were something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. “Do you actually think you’re important? If it weren’t for the fact that you waited seven years for me, I would have thrown you out of this house the second I walked in. I wouldn’t be wasting my breath.” Throw me out? She wouldn’t get the chance. And what on earth made her think I’d waited seven years for her? The day she abandoned me was the day I gave up on her completely. Seven years ago, I was in a limousine, dressed in my wedding tuxedo, traveling over winding mountain roads to pick up my bride. And she ran. She left me at the altar. The official story was a tragedy. A landslide on the road. While I was out of the car checking the damage, Echo had supposedly slipped and fallen from a cliff. For seven years, everyone believed she was dead. I even picked out her gravesite myself. Marrying into the Sterling family was a future my father had fought tooth and nail to secure for me. Echo could throw away the Rhodes family’s reputation, but I couldn’t. And besides, she wasn’t the only woman in her family. For the past seven years, I’ve been a husband and a father. If she hadn’t suddenly reappeared, I would have completely forgotten she ever existed. So, seeing her again after all this time stirred nothing in me. “Echo, let me repeat myself one more time,” I said, my voice flat. “You and I are not husband and wife. Legally, you’re a deceased person. Who you marry is none of my business.” Echo let out a dismissive scoff. “At least you know your place. If you hadn’t been so obsessed with marrying me back then, I never would have had to run off to another country and hide for seven years.” So, that was it. I’d always wondered how she was the only one who died when so many people were there. It wasn’t a tragic accident; it was a disappearing act. She hadn’t changed at all—still willing to do anything to get her way, no matter who she hurt. When the news of her “death” had reached her mother, the woman had collapsed on the spot. She’d fallen into a deep sickness, nearly following her daughter to the grave. The butler, who had just rushed in, overheard Echo’s callous words. “Miss Echo, you mustn’t say such things,” he stammered. “Mr. Rhodes is now the VP of Sterling Corp.” “VP?” Seth, standing beside her, asked with a flicker of darkness in his eyes. “Echo, didn’t you say your grandfather would only ever make you CEO?” Echo’s face stiffened. She stared at me, confused. “My father only has one daughter. Who else is qualified to inherit the company besides me?” I just watched her, my expression unreadable. Had she left her brain overseas? Did she have any idea how foolish she sounded? The butler was sweating, wiping his brow frantically. “Miss Echo, what are you saying? Mr. Rhodes is married to Miss Julia. She is the CEO of Sterling Corp now. Your aunt, don’t you remember?” The day Echo left me stranded, I stood on that highway, lost, the eyes of a hundred gossiping onlookers burning into me. That’s when Julia had stepped forward. She said she would marry me. In that moment, I was adrift, powerless. Everyone in New York knew it was my wedding day, and my bride had died on the way to the ceremony. Cursed. Jinx. A black mark. Those words were nails pinning me to a pillar of public shame. And then, suddenly, someone was offering me a way out. A hand to pull me from the wreckage. She would save the Rhodes family from humiliation. Why wouldn’t I have married her? Julia hadn’t even planned on attending her niece’s wedding. She’d only returned to the country at the behest of the old man, her father. And in a bizarre twist of fate, she became my wife instead. Echo stared at me, her face a mask of ridicule. “Everyone knows my aunt Julia is a titan of industry. All she cares about is her career. She wouldn’t give a pathetic lapdog like Patrick a second glance.” Julia Sterling was a legend in New York’s business world. Half of the Sterling empire was built on her personal ventures. Within the family, she was treated like a queen. To this day, I still don’t fully understand why she married me. There were so many men richer and more handsome than me. The butler kept trying. “Miss Echo, it’s true. You can look up the news online. Or ask anyone in the family.” Echo just curled her lip in disdain. She randomly pointed to a gardener, then a maid. They both gave her the same answer. Her composure finally cracked. Her face went rigid as she glared at me. “Well, well, Patrick. You work fast, don’t you? I’m gone for a few years, and you’ve already got the entire staff wrapped around your finger, all of them in on your little conspiracy to lie to me.” I remained calm, refusing to get drawn into her madness. My marriage to Julia was a hard fact. Whether Echo believed it or not meant nothing to me. She’d been spoiled her whole life. The butler, fearing another outburst, quickly sent someone to call Julia. “Get Miss Julia’s assistant on the phone! Tell her to come home immediately!” Julia was in the middle of negotiating an aerospace deal and had left for the office early. The old man, Mr. Sterling, and Echo’s mother weren’t home either. Otherwise, Echo wouldn’t have dared to cause such a scene. As the standoff thickened the air, my daughter Ava suddenly burst into the room. “Daddy, why didn’t you come back to play with me?” The moment Echo saw Ava, her face twisted in rage. It was obvious why. Ava was a miniature, female version of me. Echo’s gaze darted between me and the child, her body trembling. Finally, she raised a shaking hand and pointed it at me. “How dare you betray me. You even have a bastard child.” Her voice was a venomous hiss. “Tell me, whose is it?” Ava, who inherited Julia’s sharp personality, might not have fully understood the word, but she knew it was an insult. She tapped her chin, looking like a tiny, serious adult. “Who are you calling a bastard? My mommy says people with dirty mouths are just trash.” Ava was six. She knew almost everyone in the household, but she’d never seen Echo before. Echo immediately snapped back, “How dare you talk back, you little brat.” That was it. I saw red. This was my precious daughter, the light of my life. How dare she call her that? “Echo,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous. “You watch your mouth. Or I promise, you’ll regret it.” Seth, ever the snake, glanced at me and added casually, “The child looks like she’s old enough for school, doesn’t she? Don’t tell me you cheated on Echo before you were even married?” The words were poison. Echo’s eyes went wide with fury, and she looked at me as if she wanted to claw my face off. There is nothing a woman hates more than being cheated on, especially when the man was once her devoted admirer—a man who had sworn to love her until the day he died. “She’s six,” I said calmly. “You son of a bitch, Patrick!” Echo shrieked. “I’m gone for seven years, and you have a child with someone else? Have you no shame?” Only seven years? We’d only known each other for a few years before she took off for seven of them. And she was the one who abandoned me. The butler rushed to explain. “Miss Echo, that’s Miss Julia’s child!” “Shut up!” she screamed at him. “You traitorous old fool! Where are my parents? Who let him get away with this? Cheating on me and acting so smug about it!” “The entire Sterling family knows, Miss Echo.” At the time, Echo’s parents had felt so guilty about her running away that they hadn’t objected to me marrying Julia. Hearing this, Echo finally exploded. Her eyes were like daggers, scanning the room. “Who is the slut? Who dared to humiliate the Sterling family like this? Does she have a death wish?” No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find a single plausible suspect among the staff. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. Seth, with a sickeningly sweet tone of concern, tried to counsel me. “Patrick, you should just confess. If you push Echo too far, even I won’t be able to help you.” I shot him a withering look. “We’re both men here. Cut the act.” Before I could react, Echo’s hand whipped through the air and cracked across my face. “You shut your mouth!” she screamed, her voice ragged. “You’re the one who cheated! You had a child behind my back, and you have the nerve to lecture Seth?” I hadn’t seen it coming. My cheek instantly flared with a hot, stinging pain. Seeing me get hit, Ava charged forward like a little bull. “You hit my daddy! I’ll get you!” “Ava!” Echo snatched Ava up by the collar of her dress, lifting her off the ground. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Echo, put her down!” The maids and other staff rushed forward. “Miss, please, put the child down!” one of them pleaded. “Miss Julia will not be merciful if anything happens to her.” Everyone in the Sterling household knew that Ava was the center of Julia’s universe, a treasure she protected fiercely. But Echo just sneered. “Get out of my way if you want to keep your jobs. Today, I’m going to teach them both a lesson.” My blood ran cold. “Echo, what are you doing?” Her face was a mask of venomous rage, her entire presence turning glacial. “According to the law, you committed adultery during our marriage and had a child. I can demand you leave with nothing and compensate me for my emotional distress.” The problem was, we were never married. My hands clenched into fists, veins bulging on the back. “Echo, we were never married! There was no adultery! Now put my daughter down!” If she weren’t a woman, I would have already tackled her. I, Patrick Rhodes, do not hit women. Ava’s little legs kicked in the air. She was dangling, struggling, but surprisingly, she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t afraid. The staff, intimidated by Echo’s threats, kept their distance, offering only weak, useless pleas. Echo ignored them completely. She shot me a dark, cryptic look. “After I’m done with this little bastard, I’ll deal with you personally.” With that, she started carrying Ava towards the door. The staff exchanged panicked glances, but no one dared to intervene. Finally, the old butler blocked her path. Echo’s face darkened. “What? You dare to stand in my way?” The butler, sweating profusely, bowed his head respectfully. “Miss, please, let’s talk this through. Don’t be rash. Please, put the little princess down.” Seizing the opportunity, I lunged for my daughter, but Seth intercepted me. He blocked my path with a sinister grin. “Patrick, what are you doing? Don’t do anything foolish now.” I swung. My fist connected with his face with a satisfying crack. “If anything happens to my daughter,” I snarled, “I will make you both regret the day you were born.” Seth stumbled backward, crashing into a nearby vase, which shattered on the floor. He hit his head, and blood began to trickle from a cut on his forehead. Seeing him hurt, Echo’s eyes turned red with fury. She channeled all her rage onto Ava. “You dare touch Seth? I’ll kill this little bastard!” She lifted Ava high, preparing to hurl her to the ground. For a split second, my heart stopped. I dove forward on pure instinct. “AVA!” Seeing her mother’s friend turn into a monster, Ava, finally just a small child, burst into terrified tears. “Get away from me!” Echo screamed at me. “I’ll deal with you later!” I wrapped my arms around my daughter, holding her tight, refusing to let go no matter how hard Echo pulled and clawed at me. Finally, Echo’s patience snapped. She grabbed a heavy ceramic flowerpot from a nearby stand and swung it at my head. A searing flash of pain. I felt something warm and wet trickling down my face. The butler and others rushed to pull her back, but she screamed them away. “Miss, stop! That’s your aunt’s husband!” the butler cried, grabbing her arm to stop another blow. Just then, a calm, cool voice sliced through the chaos from the doorway. “What, exactly, is going on in here?” “You’d all better have a very good explanation for this.”

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1 Four years into our marriage, my husband, Leo Williams, who never posts anything, broke his social media silence with a new story. 【What a greedy little kitten.】 The picture was of a girl wearing a pink cat-ear headband, her cheeks flushed red and tongue stuck out from the spice of the hot pot she was eating. It was Holly, the new streamer at his company. Less than a minute later, a comment from a mutual friend popped up: 【Bro, you forgot to switch accounts!】 And just like that, Leo’s new post vanished like a phantom. But it reappeared moments later on Holly’s own social media page. Then, his call came through. The old me would have already screenshotted it, called him first, and launched into a tirade. It would have ended in a screaming match, no question. But this time, I was thoughtful enough to let the call ring until it went to voicemail. … By the time Leo got home, I was nearly asleep on the sofa. He slipped off his jacket and bent down to change his shoes. “Why didn’t you answer my call?” Leo rarely prodded like this unless he knew, deep down, that he was in the wrong. “Fell asleep,” I mumbled without lifting my head. “Didn’t hear it.” “Had to work late unexpectedly. You don’t always have to wait up for me. You don’t have to make yourself so pathetic.” The old me would have shot back, insisting loudly that I did it because I loved him. But there was no point in arguing anymore. Leo handed me a square velvet box, gesturing for me to open it. Today was the day his company went public. To celebrate, I had done what I always did: left work early, bought groceries, cooked his favorite meal, and waited for him to come home. But I had waited half the night for a man who had promised he’d be home early, and he never came. I pretended not to notice the thick, greasy smell of hot pot clinging to his clothes as I took the box and set it aside on the coffee table. I’d seen this box before. The last time was when he’d missed my birthday. The logo, the floral pattern—it was identical. Leo stared at the box for a moment, his brow furrowing. His voice dropped. “Sienna, can you stop being so childish?” Buying me jewelry was Leo’s standard way of offering an olive branch. As long as I accepted the gift, the unpleasantness between us would be swept under the rug, never to be mentioned again. But this time, I had no intention of taking his olive branch. And that, naturally, made him angry. “Let me put it on for you.” Not giving me a chance to refuse, he opened the box and took out the bracelet inside. He reached for my wrist, but his hands froze when he saw the identical bracelet already clasped there. “Just leave it,” I said, pulling my hand back and rising from the sofa, ready for bed. “It’s late. We both have work tomorrow.” “I’ll have my assistant take you to pick out something new another day.” “No need,” I replied, my voice as cold as ice. 2 Perhaps out of guilt for the duplicate gift, Leo suggested we drive to the office together the next morning. My body ached, and I didn’t feel like driving, so I didn’t refuse. Leo stood in front of his car, his brow knitted so tightly the lines almost touched. At some point, he had started to despise me riding in his car, especially in the passenger seat. He’d even pushed me to buy my own car to avoid it. It was probably because I used to fight with him like a maniac over my right to that seat. He’d grown tired of it. But now, for Holly’s convenience, his car was a shrine to her. It was filled with cat-themed plush toys and decorated with cute, hand-drawn stickers. He’d even had the passenger seat professionally redesigned, just to make sure the petite Holly was perfectly comfortable. Seeing me waiting, however, he finally pulled the door open and started moving the mountain of plush toys to the back seat. Watching him go back and forth, I frowned. “You know what? I’ll just drive myself.” He tossed the last stuffed cat into the back. “No, let’s go together. Holly’s just… whimsical. She loves these little trinkets. Don’t mind them.” I stared at the pink, custom-fitted seat, a piece of a different world dropped jarringly into the car’s sleek interior. I refused. It was, I decided, deeply unsettling. I reached for my own car door, but Leo shot forward to block me, sliding into my driver’s seat instead. “I’ll drive. I said we’d go together.” I watched him for a long moment, not missing the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. So, he did know how inappropriate it was to transform his passenger seat for another woman. Leo looked like he wanted to explain, but I cut him off. “We’re going to be late. Just drive.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and started the car. While we were stopped at a red light, his phone rang. It was a custom ringtone, one I didn’t recognize. A pitiful, whiny voice came through the speaker, punctuated by faint sobs. “Leo… my tummy hurts so bad… I think it was something I ate yesterday. Can you please come take me to the hospital? Please, Leo? You’re the best.” After he hung up, Leo didn’t even glance at me. He didn’t say a word. He just yanked the steering wheel, pulled over to the curb, and quickly unbuckled my seatbelt for me. His tone was final, leaving no room for argument. “An employee isn’t feeling well. I have to go check on her. We’re almost at the office. You can walk the rest of the way.” I hadn’t even had time to close the door before he hit the gas and the car peeled away, leaving me standing in a cloud of exhaust. 3 Honestly, at this hour, almost no one walked to work. When the light turned green, the driver of an e-scooter, probably not expecting a pedestrian in the crosswalk, rounded the corner and slammed right into me. My hands, knees, and forehead were scraped up to varying degrees. The nurse cleaned my wounds, placed a large bandage on my forehead, and gave me instructions. “Try to keep it dry for the next few days. No baths. And apply this ointment on schedule.” I took a cab from the hospital to the office. The driver had two phones mounted on his dashboard. One was for navigation. The other was streaming Holly’s live broadcast. The comment section was flooded with messages of concern. “Aww, thank you all for caring so much! Your kitty is fine, I promise. It’s a good thing Leo got here so quickly! I don’t even need to go to the hospital anymore.” “Nooo, I haven’t confessed my feelings to him yet! Stop saying that, you guys! He’s sitting right here watching. Yes, he’s super, super sweet.” I looked down at my own phone. Two messages from Leo sat there, seething with anger and impatience. “My assistant said you missed the project planning meeting today. Where were you? Get to the office now.” “I ask you to walk a few blocks and you throw another one of your fits? What is wrong with you?” The hypocrisy was staggering. That evening, I had just finished applying ointment to my cuts and was curled up on the sofa watching TV. The sound of the front door’s keypad broke the silence, followed by Leo’s mocking voice. “And here I thought you’d finally learned your lesson. You’ve been so quiet these past few days. Turns out you were just waiting for this.” The TV must have been too loud for him, because he strode over and ripped the plug from the wall. “Sienna, do you have a brain in your head? We’ve been preparing for that project meeting for two weeks! Do you have any idea how much money the company loses when a project is delayed?” I looked up at his face, contorted with disgust. Then I saw him freeze. His gaze locked onto the bandage on my forehead, then traveled down to the raw scrapes on my hands and legs. He frowned. “What happened to you?” I broke his gaze, my voice casual. “It’s nothing. Just got hit by a vehicle on my way to work.” Leo’s eyes flickered, and a hint of guilt crossed his face. He stepped closer, trying to inspect my injuries. “Why didn’t you call me?” I flinched away from his touch, a humorless smirk on my face. “It’s just a scratch. Nothing important. I’m sure your employee was a higher priority.” Was there any point in calling him? He’d answer the phone and, without asking a single question, launch into a tirade of baseless accusations and complaints. Did he ever actually care what I had to say? He never came when I called before. Why would today be any different? My words stung him. He straightened up, a cold sneer on his face. “Sienna, do you have to be so sarcastic? It was wrong of me to leave you on the side of the road, I admit it. But are you a child? You can’t even walk down the street without getting hit by a car?” I stared at him, speechless. You see? Even a simple statement of fact was twisted into sarcasm, immaturity, a childish taunt. I had no intention of engaging with him. I got up and started for the bedroom. Noticing how much pain I was in as I walked, Leo’s expression softened slightly. He sighed and came over to help me. “I’ll sleep with you tonight. That way I can take care of you.” It had been a long time since Leo had come to bed before midnight. Holly had claimed that the constant harassment from viewers on her stream was making her anxious, that she was afraid of becoming depressed. She insisted he stay with her during her broadcasts. So every night, Leo would go to his study, half-working, half-watching her stream. He would frequently join her on camera for a “sweet interaction.” I had fought with him about it, cried, screamed—nothing changed his mind. Leo was adamant that it was “just work.” He finally threatened me with divorce, and I had no choice but to back down. I didn’t refuse his offer. But as he reached out to pull me into his arms, I spoke softly. “Leo, let’s get a divorce.”

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“Freda’s father is a lost cause! Save Lily first!” I never thought the most twisted joke imaginable would play out right before my eyes. The words, spoken by my husband, were a bullet to my reviving heart. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing at Kyle’s shirt with all my strength, only for him to kick me away with brutal force. “You were unconscious for five whole minutes, Freda! Do you have any idea what that means?” he snarled, his face a mask of feigned righteousness. “Your dad was swept further downstream, but Lily is still struggling right here in the water!” His voice dripped with venom. “If you want to blame someone, blame your father! If he hadn’t insisted on coming, would the raft have capsized in the first place?” The way he stood there, so straight and certain, made my stomach churn with nausea. In my last life, I had trusted him completely. And what did it get me? It got me my father’s tragic death. It got me a hospital bed, where I fought for my life after nearly drowning, while he spent the entire night buying flowers to comfort my best friend, Lily. Reborn into this moment, I would not let it happen again. I swore it. 1 “Please, I’m begging you, save my father!” I screamed at the rescue team. “The woman in the water is my best friend, and she’s a strong swimmer!” My desperation only fueled Kyle’s rage. He swung his hand, and a sharp slap sent me sprawling to the ground. “Freda, this is not the time for your tantrums! Do not question my judgment!” he bellowed for all to hear. “Are you all insane? Are you going to ignore the person right in front of you to chase a lost cause? Do you want both of them to die? Who here is willing to take responsibility for that? Go! Save Lily! Save her now!” A ringing filled my ears. I cut through Kyle’s tirade, summoning every last bit of strength to scream over him. “If you don’t go save my father, I will die right here, right now, for all of you to see!” Finally, my threat registered. Two rescuers broke off and swam towards Lily, but the larger part of the team headed downstream, in search of my father. Kyle shot me a look of pure ice before rushing towards Lily’s position. Watching his desperate back, the last flicker of hope I held for him burned to ash. When I next saw my father, he was unconscious from the water he’d inhaled. He looked just as he had in my last life—pale and lifeless on a stretcher, a rescuer tirelessly performing CPR. My heart pounded with panic. I dialed 911 over and over until I heard a crackle from the rescue captain’s radio. “Is the ambulance here yet?” “We’ve got one. The second is stuck in traffic, it’s going to be delayed…” Before I could ask anything else, a shocked and furious voice cut through the air. It was Kyle. “Lily, you’re hurt!” He knelt, gently blowing on a scrape on Lily’s ankle, his eyes filled with a tenderness he never showed me. The way they looked at each other was so thick with intimacy it was almost tangible. I couldn’t believe I had been so blind to it in my past life. This time, I didn’t miss the triumphant glint in Lily’s eyes as she glanced at me. A bone-deep chill washed over me. In my last life, it was for a few pathetic scrapes like this that Kyle had let my father die. The wail of a siren grew closer. The ambulance was here. As a paramedic and I lifted my father’s stretcher, Kyle moved to block our path, his eyes darting around nervously. “Freda, let’s have Dad wait a bit. The second ambulance will be here soon!” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice low. “Lily’s leg is hurt badly. She needs to get to a hospital right away.” He physically blocked the ambulance doors, trying to keep us from being seen. “It’ll be fine! Dad has always been strong. He’s just unconscious!” he insisted. “But Lily, she’s so fragile, and her ankle is still bleeding!” “Get. Out. Of. My. Way!” I broke. The good-natured, patient Freda he knew was gone. I shoved him with a fury that stunned him. In his moment of shock, Lily limped over, her face a mask of theatrical sorrow. “Freda… after all our years as friends, how could you do this to me?” she whimpered, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s not like we’re not going to save your dad. It’s just a small delay. Why are you being so difficult?” Kyle’s hand rose as if to wipe her tears, but catching my eye, he froze. One was the best friend I’d known since childhood. The other, the man I’d loved from high school prom to our wedding day. And right here, in front of me, they were performing a grand, heart-wrenching drama of forbidden love. The double betrayal was a physical pain in my chest. “Lily? What are you doing here?” A round-faced nurse hurried from the ambulance, her eyes lighting up in recognition. My heart leaped into my throat. The paramedic was one of Lily’s colleagues from the hospital. 2 “Jenna, my leg is injured! You have to get me in the ambulance first,” Lily said, her voice urgent. “I can’t do that,” the nurse, Jenna, replied firmly. “Hospital policy is clear. We prioritize critical patients.” I breathed a sigh of relief as the other medic and I loaded my father into the vehicle. Just before the doors closed, I saw Kyle talking to Jenna. He started to take off his watch, but she pushed his hand away. My focus was on my father’s still form. I didn’t think much of it, just urged the driver to go. The next second, the doors were flung open again. In the harsh sunlight, I heard Jenna’s disdainful voice. “If you don’t have money, why did you call an ambulance? The fee for a long-distance mountain call-out is expensive! Get him out of the vehicle, now!” My father’s stretcher was being pulled back out. “I have money! Let my father stay, I can pay!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Then prove you can pay,” Jenna said, her brow furrowed in suspicion. My phone was at the bottom of the river. I searched my pockets—not a single dollar in cash. Without thinking, I ripped the Patek Philippe from my wrist and held it out to her. “Take this watch as collateral! It’s more than enough to cover the fee. Just let my father go!” Jenna let out a derisive snort. “A Patek Philippe? Your husband already tried to fool me with a fake watch just now. You’re pulling the same trick?” A cold dread washed over me. Now I understood what Kyle had been doing. Lily’s voice dripped with scorn. “Pathetic. Acting rich when you’re broke.” Kyle grabbed my hand, playing his part in their little drama. “We didn’t mean to deceive anyone,” he said, his voice laced with false humility. “Please, just have a heart. Do a little charity work and take my father-in-law to the hospital.” I wrenched my hand free. “He’s lying! My watch is real! Give me your phone, I can log into my bank account and show you!” Jenna’s face hardened. “You have money for doctors but not to take care of your own family? Just take him home and let him rest. Stop wasting our time!” The medics continued to unload the stretcher. In the end, I was left on the roadside, watching helplessly as the ambulance sped away with Lily inside. I grabbed Kyle’s sleeve, my voice trembling with rage. “Why did you lie? I don’t even care that you’re sleeping with Lily! But my father needs a doctor!” “If anything happens to my father, I swear I will never let you go.” The rafting rescue team was still there, squatting by the road, watching the show. Seeing them, Kyle’s face flushed with anger. “Stop being so unreasonable! There’s nothing going on between me and Lily, so stop spouting nonsense!” he hissed. “Lily’s leg injury couldn’t wait! There’s another ambulance coming, what’s the big deal about your father waiting a little?” The disappointment was like a thick sludge, filling my lungs, making it hard to breathe. “In seven years of marriage,” I asked, the question that had haunted me for years finally escaping, “have you ever, for one second, considered my father your family?” Kyle’s lips pressed into a thin line, his face a canvas of guilt and discomfort. … Kyle and I were each other’s first love. To marry him, I had given up everything my family offered me. During our poorest years, I ate expired food with him and slept in a storage unit, my body covered in ant bites. One night, he walked for four hours in a downpour just to get me medicine from a pharmacy. As he applied the ointment, he swore with tears in his eyes, “I swear to God, I, Kyle Miller, will make Freda happy for the rest of her life. If I break this vow, may I die a horrible death!” Later, when his startup began to see success, my family finally relented. We walked hand in hand in the snow, dreaming of growing old together. First love was sweet. So sweet, I thought it would last a lifetime. That illusion shattered after we were married, when a media outlet dug up the fact that my father had been the primary investor in his company’s initial stock offering. The news was everywhere. The brilliant young CEO was branded a gold-digger, a man who got ahead by leeching off a woman. He never said a word, acting as considerate as always, but something between us had irrevocably changed. He smoked more, his silence filled with a volatile, brooding anger. One night, drunk and disoriented, he confessed his true feelings. “Do you know what I hate most in this world? Handouts,” he slurred. “Freda… I wish I had never met you.” 3 My thoughts snapped back to the present. I saw the tense line of Kyle’s jaw. “That’s not important,” he answered dismissively. The entire time, his feet were pointed in the direction Lily’s ambulance had disappeared. The irony was suffocating. His body was here, but his heart was long gone. When the second ambulance finally arrived, my father’s pulse was terrifyingly weak. Once we were inside, I ignored Kyle completely, my eyes glued to the heart monitor. Not long after we started moving, my father’s heart rate began to plummet, at one point dropping into the 30s. “Dad, please wake up…” I cried, my voice tearing from my throat. Kyle finished a phone call and stood up, speaking to the driver. “Can you go any faster? Don’t take the detour to the other hospital. Go to the nearest town clinic, now!” A few minutes later, miraculously, my father’s heart rate began to climb back up. I was crying with relief, so much so that even the sight of Kyle beside me wasn’t as repulsive. The ninety-minute drive took the driver less than thirty. We arrived at the clinic and were rushed through for an emergency examination. The CT results were bad. A cerebral hemorrhage, with significant bleeding. The doctor informed me that the local clinic wasn’t equipped to handle it; he needed to be transferred to a more specialized hospital. “Kyle, thank you for arranging for the ambulance to come to our hospital,” Lily said, pouting as she tugged on his arm. “I thought the equipment here would be enough. I had no idea Uncle was so seriously injured…” My body swayed. I stared at Kyle in disbelief. He pushed Lily away and took a step towards me, his face a picture of apology. “Freda, let me explain…” I turned my back on him without a word, following the paramedics as they loaded my father into yet another ambulance. As we drove, a part of my heart crumbled to dust. I knew, with absolute certainty, that there was no going back for us. When we reached the next hospital, the accompanying nurse quickly briefed the on-duty doctor. After a quick call to the relevant department, the doctor looked at me with a flicker of pity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry. Our hospital’s only neurosurgeon is on leave today…” A roar filled my head. A wave of immense despair washed over me. We were at least six hours from the nearest major city hospital. Without a surgeon, who could save my father? The rain was relentless, splashing up from the open courtyard, soaking the cuffs of my pants. A figure slowly emerged from the downpour and stood before me, holding out a hand. “Freda, let’s take Dad home. Let’s be with him for his final moments.” It was Kyle. I recoiled in disgust, my mind racing, desperately trying to think of a solution. Suddenly, I saw Lily in the hospital courtyard, arguing with a strange man. What is she doing here? A sense of unease pricked at me, and I started walking towards them. Kyle caught up to me. “That’s Lily’s ex-boyfriend,” he explained, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “He’s from a poor family and has been harassing her for money since they broke up. Lily has always had a boyfriend, Freda. You need to stop being so suspicious…” The man arguing with Lily was dressed in worn-out clothes, his slippers so old they had holes in them. He looked exactly as Kyle described. I stopped. My father was dying. I couldn’t waste time on idle curiosity. But as I turned to walk back, passing Kyle, a single raindrop hit my forehead, and my mind cleared with shocking clarity. Wrong. Those weren’t worn-out slippers. They were surgical clogs. As Kyle watched in stunned confusion, I bolted through the rain like a madwoman. “Doctor! I’m Freda Sterling! My father has a cerebral hemorrhage and needs surgery…” I cried, grabbing the strange man’s sleeve. The man, Dr. Miller, frowned. “Are you with them? This other woman just told me you had decided against signing the consent form for surgery.” Kyle rushed over, his voice sharp with accusation. “Freda, what do you think you’re doing, grabbing onto another man like that?” He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away. SLAP! I hit him with all the force I could muster.

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At dinner, my mother-in-law Martha claimed she was a time traveler from twenty years ago. We dismissed it as medication side effects—until she confronted Arthur: “Why are we living worse than twenty years back? I gave you my brother’s factory spot!” Arthur went silent. Later, Martha begged me to tail him on my scooter. We watched as a Rolls-Royce pulled up. A suited man stepped out: “Mr. Thorne, the luxury care suite is ready. No more pretending to be poor.” Martha collapsed against me, sobbing. “Why do you look shocked too?” she gasped. Because in that Rolls sat my “humble delivery driver” husband. 1 Martha, in a daze, stumbled after the disappearing Rolls-Royce, her feet catching on an uneven paving stone. She went down hard. A young couple rushed to help her up, but she just stared at the empty street, refusing to move. “Lady, if you’re trying to pull an insurance scam, you picked the wrong car,” the girl said, half-joking. “That’s a Rolls-Royce. And not just any Rolls—look at the plate, CV-0002.” Martha looked at the girl’s envious face, completely bewildered. “CV-0001 belongs to the famous Vivian Vance, the wife of the Thorne Industries chairman,” the girl chattered on, full of celebrity gossip. “And CV-0002 belongs to the chairman himself, Arthur Thorne. Who knew the head of such a massive corporation was such a romantic? Totally whipped, I bet.” The more the girl talked, the darker Martha’s expression became. When she heard the name ‘Vivian Vance’, her eyes looked like they were about to burst from their sockets. “Arthur Thorne… After twenty years, you’re still with that bitch.” Sensing the shift in mood, the boyfriend gave his girlfriend a nudge, and they quickly made their escape. I was rooted to the spot, my limbs heavy as lead. My phone slipped from my numb fingers, its screen still glowing with a news headline:【INTERNATIONAL SUPERMODEL SHERYL STARR AND HEIR SANDY THORNE HIT THE CLUB FOR A WILD NIGHT OUT】. The man in the photo, his face splashed across the screen, was the same man I knew as my husband. My husband, whose supposed battle with leukemia had drained our life savings and plunged us into a mountain of debt. It wasn’t just my father-in-law who was living a lie. It was my husband, Sandy, too. If I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes, sitting in the back of that Rolls-Royce in a perfectly tailored suit, I would never have believed it. The husband I’d worked three jobs for, the man I’d pulled back from the brink of death’s door by feeding him rice porridge and pickles to save every penny… was the heir to the Thorne Industries empire. Martha had told me her story. Twenty years ago, she had used her family’s connections to get Arthur, who could barely read, into college and land him a respectable job in the city. They had a beautiful son. An accident had thrown her forward in time, and she had expected to wake up to a comfortable, upper-middle-class life. Instead, she woke up to this. The shrill ring of my phone snapped us both out of our stupor. “Kendra, were you moonlighting again? I’ve got customer complaints up to my ears. If I didn’t know you were supporting two cancer patients at home, I would have fired you on the spot. Hello? Are you there?” The voice on the other end was loud enough for Martha to hear every word. Her gaze sharpened, focusing on me. “Two cancer patients? Besides Sandy, who else…?” A horrifying thought seemed to dawn on her. She walked over to a nearby car and stared at her reflection in the side mirror. Sparse hair, a gaunt face, a frail frame paradoxically swollen by a bloated abdomen. “The doctors said you have late-stage stomach cancer,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “They said surgery might have helped, but you refused treatment. You wanted to save the money for Sandy’s bone marrow transplant, so you hid it from him and Arthur.” Martha stared at her reflection for a long, silent moment. Then, a chilling smile spread across her face. “Arthur Thorne,” she whispered to the broken woman in the mirror. “What will you do when you find out that the woman who gave you everything is dying because your little charade kept her from getting treatment?” 2 Following a business news alert, Martha found the hotel where Arthur was holding a meeting that afternoon. Though her mind was sharp and young, her sixty-year-old body was frail. She was panting heavily by the time she reached the lobby. Before she could even ask for the location of the conference room, the front desk clerk was already pinching her nose and rolling her eyes. “Ma’am, we don’t have any cans for you to collect here.” She gestured subtly for security to remove the “eyesore.” But Martha wasn’t leaving. She screamed, “I want to see Arthur Thorne!” Her voice echoed in the opulent lobby. “The land he just sold belonged to my family! How dare he use that money to buy that whore Vivian Vance a private island!” “Where did this crazy person come from?” the clerk muttered, looking at her with a mixture of pity and disgust. I arrived just in time to see her in a standoff with two burly security guards. As I moved to intervene, a pair of familiar figures emerged from the elevator: Arthur and Sandy. “After this meeting, Vivian and I are stepping back to enjoy our lives,” Arthur was saying. “You need to step up, son. Handle things.” “Don’t worry, Dad,” Sandy replied, a smug grin on his face. “I learned from the best. Kendra, just like Mom, is so hung up on a man being faithful. They don’t get it. For men like us, from families like ours, how could one woman ever be enough?” A blade of ice twisted in my gut. My nails had dug so deep into my palms that they’d drawn blood. “Sandy,” Arthur added, his tone more serious, “the empire comes first. Remember, I started with nothing. It was your mother who saved me. And Kendra… even though her family is ordinary, she stuck by you when you told her you had leukemia. She worked herself to the bone to pay off our ‘debts’. You won’t find that kind of loyalty in any of the blue-blooded women in our circle.” As the two impeccably dressed men walked past me, Sandy pinched his nose and quickened his pace. He whispered something to the front desk clerk, who immediately grabbed a can of air freshener and began spraying the path I had just walked, a look of profound apology on her face. At that moment, the guards manhandled a protesting Martha out of the hotel and shoved her onto the hot pavement. Just then, a black SUV pulled up. “Sandy!” Supermodel Sheryl Starr, teetering on stilettos, stepped out. She carefully stepped over Martha’s head to reach Sandy, linking her arm through his possessively. “How can a five-star hotel let in delivery drivers and homeless people?” Sheryl whined, her voice carrying across the lobby. “I almost twisted my ankle trying to avoid her.” Arthur frowned slightly, but the expression vanished as quickly as it appeared. Sandy, however, stroked Sheryl’s nose dotingly. “As long as my baby wasn’t hurt.” He shot a look at the security guards. They understood immediately, forming a human wall and using a velvet rope to cordon me and Martha off from the entrance. “Sandy, you ungrateful wolf! You’d kick out your own mother!” Martha shrieked, her voice raw with anguish. But her cries were lost, muffled by the thick, soundproof glass of the hotel lobby. The 100-degree sun beat down on us. Martha was drenched in sweat, her lips a deathly white. Suddenly, she coughed, spewing a mouthful of white foam mixed with blood. I scrambled to support her slumping body with one hand while frantically dialing Sandy’s number with the other. He rejected every call. Through the glass, I could see my husband. My husband, the son Martha had cherished for over twenty years. He was sitting on a plush leather sofa, his suit jacket off, the muscles of his abdomen visible through his silk shirt as he wrapped his arm around the scantily clad supermodel. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I broke through the confusion and charged into the conference room. When Sandy saw me, his eyes darted away. He quickly dropped his hand from Sheryl’s waist. “Kendra, what are you doing here? Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m just shooting a scene.” “Oh? A scene?” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since when are you famous enough for international supermodel Sheryl Starr to be your co-star in an intimate scene? Or is she just so in love she’s willing to be the other woman?” Sandy’s face went rigid. The others in the room, sensing the impending explosion, quickly and quietly filed out. “Sister,” Sheryl said, her earlier disdain replaced by a saccharine smile. “It must be so hot outside. Here, have some iced tea.” She held out a glass, and the massive diamond on her ring finger and the jade bangle on her wrist flashed, searing my eyes. “Oh, this old thing?” she said, noticing my stare. “I found it in Sandy’s room. I said I liked it, so he gave it to me. Later, I heard it was a family heirloom your mother gave you before she died. The one you sold to ‘help’ him. I suppose I should return it to its rightful owner.” Sandy stood there, silent, unable to meet my gaze. When he had told me he was giving up on his treatment because he was out of money, I had tearfully pawned the only thing my mother had left me. And now, it was on her wrist. As Sheryl handed it to me, she “accidentally” let it slip. It hit the marble floor with a sickening crack, shattering into a dozen pieces. Rage, white-hot and blinding, flooded my veins. I swung my hand and slapped her, hard. Sandy leaped in front of Sheryl, grabbing my arm and shoving me to the ground. Shards of the broken bangle dug deep into my palm, but I felt nothing. No pain. Just a vast, cold emptiness. “Kendra, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s just a stupid bracelet!” he snarled. “Don’t you know Sheryl’s a model? What if you hurt her face? How is she supposed to work?” With that, he shot me a look of pure disgust and led a whimpering Sheryl out of the room. My heart felt like a cavern, ripped open by a jagged knife. I couldn’t breathe. 3 By the time Arthur arrived at the hospital, Martha was awake. The moment she saw him, she ripped the IV from her arm, scrambled off the bed, and launched herself at him, her fists pounding against his chest. “Arthur Thorne! You really were with that bitch! I saw it all!” Arthur clutched his stinging cheek, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something that looked unnervingly like relief. “Martha, we’re not young anymore. Just focus on getting better. We can live out our days peacefully. That’s what’s important.” In the two years I’d been married to Sandy, Arthur had always been the picture of a refined gentleman, unfailingly polite to family and strangers alike. I’d never seen him lose his temper, not even now, with a red handprint blooming on his face. Even the patient in the next bed was looking at Martha like she was being unreasonable. Martha’s eyes were bloodshot. She glared at Arthur, then lunged again, but Sandy stepped between them. “Mom! You’ve seen who Dad is now! He’s the chairman of a major corporation! He spent years playing along with your little games. Look at yourself! You can’t even dance with him. Now look at Aunt Vivian! Her skin, her figure… she looks like she’s thirty. She goes on trips with us. You never even let me go to summer camp as a kid. In the end, it was Aunt Vivian who took me!” Martha’s face turned ashen. Her lips trembled, and she pointed a shaking finger at Sandy, speechless. “Sandy, you ungrateful brat! I got cancer scrimping and saving for your ‘illness’, and you’re taking their side?” “Cancer?” Sandy scoffed. “You’re still using that old trick? Haven’t you learned anything new in twenty years?” Both Arthur and Sandy’s faces were grim. Sandy shot a quick, accusatory glance in my direction. “Honestly, Mom, just calm down,” he continued, his tone patronizing. “Aunt Vivian helped find this place for you. It’s a luxury care facility. A million a year. We could never have earned that in a lifetime before. Just relax and enjoy your retirement. Dad and I will visit often.” “Get out! Both of you, get out!” Martha shrieked, grabbing a water glass and hurling it at Sandy. Arthur and Sandy exchanged a look, shook their heads, and left the room. Martha lay on the bed, silent and still. “Honey,” the woman in the next bed said to me as I walked in. She was peeling lychees for the man lying in her bed. “Your mother-in-law acts like a twenty-year-old, still expecting fairy-tale love.” Martha’s eyes filled with tears as she watched the couple, perhaps remembering a time when she had cared for Arthur with the same devotion. Suddenly, a machine by her bed let out a piercing shriek. A doctor rushed in, saw the reading on Martha’s blood oxygen monitor, and immediately shoved her into the emergency room. “Her abdomen is completely filled with fluid,” the doctor said gravely when he came out to find the next of kin. “The family needs to prepare for the worst.” 4 I must have called a hundred times. Finally, a sharp, feminine voice echoed down the hallway. “Wow, a total amateur with better acting skills than a professional. Is it money you want? Is a thousand dollars enough?” Sheryl Starr sauntered over, a wave of perfect curls bouncing on her shoulders. She held a wad of cash and shoved it into my hands. “My future father-in-law already told me about your little mother-daughter-in-law act. Consider this your salary for today’s performance.” “Sheryl! Sandy’s mother is in critical condition! She could die at any moment!” I yelled. Sheryl just smirked, tapped her phone, and raised an eyebrow. “Even better. Sandy’s real mother should have always been Aunt Vivian. You and that old hag can crawl back to whatever hole you came from.” A cheerful, middle-aged woman’s laugh crackled from the phone. 【Sheryl, dear, I knew I was right about you. When you and Sandy get married, I’ll give you all the limited-edition bags and jewelry Arthur gave me.】 “Thank you, Aunt Vivian,” Sheryl cooed, her face stretched into a smile so wide it looked painful. She rolled her eyes as she hung up, then immediately picked up another phone. “Aunt Vivian and I have Sandy’s and Arthur’s phones. Don’t even think about reaching them today.” With a flick of her hair, she strode away from the ER doors. I tried calling them again. This time, all I got was the cold, robotic voice of the voicemail service. “We did everything we could,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “The patient’s abdominal cavity was full of fluid. If she had come to the hospital sooner to have it drained, she might have had a few more days.” I looked at Martha, lying still on the bed. Her face was dark and weathered, her skin like parchment from years of collecting scrap under the brutal sun to make ends meet. A chilling thought crept into my mind. If Martha hadn’t time-traveled, in twenty years, would that be me lying on that bed? Before she passed, Martha gave me her last will and testament: her ashes were to be scattered to the wind, never to be given to Arthur Thorne or his son. After handling her affairs, I left a signed divorce agreement on the dining table and walked out of that house for good. A few days later, my phone exploded with calls. 【Kendra, what is the meaning of this? You insisted on marrying me when we had nothing, and now that you know my family is wealthy, you want a divorce? Is this another one of your games? You’d better show your face right now.】 I blocked Sandy’s number, only to receive a message from Arthur demanding to know where Martha was. 【268 Longsea Road.】 I replied. 【Why is she working at a funeral home? What a morbid place.】

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1 I was fitting my wedding dress when my fiancé called, voice shaking. “Scarlett, the new house… it’s burned down!” At the scene, my seven-year-old nephew Ethan sobbed in a reporter’s arms, covered in soot. “It was Auntie! She tried to burn me alive for our family’s money!” Under flashing cameras, he revealed bruises on his neck. “She beats me, drugs my water, even puts thumbtacks on my bed!” The internet erupted: “Her sister’s barely buried, and she’s stealing from a child!” “Monsters like her deserve execution!” My fiancé’s family’s pity turned to horror. What Ethan didn’t know? For him, I’d torn up a deal—his father’s house in exchange for a lighter sentence—and sent the man to death row myself. I’d spent my savings raising him… only for him to paint me a murderer. Nausea hit me. This nephew? I was done. … “Scarlett Evans, you piece of trash!” “How dare you get married after trying to kill your own nephew! Your sister must be turning in her grave!” My phone buzzed relentlessly, the messages on the screen making my scalp tingle. I stood outside the police tape, my wedding dress stained with ash. The phone rang again. It was my fiancé Leo’s mother, her voice like ice. “Scarlett, you’ve dragged the Chen family’s name through the mud! The wedding is off! Off, do you hear me?!” She hung up before I could explain. Through the crowd, I saw Leo. He tried to rush over, but his mother held him back, her grip like a vise. His eyes were filled with pain, but also with a wavering doubt. The way he looked at me, as if I were a monster, froze the last bit of warmth in my heart. Memories from the past few months flooded my mind, each one a knife twisting in my gut. It started with him stealing money from my wallet. Five thousand dollars, gone in less than a day on game skins, virtual items, and tips for streamers. When I confronted him, he ran to school, crying, telling his teachers I had forced him to steal because I wouldn’t feed him. They believed him. At the parent-teacher conference, the other parents looked at me like I was a child-abusing demon. I explained, I begged, I showed them receipts for everything I bought him. It was useless. Then, he deliberately pushed a classmate at school. The little girl broke her leg. When her parents came to our door, he hid behind me, his eyes wide with tears, and whimpered, “My aunt wants me to get expelled so she can send me to an orphanage.” I emptied my savings to pay for the girl’s medical bills. I enrolled him in the most expensive after-school programs, bought him every toy he wanted. In return, his schemes only grew more elaborate. A month ago, in the principal’s office, Ethan sobbed his heart out, pointing a small finger at me. “Teacher, my aunt made me steal it! She said our family was starving and we had to steal something valuable!” The limited-edition fountain pen was worth three hundred dollars. I paid for it on the spot. Worse, I had to apologize in front of all the other parents, admitting to my “improper parenting.” The looks they gave me were the same as the reporters’ now—filled with disgust and contempt. And then, ten days ago, the neighbor’s cat fell from the sixth floor and died instantly. Ethan stood there, his eyes red and puffy, looking aggrieved. “It scratched me. I just gave it a little push. I didn’t think it would fall.” But I had seen the cat’s body. I saw the raw, pink flesh where patches of fur were missing, oozing blood. I saw the small, still-bleeding puncture wounds on its hind leg, clearly made by a small knife. I remember the look in that cat’s eyes before it died—pure terror. And Ethan, once he was back inside, didn’t shed a single tear. Thinking back now, it wasn’t an accident. He did it on purpose. I looked past the police tape to where Ethan was surrounded by reporters. His tears came on command, his trembling voice pitched with just the right amount of fear. “My aunt said I’m a murderer’s son and I don’t deserve to live! She said I’m a burden and she’s wanted to kill me for a long time!” Every word was a bullet, hitting its mark with deadly precision. Watching Ethan’s masterful performance for the cameras, the last shred of hope I had cherished was extinguished. I had naively believed that at seven, he was still just a child who didn’t know any better. That even if he did wrong, with enough guidance and love, I could set him on the right path. But now, watching him expertly manipulate public opinion, calculating every last detail, I finally understood—I could never teach him. 2 A police officer approached, his expression grim. “Ms. Evans, we need you to come with us for questioning. Your nephew, Ethan Thorne, has accused you of arson and attempted murder.” I looked at him and said, word for word, “I did not do it.” I was escorted by two female officers toward the charred remains of my bridal home. Strangers and neighbors pointed and whispered. “That’s the black-hearted woman! Lost all her conscience for money!” “Yeah, that’s her. She always seemed so quiet and gentle, who knew she was so vicious.” “Right, even tried to burn her own nephew to death, what a beast!” I tried to explain that I hadn’t killed anyone. That I had given all my love to care for my nephew. But no one around me believed a word. My legs started to feel weak, a buzzing filled my head. Just then, a familiar voice called out, “Scarlett! Scarlett Evans!” I turned to see my best friend, Kendra. She was desperately pushing through the crowd, trying to reach me. “Let me through! I need to see Scarlett!” Kendra finally broke through to me, her eyes filled with tears. “Scarlett, what on earth happened?!” “Ethan is not just your enemy’s child, he’s also your sister’s only son!” My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. Even Kendra doubted me. “I didn’t do it!” I screamed, my voice raw. Kendra took a step back, a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Scarlett, you need to calm down…” The female officer pulled me forward, and my mind started replaying the past. After my sister’s funeral, my brother-in-law’s parents knelt before me, a property deed and a bank card placed beside them. “Scarlett, sign this leniency plea, let your brother-in-law live, and all of this will be yours!” His mother wailed, heartbroken. “Your brother-in-law just made a mistake. If your sister knew, she wouldn’t want Ethan to lose his father and become an orphan!” I looked at the plea, my hands trembling. A house worth two million dollars, a bank card with half a million. Enough for Ethan to live comfortably for the rest of his life. But my sister, she was only 26, in the prime of her life. She never got to see Ethan grow up. In front of all our relatives, I tore the plea to shreds. “My sister’s life is not something a house can buy!” The relatives gasped. Someone started to reason with me, “Scarlett, you’re being too impulsive.” “Exactly, the dead can’t be brought back. What’s the point of doing this?” “You’re a single woman, raising a child is hard. With the money, at least your life would be secure.” I looked at them, my heart twisting in agony. My brother-in-law’s parents scrambled up from the floor, their eyes filled with venom. “Fine, Scarlett Evans. You want him dead? We’ll make you pay for the rest of your life!” At the time, I thought they were just angry words. I never imagined it was a declaration of their revenge. Even when my sister was alive, her husband had instilled in Ethan the idea that “money can solve everything.” Whatever Ethan wanted, his father bought. The most expensive toys, the finest clothes, the latest gadgets. My sister once worried, “If you keep spoiling him like this, he’ll be ruined.” Her husband was dismissive. “My son deserves the best.” Once, Ethan lied at school, claiming a teacher had hit him. When my sister found out the truth, she spanked him in anger. When her husband found out, he immediately held Ethan and yelled at my sister, “You dare touch my son!” My sister cried in frustration. “I was trying to teach him a lesson, he can’t get into the habit of lying.” “Teach him?” Her husband sneered. “You’re a Thorne. What right do you have to discipline a Chen family child?” That night, my sister cried in my arms for a long time. “Scarlett, am I really not a good mother?” I comforted her. “Sis, you did the right thing. Children need discipline.” Thinking back now, the seeds of Ethan’s evil were planted long ago. 3 I was taken to the scene, the air thick with the acrid smell of smoke. The bridal home was burned to a black skeleton, and my heart felt like it had been ripped apart. “Scarlett Evans, you venomous woman!” Ethan’s grandmother had arrived at some point, and the moment she saw me, she lunged, trying to claw at me, only to be held back by the police. She pointed at me, wailing to the onlookers and reporters, “First she killed my son, now she won’t even spare my only grandson!” Her eyes were vicious, as if she wanted to tear me to pieces. The crowd began to murmur, some taking pictures, others recording videos. “You really can’t judge a book by its cover.” Leo’s mother stood to the side, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Our family almost married a murderer.” Her words were a knife, plunging straight into my heart. This woman, who had once held my hand and said, “Scarlett, from now on, you’re my daughter,” now wished I would just disappear. My eyes started to burn, and I fought back tears. “Scarlett.” Leo finally walked over to me, his voice hoarse. “Tell me, why did you lock the door from the outside?” He used the word “why,” not “I believe you.” My heart plummeted. Even my fiancé didn’t believe me! “I didn’t lock the door!” I screamed. “Auntie said she had a surprise for me.” Ethan, hiding in his grandmother’s arms, pointed a small finger at me, his voice trembling. “After I went in, I heard a ‘click’ from outside. She locked me in!” His performance was flawless. The trembling voice, the perfectly pitched fear, even the “click” sound was mimicked with eerie accuracy. The crowd grew agitated. “The kid’s details are so specific, it must be true.” “Worse than an animal! People like her should get the death penalty.” My breathing quickened, and the world began to spin. “The investigation at the scene confirms the door was indeed locked from the outside.” A firefighter’s words shattered my last line of defense. Leo took a step back, a flicker of fear in his eyes. His mother immediately rushed forward, grabbing his arm. “Son, let’s go. Don’t get involved with a murderer.” “Wait!” I lunged, trying to grab Leo’s hand. But he stepped back, avoiding my touch. The man who once said, “Scarlett, I’ll protect you for the rest of my life,” was now looking at me like I was a monster. Tears streamed down my face. “Leo, you don’t believe me either?” “Scarlett, I…” Leo’s voice was full of pain and conflict. “Forget it.” I wiped away my tears, my voice strangely calm. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

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The blizzard had turned the world into a ghost, and I was shooting the breeze with my colleague over the walkie-talkie to kill time. Through the thick, swirling snow, I saw a figure by a car, waving at me. A resident, I figured. I was about to head over, ready to score some points for the property management. Then, my colleague’s voice crackled urgently from the radio. “Sam, don’t go!” “The main roads are all closed. Who’d be trying to drive in this?” “That’s a bear wave!” 1 I’d heard the stories. Some bears, especially near populated areas, had learned to mimic human gestures. A friendly wave. A distress signal. In weather like this, a well-meaning person would think someone needed help. By the time they got close enough to see the truth, it was too late. You were food. The local news had just reported a bear escaping a nearby wildlife park. Our community wasn’t far. If Al hadn’t warned me, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened. A cold dread washed over me. I asked Al what to do. His grandfather had been a hunter up in the mountains, and the old man’s warning echoed through the radio: Never turn your back on a predator. I took his advice, turning off my radio to avoid any sudden noise and beginning a slow, deliberate retreat. But even though I tried to act casual, the hazy figure in the distance began to wave its arm faster, more frantically. The arc of its swing grew wider, a blur of motion no human arm could make. Was it dropping the act? Then, suddenly, it stopped. I blinked, and it was gone. Vanished into the whiteout. I scanned the area, my heart hammering against my ribs as a cold sweat beaded on my forehead. A terrifying thought bloomed in my mind. The frantic waving wasn’t just a threat; it was a distraction. It knew that I knew. It was trying to confuse me, to find a new angle of attack, one that would put it out of my line of sight. The situation had changed. I switched my radio back on, my voice trembling as I updated Al. I didn’t even finish my sentence. “Run, Sam!” his voice screamed, so loud it was distorted. “Run now!” Al’s panicked warning sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through me. I spun around and sprinted, a blind, desperate flight toward the security booth. The whole way, I didn’t feel the thunder of pursuit, and a sliver of relief cut through my panic. I was just at the door, fumbling for the handle. Whoosh! A blast of wind tore past my ear. A set of claws, massive and black, swiped through the space where my head had been a second before. It had somehow gotten behind me. If I hadn’t ducked to unlock the door at that exact moment, my skull would have been crushed. The force of its missed swing was so powerful that the creature stumbled, its heavy body unable to pivot quickly. That was all the time I needed. I lunged inside, slammed the heavy-duty door shut, and twisted the deadbolt. Only then, with the crisis momentarily averted, did my body give out. I collapsed against the wall, my limbs turning to jelly. Outside, I could hear ragged, guttural panting, punctuated by thunderous blows against the door. The force was incredible; the entire booth trembled with each impact. That’s when I realized the horrifying truth. It hadn’t just chased me. It had climbed the perimeter wall, taking a shortcut to head me off. Was this thing really a bear? The pounding continued for several minutes. Eventually, it must have realized the reinforced steel door wasn’t giving way. Thank God I’d complained about the winter cold and had management upgrade the old wooden shack to this insulated, fortified booth. Slowly, the sounds outside faded. Only then did I dare to switch on my radio again. “Al? You there?” “Jesus, Sam! Finally! I thought you were a goner!” I assured him I was safe and quickly recounted what had happened. There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh. “Sam, listen to me,” Al said, his voice grim. “From now on, no matter who knocks, you do not open that door.” “What’s going on? What do you mean?” “That bear… I think it’s eaten someone. It’s… leveled up.” “Leveled up? What the hell does that mean?” Suddenly… Knock. Knock. Knock. A polite, human knock at the door. Over the radio, Al’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Don’t open it, Sam. For the love of God, don’t open it.” Then, his radio went silent. I hesitated, then crept toward the door. The security monitors were useless, just a screen of snowy static from the blizzard. The only way to see out was the peephole. I bent down, peered through the small glass lens, and my blood ran cold. Standing outside was a man, bleeding heavily. I could just make out that it was Mr. Henderson, the owner of the little convenience store next to the complex. He’d clearly been attacked. He was looking at me, his eyes pleading for help. My hand instinctively went to the deadbolt. But Al’s warning held me back. Mr. Henderson was weak, his body slumped forward, dripping blood onto the fresh snow. It was that slump, that small detail, that made my eyes widen in horror. Behind him, pressed against the side wall of the booth, I saw it. The bear. It craned its neck, peeking around the corner to watch me, then quickly retracted its head, disappearing from view. In that instant, I understood exactly what Al meant by “leveled up.” 2 Mr. Henderson was a good guy. He’d often slip me a free coffee or a sandwich during my long shifts. I crouched by the door, watching him through the peephole. My plan was simple: wait for the bear to move a little further away, then yank him inside. If I was fast enough, the bear wouldn’t have time to react. I watched for what felt like an eternity. The bear didn’t reappear. Had it left? My gut, now screaming with primal fear, told me to wait. To be sure. Still nothing. Even if it was still hiding around the corner, out of my direct line of sight, I might have a chance. The creature was massive, clumsy. It couldn’t be good at quick turns. After another minute of silent observation, I decided to risk it. Click. I took a deep breath and slowly, quietly, turned the deadbolt. My hand touched the doorknob. It was ice-cold. “Sam… please, hurry!” Mr. Henderson’s voice was a weak rasp from outside. Hope had renewed his urgency. Then, my heart skipped a beat. Through the peephole, I saw Mr. Henderson’s eyes flick instinctively to his right. Had the bear circled around? Was it waiting on the other side of the door? Thwack! I slammed the deadbolt back into place. At the exact same moment… BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A furious, inhuman pounding rattled the entire booth. This wasn’t a man’s strength. “Aaargh!” Mr. Henderson screamed, a sound of pure terror, before it was cut off by a wet, gurgling sob. Then came the sounds. Tearing. Cracking. Wet, slurping noises. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see, but my mind painted the gruesome picture for me. A moment later, Al’s voice came over the radio. He’d seen the whole thing on a different set of cameras from the main office. He tried to comfort me, telling me that Henderson knew the bear was there. He was using himself as bait to get me to open the door. He was selfish first. It wasn’t my fault. I knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the deep, gnawing fear that was consuming me. “Al… it’s leveled up, just like you said. I saw it.” My voice was shaky. “It can suppress its instinct to feed, use a human as a tool, learn how we open doors. It even anticipated what I was thinking, tried to trick me.” Al sighed heavily. “That’s why I told you not to open the door, man.” “I have to call Brenda,” I said, my sense of duty kicking back in. “She needs to warn all the residents.” Al was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Sam, you need to worry about yourself right now. You start helping the others, and it finds out? It’s not going to let you go.” Before tonight, I would have laughed that off. A bear understanding network communication? Logical cause and effect? But after what I’d just witnessed, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe it really had become something more. Al’s advice made a terrifying kind of sense. If I just stayed quiet, maybe it would lose interest and find another target. But I couldn’t do it. I’m no hero, but I get paid to do a job, even if the pay is crap. I couldn’t live with myself knowing the familiar faces I saw every day were being hunted. I knew it was probably out there, listening, lurking in some blind spot. But I made the call. I dialed Brenda, the property manager, and told her everything. She needed to send out an emergency alert to all the HOA group chats. I was only in one, and a warning from a security guard wouldn’t carry enough weight. I also called the police and reported the situation. After I hung up, I felt a small measure of relief. But before I could even catch my breath, Al’s voice crackled over the radio, telling me to check the group chat. One look at my phone, and the knot of fear in my stomach tightened again. In the Building 13 residents’ chat, a user named Finn from apartment 1201 had posted a photo. It was a panoramic shot of the entire complex, blanketed in a pristine layer of white snow. There was no sign of a bear. No sign of Mr. Henderson’s body. Nothing. Finn’s message read: “A bear? Seriously? Are you guys so desperate for attention you’re making up ‘bear attack’ stories now?” 3 I zoomed in on the photo, frantically scanning every pixel. There was nothing. Not a single track, not a drop of blood. This was impossible. If there was no bear, what had I just experienced? Did the bear drag the body away and cover its tracks? Was the photo photoshopped? I was furious. I typed back: “We are not joking about this. This is a serious threat, and everyone needs to take it seriously. Someone has already been killed. I saw it with my own eyes.” A few of the residents who trusted us chimed in, offering support. The news about the escaped bear had been public knowledge, after all. Better safe than sorry. But Finn from 1201 quickly replied, posting a link to a brand-new news article. The escaped bear from the wildlife park had been captured an hour ago, miles away from our complex. The report stated the bear had not harmed anyone. Finn’s next message was scathing: “Stop with the theatrics. If you people at property management want to feel relevant, try lowering our HOA fees and fixing the plumbing instead of making up drama.” His words opened the floodgates. Residents who already had a grudge against management seized the opportunity, piling on, dredging up old complaints. Even the supportive residents started to waver, asking me to post a photo as proof. Doubt began to creep into my own mind. Was it possible? Was it all a hallucination? I shook my head. No. I wouldn’t believe it. I decided to go out and get the proof myself. The tracks had to be there. Even if the bear dragged the body away, there would be blood under the fresh layer of snow. I pulled out my phone, ready to take a picture. But first, I checked the peephole one last time. Nothing but white, empty snow. Was I wrong? Was it the little bit of whiskey I’d snuck into my coffee earlier? It was just a splash, not enough to make me see things… was it? “Sam, don’t be a fool! Don’t open that door! There’s something wrong with 1201!” Al’s voice crackled through the radio, sharp and urgent. My hand froze, inches from the deadbolt. Click. Rattle. Click. I pressed my eye back to the peephole and a wave of ice-cold terror washed over me. The bear was there. Standing upright. And its thick, clumsy paw was no longer a paw. It had transformed. It was using its knuckles, like a human hand, to twist the doorknob. The shock was so profound, my voice trembled when I spoke into the radio. “Al… what’s wrong with 1201?” 4 I thought I was prepared for anything, but Al’s next words hit me like a physical blow. “The bear… Finn in 1201. He raised it.” Raised it? No wonder. No wonder its behavior was so unnatural. The way it moved, the way it thought. This was no ordinary zoo animal, used to being fed by tourists. Al’s words also made me think about the apartment number: 1201. Our buildings were old, only twelve stories high. But the top-floor units, the penthouses, came with a large attic space. Big enough to house a bear? It was possible. The thud of its heavy footsteps would be the hardest thing to hide, but from the twelfth floor, the residents on the eleventh might not hear a thing, especially with enough soundproofing. But why? I could understand keeping a cat, a dog, maybe even a fox. But a massive, dangerous predator? It was insane. And illegal. I voiced my confusion to Al. He said he didn’t know why, but he did know one thing: he was standing outside Finn’s apartment in Building 13 right now. He’d smelled that familiar, musky scent of a bear and it had led him straight there. He sent me a picture on my phone. It was taken from roughly the same angle as Finn’s, but in this one, you could clearly see a large brown bear lying in the snow right next to my security booth, waiting. The body had been dragged into the peephole’s blind spot on the right, and the bloodstains were deliberately covered with a fresh pile of snow. “I’m going to talk to him,” Al’s voice came over the radio. “Sam, you stay put. Don’t you dare open that door.” Al’s reaction seemed too fast, almost as if he’d known about 1201 all along. But I didn’t have time to question it. A moment later, the radio was silent, but my phone started buzzing with notifications from the group chat. Al was posting. He’d caught the person spreading misinformation, he said. It was Finn from 1201.

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In my ninth life, after Prince William killed me again, he summoned my soul with incense. He did it because I’d died for him eight times before—but this time, he wanted me to die wearing his beloved consort’s face. “Seraphina,” he murmured, “you can be reborn. It’s not true death. Haven’t you always wanted to go home? I promise, this is the last time. After this, we’ll return to the village and live together.” Tearful, I nodded. But later, as I waited for the face-swapping ritual, I overheard him speaking to a guard: “My lord, you promised the princess we’d return to her village—yet you had me slaughter everyone there. She cherishes that place. Is this wise?” William’s shadowed face was unreadable. “Those villagers refused Elara their beauty rituals. She killed them in anger, and I cleaned up the mess.” He sighed. “Seraphina lost a few relatives. I’ll make it up next life.” But, William, my love… this is my last life. For us, there is no next time. 1 “…While the villagers have been exterminated, the valley is filled with rare and valuable flora. It seems a waste to burn it all,” the guard said, still kneeling. The blood on his sword was still wet, dripping onto the stone floor and creating a crimson path that snaked to William’s feet. In this life, William was the Prince Regent, a man of immense power. He lounged in his carved throne-like chair, his dark hair cascading over his shoulders. His handsome, almost feminine eyes, usually so full of charm, were now pools of icy indifference. He toyed with my soul-incense, a small, carved stick that bound my spirit to the mortal plane, as if listening to a trivial report. He didn’t even look up. “The plants are unimportant. Every person in that village possessed a soul-incense.” His voice was smooth, detached. “As long as the incense exists, they can be reincarnated, generation after generation.” “Elara was concerned the face-swapping ritual would damage her skin. She’d heard of their legendary beauty rituals. But they not only refused her, they insulted her. In a fit of rage, she slaughtered them.” He finally looked at the guard. “But that clan can use their soul-incense to be reborn. They could seek revenge on Elara’s descendants. I cannot allow her future to be threatened.” The guard, still in his blood-soaked tunic, flinched. “But my lord, you promised the princess you would return to the village with her soon. When that time comes…” William smiled, a chilling, humorless expression. “There will be no ‘that time.’ In one month, Seraphina will die in Elara’s place. In the next life, I will simply tell her that after nine generations, her people have moved on, and the village can no longer be found. She trusts me completely. She will never doubt it. As long as you keep your mouth shut.” Eight lifetimes of power had honed William’s presence into something truly formidable. The guard prostrated himself, trembling. “My lord, you have my word. I will never breathe a word of this to the princess.” The next second, the mute assassin who shadowed William’s every move stepped forward. A flash of steel, and the guard’s tongue was sliced from his mouth. In all his lives, William had never trusted words. Only the silent could truly keep a secret. The brutality of it sent me stumbling backward. Before, even in the face of his enemies, William had never shown this side of himself to me. The man before me was a stranger, terrifying and cold. I fled back to my chambers, my body collapsing to the floor. After the initial shock, a wave of profound, bottomless despair washed over me. I had been on my way to ask for my soul-incense back. My people’s soul-incense was a finite legacy. When one of us died, our descendant inherited our stick. If a soul-incense was destroyed, not only would that soul be annihilated, but their entire bloodline—over a hundred people—would be barred from the cycle of reincarnation. This was my last life. My ninth and final turn. I had wanted to send my soul-incense back to my village, to at least preserve my family line. But the secret I had so trustingly shared with William in our first life had become the very tool of my people’s extinction. In our first life, William was a Crown Prince. On a quest for a mythical artifact, he had stumbled upon my hidden village and found me, a girl who had never seen the outside world. He became Emperor, and I, his most cherished consort. For ten years, he built me palaces, hosted lavish banquets in my honor, and laid the world’s treasures at my feet. He would wake in the night, clinging to me, weeping that it was all a dream. But empires fall. Barbarians invaded, and our kingdom crumbled. William fled with me from the capital, a desperate retreat across the country. Finally, cornered, his generals delivered an ultimatum. “The people whisper that a sorceress has bewitched the Emperor, cursing the kingdom. Your Majesty, if you do not execute the sorceress and give the army justice, morale will break. We will never reclaim our home.” The courtyard outside my chambers was filled with kneeling courtiers and commanders. William locked me in my room, his body trembling with rage. “Fools! The barbarian threat has existed since my father’s time! It has nothing to do with you! They lose their own battles, and they want a woman to take the blame? Unacceptable!” He threw the dagger they had given him to the floor, his face streaked with tears. I gently picked it up, pressing it back into his hand along with my soul-incense. “William,” I whispered, “I am of the old blood. I can be reborn with my memories intact. Take this. In the next life, it will help you remember me, and find me again.” And so, in my first life, to save his kingdom, I guided his hand and plunged the blade into my own heart. In my second life, I shielded him on the battlefield, taking a thousand arrows meant for him. In my third life, when he summoned me back, he had a wife. Her name, he said, was Elara, his childhood sweetheart, a marriage arranged by their parents. He claimed there was no love between them, but he could not simply cast her aside. I believed him. Later, when rebels stormed the city, they tied both Elara and me to the city walls. “General William,” the rebel leader had shouted, “choose one. Your wife, or your mistress.” For the first time, William hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, Elara cut her own ropes and leaped from the wall to her death. After that, William changed. In our fourth life, he found me first, but still spent years frantically searching for Elara’s reincarnation. “Seraphina, I failed her in our last life,” he’d explained. “I just want to make it up to her. Our time together will be long.” I dismissed it as a lingering obsession, a need for closure. In our fifth life, we were married, but he rescued Elara from a life of destitution and brought her into our home. “It’s my fault she suffered,” he’d insisted, ignoring my tears. He made her his second wife, of equal rank to me, and let the entire city laugh at my humiliation. So it went, life after life, until our eighth. He was an Emperor again. He gave Elara a child. It broke my heart, but I said nothing. He had given me the title of Empress, and every honor, yet he spent every night in Elara’s palace. I remained silent, until the day he stripped me of my title and threw me in the dungeon. “Seraphina,” he’d said, his voice cold, “I never knew you were so jealous. I only wanted to give her a child to lean on, before we retired to the countryside together. I never imagined you would be so cruel as to harm it.” “I can’t let you harm anyone else.” Elara had lost the child. And he blamed me, the Empress who never even left her own palace wing. Before I could even defend myself, he sentenced me to death by a thousand cuts, three hundred agonizing slices to make me remember my “crime.” Each time I fainted from the pain, his physicians would revive me with ginseng, keeping me alive for the next cut. When it was over, he came to my broken, hollowed-out body, his sword drawn. “Don’t blame me, Seraphina. Wait for me in the next life.” The sword pierced my heart, ending the torment. I awoke in my ninth life. In this life, William had clawed his way from obscurity to become the Prince Regent, all to secure a comfortable life for Elara in the palace. But Elara, emboldened by his power, had become a tyrant, her cruelty and recklessness infamous. Now, a rebellion was rising, their banner proclaiming the need to “cleanse the court and remove the demon consort.” Elara had to die. And William wanted me to die for her. He had promised the last time was the final time. The memories were a physical pain. My first instinct was to run, to at least save the last hope of my people and give my ancestors a proper burial. But I knew that as long as William held my soul-incense, I couldn’t even leave the palace walls. If I couldn’t escape, then at least I could choose how I died. I would not die for the woman who had destroyed my entire race. My gaze fell on the Whisperbloom flowers in the courtyard, a plant I had brought from my village. The blossoms were poisonous, a powerful paralytic. Eaten in large enough quantities, they caused a painless death in one’s sleep. Compared to the agonies of my past eight deaths, it sounded like a mercy. Without hesitation, I stuffed a handful of the blossoms into my mouth. The paralysis was immediate. I tumbled from my chair, my body hitting the ground, my consciousness fading. But then, frantic footsteps from the courtyard. “Seraphina!” William swept me into his arms, his voice raw as he called my name. Through the haze, I thought I saw a flicker of the old panic in his eyes, the helplessness, the fear. I tried to smile. But his face hardened with anger. “You want to die? Seraphina, your life is mine! How dare you try to take it without my permission?” He summoned the royal physicians, forced me to vomit up every last petal, and then ordered the courtyard stripped of every single Whisperbloom. When I was finally coherent, he stood over me, his eyes filled with a deep, chilling disappointment. “You were never like this before, Seraphina. Are you so consumed with jealousy that you would kill yourself, just to force Elara to her death? When did you become so vicious?” He gripped my face, forcing me down into the bedding. With the entire household of servants just outside, he ripped my clothes. “Is it because I gave Elara a child? Is that what this is about? Fine. I’ll satisfy you. Will that be enough?” I saw the shadows of the servants moving behind the screen, and I burned with shame. But the residual poison had left me too weak to even push him away. The gentle lover of my memories was gone. The bed frame creaked violently, and I saw the servants outside freeze, listening. Two tears traced a path from the corners of my eyes. When he was finished, he looked at my tear-streaked face, paused for a fraction of a second, and then simply covered me with the blanket. “You will stay here and recover. Banish these thoughts of suicide from your mind. I have already announced that you are gravely ill. You will remain in this courtyard and entertain no other foolish ideas.” 2 William placed me under house arrest. Guards patrolled the perimeter day and night. Anything I could possibly use to harm myself was removed. I sat on a bare stone bench in the courtyard, the sun beating down on me, but I felt no warmth. A maidservant, her expression blank, draped a cloak over my shoulders and handed me a hand-warmer. “My lady,” she said, her voice monotone, “it is time for your meal.” After my suicide attempt, my stomach was ruined. Every bite of food was agony, causing me to break out in a cold sweat. But William ordered the servants to watch me, to force me to eat every last morsel prepared by the kitchen. “You’re too thin, Seraphina,” he would say. “You don’t look enough like Elara. Don’t be difficult. Eat more. It’s the only way the disguise will be convincing.” So I became a machine, letting them stuff food into my mouth, swallowing it down, enduring the fire that would burn in my gut until the early hours of the morning. Until one day, the moment the food was placed before me, a wave of nausea hit, and I threw up. The maidservant, thinking I had taken poison again, immediately called for the physician. The physician announced that I was pregnant. One month along. I did the math. It was from the day he had confined me. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. A flicker of life in the barren desert of my heart. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The last drop of my people’s blood was right here, inside me. But then, uncertainty. If William knew I was pregnant, would he spare me? Would he let me preserve this last hope? After the physician left, I expected William to come. I waited for three days. He never appeared. A servant whispered that he had left the city in search of some rare treasure. I assumed Elara had heard of some new trinket she desired. It was always the way. She wanted, and William provided. But on the morning of the fourth day, a maidservant rushed into my room. “My lady! The Prince Regent has returned with a magnificent night-glowing pearl! He says it is for your birthday! Quickly, let me help you dress!” Her words jolted me. Today was my birthday. A lifetime of rebirths had blurred the passage of time. I had forgotten. But William had remembered. I touched my stomach, a sliver of hope blooming in my chest. He must care for this child. That’s why he had gone to find my favorite gem, the night-glowing pearl, for my birthday. He stood before me, placing the impossibly large, luminous pearl in my hands. He took my hand, his touch gentle. “Seraphina. Do you like it?” I was about to speak when his tone shifted. “I thought you would like this. A final gift, to send you off happily.” I stared at him, confused. He stood up, and Elara walked in from the doorway. “The rebel army is at the city gates,” she said, her voice impatient. “They’re screaming for my death. William, hurry up.”

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I run a pet clinic and often treat stray animals. After stumbling upon a mysterious online forum, I discovered they revere me as their “Godmother.” Scar_the_Ranger: [The Godmother’s getting off work. Who’s on escort duty?] The_Bitty_Brawler: [Pausing my sparring match. I’ll go.] Ambassador_of_Good_Taste: [Treasure hunt canceled. I’ll go.] Mount_Mochi: [Date postponed. I’ll go.] Cheeseburger: [Mouse hunt called off. I’ll go.] I looked out the door at the neat rows of cats and dogs, all standing at attention. No wonder my walk home at night was never lonely. 1 I own a small veterinary clinic called “The Healing Paw.” Most days, the paws I heal belong to cats and dogs. When work is slow, I also treat the stray cats and dogs in the neighborhood. Of course, my services aren’t exactly free. The animals I treat often pay a terrible price. Neutering. You’d think that after “the snip,” the cats and dogs would be psychologically scarred by my clinic and grow to despise me. But surprisingly, the number of new faces only increased, while the old ones became regulars. Lately, even perfectly healthy cats and dogs have been loitering around the clinic. Some have even been tailing me, their movements furtive and suspicious. I suspected they were forming a gang to case the joint, planning some kind of massive revenge plot. But when I looked closer, their big, clear eyes held no trace of malice. Their strange behavior was utterly baffling. 2 During dinner, I noticed a strange new app on my phone. The name was a string of gibberish, and the icon was a single paw print. It looked suspiciously like some kind of scam software. But my anti-fraud app didn’t raise any alarms. Curiosity and fear wrestled in my mind, but curiosity won out. What could a scammer possibly want from a broke, single vet? With that reassuring thought, I tapped the app open and discovered it was an online forum. The posts were bizarre: • Attention! Poisoned bait at Lakeside Park! Everyone be on high alert! • Successfully snuck into the university. From now on, I’m a top cat. • Day 67 of my journey to quit eating poop. These didn’t seem like they were written by people. Not even by an AI trying to act like a person. Based on the keywords, the posts seemed more like they were written by… cats and dogs. I kept scrolling, trying to confirm my theory. • The cat I hate most just got adopted by a human. I’m so jealous I could scream. • WHO THE HELL PEED ON MY TURF AGAIN? DON’T LET ME CATCH YOU! • A Guide to Gourmet Poop. Yep. The users of this forum were definitely cats and dogs. No human could possibly write a post as bizarre as “A Guide to Gourmet Poop.” Considering I was still eating, I avoided that one and refreshed the forum. A new post from an administrator had just appeared: • Sign-ups for Today’s Joint Cat-and-Dog Protection Squad Scar_the_Ranger: [The Godmother’s getting off work. Who’s on escort duty?] The_Bitty_Brawler: [Pausing my sparring match. I’ll go.] Ambassador_of_Good_Taste: [Treasure hunt canceled. I’ll go.] Mount_Mochi: [Date postponed. I’ll go.] Cheeseburger: [Mouse hunt called off. I’ll go.] A little while after dinner, I glanced outside. Cats and dogs stood in neat, orderly rows. Organized. Disciplined. Each one held its head high, its expression deadly serious. The more serious they looked, the more adorable they were. A thought crossed my mind. Could this be… the protection squad? 3 My apartment is close to the clinic, just a seven-minute walk. On my way home, the cats and dogs escorting me were highly trained, flanking me on all sides at a respectful distance. Perhaps because I had joined their secret forum, I could now magically understand their chatter. “Daisy, you mutt, slow down up there! The Godmother is tired after work; she can’t walk that fast.” The mixed-breed dog in front of me visibly slowed her pace. “But don’t get too close, either. It looks too obvious.” Daisy let out a low growl. “Ginger, what is your problem? Always got something to say about me!” A fight was about to break out, but the other members quickly intervened. “Alright, alright, the mission comes first! Street rules: in front of the Godmother, we keep the peace!” Two simultaneous huffs. “Fine. For the Godmother’s sake, I’ll let it slide!” It sounded like these were street cats and street dogs. They had their own world, their own feuds and dramas. I used to think they were just hungry and looking for a handout. Today, I learned they were on a mission to protect me. And I, somehow, had become their “Godmother.” 4 I, a notorious early bird, stayed up half the night. The forum was just too fascinating. The posts were a wild mix of everything: planned rumbles, turf wars, torrid love scandals… Each one was more hilarious and explosive than the last. For example, two packs of dogs traveled miles to fight, only to discover they had friends in the opposing crew. After some negotiation, they called a truce and traveled all the way back home, their limbs aching despite not having thrown a single punch. Then there was the group of tomcats who fought tooth and nail for the affection of a beautiful calico, only to find out the calico was also a tom. As I scrolled further back, I saw my own title mentioned multiple times. • Aroo? Anyone ever made a deal with the Woman in White? Is she legit? OP: [Heard there’s a woman in a white coat in the house on the corner. They say she can snatch you from the jaws of death. All you have to do is give up your… little swimmers… and you’ll be safe for life. Is it true?] Reply 1: [Totally true, my dude! Her skills are top-notch, you can trust her. The word on the street is golden.] Reply 2: [Show some respect, you punk. She’s not just some ‘woman in white,’ she’s a goddess in white!] Reply 3: [Goddess? What’re you, a house pet? Obviously not from the streets. We call her the Godmother!] Reply 4: [Hey, it’s just giving up your baby-makers! For us strays, who can afford to raise kids anyway? Your life is more important!] Reply 5: [After you make the deal, the Godmother even lets you stay for a while and gives you a mother’s care. It’s so warm. My only regret is that I can’t grow another pair to give her!] There were more and more posts like this. It turned out that in their eyes, ordinary me was something magnificent, practically a deity. The flood of praise was overwhelming. I drifted off to sleep feeling giddy and light-headed. In my dream, a horde of cats and dogs bowed to me dramatically, their paws clasped together. “In the city’s neon glow, where a stray will stand or fall, the Godmother’s got our back, she protects us all!” 5 Damn it. I slept through my alarm. When I opened my eyes again, it was almost noon. I shot out of bed and rushed to the clinic. What if a stray had gotten hurt while I was gone? I would be letting down the entire stray community! Yesterday’s forum binge and that surreal dream had filled me with a sense of sacred duty. I was their Godmother, after all. As I left my building, I saw a few cats and dogs peering around corners, their heads popping in and out of view. When they saw me, their eyes lit up. “The Godmother is out! Tell everyone not to worry.” “Beginning escort mission to the Godmother’s workplace. Mission will be completed.” So, all morning while I was gone, the entire stray population had been worried sick about me. A warm feeling spread through my chest. I quickened my pace towards the clinic. I hadn’t gone far when I saw a familiar figure. It was one of my regulars, the owner of a cat named Little Meow. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face etched with anxiety as she clutched a thick stack of flyers. When she saw me, her voice choked. “Dr. Lynn, have you seen my Little Meow? “He was gone when I woke up. “I’ve been looking all morning. I think… I think he’s ‘abandoned’ me.” The flyer showed a picture of her grey tabby. I remembered this cat vividly. He wore a little ID tag—clearly a house cat—but he often snuck out to play with the strays. He was an incredibly smart and perceptive cat. How could he have suddenly disappeared? I patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Little Meow is a smart boy. I’m sure he’ll be home before you know it.” I also shared her “Missing Cat” flyer on my social media. Then, an idea struck me. The cat-and-dog forum. Maybe I could post a request for help there? 6 • Has anyone seen Little Meow? His mom is looking for him! I attached the “Missing Cat” flyer to the post. Replies flooded in almost immediately: [Pfft, who would name their cat something so cute? (This is pure malice.)] [Shame, shame, so big and still needs his mommy to find him, hahahaha sob sob sob, I’m not jealous at all!] [Hey, isn’t that Scar? So his real name is Little Meow. What a contrast.] [SHOCKING! The fearsome forum admin Scar is actually named Little Meow.] [Cat-finding services, now taking orders. DM for details.] [Wait a minute… why is the OP’s identity verified as… human?] [OH MY GOD, A HUMAN IS HERE!] The replies poured in, the post’s popularity skyrocketed, and the forum descended into chaos. Amidst a flood of private messages questioning my identity and motives, one stood out: [Delete the post!] The sender was Scar_the_Ranger. Or, as I now knew him, Little Meow. After obediently deleting the post, I asked Scar—no, Little Meow—when he was coming home. Scar_the_Ranger: [I am getting my mom a new home.] So cool and commanding. I had a feeling he wasn’t the type to cuddle with his mom. I didn’t question him. I suppose I figured that a cat who could be a forum administrator must have some kind of superpower. Though I didn’t get a clear answer, at least I knew Little Meow was safe. I sent a few more reassuring messages to his owner and prepared to open the clinic for the day. I had no idea the forum had already imploded. Users were demanding to know how a human had managed to infiltrate their ranks. Scar, the admin, racked his brain. “My master said… except for the one who saved his life…” Then it hit him. “The one who saved his life is the Godmother!” He quickly made a new post, informing the entire forum: Everyone, don’t panic! It’s the Godmother! I don’t know who started it, but soon the replies were all the same: [In the city’s neon glow, where a stray will stand or fall, the Godmother’s got our back, she protects us all!] 7 The next time I opened the forum, my screen was filled with posts welcoming and professing their love for me: • This is great! It’s the Godmother! We’re saved! • All hail the Godmother! Long live the Godmother! • Godmother, we will follow you forever! • A divine doctor with sacred hands, curing cats and saving canines! The enthusiasm was overwhelming. Little Meow suggested I make a new post to say hello and share my thoughts. After some careful consideration, I earnestly typed out a title: All Un-neutered Animals, Report to Me Immediately. It was, truly, what was on my mind. I wanted to complete the TNR (Trap-Neuter-Return) for every cat and dog in this area. To use limited neutering to stop unlimited culling. My call to action received a massive response: [Playtime is playtime, but don’t joke about the Godmother’s orders.] [Getting fixed is the law. If you don’t wanna, we’ll make you!] [First the snip, then the pledge, then you’re one of us for life.] Not long after I posted, cats and dogs started showing up. Some came willingly; others were escorted by their peers. The turnout was unprecedented. There were too many of them to perform all the surgeries at once. I categorized them by species, gender, age, and weight, assigning each a number for batch surgeries. “Everyone, remember your number. I’ll post on the forum each day to let you know whose turn it is.” “If anyone can’t make it—” Before I could finish, a chorus of voices interrupted me. “Godmother, no matter what, I’ll be here, rain or shine!” “Me too!” “Don’t worry, Godmother, we’ll help you! Whoever’s turn it is, we’ll go get ’em. They’ll come whether they want to or not!” “Yeah! We’ll beat up anyone who doesn’t show!” I rubbed my temples, a headache brewing from the noise. I raised a finger to my lips. “Quiet now.” The entire room fell silent. Cats and dogs sat obediently, some even holding their breath. “Before you come to the clinic, no food for eight hours and no water for four hours. Remember to prepare yourselves.” After explaining the pre-op instructions, I casually told them to go home. They all suddenly looked crestfallen, murmuring in unison, “But Godmother… we don’t have homes.” A tiny voice, barely a whisper, added, “I never had a home.” Many of the younger ones nodded in agreement. “Me neither.” “Me neither.” They were the second and third generations of strays. I seized the moment to explain the purpose of neutering. “That’s why we do this. To end the cycle of new generations being born on the streets.” They nodded, a flicker of understanding in their eyes. Even the ones who had been resistant to the idea seemed to relax their tense expressions. Another quiet voice added, “I used to have a home, but…” You see, every stray cat and dog cherishes the memory of their former sanctuary. They cling to that warmth, using it as fuel to survive. All I could do was sigh. “It’s okay. You will go home again. And you will have homes.” The city is a jungle of concrete and steel, not a place for wild cats and dogs to thrive. The stray population originates from human abandonment. Some foolish people, thinking they are granting freedom, only commit a new kind of cruelty. For a pet, being a stray isn’t freedom. It’s danger and despair. Watching their retreating figures, a crazy idea began to form in my mind. I would do everything in my power to find them all a home. 8 I asked Little Meow for a detailed file on every user in the forum. The more detailed, the better. Photos, names, genders, ages, hobbies, life stories… Using this information, I first filtered out the pets that had gotten lost by accident. I posted their profiles on every social media platform I could find. I reposted them periodically. Over and over, my persistence finally gained traction. Many kind-hearted people started sharing the posts. Some even learned about my crazy idea and offered financial support. I thanked them with all my heart. The news spread like wildfire. Some owners saw the profiles and contacted me, stunned, to verify the information, realizing it was their long-lost pet. Once the information was confirmed, they could take their furry family members home. The owner of a small, champagne-colored poodle had moved out of the city last year. Upon learning her dog was still alive, she drove for hundreds of miles, crossing several cities, just to bring him home. When she saw her poodle, she burst into tears. “Bubbles, Mommy thought I’d never see you again!” Bubbles, the poodle, stared back with wide, disbelieving eyes. He crept closer to his owner and sniffed her pant leg. “Oh my gosh, it really is Mommy…” Reunited at last, the owner held him tightly, too choked with emotion to speak. Before they left, she bowed low, thanking me over and over. Bubbles copied his mom, nodding his little head repeatedly. “Thank you, Godmother.” He finished with a final wave of his paw. Most of the truly lost pets were eventually reunited with their owners. The ones left behind… maybe their owners hadn’t seen the posts yet. Or maybe, they weren’t lost by accident at all. They were abandoned. I messaged each of the remaining cats and dogs privately, asking if they wanted me to find them a new owner. After a long, long pause, each one replied with a single word: [Okay]. All except for a Maltese named Sweetie. [Godmother, I have to wait for my mommy. She loves me very much. She probably just hasn’t seen my profile yet. [I was the most expensive puppy in my litter. When Mommy saw me, she brought me home without a second thought. [She told me I was her most precious baby, and that she would definitely come back for me. [I believe her.] I respected her choice. To have such unwavering faith, her mother must have loved her very, very much to give her that kind of confidence.

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At the Harvest Banquet, my sister drank a drugged wine, and I was made to be her cure. Afterward, our mother revealed we shared no blood and insisted I marry her. But my sister, Seraphina, believed this decree of fate had ruined her life. In a drunken rage, she tried to end her own life with a sword. I lost the use of my hands saving her. Finally, her eyes red with tears, she agreed to the marriage. But once we were wed, she locked me away, forcing me to work as the lowest stable hand. She watched as my ruined hands were followed by crippled legs. After she had my last rib broken, the physician declared I was on death’s door. So she gouged out my eyes and had me thrown into a mass grave, left for the wild beasts. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she was drugged. This time, Seraphina, I will let you have your love. 1 A hot, wet kiss landed on my ear, and my eyes flew open. I was met with the sight of my sister, Seraphina, her clothes in disarray, her face flushed from the drug coursing through her veins. Her eyes were glazed over with a feverish haze, on the verge of losing all reason. “Cedric, I’m so hot…” A burning hand slid to my waist, and it was then I realized: I had been reborn to the day she was poisoned. All the tragedies of my past life began on this very day. At the Harvest Banquet, someone had drugged her. By a cruel twist of fate, I was the one who walked into her chamber. One night of passion led to a lifetime of torment, my legs broken, my dignity shattered as I was treated like an animal. I shoved her away, hard. The jolt of pain seemed to bring a sliver of clarity back to her. Her gaze dropped to my own disheveled collar, and her eyes filled with an unspeakable contempt. “Cedric Valerius, do not think for a moment that by disgracing me this way, you can win my affection!” she spat. “My heart belongs to Tristan, and Tristan alone!” A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart. I pushed her away again, fighting the sickening heat rising in my own body. “I’ll go get Tristan now.” A flicker of surprise crossed Seraphina’s face, replaced by a sharp, scrutinizing stare. “You’d really be so kind?” I simply grunted in affirmation and pushed the door open. It took less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea to return with Tristan. He saw Seraphina on the bed, her face flushed and beautiful, and his eyes immediately reddened with theatrical tears. “Cedric… I know you love her, but how could you do this? She is your sister!” I ignored his deliberate, poisonous words. “She needs you right now. Once you are bound as husband and wife, Mother will no longer stand in your way. Go to her. She’s about to lose control.” In my past life, while Seraphina still had a shred of sanity, she had bitten her own tongue until it bled and broken several of her own fingers trying to resist the drug’s pull. In the end, she still succumbed. But now Tristan was here. She wouldn’t have to endure that agony again. Soon, I heard my sister’s shy gasp from within the room, followed by the sound of fabric tearing. Tristan’s low, guttural moan was audible even through the door. “Seraphina, I love you, I truly love you…” I had heard those same impassioned sounds countless times in our past life, but her eyes had only ever held hatred for me. When had there ever been love? I took a deep, shuddering breath. The stone in my chest finally settled. In this life, the twisted fate between Seraphina and me would not continue. Tristan was once a stable hand I’d rescued from the hunting grounds. I had treated him like a brother. But he had repaid my kindness by destroying the entire field of poppies Seraphina had planted for me. Only Tristan knew what those flowers meant to me, and only he knew of my secret, forbidden affections for my sister. When I confronted him, he’d cried, sliced open his own palm, and knelt at my door, begging for his life. Seraphina had stumbled upon this scene. Her heart moved with pity, she took him in as her personal attendant. From that day on, Tristan repeatedly played the victim, feigning weakness and sorrow in front of her, turning her against me with each passing day. I tried to tell her what he’d done, but she had only raged at me. “A privileged lord like you could never understand the helplessness and pain Tristan has endured.” Remembering the defiant glint in Tristan’s eyes, I finally understood. It had all been his design. For a lowly servant to marry into the noble House of Valerius, this was his only path. In my last life, I had ruined his plan. This time, I would watch my sister walk right into his trap. The poison in my own veins began to burn. The other reason I hadn’t been able to refuse Seraphina in my past life was because I, too, had drunk the drugged wine, my reason stripped away. While I still had some control, I pushed open the door to a nearby chamber, not noticing the woman already inside. Before she could speak, my arms were around her waist. Her skin was cool against mine, and I pressed myself against her, desperate for relief. The woman stiffened, seeming to frown as she tried to push me away. “Help me…” I pleaded. As I fumbled with my belt, I vaguely heard her speak my name. “Cedric Valerius, this is of your own free will.” So noisy. I closed my eyes and silenced her with a kiss. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Since you’re the one who came to me, you’d better not regret it.” The next moment, I was pushed onto the bed, and a storm of kisses descended upon me. After the feverish night, I found myself drifting back to a memory of my past life. It was the Lantern Festival. Seraphina had taken me to release lanterns on the river, and I had slipped and fallen in. She had dived in after me without a thought for her fine clothes, pulling me from the freezing water. When I brought her home, I saw a gash on her arm so deep I could see the bone. My face was a mask of fury as I cleaned the wound, but she just smiled and said that protecting me was her honor. At that moment, I was lost in the sweet, swelling affection in my heart, completely blind to the jealousy and venom hiding in Tristan’s eyes. I don’t know how I got back to my chambers. When I woke, I was already in my bed. Looking around at the familiar furnishings, a bitter laugh escaped me. Everything in this room was arranged according to Seraphina’s tastes. For more than a decade, she had been my world, and I had spent every ounce of my being trying to please her. I tried to sit up, but my body ached with an unbearable soreness. The memory of yesterday’s reckless abandon brought a flush to my cheeks. Just then, the door opened. It was Seraphina, carrying a bowl of medicinal soup. “You had a high fever yesterday. Mother asked me to bring you this.” She reached out to touch my forehead, but instead of leaning into her touch as I always had, I recoiled, my face cold. Her expression instantly soured. She slammed the bowl down on the table. “I come to check on you, casting aside my grievances, and this is how you act?” Yes. In my past life, a single glance from her was a gift I should have been eternally grateful for. But this time, I didn’t want it. “Is this some new game of yours? Playing hard to get?” Seraphina sneered, assuming this was just another ploy for her attention. She grabbed my wrist, her voice sharp. “Cedric, get rid of these filthy thoughts you have for me! And stop these disgraceful schemes.” She paused, then threw a small packet of powder at my feet. “What happened yesterday concerns Tristan’s honor. You will keep your mouth shut. And also…” Honor? In my past life, after I had been her cure, she had broadcast the affair to the entire capital. Everyone in Cynebury knew I was a shameless deviant who had forced himself on his own sister. No one would associate with me again. Mother had fallen ill from the shame. I had wept and begged her, but she’d simply said I had brought it all upon myself. So she did understand the power of gossip. She knew the sting of rumors. She just didn’t love me. “Seraphina, believe it or not, what happened yesterday had nothing to do with me. It was—” She cut me off with a cold laugh. “Who else would do something so disgusting?” “Whether you like it or not, I am going to marry Tristan.” Meeting her scornful gaze, I bit my lip until I could taste blood. “Seraphina, I stopped loving you long ago!” She snorted, knocked over the medicine bowl, and stormed out. I got up and began to pack away everything Seraphina had ever given me. The room was instantly bare, but for the first time, I felt a sense of peace. So this was what it felt like to let her go. It wasn’t so hard after all. After that day, I moved to our family’s country estate, avoiding Seraphina completely. Even at the inescapable banquets in the capital, I would find a seat as far from her as possible. Mother visited me several times, telling me that Seraphina thought I was deliberately avoiding her. I didn’t know how to explain, so I just silently accepted the accusation. One day, Mother summoned me back to the main house for dinner. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Seraphina and Tristan in the side hall. Mother was seated at the head of the table, her face a thundercloud. Tristan looked as if he had been crying. Upon seeing me, he immediately stood. “My lord, let me get you some soup…” Seraphina yanked him back down, her voice laced with a gentle indulgence I had never heard before. “He has hands, doesn’t he? Why are you serving him?” Tristan answered meekly, “It is my duty. I am used to it.” Seraphina’s face darkened, and she snapped at a nearby servant for being blind. Before she could say more, Mother threw her spoon down. “Is it not a servant’s duty to serve his master?” Seraphina bristled. “He is my man—” “As long as I draw breath, he will never marry into this house!” At this, Tristan’s eyes welled with tears. “Seraphina, I can do it. Please, don’t anger the Matron on my account.” Mother, furious, swept out of the room. Seraphina turned a cold glare on me. “What nonsense have you been feeding Mother now? She comes back and immediately starts attacking Tristan!” I presumed Mother, thinking Tristan was the reason I was hiding from Seraphina, had reprimanded him. Before I could explain, Seraphina took Tristan’s arm and left, not sparing me a single glance. A few days later was Mother’s birthday banquet. The entire estate was decked in lanterns and silks, buzzing with festivity. Seraphina moved through the crowd with effortless grace. I, however, felt suffocated. I slipped away to the small garden for some air, only to see Tristan fawning over a woman. “Your Grace, look how beautifully the lotuses bloom,” he cooed. “I also have some sweet cream pastries I made myself. Would you care to try one?” He smiled charmingly, his body subtly brushing against hers. The woman looked familiar, though I couldn’t place her. A passing maid informed me she was Lady Isolde, the only daughter of the Duke of Ashford, the most powerful man in the kingdom. It was rumored she was cold and merciless, unwilling to marry. Even though my feelings for Seraphina were gone, she was still my sister. The honor of House Valerius could not be trampled by the likes of Tristan. I strode forward. “As an attendant, shouldn’t you be with my sister instead of serving someone else here?” A flash of embarrassment crossed Tristan’s face. Knowing he was in the wrong, he quickly put down the pastries. As he turned to leave, his eyes shot me a look of pure venom. With him gone, I was about to return to the banquet when a hand caught my arm. The woman’s face was suddenly very close to mine. This time, I saw it clearly: the small, crimson mole on the bridge of her nose. My face burned. She, however, seemed to expect it, a light, knowing smile on her lips. “What’s the matter? Last time, weren’t you begging me to save you?” Her familiar, exotic perfume filled the air, and the memory of that wild night flooded my mind. I stumbled back a step. “Lord Cedric, are you thinking of—” Before she could finish, a sharp cry came from behind me. Seraphina rushed forward and pulled me behind her, her eyes blazing. “Cedric! Alone with a woman! Have you no sense of propriety?” This was absurd. I shook her hand off, my face a cold mask. This only seemed to infuriate her more. “Do you think you can grab my attention with these cheap tricks? That I would actually care?” Her righteous indignation was so baffling I could only offer a weary explanation. “I wasn’t.” Seraphina let out a derisive snort, her eyes full of mockery. “Are you going to tell me you don’t love me? That you don’t crave my attention?” To be humiliated like this, in front of Lady Isolde, my face felt like it was on fire. “I followed Tristan here. He was with an—” But Seraphina would never believe me. She cut me off with a frown. “Enough, Cedric! I know you love me, but that’s no reason to push the blame onto Tristan!” “If he hadn’t told me, I would have never known how shameless you truly are!” Her words choked off anything else I might have said. A bitter sting filled my nose. “Sister,” I said, my voice flat. It had been a long time since she had heard me use that formal title. She froze. I continued, enunciating each word. “I will never love you again.” “I will take a wife, and you and I will be nothing to each other.” After the disaster at the birthday banquet, I agreed to a marriage alliance Mother had proposed long ago. The bride was to be Lady Isolde. Mother studied me for a long moment before sighing and promising she would try. To her surprise, when she arrived at the Duke of Ashford’s estate, before she could even state her purpose, the Duchess herself proposed the match. They had already prepared the dowry, waiting only for my consent. I had chosen Isolde not only because she was the woman from that feverish night, but because of something else. In my past life, as I lay dying in the mass grave, wrapped in a straw mat, she had come for me in the pouring rain. On that cold, wet night, she had held my broken body, her voice choked with sobs. “I’m too late. I’m too late.” Once the engagement was set, Isolde began to visit me often. We went boating on the lake, listened to minstrels in the city, and walked through snow-covered woods to find winter blossoms. One day, she presented me with a sprig of vibrant red wintersweet, her smile as radiant as jade. “Lord Cedric, the plum blossoms in the countryside are in full bloom. Won’t you come see them with me?” I put down my book and snuck out of the estate with her. From a distance, Tristan saw us and pointed us out to Seraphina. Seraphina merely glanced our way before saying dismissively, “That’s not Cedric. He knows I don’t like him getting close to other women.” At that very moment, Isolde and I were drinking wine and composing poetry, completely at ease. Half a year was more than enough time for me to know that Isolde was the woman I wanted to marry.

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1 My agent handed me the invitation—a christening, for Lilia Reed’s daughter. My heart gave a little tremor, but I kept my voice steady. “Send a gift for me. Two thousand bucks should be fine.” That night, the news that the industry’s golden couple had a new baby shot to the top of the trending topics. Even Lilia, who notoriously shied away from the public eye, went live to celebrate. A fan asked her to compare the feeling of winning her first award with becoming a mother for the first time. She smiled, reaching for the gleaming trophy on the shelf behind her. Her hand slipped. The award tumbled from the shelf, shattering on the floor. And from the broken base, a small, platinum ring—hidden for three years—rolled out across the polished hardwood. She froze. Then, holding her breath, she knelt and carefully pulled a small, folded piece of paper from the wreckage of the trophy’s base. She unfolded it. The camera zoomed in, and my handwriting filled the screen. “I’ve taken care of everything. Marry me.” I never thought the joy I’d failed to even speak aloud would be revealed to the world in such a ridiculous, public spectacle three years later. The live chat exploded. [OMG, that is the most romantic thing I have EVER seen! Are Marcus and Lilia just living in a rom-com 24/7?] [Uh, you’re missing the point. That’s not what this is. If I remember right, she was still with Leo Vance when she won that award…] [Wait, so you’re telling me LEO was about to propose right before they broke up?! He never said a word, even when their split got so nasty… my heart can’t take this.] … On screen, Lilia remained frozen for a long, silent moment. It wasn’t until her husband, Marcus Ewing, called from the other room— “Honey, the baby won’t stop crying, can you come help?”—that she seemed to wake from her trance. She scrambled to her feet, stumbled toward the camera, and abruptly ended the live stream. The internet, however, was far from finished. A flood of comments washed over my social media, demanding to know if it was true. My old fan pages, dedicated to the tragic romance of Leo and Lilia, roared back to life. Clips of our sweetest moments from old reality shows were edited together and pushed to the top of the trending hashtags. But whether it was true or not… what did it matter anymore? There’s nothing more painful than the bitter taste of expired sugar. When I first started dating Lilia, I was already an Emmy-winning actor at the top of my game. She was a nobody, a bit player hustling for auditions. I saw her talent, and I was willing to pull every string I had in the industry to help her. The day she was nominated for her first Phoenix Award, I finalized the last details for our wedding. I begged the award show organizers to let me have her trophy for just an hour before the ceremony. I carefully pried open its base and, with a heart hammering against my ribs, tucked the ring and the note inside. I could already picture the look of pure shock and joy on her face when she discovered it. But that night, I waited until the early hours of the morning, only for her to come home drunk, leaning on Marcus Ewing’s arm. It was the first time she had ever brought another man to our home. My world swung violently between euphoric anticipation and crushing disappointment. Rage and betrayal clawed at my chest, and my voice trembled when I asked her what the hell was going on. She just rubbed her temples, her voice thick with exhaustion. “Whatever you say, Leo.” A pause. “Let’s just end this.” … I didn’t reply to any of the comments, just kept my focus on the script for my upcoming shoot. Later, as I turned off the light to sleep, my phone chimed. A message from her. My heart gave that same, stupid little tremor. My fingertip trembled as I opened the notification. [Are you awake?] [Were you… trying to propose to me?] It was the first message she’d sent me in three years. The last one, still sitting right above it, read: [Can you please just stop bothering me?] Funny. Who was bothering whom now? The buzz around me and Lilia grew louder, forcing Marcus to go live himself. On camera, he flashed a sunny, confident smile. 2 “So, about that note,” he began. “That was me. Sorry to keep you all guessing for so long. It’s just a little inside joke between my wife and me.” He beamed. “Lilia loves me, and I love her. We’re very happy.” The comments poured in. [I knew it! No wonder she paid millions to break her old contracts just to be with him!] [That wedding was legendary! My OTP forever!] [Wait… am I the only one who thinks that doesn’t look like his handwriting at all?] … The flood of supportive comments quickly buried the dissenting one. Marcus smoothed his hair. “And I have some more good news for you all. My paternity leave is officially over. I’m back! My new movie starts shooting tomorrow.” I paused. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. The next day, when I arrived on set, that dread was confirmed. Marcus was there, laughing and shaking hands with the crew. Lilia stood silently behind him. Good for them. The handsome star and his beautiful wife. A perfect match. I found an empty corner to sit in. A friend texted, asking how the first day back was going. It hit me then. I’d been out of the game for three years. After Lilia left, I was shattered. Work was impossible. I became a man possessed, haunting the cafes and bars she used to frequent, praying for a glimpse of her. I tortured myself with excuses—maybe he was just giving her a ride home, maybe I’d misunderstood. The bridal shop called to say my custom tuxedo was ready. The hotel we’d booked six months in advance notified me our date was approaching. The wedding planner sent message after message, asking if the event was still on. I was frantic. Then, one night, as I stood shivering in the biting wind, I saw her. She was walking hand-in-hand with Marcus. She looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw me. Ignoring the flash of annoyance on her face, I rushed forward. The weeks of pain and confusion overflowed, and my eyes were already red before I could speak. “Izzy, don’t do this. Please. Everything is ready, all that’s left…” The impatience in her eyes was a physical blow. “Leo, just stop.” She tightened her grip on Marcus’s hand. “I’m… in love with Marcus now.” I stared at her, disbelief choking me. A phantom hand clenched around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. The last words of my proposal—is you—died in my throat. After that, we began a long, ugly war of words. I leaked the story of her affair to the tabloids, but seeing the public turn on her brought me no joy. I punished myself, scrolling through their social media night after night, the poison of betrayal and jealousy eating me alive. Soon, Marcus joined the fight. While I was busy venting my rage online, convinced I was the righteous, wronged party, I didn’t see what they were doing behind the scenes. They were getting their revenge, too. An avalanche of cancelled contracts, recast roles, and vicious online rumors buried me. The financial penalties were astronomical. I fell into a deep depression. And after three long, gray years of therapy, I emerged as someone new. Someone covered in scars. My friend, Alex, always told me things would get better. He encouraged me to try again, to fight my way back. But after three years away, I discovered with a fresh wave of despair that Hollywood had no memory of me. There was no place left. This new role was a favor Alex had called in. It was a lifeline. Even if it was just a supporting part. I raised my phone and texted him back. 3 “It’s going fine. I’m going to do my best.” He replied instantly. “If you’re not happy, just tell me. You can walk away from this. We don’t need it.” A weak smile touched my lips. Three years had ground all my pride to dust. I wasn’t the untouchable Leo Vance anymore. I had no cards left to play. I put my phone down just as the director called my name. “Leo! You’re up. Get ready.” I scrambled to my feet and met Lilia’s gaze from across the set. For a split second, as our eyes locked, my heart rippled. The air grew thick with a sudden, heavy silence. Marcus was the first to speak, his voice dripping with condescension. “Well, well, if it isn’t the great Leo Vance! And what are you playing, the third male lead?” He smirked at the director. “Casting a former Emmy winner as a supporting character? Bold move, Mark.” The director, Mark, suddenly looked terrified, as if he’d just remembered something crucial. He rushed to apologize. “He’s just… a friend of a friend called in a favor. Mr. Ewing, if his presence makes you uncomfortable, I’ll have him thrown out right now!” I watched the director’s pathetic fawning and lowered my eyes. Marcus snorted with laughter. “What’s he going to do? He’s just some has-been. I could crush him with my little finger.” He turned to Lilia. “What do you think, honey?” Lilia just raised an eyebrow. “He’s a nobody. It doesn’t matter.” Marcus wrapped an arm around her waist, his hand roaming freely as he whispered something in her ear. A blush crept up her neck, and she playfully tapped his shoulder. “Stop it, you. Wait until we get home…” I watched their intimate display, and felt… nothing. I didn’t care anymore. Marcus shot me a dismissive glance and waved me over like a dog. “I brought artisanal gift baskets for the whole crew. Go on, Leo, grab one. I doubt you see stuff like this much anymore.” I didn’t move. I didn’t let him get to me. In the sterile, quiet rooms of the hospital, I had learned to control my emotions. I had taken my medication before coming to set. I ignored him and walked straight to my mark. After a brief chat with the cinematographer, I slipped into character. I started acting when I was fifteen. By twenty, I was a household name. Acting was etched into my bones. With just a little prompting, the muscle memory took over, and the performance flowed out of me, smooth and natural. When I finished my monologue, it was a long moment before the director finally yelled, “Cut.” He mumbled to his assistant, just loud enough for me to hear, “He nailed that entire speech in one take? The kid’s still got it.” During the break, I hid in a stairwell and lit a cigarette, my hand trembling. How could I even describe this feeling?

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