Category: English

1 On my deathbed, I begged my son: “Donate my heart to your father, Alistair Walker. He’s had cardiomyopathy for thirty years—it’s the last thing I can do for him.” But my son brushed me off impatiently. “Enough with the false kindness. Dad isn’t even sick.” I thought I’d misheard. “What?” He sneered. “If you hadn’t refused to divorce him, why would he have faked an illness to be with Aunt Olivia all these years?” I trembled, demanding proof. He handed me a marriage certificate—Alistair Walker and Olivia Thorne, smiling intimately. A furious pain shot through my heart. The home I’d built for half my life was a complete sham. My son’s face was cold. “Aunt Olivia is my real mother. Your own baby was drowned long ago. Back then, Dad and Olivia lost control, leading to her premature labor and heavy bleeding—she gave birth to me the same day as you. Dad was so shaken he developed heart palpitations. Fearing you’d never stop, he faked the illness for thirty years.” I collapsed, spitting blood. “Why tell me now?” His eyes burned with hatred. “You stole her place for thirty years. Now, on your deathbed, you want Dad to owe you gratitude? Why should he?” My mouth filled with bitterness as I gasped my last breath in regret. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the delivery room, next to his sister-in-law’s. An intense pain surged from below—I was in labor. … My body felt like it had been torn apart, lying utterly spent on the bed. The nurse brought the baby over for me to see. It was a boy, with a wrinkled little face and a loud cry. I made an excuse to go to the bathroom, enduring the intense pain, and slowly walked towards the restroom at the end of the corridor. The restroom was very close to Olivia Thorne’s room. The muffled sounds of conversation drifted from next door. It was Alistair Walker’s joyous voice. “Olivia, look, he has a birthmark on his shoulder, just like mine.” Olivia’s voice was weak but smiling. “It’s all your fault. I was almost due, but you just couldn’t help yourself yesterday… causing my premature labor.” Alistair chuckled softly. “My bad. But a premature birth is good, too; saves us from having to find an excuse to stall after Audrey gives birth.” He paused, “Don’t worry, after she got pregnant, just looking at her belly made me sick. I never touched her once. Later, I’ll have the doctor write a certificate saying my heart condition has worsened, so we can’t share a bed anymore.” Listening, my nails dug into my palms. When I was pregnant, I was dizzy with morning sickness, and he only said his heart was bothering him, afraid of noise. I felt sorry for him, enduring it alone. Later, he wasn’t as affectionate, and I thought it was due to his poor health and irritability. Turns out, he just found me in the way. I took a deep breath and sent a message to the male nurse I had immediately bribed after my rebirth: [You can switch the baby’s name tags now.] Then I deleted the message, returned to my room, and feigned sleep. Not long after, I heard someone come in. I didn’t open my eyes, listening as the person picked up a baby and quietly left. The next day, Alistair Walker came to the hospital, his face still pale. Following him were several doctors and Olivia Thorne’s hospital bed. She was propped up on the bed, looking weak. Alistair walked to my bedside. “Darling, you’ve worked hard.” I looked at him, a cold sneer in my heart. He spoke as if casually, “My sister-in-law’s baby didn’t make it; it was a premature birth and died. She’s upset, so I had her moved to this VIP room for a few days to rest quietly and recuperate.” I said nothing. “She is your sister-in-law, after all, and my brother passed away young. Since we’re all family, I thought she could be the baby’s godmother, what do you think?” I looked into his eyes; there wasn’t a trace of guilt. He packaged his affair with his sister-in-law and the child they had as a husband’s compassion for his sister-in-law. “Alright,” I nodded indifferently. Alistair nodded, satisfied, then turned to take his thermos out to get water. My gaze swept over the postpartum pads by my bedside. They were Olivia Thorne’s size. Even the postpartum pads he prepared for me were bought to fit her figure. I suddenly felt utterly ridiculous. Alistair left with the cup, and the doctors also left after settling in. Olivia Thorne, however, slowly rose, her steps instinctively moving towards the crib. “Olivia, you just gave birth, don’t move around too much.” My voice turned cold. She glanced at me, smiling gently. “I just want to see the baby.” “No need, he just fell asleep.” I instinctively shielded the crib, pushing her away. Olivia suddenly shrieked, collapsing to the floor. “Olivia!” Alistair cried out, rushing over. A dark red patch seeped through the hem of her hospital gown; it was blood from a burst wound. “Audrey, I just wanted to see your child, why did you push me… Are you afraid I’d bring bad luck to the baby? Boo-hoo-hoo…” Alistair abruptly looked up, his gaze at me like knives. “Audrey Hayes! My sister-in-law just had surgery, why would you push her?!” “You’re absolutely insane! I’ll have my sister-in-law transferred to a platinum suite, you need to calm down!” For several days, Alistair didn’t visit me. My wound throbbed faintly, but I endured it, never once pressing the call bell. On the fifth day, my mother arrived. When she pushed open the door, I was leaning against the headboard, looking out the window. The first glance at me brought tears to her eyes. “How did you get so thin?” I smiled and said I was fine, that all mothers looked like this after childbirth. She didn’t believe it, insisting on pulling back the blanket to look at my wound. The gauze was soaked in blood. My mother’s tears immediately fell, and she frantically called the nurse. I was helped to the examination room for new stitches. The disinfectant touching the torn flesh made me gasp, but I didn’t utter a sound. My mother stood beside me, her hands trembling. “Is Alistair treating you badly?” I didn’t want her to worry. “No, Mom, he’s not well, he can’t manage.” My mother opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. “Your uncle will be here today. Whatever grievances you have, tell him. He’ll make things right for you.” I paused. Uncle Julian Thorne, CEO of Thorne Industries. In Ashton, his word could shake half the city. In these years since I married into the Walker family, my uncle and I hadn’t had much interaction. I always thought not to burden him, never bothered him. This time, I might not be able to hold on alone. After my mother left to pick up my uncle, I went to the restroom at the end of the corridor to wash my face. When I returned, the crib was empty. “Where’s the baby?” I asked the nurse anxiously. The nurse didn’t even look up. “Mr. Walker said he took him to his room, to have his sister-in-law help look after him.” My mind buzzed. I turned and ran to Olivia Thorne’s room. The male nurse followed behind me. He was the one I had arranged beforehand, and he’d been staying nearby these past few days. As I pushed open the door, I saw Olivia half-propped on the bed, her hospital gown half-open, breastfeeding. Alistair sat in a chair by the bed, a smile on his lips. I rushed over and snatched the baby from Olivia’s arms. The baby was startled awake and cried loudly. Olivia hastily covered her chest, her eyes instantly red. “Audrey, what are you doing?!” Alistair stood up, his face darkening. “Uncle Julian is here to bring the baby a welcoming gift. I’m taking him now.” I hugged the baby tightly, my voice as cold as ice. Alistair frowned. “Why are you in such a hurry? Olivia’s breasts are engorged and uncomfortable. What’s wrong with letting the baby help her?” I ignored him and turned to leave. The next second, Olivia grabbed the baby’s tiny arm. The baby cried as if his heart would break. I pushed her away. “You’re pinching him?” Olivia recoiled her hand, tears instantly flowing. “I didn’t… I just wanted to help him steady himself…” The male nurse couldn’t stand it anymore and rushed forward to shield me. “Miss, the baby is still so young, you can’t do this—” Before he could finish, two bodyguards burst through the door, pinning the male nurse to the ground, one on each side. Alistair Walker looked down at him, a cold sneer on his face. “You’re just a nurse, daring to interfere with the master?” With that, several slaps rained down, one, two, three. The male nurse’s face quickly swelled, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “Let him go!” I tried to pull the bodyguard away, but another held my shoulder, unable to move. “Send him to the police station,” Alistair said lightly. “Bold to harm my child.” He took the baby from my arms. The baby was still crying, the red marks on his arm alarming. Alistair looked down, then suddenly froze. He turned the baby over, pushed aside his tiny clothes, exposing his shoulder. No birthmark. “Where’s the birthmark? Where’s the birthmark on the child’s shoulder?” The baby’s ear-splitting cries felt like daggers in my heart. I lunged to snatch him back, but Alistair kicked me in the lower abdomen. My freshly stitched wound immediately burst open, excruciating pain shooting through my entire body. I curled up on the ground, unable to even cry out. Alistair held the baby, looking down at me, his face ashen. “Audrey Hayes, have you been seeing someone else? Whose bastard child is this?” Sweat poured from my forehead from the pain. I gritted my teeth, refusing to speak. My silence infuriated him. He sneered, his gaze turning to the male nurse, who had fainted on the floor. “Not talking, huh? Then it must be an affair between you and this nurse.” He handed the baby to Olivia Thorne, motioning to a bodyguard. “Disable his lower half for the rest of his life.” “You wouldn’t dare!” I struggled to get up, but another bodyguard pinned me down. Fists and feet rained down on the male nurse, specifically targeting his groin. He was already unconscious, but his body still convulsed reflexively, blood pooling from his mouth. “Stop! You’re breaking the law!” I shrieked, my voice completely distorted. Alistair smoothed his sleeves, his tone sarcastic. “You cheated in our marriage, gave birth to a bastard with a strange man, and dare to talk to me about breaking the law? Do you believe I’ll make you leave with nothing, not a single penny?” Olivia held the baby, crying as if her heart would break. “Sister, please give the baby back to me, okay? We won’t pursue this, as long as the baby is safe…” I clenched my jaw, refusing to give in. Soon, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. My mother arrived first. Seeing the mess on the floor, her face instantly went white. “Audrey! What’s going on?!” She rushed over and hugged me, her voice trembling. Alistair gestured to a bodyguard, who kicked my mother’s knee, making her buckle. My mother, caught off guard, fell to her knees. “Alistair Walker! What are you doing?!” my mother shrieked. Alistair’s eyes were icy. “Audrey, I’ll ask you only one thing: where is the child? If you don’t tell me, your mother is next.” My mother’s eyes widened, her whole body trembling. “Are you insane? Try laying a finger on me! My brother, Julian Thorne…” Before she could finish, a bodyguard slapped her across the face. Several bodyguards began to hit my mother from both sides. Blood streamed down my mother’s chin, her hair disheveled, half her face swollen beyond recognition. But she gritted her teeth, not uttering a sound. She was a martyr’s widow. When my father died, she raised me alone, never bowing her head to anyone. But now, she was on her knees, being slapped like an animal. I charged forward like a madwoman, but two bodyguards held my arms, immobilizing me. “Alistair Walker! You’re crazy! She’s my mother! A martyr’s widow! I’ll see you rot in jail!” Alistair sneered. “A widow whose husband died, what trouble can she cause? If reporters come, I’ll just say your mother couldn’t stand the loneliness and found lovers for herself and for you. What’s wrong with me, Alistair Walker, cleaning up my household?” He walked to me, gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Where is the child? Where have you hidden him?” I looked at his hypocritical face, and suddenly, I laughed. “You yourselves killed that child, and now you ask me where he is?” Alistair’s hand froze. Olivia’s crying stopped too. “What did you say?” Alistair’s voice changed. Olivia’s face drained of all color in an instant. She looked down at the baby in her arms, her lips trembling violently. She shrieked, her voice sharp enough to pierce eardrums, “You’re lying! That’s impossible!” “No… impossible…” Alistair’s voice began to tremble. His legs weakened, and he took a step back, bumping into the bedside table. Olivia had completely broken down, cradling the baby and sobbing hysterically. “My child! Give me back my child!” Looking at the two of them, I felt not a shred of satisfaction. Only a coldness seeping from my very bones. Alistair suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, like a cornered beast. “Where did you hide my son?! Tell me!” He rushed forward and grabbed my neck, his fingers tightening. I couldn’t breathe, and my vision blurred. “Not talking? Fine.” He suddenly let go, turning to the bodyguards. “Drag her to the operating room. Take out her uterus. Let her never be a mother again.” My mother shrieked, “You wouldn’t dare! Julian Thorne won’t let you get away with this!” Alistair acted as if he hadn’t heard, waving his hand. The bodyguards dragged me out. I struggled, my hospital gown ripped, exposing my shoulder. People in the corridor glanced over, but no one dared to step forward. The operating room door was pushed open, and cold air rushed out. I was pressed onto the operating table, my hands and feet bound, my clothes stripped away. The smell of disinfectant made me want to vomit. “Begin,” Alistair commanded the doctor, his face cold. Just as the surgical knife was about to descend, the door was kicked open from the outside. “I’d like to see who dares lay a hand on her!!”

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1 My husband and I were in an arranged marriage. In a union built on mutual benefit, he still treated me like a princess. Until the company charity run, when his female assistant twisted her ankle. She didn’t want to drop out, crying that she absolutely had to get a finisher’s medal. My husband, without a second thought, carried her on his back for the final mile. When he crossed the finish line, he was gasping for air, but still smiling, saying, “I’m not tired.” I said nothing. That night, I had the driver take the car to the winding mountain road. I threw the spare tire from the trunk at him. “Carry this.” “You said you weren’t tired, keep going.” A man who overstepped. If he could be managed, I’d keep him. Otherwise, he could go back to where he came from. “Ah~” A scream echoed as Olivia Thorne fell on the track. Her knees were scraped raw, her ankle twisted. The medical team was just about to enter the field when Adam Lagerfelt, who was about to cross the finish line, immediately turned back and rushed to Olivia’s side. I frowned and cleared my throat. Adam, however, acted as if he hadn’t heard anything. “Olivia, are you alright?” He rubbed Olivia’s ankle, his eyes overflowing with concern. The distance between them was as close as a painful thorn. My vice president cautiously asked, “Ms. Hayes, should I have someone take Olivia off the field first?” I waved my hand. For three years of marriage, Adam had always been well-behaved, maintaining a strict boundary with other women. This was the first time he had shown such tenderness towards another woman in front of me. I wanted to see if he dared to cross the line. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lagerfelt.” “I can push through, I really want to finish and get a medal.” “I… I can’t let you down.” Olivia’s eyes welled up. She shakily stood up, took one step, and fell again. “Darling, if Olivia withdraws, can she still get a medal? She’s young and has a strong sense of pride.” Adam asked me in a pleading tone. I looked at him with disappointment and shook my head. “Mr. Lagerfelt, don’t make Ms. Hayes uncomfortable.” “I’m your subordinate, I won’t let you down!” Olivia struggled to get up, limping into the track. Then, losing her balance, she fell into Adam’s arms. “Olivia, I’ll help you achieve your wish!” In front of everyone, Adam knelt down, letting Olivia climb onto his back. He carried Olivia, straining, as he sprinted towards the finish line. The previously lively track instantly fell silent. Only Olivia’s delicate cheering could be heard. All the executives exchanged bewildered glances. I said nothing. The moment Adam carried Olivia across the finish line, Olivia cried with excitement. They hugged each other, thrilled. Adam’s face was pale, breathing heavily. Still smiling, saying, “Not tired.” Olivia got her medal. Adam looked like a hero. I led the applause, a cold sneer playing on my lips. Adam stopped all movement, nervously looking at me. “Darling, let me explain.” I wasn’t interested in listening. I turned and walked away. That night, Adam squeezed into my Rolls-Royce. “Darling, let me explain.” Still the same words. I ignored him, letting the driver take the car to the foot of Serpent’s Peak. Adam looked surprised. “Darling, what are we doing here so late? Taking a stroll?” The driver took a spare tire from the trunk and threw it in front of him. I pointed at the spare tire, then at the mountain peak. “Carry it to the top of the mountain, then run back down.” “A hundred pounds, the same weight as her.” “You said you weren’t tired, keep going.” Adam’s face went white. He tried to force a smile. “Darling, don’t be jealous.” “Olivia and I truly have nothing going on.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll throw away her medal when I get back.” He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away. “Adam Lagerfelt, know your place.” “Maintaining boundaries with other women, that’s my bottom line.” “Now, do exactly as I say, immediately.” “This is a lesson for you. If you can’t complete it, then it’s time for a replacement.” I got into the car and closed the door. Outside the window, Adam’s body was trembling. A drone followed behind him. The countdown began. Twelve miles of mountain road, two hours. Adam brought this upon himself. He quickly hoisted the tire onto his back and began running up the winding mountain road. The drone chased him, filming his every move. I sat in the car, monitoring his pathetic struggle. When Adam’s legs cramped and his knees were scraped raw, I reminded him he’d only gone one mile. When he ran and vomited, scrambling and tumbling after the tire, I didn’t even glance at him. It wasn’t until Adam collapsed halfway up the mountain, incontinent and convulsing, that I coldly uttered, “Send him to the emergency room.” When Adam woke up, he immediately deleted Olivia’s contact information in front of me. He proactively had her transferred to a different department and deliberately kept his distance from her. Compared to before, he was even more gentle and considerate towards me. I thought he had truly reformed, truly understood. Until I received a smoke alarm alert from the Southwood Manor. The moment I opened the security footage, a chill ran through me. 2 My newly purchased manor was packed with dozens of people. They were throwing a wild party, trampling on my custom-made Italian sofa with their shoes, dancing. Bottles of rare Lafite from my cellar were opened and guzzled! The ornamental fish, worth thousands each, were fished out of the tank and grilled! The barbecue smoke had triggered the alarm! A suffocating feeling tightened in my chest. Among the crowd, I spotted a familiar face—Olivia Thorne! She was wearing my brand-new Hermès haute couture. It had arrived last week; she’d found it in the closet, and I hadn’t even worn it once. I dialed Adam, attaching a screenshot of the security footage. “Explain this to me. What exactly is going on?” “Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Adam was silent on the other end of the line. After a long pause, he quietly said, “Olivia’s graduation party, they had nowhere else to go.” “I thought since you leave the house empty, you don’t live there, so I lent it to Olivia.” “Please don’t make things difficult for her.” I laughed, a bitter, exasperated sound. I retorted, “Adam Lagerfelt, that’s my house. What right do you have to lend it out?” “Get them out of there immediately.” “Furthermore, all damages will be compensated at full value.” Adam immediately became anxious. “Darling, Olivia is still a child, you don’t need to be so hard on her.” “Besides, this small amount of money is nothing to you.” “They’ll go home once they’re tired of playing…” I didn’t have the patience to hear him out. I hung up directly. No need to be so hard on her? Nothing to me? Oh, great, very generous of him. But Adam forgot, though outwardly we were in an arranged marriage. His family, the Lagerfelts, were merely a minor clan in the capital. Our so-called marriage was, in fact, him marrying into my family, a social climb. Without the support of my family, the Hayes, his family would have been swallowed whole long ago! He, Adam Lagerfelt, was merely a househusband, nothing more. And he wanted to act like the master? I immediately called my assistant, gathered my bodyguards, and headed straight to the Southwood Manor. As they were partying hardest, my Rolls-Royce pulled up to the entrance. I immediately cornered Olivia, who was trying to hide in the crowd. I ripped off the Chanel dress she was wearing. Shredding it in front of everyone, I flung the pieces at her face. Anything she touched, I considered defiled. “Olivia Thorne, is this your home?” “Ms. Hayes, I… I…” She lowered her head, squeezing out a few tears. Looking utterly pitiful. As if she had done nothing wrong, and I was bullying her. The crowd of students behind her exchanged glances. “Olivia, didn’t you say the manor was yours?” “So you were lying.” “How vain and shameless.” They tried to leave, but my bodyguards blocked the doorway. Half an hour later, my secretary tallied the damages. A total of fifteen million, three hundred twenty thousand dollars! I flung the bill in front of Olivia. “Pay up.” The students quickly backed away. “Olivia, this has nothing to do with us!” “Exactly, if I’d known it wasn’t your place, I wouldn’t have come!” “You better pay the lady, don’t drag us down.” Everyone was desperately trying to distance themselves from Olivia. Olivia’s tears splattered on the floor. She cried, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes, I didn’t mean to.” “I don’t have money, I can’t pay.” Tears were her best weapon. Especially against Adam. But with me, they were useless. “No money? No money, then go to jail.” I was about to call the police. Olivia dropped to her knees. “Olivia!” Adam burst into the manor. 3 “Olivia is still a child, she really didn’t mean to.” “This is all my fault.” “Darling, let’s just drop it.” “Besides, this amount of money is nothing.” Adam tenderly wiped Olivia’s tears. He then tried to touch me with those hands that had touched Olivia, but I evaded him. “Drop it? You’re remarkably broad-minded.” “Then you can pay for her.” I took the POS machine from my secretary and handed it to Adam. He immediately fell silent. I pointed at Olivia. “Bank card.” She didn’t move. “Bank card. Don’t make me repeat myself a third time.” Adam tried to intervene again, but meeting my gaze, he dared not speak. Olivia took out her bank card. She entered the PIN on the POS machine. Exactly twenty thousand dollars, no more, no less. I had my secretary write an IOU and threw it to Olivia. “Your outstanding debt is fifteen million, three hundred thousand dollars.” “Pay it back within five years. Don’t forget.” At this, I glanced at Adam. His face was grim. “You are an adult, not some child.” “When you make a mistake, you pay the price.” “No one is exempt.” I emphasized the last sentence. Adam lowered his head. That evening, Adam proactively prepared dinner. There was my favorite boiled shrimp. He personally peeled the shrimp and placed it in front of me. Yet, he remained silent throughout. It was almost as if he was sulking. I looked into his eyes, neither touching nor eating the food. I knew what he wanted. There were certain boundaries I needed to make clear to him. “Adam Lagerfelt, I despise men who lack boundaries.” “If there’s a next time, you know what I’m capable of.” Adam bit his lip. He seemed somewhat troubled. After a long silence, he forced out a stiff smile. He gave a stiff nod. It didn’t matter. I no longer held any expectations for him anyway. As long as he could honestly remain a househusband. Stop crossing the line, stop disgusting me. I wouldn’t touch him. But if… A sharp ringtone interrupted my thoughts. Adam picked up his phone, cautiously glancing at me. He hung up the call. After that, his phone rang incessantly. “Olivia Thorne?” “Yes.” “Answer it. Don’t forget what I said.” I took a sip of red wine, looking at him. Adam put the call on speaker. Olivia’s sobs came through the speaker. “Mr. Lagerfelt, I’ve been expelled from school.” “My parents are ashamed of me, they don’t want me either.” Adam’s face changed dramatically. He quickly grabbed his phone, cradling it in his palm. His face was filled with tension, full of anxiety. “Olivia, where are you? Don’t you dare do anything rash!” I sighed. Looked at him with disappointment. Shook my head with disappointment. “Mr. Lagerfelt, please tell Ms. Hayes I can’t pay her back. I’m sorry.” “Mr. Lagerfelt, I want to call you Mr. Lagerfelt one last time.” “It was my honor to meet you. Goodbye, my Mr. Lagerfelt.” 4 Olivia hung up the phone. Adam tried calling back repeatedly, but couldn’t get through. “Olivia? Olivia! Don’t you dare do anything foolish!” “Wait for me! Wait for me!” He grabbed his jacket, about to rush out. I asked him, “Are you sure you want to go?” Adam glared fiercely at me. He grabbed the plate of peeled shrimp and smashed it to smithereens. “Kelly Hayes, are you even human?!” “If you hadn’t pushed Olivia, would she be feeling so desperate?!” He overturned the table, destroying the entire dinner. He rushed out, without a second thought. I watched it all, coldly. Didn’t say another word. He wasted his last chance. Exhausted all my patience. And strangled the last possibility of this marriage. My lawyer immediately drafted divorce papers. I sent them to Adam at once. What I received in return was a barrage of angry voice messages. “What the hell is going on, and you’re still getting jealous?!” “If anything happens to Olivia, I’m not done with you!” Because of Olivia’s one desperate message. Adam’s thorns were completely exposed. Not long after, my secretary sent me a screenshot from a social media post. Olivia’s. The accompanying picture was a hotel room, with Adam’s back in a bathrobe. [“Thank you, Mr. President, for filling my desperate life with starlight.”] Then came my secretary’s call. Her voice was trembling. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Lagerfelt is planning to collude with other shareholders to remove you…” I took a deep breath. Good, very good. Adam Lagerfelt, you’re quite something. Soon you’ll find out the consequences. The next day’s shareholder meeting was chaired by Adam. Olivia attended. All shareholders were present, except for me. No one had informed me. Adam raised the microphone. “Alright, I announce that all resolutions of this shareholder meeting are passed.” “Ms. Olivia Thorne is appointed Vice President of the Group, with an annual salary of fifteen million, three hundred thousand dollars.” “Kelly Hayes is hereby removed from all positions within the Group, effective immediately!” The applause in the conference room almost blew the roof off. Just as Adam was handing Olivia her appointment letter. I kicked open the conference room door.

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1 It was my first month standing in for my sister at university when a strange man burst into the classroom, cradling a baby. Under the gaze of the entire class, he thrust the wailing infant into my arms. “This is your child, and you will take responsibility!” I was utterly bewildered. When had my sister even gotten a boyfriend? He spoke with an air of absolute entitlement, giving me his demands. “Seraphina Amick, if you don’t want me to make a huge scene, you’ll agree to three conditions.” “One, pay twenty thousand a month in child support until the child turns eighteen. Two, immediately transfer two villas to the child, fulfilling your duty as a mother. Three, if you don’t want to marry me, you’ll provide the dowry for my next wife, to give the child a complete family.” The whole class erupted in gasps, and I, looking down at the tiny infant in my arms, grew even more confused. My sister’s child? But she had a congenital heart condition and was currently hospitalized, unable to conceive. So, did he mean I was the mother of the child he spoke of? But I was a man, for crying out loud! The man continued to rant, accusing me as if I truly were an irresponsible mother. Faced with such baseless accusations, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, raising my voice to challenge him. “You say this is my child, but where’s the proof?” “Are you just going to slander someone’s reputation with empty words? Who knows where you picked up this child!” The man, instead of flinching at my challenge, smirked, as if he’d anticipated this very response. He slowly pulled out a neatly folded paper from his pocket, unfolding it before me for everyone to see. “I knew you’d try to deny it, so open your eyes and see! This paternity test report, in black and white, clearly states that you, Seraphina Amick, are the biological mother of this child!” “The date? Just yesterday afternoon, fresh off the press!” He waved the report, his voice rising a few decibels. “I prepared for this. I specifically asked your roommate to get some of your hair and personally took it for the test.” “Now, with witnesses and evidence, you must take responsibility for this child!” My roommate? A flash of memory crossed my mind: a few days ago, Tinsley Evans had been unusually eager to get close to me. She’d either claimed I had leaves in my hair or offered to braid it. At the time, I’d tried to keep my distance due to the gender difference. Now it seemed she was after my hair for evidence. But the crucial point was, I was wearing a wig to impersonate my sister! How could a paternity test done with a wig show a blood relation? Did they think I was an idiot? I looked at the supposed ironclad evidence in his hand, a cold sneer twisting my lips, my eyes filled with scorn. “Paternity test? I have a blood relation with this child?” “Let me tell you, your so-called paternity test is completely fake!” The man’s face changed. “Fake? How can you say it’s fake? It has the hospital’s official stamp! You just don’t want to acknowledge this child!” I met his gaze head-on, unyielding, and challenged him. “You’re trying to frame me with some hair from who-knows-where and a flimsy piece of paper?” “If you truly believe this child is mine, then come with me to a reputable hospital right now and get another paternity test. Do you dare?” The man’s eyes flickered, clearly losing some of his confidence, but he still stubbornly retorted, “Your family, the Amicks, are powerful and wealthy. Who knows if you’ve bribed the hospital? Getting a fake test report is just a word for you!” Then, he changed tack, attempting to play on the emotions of the onlookers, his voice choked with feigned emotion. “I know, when you dated me, you just wanted to have some fun. You always looked down on me, thinking I was just a poor kid, not worthy of you, the Amick heiress.” “But you shouldn’t have secretly given birth to a child and then abandoned him in a rented apartment! This is our flesh and blood, after all!” “I didn’t ask for any title, I just want a good life for the child. These conditions I’m asking for, aren’t they just a flick of your wrist? Why are you so cruel to your own child!” This tearful accusation indeed made some uninformed students begin to whisper, their gazes at me now laced with suspicion. However, I wasn’t falling for any of it. I hadn’t done it, and I wouldn’t let my sister carry this burden. “What’s the point of all this nonsense?” “I will never admit to something I haven’t done. If you’re afraid of me tampering with things, then let’s just call the police. Let them designate an institution for the paternity test, with continuous video surveillance. Surely, that’s acceptable?” “Th-this…” The man was immediately speechless, his face flushing crimson, stammering, unable to form words. Just then, the baby in my arms started crying louder, its little face turning red from straining. Tinsley, watching from the side, suddenly rushed forward, snatched the baby, hugging it tightly, and shrieked at me. “Enough, Seraphina Amick, stop making excuses!” “Do you think we can’t see through you? You just want to kill this child!” 2 Tinsley pointed at me, her voice sharp and piercing. “Seraphina Amick, you’re still putting on an act! You were pregnant and still going out drinking and clubbing every day; I told you so many times, but you wouldn’t listen.” “Now look, the child is born prematurely, sickly, and weak, but you don’t care at all. You’re denying everything, trying to drag him all over the place.” “Isn’t it because you see the child is in poor health and you want to literally drag him to his death, just to completely get rid of this burden? How can your heart be so cruel!” The man, seeing Tinsley step up as a witness, instantly found his backbone, straightening his posture, and immediately chimed in. “Tinsley’s right, Seraphina Amick, if you have nothing to hide, do you dare tell everyone why you suddenly took a month off from school? Wasn’t it to secretly give birth to my child?” “After you returned to school, you immediately applied to live off-campus, wasn’t it because you were recovering from childbirth?” Perhaps genuinely believing I had been up to something unsavory during that period, something I couldn’t disclose, the man became more self-assured, his expression triumphant. “When you were recovering, wasn’t I bringing you chicken soup every day and looking after you? But what did you do? As soon as you felt a little better, you turned on me, kicking us, father and son, out of the house! You venomous woman!” His elaborate accusations, coupled with Tinsley’s backing, instantly made the situation even more chaotic. Hearing them, my other two roommates also looked enlightened. “Yeah, Seraphina, why did you suddenly take a month off before? When we asked, you just said you weren’t feeling well. What kind of illness requires such a long hospital stay?” “And as soon as you came back, you were eager to move out of the dorm, saying you couldn’t get used to sleeping there. But we’ve all lived together for over a year, why suddenly so uncomfortable? Is it… really something you don’t want us to know?” another roommate hesitantly added. “You rarely wore makeup before, but after your leave of absence, you’ve been wearing it almost every day. Is it to cover up your complexion?” Hearing these doubts, prompted and amplified by my roommates, the man felt even more confident, as if victory was already in his grasp. And I, listening to their deductions, was almost laughing from sheer frustration! Seraphina Amick’s month off was because her condition had suddenly worsened, requiring heart surgery. But she didn’t want to make a fuss, only hoping that I, her twin brother, could complete her studies for her. And the reason I immediately moved out of the dorm and became a day student after returning to school was because I was a man, for crying out loud! No matter how much I wanted to help my sister, there was no way I could actually live with a bunch of girls! Could I state that reason openly? As for wearing makeup every day, it was simply because there were still differences in our facial features that needed to be concealed. But all these coincidences, by some bizarre twist of fate, had now become evidence that I had taken time off to have a baby. I looked at the farce unfolding before me and the suspicious glances of my classmates, a wave of absurdity washing over me. What in the world was going on! I rubbed my temples, interrupting them. “I took time off to have a baby, and lived off-campus to recover from childbirth? Are all those people who take time off from school just going off to have babies?” “Tinsley, didn’t you also take time off for a while? And now you’re so concerned about this child, I might as well think you’re the biological mother!” “You want to accuse me with such flimsy evidence? If you can’t explain yourselves, then let’s call the police. Let them see if I’m truly innocent!” Tinsley’s face turned ashen at my words, and she shrieked, stopping me from reaching for my phone. “I was trying to be kind, Seraphina Amick, do you really think there’s no other evidence?” 3 Tinsley said, giving the man a meaningful look. The man instantly understood, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he pulled a stack of photos from his pocket and slapped them onto the lecture desk with a loud thwack. “Seraphina Amick, Tinsley, in her kindness, advised me to save you some face and not bring out these photos. But you’ve pushed it too far, you don’t appreciate consideration!” “Today, I will let everyone see your true face, let everyone know what a promiscuous woman you, the Amick family heiress, are in private!” The photos scattered across the desk were utterly indecent, all intimate pictures of me and this man in various settings, with some even being extremely explicit bedroom photos! The entire class instantly erupted into chaos. Many students’ eyes now held undisguised contempt for me. Even a few boys in the back row let out malicious snickers, openly commenting on my body in the photos. “Didn’t realize the Amick heiress had such a good figure.” “If I’d known it was this easy, I would’ve tried my luck too. Maybe if I satisfied her, I could’ve become a son-in-law of the Amicks.” I stared fixedly at those photos, my anger surging, almost breaking through my composure. They were using such vile tactics to tarnish my sister’s reputation. But at the same time, a wave of relief washed over me. Thankfully, it was me standing here enduring all this, not the real Seraphina Amick. Otherwise, just seeing these fabricated, obscene photos would likely have been enough to trigger a heart attack! I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice calm. “With today’s advanced photo editing, anyone can just find a few pictures, composite them, and pretend they’re evidence of me dating you. You don’t seriously think such a trick can fool everyone, do you?” The man let out a lewd laugh, as if he’d heard the funniest joke, his eyes maliciously tracing over my body. “You can say the photos are doctored, but you can’t fake the birthmark on your lower back, can you? And there’s a small mole hidden behind your ear. If I hadn’t slept with you, how would I know your body so intimately?” Hearing his words, I actually felt a wave of relief. The birthmark and mole he mentioned did exist, but they were features I, Sterling Amick, possessed. Seraphina Amick had none of those! It seemed this clumsy plot was cooked up after I started impersonating my sister at school. A cold laugh formed in my mind. Someone who knew my body so intimately could only be someone I shared a dorm with, someone who had the opportunity for close observation. My gaze swept across my three roommates. Only Tinsley’s lips held an ill-concealed, triumphant smile. It seemed she and this man had conspired together. With that thought, I looked at them, a smile that wasn’t a smile on my face, and asked directly, “After all this circling, what do you want?” The man was about to speak, but Tinsley interjected, putting on an act of concern for me. “Seraphina, it’s good you can admit it. Who doesn’t make mistakes when they’re young?” “But I see you really don’t want to acknowledge this child. Why don’t you let his father take him back? You just need to pay for the child’s living expenses for these eighteen years upfront, a total of one million dollars. Think of it as buying peace of mind, and fulfilling your bond with your child. How does that sound?” One million dollars? I almost applauded her. What a brazen demand. A thought flashed through my mind, and a smile spread across my face as I readily nodded. “Alright, I’ll pay.” 4 Seeing the money transferred, the man and Tinsley’s eyes immediately lit up with uncontrollable delight. Their goal achieved, they had no desire to talk to me further, and the two of them, holding the baby, made to leave. But I stepped forward, blocking the classroom door. “What, you’ve got the money and now you want to leave? Not going to let me spend a little more time with the child? He is my flesh and blood, after all.” As I spoke, I made a move to touch the baby in Tinsley’s arms. Tinsley’s face instantly changed, like a hen protecting its chick. She fiercely shielded the baby, avoiding my hand, her eyes wary. “What do you want? The child support has been paid, he has nothing to do with you anymore! Don’t you dare touch him!” Just as we were pulling and pushing, the classroom door was abruptly thrown open. The academic advisor stood in the doorway, his face filled with anger. “What’s going on here! How long has class been? The teacher has been waiting for you all for half the period, and not a single one of you is in there! What are you all blocking the doorway for?” Seeing the advisor, several students who loved drama immediately swarmed him, loudly tattling. “It’s Seraphina Amick, she took a month off from school to secretly have a baby, and now the child’s father has come to claim child support!” “Sir, Seraphina Amick’s private life is so messy, with such character, how can she be eligible for awards and honors, or to be a student leader? I suggest revoking her qualifications and giving her a disciplinary warning!” “Exactly! Must be disciplined! It’s bringing shame to our school!” Everyone was indignant, as if I had committed some heinous crime. However, listening to their words, the advisor’s face grew increasingly grim. Instead of lecturing me as the students expected, he abruptly pushed away the students crowding him and sternly barked, “What nonsense are you all spewing? What ‘having a baby’? What do you know to be making such a fuss?” The advisor strode over to the man and questioned him. “Who are you, and how did you get into our school?” “Harassing and slandering our student here, and extorting money—do you know that’s illegal behavior?!” Seeing the advisor so protective of me, Tinsley immediately panicked, her face etched with unwillingness. “Advisor, she herself admitted it, you can’t just favor her because the Amick family is rich and powerful!” The advisor immediately glared at her, his tone severe. “Tinsley Evans! This has nothing to do with you! Did you personally witness Seraphina having a child?!” Tinsley choked for a moment, but then defiantly stuck out her neck and shouted, “Of course I can testify! She used to stay out all night, and I even saw her and Vance getting cozy!” The advisor seemed to understand something, ignoring Tinsley, and stared directly at Vance Miller. “Mr. Miller, isn’t it? Now, immediately clarify the facts and apologize to Ms. Amick, otherwise, I will call the police!” Vance was so startled by the advisor’s threat that cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He instinctively looked at Tinsley. Tinsley, seeing his hesitation, yelled at the advisor without thinking. “Why are you so biased towards her, just because her family is rich? I won’t let the truth be covered up by power! She is…” “Enough! Truth, my foot!” The advisor finally lost his temper, cutting Tinsley off with a furious roar. “Are you all brain-dead? Do you believe whatever he says?” “The Seraphina Amick standing in front of you is a man! Tell me, how can he, a man, give birth to a child?!”

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1 “So white, the clothes. So much whiter, the person.” “Next time, don’t even bother with underwear. Makes things easier for laundry.” I stared at my wife’s WhatsApp, unable to process the words. The contact name seared my eyes: “Julian Hillner.” Her ex-husband. I slammed my phone down. My wife, Kathy, flinched, startled. “Darling, let me explain, his hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him…” I pointed a finger at her. “His hand is hurt?” “For three years of our marriage, you wouldn’t even press a button on the washing machine, claiming it would chip your manicure.” “And now you’re at your ex’s place, hand-washing clothes? For a whole night?” “Darling, why are you so mad?” She bent to pick up her bag, her eyes darting to the coffee table. I took two swift steps, planting my foot firmly on the bag. “Don’t touch it.” “Darling…” “What happened to Julian’s hand?” Kathy’s face went instantly pale. She instinctively clutched her throat, her gaze flickering nervously. “He… he fractured his hand.” “A comminuted fracture, no one to care for him, couldn’t even pull up his pants.” “I just felt sorry for him, so I went to help out.” “Help out?” My lips twisted into a sneer. I bent down and picked up the bag. A Gucci overnight bag, bulging. “Need this thing to ‘help out’?” “Give it to me!” Kathy shrieked, lunging to grab it. I sidestepped her, gripped the zipper, and yanked it open. Whoosh. A pile of items tumbled onto the coffee table. A black lace lingerie set. Half a bottle of lube. And a pair of freshly discarded nude stockings. The air solidified instantly. I recognized that lingerie set. For our anniversary, I’d begged her for half a month, just to see her wear it once. She’d claimed the fabric was scratchy, that she was allergic, refused to wear it for anything. Now, that “scratchy” lingerie lay before me. It reeked of cheap cologne mixed with disinfectant. Pungent. Disgusting. I snatched the lace and flung it at her face. “This is your ‘help’?” “Going to your ex’s place to wash clothes, and bringing your own lube?” “Were you washing clothes, or acting as an automated ‘wash-and-wear’ service?” Kathy tore off the lingerie, tears instantly gushing. “Leo! Don’t talk like that!” “He’s sick! He can’t move!” “I wore this because… because…” “Because what?” I took a step closer, staring at her neck. A patch of concealer had rubbed off. Revealing a dark red mark. A hickey. “Because this thing cures broken bones?” I reached out to wipe at the concealer. Kathy slapped my hand away, then collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re just petty! You have no sympathy!” “We’re divorced, what else could there be?” “If I wanted something with him, why would I have married you in the first place?” “He’s lying there, can’t move, and you’re still slandering me!” Can’t move? I sneered, casting my phone screen to the 65-inch TV. A screenshot of game stats appeared. ID: “The Swift Serpent.” That was Julian’s gaming account. I’d been sleepless last night, using a secondary account to monitor his profile. The stats showed: 2 AM last night, ranked match MVP. Hero used: “The Blademaster.” Fastest hands on the field, most dazzling plays. “This is your ‘comminuted fracture’?” I pointed at the “Penta Kill” icon on the screen. “At 2 AM, he was slaughtering the competition.” “And you were ‘washing clothes’ in his bed.” “Kathy, do you think I’m blind, or just plain stupid?” Kathy looked up at the screen, her lips trembling. “Th-this… this was a booster playing for him!” “Yes! A booster!” “Leo, why do you have to be so dark?” “I’ve been frugal for this family, and you’re here investigating my ex?” Frugal? I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. 2 I tapped open her shopping history on the Aethelred Market app. Australian Wagyu A9, two hundred dollars a pound. Deep-sea wild sea cucumber, five hundred dollars a box. Boston lobster, extra-large. The delivery address was always the same: Apartment 402, Building 3, Serenity Lane. That was Julian’s rented place. And what had I eaten last night? Instant noodles, without even an egg. In three years of marriage, she had never once cooked. Claiming cooking fumes ruined her skin, and dish soap hurt her hands. I washed all the dishes, mopped all the floors. All to protect those manicures of hers, which cost eighty dollars a pop. I grabbed her hand. The long, rhinestone-studded nails were now clipped short and bare. There was still unwashed grease on her fingertips. “You clipped your nails to cook for him?” “You don’t mind roughing up your hands to wash his underwear?” “Kathy, you truly are a wonderful wife.” I flung her hand away. Kathy stumbled, hitting the sofa leg. She dropped the act entirely, scrambling up from the floor, yelling defiantly. “Yes! I did go to take care of him! So what?” “A bond forged in marriage lasts a lifetime!” “He’s in trouble, how could I just stand by and watch him suffer?” “You make tens of thousands a month, what’s wrong with sharing a bit to help him out?” “Leo, you need to be more generous!” “What kind of man nitpicks over such trivial things?” Generous. Help him out. I looked at the woman before me. For three years, I’d thought she was delicate, a little princess who needed pampering. Turns out, she wasn’t incapable of doing things. She just reserved her efforts for other men. My stomach churned, a wave of pure, visceral disgust. “Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Take your lube, and get out.” Kathy froze. Before, if she cried, I’d immediately comfort her. Even when she gave my limited-edition collectibles to a relative’s child, I never spoke harshly. But today, the icy chill in my eyes frightened her. “Leo, you dare kick me out?” “Don’t you dare regret this!” “I’m leaving right now! I’m going to Elara’s place!” She grabbed her bag from the floor, shoving the lingerie in haphazardly. Then slammed the door behind her. Elara’s place? I walked to the balcony, watching her red BMW X3 drive out of the complex. The direction was clearly not towards her friend’s house. It was heading straight for Serenity Lane. Julian’s place. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. My hand was shaking. Not from sadness, but from fury. And the humiliation of being played for a fool for three years. I turned and walked into the bedroom. Locked the door. That night, I didn’t sleep. I was checking her finances. And what I found chilled me to the bone. The next morning. The living room was eerily silent. I stared at the bank statements on my phone, my eyes bloodshot. Kathy hadn’t come home last night. I hadn’t called her either. This card was the household card I’d given her, linked to my secondary account. Every month, I transferred two thousand dollars for living expenses. For three years, I had never checked the statements. Because of trust. Now, that trust had become a slap to the face. On the first of every month. There was a fixed transfer of five hundred dollars. The recipient’s note was “Belle Beauty Salon.” But I checked the verified name on the payment app. The account belonged to “Juli*.” Julian. Three years, thirty-six months. This single, fixed expense alone amounted to eighteen thousand dollars. And that was just the small stuff. Various fragmented transfers, payments, gift money. There were even several large cash withdrawals. In total, she had transferred at least forty thousand dollars over these three years. Forty thousand. I had hesitated for half a year before buying a new car. She transferred money to her ex without a second thought. 3 I stood up and walked to the walk-in closet. It was Kathy’s sanctuary, usually off-limits to me. A whole wall of glass display cabinets. Filled with various designer bags. Hermès, Chanel, Louis Vuitton. All gifts I’d bought her over the past three years for holidays and anniversaries. Each one was worth a fortune. I opened the cabinet door and picked up the Hermès Picnic Bag in the center. Elephant grey, gold hardware. I’d given it to her for our anniversary last year, costing me well over five thousand dollars. The feel was off. Too stiff. The pebbled leather texture felt fake. I turned on my phone’s flashlight, set it to macro mode. Took a picture of the embossed logo on the bag. Then searched online for genuine comparison images. No need for expert appraisal. Blatantly fake. The edges of the “H” in the font were all fuzzy. I picked up the Chanel CF next to it. The chain was light, almost faded. Fake. All fake. The three Hermès, two Chanel bags displayed in the cabinet. All high-quality replicas. Where were the real bags? I downloaded a pre-owned luxury goods trading app. Entered Kathy’s phone number to search for users. Sure enough. Account ID: “KathyLovesLife.” The homepage was filled with “sold” listings. “99% new Hermès Picnic Bag, urgent sale, with receipt.” “Chanel CF Medium, only carried once, bargain price.” All transactions took place within a month of me giving her the gifts. The total transaction amount? Another thirty thousand dollars. She sold the real bags, bought fakes to display at home to fool me. Where did the money go? Where did the money go? I clicked on a screenshot of the account’s withdrawal records (she’d posted it in the comments). The last four digits of the recipient card were 8888. That wasn’t Kathy’s card. I entered the card number into my online banking transfer interface. The system automatically displayed the recipient’s name: “Juli*.” Julian again. I threw my phone onto the bed, covering my face with both hands. A guttural roar escaped my throat. The person was his. The money was his too. What was I? A money-making machine? Or a chump helping someone else raise his wife? Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a push notification from the Highway Pass app. “Your vehicle, State Plate A*****, passed through the airport highway toll station at 08:30 AM.” That was the BMW X3 Kathy was driving. Airport highway? What was she doing at the airport? Was she trying to run away? I immediately opened the vehicle tracking app. The car wasn’t at the airport. It had stopped at a high-end private orthopedic hospital near the airport. It was the most expensive rehabilitation hospital in the city. A single night’s stay started at three hundred dollars. I remembered what Kathy had said last night. “His hand is hurt, and there’s no one to look after him.” Turns out, “no one to look after him” meant staying in a VIP suite, eating Australian Wagyu, and enjoying “special care” from his ex-wife. And all of this cost. Was coming out of my pocket. I grabbed my car keys and rushed out of the house. In the garage, there was still a six-year-old Sedan. That was my car. The BMW was hers to drive, because she said driving an old car to gatherings was embarrassing. I started the car, pedal to the metal. Just then. My phone vibrated. A credit card transaction alert. [“Your credit card ending in 8888 has been charged $5,200 at Aesthetic Beauty Clinic.”] Immediately after. Julian sent me a photo. In the photo, he lay on a wide hospital bed. His left hand was in a cast, his right hand holding up his phone for a selfie. In the background, Kathy was bending over, feeding him grapes. Her neckline was low, revealing a flash of white skin. That was my wife. The caption was just one sentence: “Nothing beats the original; some people are only good for paying.” I stared at that photo. Blood rushed backward, surging to my scalp. Fifty-two hundred. 4 Aesthetic clinic. Was she using my money to get her ex plastic surgery? Or some other unspeakable procedure? My in-laws were still chattering away. “Leo, don’t be too bothered.” “You’re a man, be more magnanimous.” “Kathy and Julian are ancient history, isn’t she doing just fine with you now?” I looked at their opening and closing mouths. Like two blood-sucking black holes. I didn’t erupt. Nor did I flip the table. I calmly pressed the screenshot button. Saved the message, saved the photo. Then slowly gathered the bank statements from the coffee table, folded them neatly, and put them in my pocket. Since you’re treating me like “family,” Then this “grand gift.” I’ll repay it with interest. I left my in-laws’ house and sat in my car, smoking three cigarettes. My phone vibrated again. It was a WhatsApp message from Kathy. “Darling, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.” “I reflected on it all night at Elara’s place.” “That money… I lent it to a friend in urgent need, they’ll pay it back in a few days.” “Please don’t be mad, okay?” Fifty-two hundred. Friend in urgent need. She couldn’t even bother to come up with a better lie. I looked at the screen, a cold smile twisting my lips. My fingers tapped on the keyboard. “It’s fine, darling. Tell me if you need more money.” “Don’t make yourself suffer.” “I’m away on a business trip, I’ll be back in a couple of days.” After sending that message. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. If we’re going to act, let’s go all in. I want them to know what it’s like to invite trouble and then try to get rid of it. That afternoon. I told Kathy to stay at her parents’ or Elara’s place for a few days, not to come home yet. Kathy was more than happy to. She was currently busy acting as a full-time caregiver at the hospital, with no time to come home anyway. Seizing the opportunity. I bought a bunch of miniature pinhole cameras. Replaced the old ones with new ones that had remote cloud storage. After doing all that. I moved all my valuables—my watch, emergency cash, the house deed—to my parents’ place. Then, I set a daily limit on Kathy’s secondary card. A hundred dollars a day. Couldn’t block the card entirely, that would alert them. It had to be like boiling a frog slowly, gradually bringing the water to a boil. I opened the phone monitoring app. On the screen, the front door of our home opened. Kathy entered, helping Julian. Julian’s arm still had a cast, but his movements weren’t slow at all. He even managed to free one hand to squeeze Kathy’s butt. “So this is the house that idiot bought?” Julian looked around the living room, a look of disdain on his face. “The decor is so tacky, reeks of new money.” Kathy smiled as she helped him change shoes. She was using my slippers. “Just bear with it, he’s on a business trip anyway, so it’s ours for now.” “You can recover here for a few days, I’ll make you delicious food.” “Once you pay off those tens of thousands in gambling debts, I’ll divorce him.” “And I’ll get half of this house too.” The voice recorder faithfully captured every word. Every word was like a nail, driven into my eardrums. Julian wrapped an arm around Kathy’s waist. Pushing her onto the sofa… I turned off the screen. No need to watch anymore. The evidence was already enough to ruin their reputations. I picked up the hotel phone and dialed the bank’s customer service. “Hello, I’d like to report all my credit cards lost.” “Yes, all of them.” “Reason? They’ve been fraudulently used.” On the monitor. Julian, who was about to order takeout, suddenly cursed. “Damn it, why can’t I pay?” Kathy picked up her phone and looked. “Maybe there’s a limit, I’ll try another card.” She tried another card. “That one doesn’t work either… what’s going on?” … The show, had only just begun. I looked out at the night sky. My gaze colder than the night itself. Julian, Kathy. Since you love money so much. Then I’ll let you taste what it’s like to have none. And what it’s like to be driven mad by debt.

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1 The Cook Corporation’s illegal demolition killed my parents and turned me into a beggar on the streets. When the thugs they hired had me cornered, Jax stood in front of me. He was like a stray dog, eyes burning red with fury. “Anyone touches Ava,” he snarled, “I’ll make them regret it for the rest of their lives.” We fell in love when we had nothing. Until the day the Cook heiress sent her men for us. Jax was beaten until his head was slick with blood, but he still shielded me. He shoved me away and let them take him. Lost in the downpour, I stumbled through the alleyways and saw her car. The interior light was on, and through the rain-streaked window, I saw Jax press Seraphina Cook against the seat, his mouth crashing down on hers in a brutal, hungry kiss. In that instant, the world blurred into a wash of gray rain, and the only sound was the frantic drumming of my own heart. … “Is fucking a high-society girl that much better, Jax?” Seraphina’s breathless words, broken and panting, reached my ears. Jax was completely lost in her, his teeth gently grazing her earlobe, his eyes glazed with lust. When he didn’t answer, she grabbed his tie, flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He reached to peel off her black dress, but she stopped his hand. She looked down at him, her voice laced with a petulant complaint. “I’ve asked you so many times, Jax. When are you going to agree to be my personal bodyguard? Sneaking into the Warrens to see you was fun at first, but I’m getting tired of this whole underground affair. Besides…” She paused. “Besides, I’m sick of seeing your little beggar girlfriend.” Jax was silent for a moment, then he answered her with a kiss that was even more ferocious than the last, stripping away her clothes in the dark confines of the car. My tears mingled with the rain, my whole body shaking. I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned and ran, stumbling on the potholed ground, my knees screaming in protest each time I fell. But I scrambled back up and kept running, desperate to get away. All I wanted was to go home. My home was nothing more than a makeshift lean-to of scrap wood and tarps, but it was once a warm and happy place. It had my parents, hot meals, and a soft bed. Until the Cook Corporation tore it all down. My parents died trying to protect it, crushed under the rubble of our house. Their deaths sparked an outrage. The displaced residents protested, and the demolition was temporarily halted. We swore we would protect our land, that we wouldn’t let Cook win. But one by one, people took the money. Or they couldn’t stand the constant harassment from the company’s thugs. They left. The Warrens grew emptier, but I stayed. I was waiting to get justice for my parents. And Jax stayed with me. His parents were gambling addicts. He’d run away from home and lived on the streets. I had shared my food with him. When the thugs had me cornered, he had appeared out of nowhere to protect me. As I cleaned his wounds later, dabbing iodine on the raw gashes, I started to cry, from fear or from a pain in my own chest, I didn’t know which. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” Jax pulled me into a fierce embrace. “Ava, I’m staying with you. I’m going to protect you for the rest of your life.” And for five years, he did. 2 Jax came back late that night. A fresh bandage was taped to his forehead. He saw the scrapes on my knees and knelt to apply ointment. I took a step back. “Where were you?” A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. “They took me to see Ms. Cook,” he said carefully. “She wasn’t too hard on me. Ava… maybe she’s not as bad as you think.” I looked up at him, my heart clenching with disbelief. “Jax, you know how much I hate the Cooks.” It was a blood debt. He knew everything. And he was dismissing it with a casual, “not as bad as you think.” He reached for me. “I’m sorry, Ava. But that was our parents’ fight. Seraphina doesn’t approve of what her family did.” I pushed him away, a cold laugh escaping my lips. “You two seem to know each other pretty well.” He flinched, his eyes darting away. He didn’t answer. Instead, he started talking, as if trying to convince both me and himself. “Ava, you should talk to her. I’m sure she’d be willing to give you some compensation. I want a better life for you, for us. We can’t keep living hand-to-mouth, selling scrap metal. Do you really want to be stuck in this hellhole for the rest of your life?” I slapped him. The sound echoed in our small shelter. He turned his head slightly, his eyes downcast. I looked at him, my voice low and sharp. “This isn’t some hellhole. It’s my home. The Cook Corporation destroyed my house and killed my parents for twenty thousand dollars. I’m not leaving until I get my revenge.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, Jax panicked. “I’m sorry, Ava. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Then, another lie slipped from his lips. “I found a job. A bodyguard. It’s steady work.” I gave him a faint, bitter smile. I knew it was just Seraphina’s excuse to have him at her beck and call. “Ava,” he murmured, “I’m going to make you happy.” … Jax started coming home later and later, until he wasn’t coming home at all. “The rich have a lot of parties,” he’d explain, his voice strained. “They’re always short-staffed. You have to understand, Ava.” I knew he was sleeping with her. “Your employer seems to need a lot of… company,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. At the mention of her, a light I couldn’t ignore flickered in his eyes. A small smile played on his lips. “Ava, she’s… incredible. The strongest person I’ve ever met. Besides you.” The comparison made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t confront him. I still needed his protection. Without Jax, I wouldn’t survive long enough to see justice done. But I stopped letting him touch me. And Jax, lost in his new world with Seraphina, never even noticed. 3 A few weeks later, I was alone in the alley when a group of thugs blocked my path. “Well, well, if it isn’t Ava. Where’s your little boyfriend?” I recognized them. They were the same goons the Cook Corporation had been using for years to harass the remaining residents. I backed away. “Jax is nearby. Don’t try anything.” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. They cornered me, their shadows looming. One of them grabbed my hair, his greasy fingers scraping against my cheek. “Jax? He’s too busy being the Cook heiress’s lapdog to care about a homeless mutt like you.” I sank my teeth into his wrist, hard. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Fucking bitch!” A fist slammed into my face, sending me sprawling into the mud. The real beating began then. They used a filthy piece of wood, a makeshift club, crashing it against my ribs again and again. My strength gave out. I lay in the grime, gasping for air. The final blow landed on my forehead. The world dissolved into a high-pitched ringing as warm blood streamed down, blinding me. When they tore at my clothes, I no longer had the energy to fight back. They took out their phones, taking turns filming me. I just stared up at the sky, a gray canvas sliced into thin strips by a web of power lines. It was the same color it had been the day they pulled my parents’ bodies from the rubble. When they were done, they spat on the ground and left, cursing. I used the grimy wall to pull myself up, bit by bit. I wasn’t sure a single bone in my body was unbroken. Every step was agony. But I couldn’t die. If I died, who would get justice for my parents? I dragged myself around the last corner, a pile of rotting garbage marking the end of the alley. I stopped, hiding myself in the shadows. A black Lincoln, sleek and utterly out of place, was parked at the mouth of the alley. And standing beside it, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, was Jax. He looked so different I barely recognized him. Seraphina was leaning against his shoulder, her fingers tracing his jawline. “You know, Jax,” she purred, “I’m just discovering you have a rather cruel streak.” He lit a cigarette, his voice nonchalant. “Ava can be stubborn. I’ve protected her for years, but she has no idea how hard life can be. A little scare while I’m gone… maybe it’s what she needs to finally agree to leave.” Huddled behind the dumpster, I heard his words, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. The man I had trusted most had just thrown me to the wolves. I bit my lip so hard I didn’t feel the pain, my nails digging into my palms. A sharp, twisting pain erupted in my abdomen, like a dull knife being turned. My vision swam, and I slid down the wall as the world spun around me. The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was Jax’s voice, laced with something that sounded like a smile. “Once she understands…” 4 I woke up in a hospital. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear hushed, frantic voices outside. It was Jax, his voice cracking with a despair he couldn’t contain. “Seraphina! I just told them to scare her! What the hell did you order them to do?!” Her reply was a light, careless laugh that drifted through the crack in the door. “Oh, Jax. Your little girlfriend doesn’t scare easily. Since you agreed to let me send my men to ‘persuade’ her, I thought we might as well be thorough. Better to rip the band-aid off, don’t you think?” Jax’s voice was shaking. “Do you have any idea she was pregnant?! The baby… we lost the baby…” A brief silence. Then, Seraphina’s laughter, even brighter this time. “Oh? Is that so? Well, then I guess I did you both a favor. Did you really think that child would have had a happy life, Jax? Raised by a couple of beggars squatting in a garbage heap?” The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the hallway. A moment of stunned silence, then Seraphina’s voice, laced with venom. “You ever lay a hand on me again, Jax, and I swear to god… Your future, your ticket out of that shithole you came from, it’s all tied to me. Who do you think you are without me? Just another stray dog from the Warrens, fighting over scraps.” Lying in the hospital bed, I felt a wave of nausea. A child? I subconsciously touched my flat stomach. No wonder I had been so tired and sick lately. A dark, cruel thought surfaced. A part of me was relieved. I had nothing to give a child. The door opened. Seraphina walked in, followed by Jax, his eyes red and swollen. He couldn’t look at me. She bit her lip, forcing the words out. “My men got carried away. They didn’t know when to stop. On their behalf, I apologize.” She paused, pulling a checkbook from her expensive handbag and placing a blank check on my bedside table. “As for compensation, name your price. Take your time. After all, it was our company’s… mistake… that led to your parents’ deaths and left you like this.” Then she picked up her bag, lifted her chin, and walked out. We were alone. Jax looked at me, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. “Ava, I’m so sorry…” I just smiled. A slow, cold smile. I would make them pay. … Three days later, sirens blared across the Southside. Fire trucks and ambulances swarmed the streets. The Warrens were on fire. Jax’s calls came one after another. I finally answered. He sounded like a man on the edge of a cliff. “Ava, where are you?! Why aren’t you in your room?!” “You know where I am, Jax,” I said softly. “Don’t bother looking for me. I’m going to be with my parents soon. I won’t be the burden holding you back from your new life. Are you happy now? After all these years, we’re even.” Flames licked at the flimsy wooden walls of my shelter, crackling and popping. I didn’t move. I just held the cold picture frame in my arms a little tighter. In the photo, my parents and I were smiling. I could hear the media scrum outside, the police shouting. I thought I heard Jax scream my name. “Ava!” He was trying to break through the police line. I ignored it all and closed my eyes, pressing my cheek against the cool glass of the frame. The air warped with the heat. I could see my parents in the flames, beckoning to me. Just as the heat and smoke were about to pull me under, there was a tremendous crash. The burning wall exploded inward. Jax, wreathed in smoke, stumbled into the inferno. He reached for me. “Ava! Go! We have to go!” I didn’t move. I just looked at him, my expression calm. His eyes were wild, pleading. “Ava… I was wrong… I was so wrong… please, just come outside. We can talk outside…” The smoke was getting thicker, the flames crawling across the ceiling. “Outside?” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Outside where, Jax? My home is here. The home we were supposed to have… you destroyed it.” He slapped himself, hard, twice across the face. “I’m an animal, Ava, I deserve to die… but don’t do this, don’t throw your life away… I’m begging you…” The heat was unbearable. I could hear the firehoses outside. “Is anyone still in there?! We need to get them out!” The shout seemed to snap Jax out of his panic. He lunged forward, trying to scoop me into his arms. At that exact moment, a burning beam from the ceiling came crashing down. And the world went black.

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My best friend’s son’s eyes are identical to my husband’s. I was holding little Alex, who is three, and watching him laugh. The curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, even the way they crinkled— I froze. “Godmother, what’s wrong?” I heard my own voice tremble. “Nothing,” I said, putting the child down. I watched him run towards Sarah. Sarah. My best friend of twenty years. She picked up Alex and smiled at me. “Look how much he loves his godmother.” I smiled back. But my palms were drenched in sweat. 1. Sarah and I have been classmates since middle school. Twenty whole years, from the age of thirteen until now. She was my bridesmaid when I got married. When she suffered a postpartum hemorrhage, I was the first to rush to the hospital. Three years ago, she suddenly told me she was pregnant. “Whose?” She just smiled, saying nothing. “You’re not going to tell me?” “It doesn’t matter,” she said, touching her belly. “I can raise him myself.” At the time, I thought she was so cool. A single mother, an independent woman. I helped her find the best obstetrician. I accompanied her to every prenatal check-up. When she had morning sickness, I made her porridge. On the day she went into labor, I was with her in the delivery room. “I’ll definitely pay you back when I have money,” she said from her hospital bed, gripping my hand. “Don’t be silly,” I laughed. “What kind of relationship do we have?” She cried. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.” I cried too. I believed her. During her month of postpartum confinement, I was at her house almost every day. Cooking soup, cleaning the room, washing the baby’s diapers. My husband, Harold, said I was too devoted. “She has family, doesn’t she?” “Her parents aren’t local, and she’s all alone. If I don’t help her, who will?” Harold didn’t say anything more. On the day of Alex’s full-month celebration, I gave a set of gold locks and bracelets, worth over thirty thousand. Sarah held the baby, prompting him to call me. “Say ‘Godmother.’” Little Alex babbled, drool running down his chin. I took him, my heart melting completely. “Godmother will buy you delicious food, toys, and send you to school.” Sarah stood by, her eyes curved in a smile. “You’re better to him than his own mother.” At the time, I thought this was the most genuine friendship in the world. When Alex was one, Sarah moved. The new apartment complex was very close to my house, a ten-minute walk. “This way, it’s easier for you to see Alex,” she said. I didn’t think much of it. Sometimes, when Sarah worked late, she’d drop Alex off at my house. Harold initially found it annoying. “Again?” “Just a few hours, can you watch him for me?” Later, he stopped complaining. He even started asking, “Alex isn’t coming today?” I said, “Sarah isn’t working late today.” He “oh-ed” and looked down at his phone. Now that I think about it, was he chatting with her then? For Alex’s second birthday, I gave him a big red envelope. At two and a half, I enrolled him in an early childhood education class, eighteen thousand. Sarah said she felt bad, but I said it was fine. “It’s not easy raising a child alone; I’ll help you.” She looked at me, her eyes red. “I don’t know how to thank you.” “Don’t say such things.” I was sincere. I didn’t have children. Five years of marriage, and I still couldn’t conceive. Harold said not to rush, let nature take its course. My mother-in-law’s expression grew worse and worse, but she didn’t say anything to my face. Alex, in a way, filled that void for me. I loved him as if he were my own son. But I didn’t know he might actually be my husband’s “own son.” The change started when he turned three. One day, I went to Sarah’s house to pick up Alex. He was eating watermelon. Red juice ran down his chin. He looked up and smiled at me. I froze. That smile. Those crinkling eyes. That unconscious head tilt. Exactly like Harold. I told myself then: You’re overthinking it. All kids look somewhat alike. But from that day on, I couldn’t help but observe. Alex’s ears. Harold’s ears had that same shape, with a little point at the top. Alex’s fingers. Slender and long, just like Harold’s. Alex would purse his lips when he was angry. Harold did too. Once was a coincidence. Twice was a coincidence. What about three, four, five times? I started losing sleep. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning. Harold was already asleep. I looked at his profile, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. I quietly picked up his phone. His phone was never password-protected; we had agreed on mutual trust. I opened WeChat and found Sarah’s chat. The most recent messages were from three days ago. “Alex has a cold, do you have time to come see him?” “Okay, tomorrow.” That was it. Ordinary. I scrolled back further. All everyday conversations. No flirtation, nothing suspicious. I breathed a sigh of relief. I must be overthinking. It had to be. The next day, Sarah called. “Lily, Alex misses you. Coming over for dinner today?” “Okay.” I hung up and saw Harold standing at the door. “Going to Sarah’s?” “Yes.” “I’ll come too,” he said. “I can bring Alex a toy.” He used to find it annoying, and now he’s volunteering? I looked at him, saying nothing. He smiled. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I averted my gaze. Telling myself: Don’t be paranoid. During dinner, Alex sat next to Harold. Harold served him food, wiped his mouth. “Uncle Harold is so nice,” Alex said. Sarah laughed. “Harold cares more about Alex than you, his godmother.” Harold said, “Kids are always likable.” I ate silently, my head down. But my eyes were constantly watching. Watching Harold serve food. Watching Alex eat. Watching their profiles side by side. Similar. They were so similar. Sarah suddenly spoke, “Lily, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.” “Nothing, just a little tired.” She looked at me with concern. “Maybe you should go home and rest?” “No, I’m fine.” I smiled. But inside, a storm was brewing. On the way home, I asked Harold, “How long have you known Sarah?” He paused. “Through you, about six years now.” “Do you two contact each other often?” “Not much, just when she asks me to help fix her computer or something.” “You’re really good to Alex.” He smiled. “That kid is charming.” I didn’t say anything else. After getting home, he went to shower. I sat on the sofa, staring at the wall, lost in thought. Fix computer. Did Sarah ever ask him to fix her computer? Why don’t I know about that? That night, I couldn’t sleep. At three in the morning, I got up and took Harold’s phone again. This time, I searched more thoroughly. No WeChat messages. No texts. Call history… I froze. The call history with Sarah. More than I expected. At least three or four times a week. Sometimes ten minutes, sometimes half an hour. But it didn’t show up on WeChat because they only sent voice messages, never typed. I put the phone back, lay back in bed, and stared at the ceiling until dawn. 2. I started paying attention to more details. That photo of Alex at 100 days old at Sarah’s house. I leaned in, looking at his eyebrows. Thick brows, connected in the middle. Harold had them too. And that dimple. On his left cheek, appearing only when he smiled. Harold had one too. I asked Sarah, “Whose dimple does Alex have?” She paused, then smiled. “I don’t know, maybe his dad’s.” “His dad has a dimple?” “I don’t remember,” she said. “It’s been too long since we broke up.” I stared at her face for a few seconds. Her smile froze for a moment. Then quickly returned to normal. “Oh, by the way, can you check Alex’s foot? Is it a bit flat-footed?” The topic was changed. But I remembered that frozen moment. After that, I started “accidentally” looking through Harold’s things. His computer. His drawers. His bank statements. Then I found a transfer. Five thousand every month, on a fixed date, transferred to an unfamiliar account. “What’s this?” I asked him. He glanced at it, his expression unchanged. “Helping a friend out. He said he’d pay me back in installments.” “Which friend?” “You don’t know him.” I didn’t ask any more questions. But I noted down the account. That night, I used my own channels to check. Account holder: Sarah. My hands were trembling. Five thousand every month. Transferred for three years. Three years, thirty-six months, one hundred and eighty thousand. I never knew. He was transferring money to her, behind my back. Why? Helping a friend out? Was she his friend? Or my friend? I took a deep breath. Told myself to calm down. I couldn’t be sure yet. Maybe it really was just a loan. Maybe Sarah was having difficulties and was too embarrassed to ask me. Maybe… But why hide it from me? The next day, I asked Sarah out for coffee. “Are you tight on money lately?” “I’m okay,” she smiled. “Why?” “If you need money, you can tell me.” “No, no,” she waved her hand. “I have enough.” “Really?” “Really.” She looked at me. “Lily, what’s wrong with you today?” “Nothing,” I smiled. “Just worried about you.” “Silly girl.” She squeezed my hand. “With you as my best friend, what do I have to fear?” Her hand was warm. Her eyes were sincere. I almost believed her. But one hundred and eighty thousand. She said she had enough. Then where did Harold’s money go? I started checking more things. Harold’s schedule. He said he had a business trip this weekend, and I said okay. But I didn’t tell him I had put a tracker on his car. That weekend, the tracker showed him in the city center. Not the city of his business trip. But a hotel. A five-star one, very close to Sarah’s house. I sat at home, watching the little dot on my phone. He stayed there for three hours. Then he came home. “How was the business trip?” I asked him. “It was alright, a bit tiring,” he yawned. “I’m going to shower first.” I watched his back. Business trip. A bit tiring. What made you so tired? That night, after he fell asleep, I took his phone again. This time, I found a hidden album. It required a password. I tried his birthday, incorrect. Our wedding anniversary, incorrect. His mother’s birthday, incorrect. Finally, I tried Alex’s birthday. It opened. Inside were just a few photos. Sarah’s. Selfies, candid shots. And one photo of the two of them together. The background was a hotel room. Sarah leaned on his shoulder, smiling sweetly. The date was in the bottom right corner. Two years ago. I put the phone back. Walked out onto the balcony. It was dark outside; I couldn’t see any stars. I stood there for a long time. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. I just felt cold. Cold from the inside out. My best friend of twenty years. My husband of five years. The two people I trusted most. Had been betraying me all along. I remembered what Sarah had said. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.” I remembered what Harold had said. “We agreed to trust each other.” So laughable. 3. The next day, I didn’t say a word. I made breakfast as usual, and saw Harold off as usual. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” I asked him. “Whatever, you decide,” he kissed my forehead. “My hardworking wife.” I smiled. Watched him drive away. Then I closed the door, leaning against the wall. Every breath hurt. But I told myself: It’s not enough yet. Photos can be faked. I needed more definite proof. I made a decision. A DNA test. Sarah had called saying Alex had a cold, so I offered to visit. I brought toys, fruit, and a cotton swab. “Let me see Alex’s throat.” Sarah didn’t think much of it and brought the child over. I took the opportunity when she turned to get water to swab inside Alex’s mouth with the cotton swab. “What’s Godmother doing?” “Checking if you have any inflammation,” I said, smiling. “Nothing, you’re very healthy.” Alex grinned. I put the cotton swab in a bag and tucked it into my pocket. Harold’s sample was easier to get. His razor. His toothbrush. His hair on the pillow. I collected enough samples and sent them to a testing agency. “It should take about a week,” the staff said. “Okay, I’ll wait.” A week. Seven days. For these seven days, I had to pretend I knew nothing. These seven days passed slowly. Every day, I cooked, went to work, and talked to Harold as usual. He didn’t notice anything unusual. Because I was acting very well. Or rather, he simply didn’t care. That Thursday, he said he had another business trip this weekend. “Where are you going this time?” “Shanghai, to meet a client.” “How many days will you be gone?” “Two days, I think.” I nodded, saying nothing. But I knew he wouldn’t be going to Shanghai. He would be going to that hotel. Friday evening, Sarah called. “Lily, come over for dinner this weekend, I’m making dumplings.” “Okay.” “What about Harold? Tell him to come too.” “He’s on a business trip.” Silence on the other end of the phone for a second. “Oh, then just come by yourself.” I hung up. Business trip. They think I don’t know. They think I’m still that fool. Saturday, I didn’t go to Sarah’s house. I went to that hotel. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I sat in the lobby for two hours, then I saw them walk in together. Harold had his arm around Sarah’s waist. Sarah leaned on his shoulder. Both were laughing and chatting. Like an ordinary couple. No, like an ordinary married couple. My phone captured the scene. Then I left. I didn’t rush up to them. I didn’t make a scene. Because it wasn’t time yet. Sunday evening, Harold returned from his “business trip.” “Are you tired?” I asked him. “Not really,” he put down his luggage. “The client was difficult; it took two days to finalize.” “That sounds tough.” “My wife is so thoughtful.” He smiled and kissed me. I smiled too. I let him kiss me. Then I said, “Promise me something.” “What?” “You and Sarah…” His body noticeably stiffened. “You and Sarah should limit your contact from now on,” I said. “I don’t really like you two being too close.” He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You’re overthinking it. What could possibly be going on between us? She’s your best friend, and I’m just helping out.” “Really?” “Really.” He looked into my eyes. “Wife, have you been too tired lately? You’re being paranoid.” I looked into his eyes. Those eyes that once made me feel so secure. Now I just found them disgusting. “Maybe,” I said. “I’m just overthinking.” He hugged me. “Silly girl, how could I ever do anything to betray you?” I leaned on his shoulder. Closed my eyes. Okay. I’ll give you one more chance. If the DNA results are negative, I’ll pretend nothing happened. If they’re positive… 4. A week later, the results were out. I went to pick up the report alone. The staff handed me an envelope. “Read it yourself or shall I read it to you?” “I’ll read it myself.” I opened the envelope. My hand was trembling. My eyes found the line of text. “Probability of paternity: 99.9999%.” “Conclusion: Supports Harold as the biological father of Alex.” I stared at those words for a long time. Then I folded the report and put it in my bag. Walking out of the testing center, the sunlight was blinding. I stood by the roadside, and suddenly I laughed. 99.9999%. Biological father. I helped her during her confinement. I bought gold locks for the child. I spent twenty thousand to enroll the child in early education. I loved him as if he were my own son. It turns out, he really was my husband’s “own son.” I didn’t go home. I found a coffee shop and sat there all afternoon, sorting through everything. Alex is three. They’ve been together for at least three years. Maybe longer. Harold and I have been married for five years. Which means… from the very beginning of our marriage, he was betraying me? I remembered what he said when he proposed. “I will only love you in this life.” I remembered what Sarah said when she was my bridesmaid. “Lily, you must be happy.” Happy. She slept with my husband and wanted me to be happy. What a huge joke. When I got home that evening, Harold was already there. “Where were you? You didn’t answer your phone.” “Shopping with colleagues; my phone died.” “Oh.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought something happened.” Something happened? Something big happened. I looked at him and smiled. “Nothing, just shopped for too long.” “Are you hungry? I ordered takeout.” “Yes, I’m hungry.” I sat down to eat, chatted with him, and watched TV. As usual. Nothing changed. Only my heart had grown cold. Over the next few days, I continued to gather evidence. I found their chat history. Harold had replaced his phone once, but he had a habit of backing things up. I found all their chat records in his cloud drive. Starting from four years ago. “Miss you.” “Me too.” “When can we be openly together?” “When the time is right.” “Alex called me ‘Daddy’ today.” “Really? Send me the video.” I read them one by one. My hands were shaking. So they had planned it all along. Waiting for the “time to be right.” What time? For me to die? Or for them to save enough money to run away? There were also transfer records. Besides the five thousand a month, there were others. Money for the child’s formula, toys, early education fees. Some I paid, some he paid. The two of us, together, raising his illegitimate child. I remembered one time, Sarah said she was short on cash and wanted to borrow money from me. I transferred twenty thousand to her. She said she’d pay it back when she got paid. And she did. But that month, Harold also transferred twenty thousand to her. She used Harold’s money to pay off her debt to me. What a well-played game. I compiled all the evidence. The DNA report. Screenshots of chat records. Transfer records. Hotel photos. Hotel stay records—which I had someone pull. Three years, they booked rooms 87 times. 87 times. An average of two to three times a month. I calculated, it was probably when I was on business trips, when I was working overtime, when I thought he was also working overtime. I printed all these out, bound them. Two copies. One for Harold. One for Sarah.

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1 I agreed to my husband’s demand that we be child-free. Then, at forty-five, he changed his mind. He fell for a woman ten years younger than me. The most important thing was, she could still give him a child. He used every weapon in his arsenal to force a divorce, leaving me with nothing. I hated him. I hated him so much that the thought of sharing the same patch of earth with him felt like a desecration. Decades later, our hair was white, our faces etched with the maps of our lives. We met again in a nursing home. He was there visiting a friend, his grandson in tow. I was a permanent resident, old and alone. My body, I knew, could no longer handle the rigors of childbirth, even if I had wanted to try. He led his grandson over to me. “Ava,” he said, his voice softer than I remembered. “Are you still angry with me for breaking my promise? People change when they get old. Their ideas change.” I barely glanced at him. What was the use of being angry? I had wished him a life without heirs, a cursed and lonely existence. But fate had blessed him with a large, loving family. And I was nearing the end of my own life. It would be better if we never met again in the next. … I never thought I’d see him here. To be precise, I was a resident, and he was just a visitor. He was the type who basked in the warmth of family, of children and grandchildren. He would never choose to live out his days in a place like this. He hadn’t expected to see me again either. I had been so resolute when I left, cutting off all contact. Friends who tried to reconnect us were met with a wall of silence. I tore up his letters, blocked his number. My hatred for him was an art form. “I hope we never see each other again, not even in death,” I had once said. “The only reason I’d go to his funeral is to set off fireworks.” But now, all these years later, I found I could face him with a strange sense of calm. The old have a way of getting lost in their memories, spending whole afternoons retracing the paths of their past. Nathan and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together, and our relationship blossomed naturally. We both came from families scarred by pain. His father’s infidelity had left deep wounds, instilling in him a fear of parenthood. He wanted to be child-free. To prove his commitment, he even had a vasectomy. “Ava,” he’d told me, “I don’t want my child to suffer the way I did. I’m not ready.” I respected his decision. My mother, however, was furious. She threatened to confront him. “He’s a man! He can have children when he’s seventy, eighty! What about you? What will you do then? If he changes his mind, you’ll be the one to suffer. You think I’m being cruel, but I’ve lived, and I’m telling you this for your own good.” I had cried, defending him, promising her that we would be happy, that Nathan was different. And for fifteen years, I was happy. He adored me. Then, at forty-five, a young woman showed me a picture of them in bed together, along with a positive pregnancy test. “I think you have a right to know,” she’d said. Nathan, consumed by guilt, told me it was my decision. I could choose whether the child was born or not. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart. “I’ll schedule the appointment,” I said, my voice hollow. He didn’t even look at the girl. “Whatever you want,” he promised. “As long as you’re not angry.” But a single day was all it took for him to change his mind. He stood before me, his arm protectively around the other woman. “Ava, I’m sorry. I want this child. Let’s get a divorce.” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. In that moment, my mother’s words came back to haunt me, a terrible, prophetic echo. I tried to fight for my share of our assets, to salvage some shred of dignity. But Nathan was no fool. “Ava, I know you’re angry,” he’d said, his voice cold and calculated. “But I need money to support a pregnant woman and a child. I can’t be generous with the settlement.” I never imagined the man I had loved so deeply could become such an enemy, as if we were mortal foes locked in a battle to the death. I slapped him, the sound cracking in the silent room. “You’re the one who betrayed me, Nathan! You’re the one who broke your promise! Have you forgotten who wanted to be child-free in the first place? You begged me, and I agreed because I loved you more than some hypothetical child! You’re the one who cheated!” The tears I had been holding back finally fell. My mother had died just a month before. I had promised her I would be happy. Nathan had stood by her bedside and sworn he would honor his commitment to me. There was guilt in his eyes, but it didn’t stop him. He was ruthless. He used every trick in the book to hide our assets, something he was very good at. Of the wealth we had built together, he offered me a meager one-tenth. By the sixth time we stood in court, I was exhausted. I had cried until I had no tears left. My mental state was fragile, but that didn’t help my case. It only became another weapon for him to use against me, another justification for the divorce. I looked at him across the courtroom, his face bright with anticipation for his new life, his new child. The man who had always hated complications had spent the previous night meticulously preparing bird’s nest soup for his new love, a delicacy for pregnant women. I lost. I took what little money I was given and moved to the other side of the world. I never wanted to see him again. I hated him. Life is unfair. The man who broke his vows thrived. He had three children, and then grandchildren. He was surrounded by family. And me? My health deteriorated. Eventually, I was too tired to even hate him anymore. Nathan brought his grandson to me. “Say hello to Grandma, little guy,” he prompted. The child did as he was told. “Ava,” Nathan continued, “I divorced her after the kids turned eighteen. You could have come back. The kids would have taken care of you. They’re good kids, they listen to me. I’ve been waiting for you all these years.” I looked at him and shook my head. No, thank you. We were old now. What was the point? He probably felt a flicker of guilt. He was the one who insisted on being child-free. I had trusted him, accommodated him. A man can have children his whole life. I had gambled my future on his word, and he had turned out to be just like all the others. He didn’t understand. “We’re old, Ava. Why are we still fighting? You’ve always been in my heart. That’s why I divorced her as soon as the kids were grown. They understood.” His friend, an old man named Jack, chimed in. “Ava, what Nathan did was wrong, but it’s been so long. If you go back, at least you’ll have family around. You won’t have to die alone in this place.” So naive. Their lives were intertwined in ways a piece of paper could never sever. Nathan was about to say more when his phone rang, a trendy, upbeat ringtone that young couples used. A kind young volunteer had helped me set one on my own phone last week. He quickly answered. The woman’s voice was clear. “Why aren’t you back yet? Our eldest got a promotion. He’s coming over for dinner.” Nathan quickly agreed. See? They were still connected. How could they not be? Besides, I had no interest in being a homewrecker. I was a part of his past. As they say, when a person is near death, their words are kind. So, I wished them a long and happy life together. Nathan left. I went back to my usual routine: sitting in my rocking chair, soaking up the sun, and reliving the days of my youth. He started visiting the nursing home more often. His friend Jack would tease him. “You keep signing in as my visitor, but we all know who you’re really here to see.” His grandson got used to me. He was a cute kid. After he called me “Grandma” a few more times, I found myself softening, pulling a piece of candy from my pocket for him. The grudges of our generation shouldn’t be passed down. Nathan was pleased. “See, Ava? I always knew you loved children.” His stomach rumbled. “Oops, gotta use the restroom. Old man problems.” He asked Jack to watch the boy, but the child stayed by my side. I found myself watching him, my voice soft as I warned, “Don’t climb on that.” A nurse came to find me. It was time for my treatment. I handed the boy back to Jack and followed her. The treatments were always painful. Cancer is like that. At a certain stage, the flesh begins to rot. In a strange way, being old was a small blessing. The cancer cells weren’t as aggressive. I had been living with it for five years. The doctors said I wouldn’t make it through the year. But so what? I was lucky to have lived this long. It took a while to change the dressing on my abdomen. The smell of medicine clung to me, so I borrowed some perfume from the nurse. I didn’t want to bother anyone with the stench. When I came out, they were all looking at me with frantic eyes. “Ava, is the boy with you?” I shook my head. Jack was panicking. “I thought you took him with you! He’s gone!” My brow furrowed. That was impossible. The boy was holding Jack’s hand when I left. I tried to stay calm. “Let’s check the security cameras.” But Nathan had already lost his mind. He didn’t hesitate. He pointed a finger at me, his face contorted with rage. “Ava, I know you hate me! I know you’re angry! You can hit me, curse me, whatever you want! But the boy is innocent! Don’t you dare use him to get back at me!” The familiar pain, both physical and emotional, flared up. My voice rose. “I didn’t do it, Nathan!” He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “The nurse can vouch for me!” The nurse came out, but before she could speak, Nathan shoved me hard. “If I don’t find him, I will hate you for the rest of my life! You’ll rot in hell for this!” He turned and ran. I fell to the floor, my old bones screaming in protest. Nathan glanced back at the sound of my fall, but only for a second before he was gone, dragging Jack with him. “We need to find the boy!” After all these years, he could still make my heart ache. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? The nurse rushed to help me up. “What is wrong with those two? The boy was fine when you left! How could they just blame you without even checking the cameras?” A sharp, tearing pain shot through me. The nurse checked my dressing and her face went pale. “Oh no. The tumor… it’s ruptured. We need to get you to a hospital. Now.” I was rushed into an ambulance. Through a haze of pain, I saw a younger Nathan. He had a hundred percent faith in me then. Even in the depths of our bitter divorce, when I was pushed to the brink of madness, I never once thought of hurting his new love or her child. It was always between him and me. It was laughable, really. If I had wanted revenge, I could have used my mental breakdown as an excuse. Why would I wait until now? But still, he blamed me. Why? Because he knew he was in the wrong. He knew he owed me a lifetime. He believed my revenge would be justified. The ambulance arrived at the hospital. My consciousness was fading. A ruptured tumor meant internal bleeding, infection. For an old body like mine, it was a death sentence. The pain was immense. My vision blurred. I saw a young Nathan again. We were on a mountain path, and I had fallen and scraped my knee. He carried me on his back for miles, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up when we get home. I’m practically a doctor, you know.” The taste of blood in my throat brought me back to the present. Everything was decaying. My insurance had maxed out. The doctors tried to find a contact. In my phone, they found the number Nathan had insisted on leaving a few days ago. “Ava,” he had promised, “if you change your mind, just call me. I’ll come get you. I’ve kept the house just the way you left it. The kids wanted it, but I told them no. I was waiting for you to come home.” I had been too tired to delete it. The doctor called. No answer. Finally, he picked up. The doctor spoke quickly. “Hello, we found your number in Ava’s phone under ‘Husband.’ She’s in critical condition, but her insurance limit has been reached. Can you come to the hospital to handle the admission and payment?” The line went dead. “I’m busy looking for my grandson! Stop this nonsense, Ava!” My eyes fluttered open. “Doctor,” I whispered, my voice weak. “Don’t call him.” The world had its own records. They would prove my innocence. With the last of my strength, I made one final call. To the funeral home. I had pre-arranged everything. It was a simple process. Everyone has to go through it. A clean, smooth death was a blessing. I was tired of the cycle of pain, surgery, and more pain. My affairs were in order. I had no assets left. What little I had was gone, spent on years of medical bills. It was better this way. I used up the last of my energy and closed my eyes. … Nathan finally found the boy. He was old, and it took him a while to figure out the security footage. A call from his ex-wife broke the stalemate. “Why aren’t you home? I picked up our grandson an hour ago. Where have you been?” Jack slapped his forehead. “Oh, my god. My memory… I remember handing the boy off, but I couldn’t remember if it was to you or Ava. It’s all my fault.” Nathan’s face went white. He ran back to the nursing home, but the nurse told him, “She was taken to the hospital. She hasn’t come back.” He rushed to the hospital, but the news he received there shattered his world.

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After being assigned a pair of beast-kin brothers as partners by the Federation, I prepared two glasses of milk every evening. The older brother, Blaine, was reserved but would politely accept it, offering a gentle “Thank you.” His younger brother, Chase, was hot-headed, often shattering the glass and snapping at me. I believed I was being perfectly impartial, treating them both equally. Then, my best friend, Elara, accidentally witnessed this. She hesitated before saying, “Don’t you think that kind of impartiality is actually unfair to the one who’s better behaved?” I thought about it all day and realized she was right. That evening, I walked out of the kitchen with only one glass of milk in my hand. 1. Blaine was the first to notice the change. But he said nothing, accepted the milk as usual, and thanked me. Chase, sitting on the sofa nearby, was bored, playing a video game. It wasn’t until I stood up, said goodnight, and started walking towards the bedroom that he finally realized the subtle difference: “Hey, did we run out of milk, or are you so broke you can only afford one glass?” Compared to Blaine’s quiet aloofness, Chase was like a prehistoric Tyrannosaurus Rex – volatile, defiant, and sharp. He put down his game console, his eyes unfriendly, and his words as cutting as ever: “If you don’t need your eyes, donate them. Can’t you see I’m still here?” He would never speak to me kindly. The urge to explain dissipated. My smile faded slightly, and I answered simply, “No.” “No? Then who are you trying to annoy by only bringing out one glass of milk?” Annoy? I recalled a few nights ago. Blaine and Chase had been called out on an emergency mission. They didn’t return until nearly one in the morning. I had waited so long that I’d fallen asleep on the sofa without realizing it. I was woken by the sound of the door opening. I quickly got up, heated the dinner I had saved for them, and brought it out. As before, I had still prepared two glasses of milk. Chase’s eyes held deep fatigue. I glimpsed a wound on his shoulder and stepped forward to ask about it. But he impatiently pushed me away. Beast-kin strength was always considerable. Along with the glass of milk, I fell hard to the floor. Chase froze for a moment, but quickly reverted to his usual impatience: “Damn it, are you blind? Can’t you see I’m texting? Always trying to cling to me, serves you right. It was annoying enough when you used to act all clingy and pathetic, but today I’m practically dead from exhaustion, and I come home to this subservient behavior again.” In his eyes, my waiting and concern were just clingy, pathetic acts. I was stung by the disgust in Chase’s voice. A wave of shame washed over me. My face flushed, and without lifting my head, I stumbled back to my room. A muffled grunt came from the living room – Blaine had punched Chase. A moment later, Blaine came in with a first-aid kit and knelt before me. It was then I realized that my calf had been cut by a piece of the broken glass, and blood was already flowing down to my ankle. 2. I had always known the Blackwood brothers had a grudge against me. To anyone looking in, I was the one who had “married up.” They were the pride of the Beast-Kin Academy, top in looks and ability – arrogant, brilliant, and highly sought after. I was gentle, ordinary, a weed among the common folk. If not for the astonishingly high compatibility score, the Federation wouldn’t have assigned us, and our paths would never have crossed. At first, I was overjoyed. I grew up in an orphanage; all I longed for was a home. I naively believed Blaine and Chase were the family heaven had given me. So, no matter how bad their attitude towards me was, or how disdainful their words, I acted as if I didn’t notice, still approaching them with enthusiasm and joy. Every time I saw them eat the food I prepared, I felt immense satisfaction. As if I was needed… People need connections in this world, and Blaine and Chase were my link to it. The first six months were tough. Both resented the assignment. Their former rivals finally seized the opportunity to mock them for being matched with an “unpresentable wife.” This was a huge humiliation for them, who had always been so arrogant. So, they vented their frustration on me. Blaine was more composed, mostly ignoring me, cold and distant. Chase, however, was hot-tempered, often scoffing at me, criticizing everything from my appearance to my work. In his words, I was utterly worthless, a complete failure, good for nothing from head to toe. Then, at some point… their attitudes towards me improved slightly. Especially Blaine; he no longer treated me as invisible. Every time I offered him milk, he would accept it, even thanking me. Occasionally, he would look at me and suddenly ruffle my hair, just like other beast-kin partners show affection. I had never received such treatment before; I was almost overwhelmed. And Chase’s taunts gradually lessened; sometimes he would even pull me into playing games. Although he would always curse me for holding him back, he’d still take out anyone who attacked me. I thought I had finally won them over, that my hardships were about to end. Persistence worked; as I tried hard to please them, they were also trying to accept me. Until that broken glass of milk… It was like a dream, torn apart without warning. All those years of effort, enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, and devotion had finally condensed into three words. Subservient dog. The most common, most ordinary, most shameless, most self-respecting subservient dog. 3. After that day, I couldn’t sleep well for several nights. Shame and embarrassment overwhelmed me; I practically avoided both of them. My best friend, Elara, was furious when she found out. I looked down, fidgeting with my sleeve, and slowly said, “It’s all in the past. I’ve thought about it; I’ll just maintain my distance from now on, no more getting close.” The worst outcome would simply be a polite, distant relationship. The extremely high compatibility score meant that only I could soothe them during their sensitive periods. And their hard-earned status in the military provided me with good material conditions. It was just… an exchange. “So, will you still bring them milk?” I thought for a moment: “I probably will.” Maintaining a semblance of politeness was necessary for me too. Elara looked as if she wanted to say more, but eventually spoke: “But don’t you think that if you still send two glasses of milk impartially, it’s a little unfair?” Unfair? Because Blaine and Chase were twins, and their compatibility with me was exceptionally high, the staff repeatedly emphasized that after marriage, the most important thing for me was to be impartial: “You rarely see multi-beast-kin families, but they do exist. The most important thing for maintaining such a family is fairness; you can’t favor one over the other. You need to be the adhesive for the family. You must understand that your every action will affect the beast-kins’ moods and disrupt the balance between them.” I took this to heart, so I always prepared everything in pairs. Two glasses of milk, two sets of gifts, and even when delivering meals, I counted the shrimp in each container. I had gone to such lengths; was it still unfair? Elara saw my confusion and subtly prompted: “That day, only Chase was mean to you, right? Blaine didn’t say anything.” I nodded. Not only did he not say anything, he even punched Chase, almost as if defending me. And… I lowered my head, looking at the wound on my calf. Blaine had knelt there, more serious than I had ever seen him, and treated my wound. Before leaving, he even handed me a chocolate bar from his pocket. He wiped away my tears, coaxed me to sleep, and finally apologized to me on his brother’s behalf. But actually, it had nothing to do with him; that night, only Chase had hurt me. “That’s right then. Think about it, their attitudes towards you are completely different, but in the end, they get the same milk and the same gifts. For Blaine, who’s better behaved and treats you better, isn’t that unfair?” I opened my mouth, wanting to argue, but didn’t know what to say. Later, back home, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I remembered helping the volunteer sister who visited us at the orphanage. Everyone else was playing, but only I was helping move things. My palms were red and chafed after an afternoon of work. In the end, I received a backpack as a reward. But everyone else got one too, even the child who had been lazy all afternoon, catching butterflies. It was identical to mine. When the volunteer left, that sister pulled me aside. She pulled out two hair clips as if by magic, smiling as she placed them in my hand: “Everyone gets a backpack, but these hair clips are an extra gift from me.” She said: “Well-behaved children should get extra rewards. That’s fair.” The words of the staff and the volunteer sister clashed in my mind. Eventually, the scales slowly tipped towards the latter. I thought, the volunteer sister was more right. The better-behaved party receiving more rewards – that’s fair. 4. The milk was just the beginning. In the evenings, when we sat watching TV, I no longer sat perfectly in the middle. Instead, I leaned closer to Blaine, creating a noticeable distance from Chase. I stopped saying good morning to Chase; I only smiled softly at Blaine when I saw him. When I had questions I didn’t understand, I would only ask Blaine. When going out to gatherings, I would only link arms with Blaine. Even at meal times, my favoritism was obvious; of ten shrimp, eight went to Blaine. At first, I felt a little flustered. Abandoning my long-standing impartiality made me uneasy. But soon, I discovered that the changes from giving it up weren’t as bad as I’d thought. Blaine, though reserved, never made me feel uncomfortable. When I sat beside him, he would naturally take my wrist, asking if I wanted snacks. When I said good morning, he would quickly reply and ask about my sleep the night before. He would always taste my cooking, earnestly praising it. And after no longer clinging to Chase, I would never again be impatiently pushed off the sofa, ignored when saying good morning. I wouldn’t walk down the street only to be harshly pulled away because he was embarrassed to be seen with me. Nor would I spend hours cooking a meal, only for it to be deemed too salty and called disgusting. I practically hid behind Blaine like a turtle, enjoying this rare warmth. The atmosphere in the house, however, had inexplicably grown subtle. Several times, I felt a direct gaze on my back. But when I turned, I only saw Chase staring expressionlessly at the television. He noticed my gaze, turned his head, and said in a harsh tone, “What are you looking at? What, you want to play games with me again?” If it were before, my foolish self would have taken it as an invitation, eagerly joining him. But now, I shook my head, no longer seeking humiliation. Blaine happened to walk over. I followed him, holding my badminton racket, and headed out the door. This was my latest hobby; I often played with Blaine for hours. As soon as we stepped outside, a loud crash came from the living room. I turned my head to see Chase had thrown his game console. Shards flew everywhere, and Chase’s gaze was chilling. It fell on my hand, clasped tightly with Blaine’s. He gave a forced smile: “Brother, this is getting ridiculous.” “You’re getting too good at playing the nice guy, acting like you actually like this ugly duckling.” 5. How long had it been since I last heard those three words? When we were first assigned, Chase’s disgust for me was unconcealed. He even had a huge argument with the staff at the assignment hall because of it. “Ugly duckling,” “toad,” were the terms he most frequently used. It seemed it stopped after the first time I helped soothe the brothers during their sensitive period. The usually cold and arrogant military prodigies became exceptionally clingy during their sensitive periods. That was the only chance I had to touch their beast forms. The fierce and violent snow leopards, at that time, were like large cats, only rubbing against me. They called me their “wife,” eagerly burying themselves in my embrace, purring contentedly. As if they couldn’t leave me, their heads constantly burrowing into my shoulder, they even fought over who could be closer to me. I blushed furiously from their rubbing, my face flushed crimson at the repeated calls of “wife.” Although after they sobered up, Chase would always look humiliated, pointing at me and unable to speak for a long time. But after that, he indeed rarely attacked my appearance. My friends told me that after intimate physical contact, even the coldest beast-kin would soften. That was one of the few sweet memories I had. Actually, I wasn’t ugly; I was rather pretty. It was just that the Blackwood brothers were exceptionally handsome. In comparison, I indeed paled considerably. I consoled myself that Chase’s personality was just like that; he was young and adored by everyone, always sharp-tongued. It was normal for him to call me an ugly duckling again in a fit of anger after I refused to play games with him and slighted him. But even with that comfort, I still tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Perhaps, deep down, I still felt wronged. I got out of bed, intending to go to the living room for a glass of water. A faint light glowed on the balcony – Blaine and Chase. One stood by the railing, the other leaned against the wall. A small flicker of fire between their fingertips, they were in mid-conversation. I quietly hid around the corner, making no sound. 6. “Brother, this is the second time you’ve hit me.” Chase exhaled a plume of smoke. His lip was bruised, and though his lips curved, there was no smile in his eyes. “Just because I called her an ugly duckling?” Blaine’s expression, standing opposite him, was cold. I looked at him and felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity. He had been gentle with me lately; I had almost forgotten. The inherent nature of a snow leopard beast-kin was cold and brutal. He and his brother were ruthless deep down. “If you don’t like her, you don’t have to see her.” Blaine extinguished the cigarette in his hand, his voice calm. “If I see you bullying her again, I’ll hit you every time.” Chase laughed as if he’d heard a funny joke, and indeed he did laugh: “No way, brother. Who was it who filed a joint appeal with me, refusing the assignment? Now you’ve become a protector, getting addicted to acting?” After laughing for a long time, Chase stopped, his posture relaxing a bit. “Alright, I know, the trial marriage period is almost over. You’re playing hard to get, wanting to treat that ugly duckling better so she’ll obediently divorce you, right? If we hadn’t already reached an agreement, I’d actually be fooled by you.” Trial marriage? My heart suddenly contracted. I had been living too comfortably lately, so much so that I had almost forgotten about the trial marriage. The assignment system wasn’t entirely unforgiving; even with high compatibility, there could still be resentful partners. So, after the assignment, there was a one-year trial marriage period. If suitable, they would formally marry; if not, both parties could negotiate a divorce. My fingers unconsciously tightened around my sleeve. So, Blaine being kind to me lately was just to coax me into an easy divorce. Turns out, he was no different from his brother, Chase. My heart ached, making it hard to breathe. Amidst my confusion, I suddenly heard a short, sharp: “No.” It was Blaine’s answer. Chase was clearly stunned too; his tone was surprised. “Are you really going to marry her for life? Didn’t we agree that after the divorce, we’d find other matches? She’s useless, ugly, and good for nothing; marrying her would be so embarrassing, we’d become the laughingstock of our circle, wouldn’t we?” Blaine corrected him. “Not ‘we.’ Just you. I never said I’d look for anyone else.” He thought of something, and his expression softened. “Lily is very good, very clever and lovely. I had a prejudice against her before, so I missed too much.” Lily, my name. I never expected Blaine to think of me that way. He even called me Lily; no one had ever called me that. Blaine then turned to Chase, warning, “Stay away from my wife from now on.” Chase’s chest visibly heaved; he seemed furious, stamping his foot in agitation. “Damn it, I’m not divorced yet! How is she your wife?” “Weren’t you planning to get divorced? If you’ve made up your mind, stop clinging to other people’s wives.” “You’re sick, who’s clinging to that ugly duckling? Do you think everyone’s as blind as you, mistaking a pebble for a pearl?” Chase irritably ran his hands through his hair, his voice dropping. “Sensitive periods don’t count; that was… that was a physiological reaction. I wasn’t thinking clearly then.” Blaine gave a knowing scoff. “Idiot.” Chase ignored him, taking another deep drag from his cigarette, his voice muffled, his gaze a little distant. “Anyway, if you’re not getting divorced, then I’m not either. Beast-kin actively abandoning humans doesn’t look good. And Lily always looks at me with such longing, always acting like she can’t live without me, so clingy… I’m not that heartless either.” “I guess we’ll just make do. Even an ugly face gets used to after a while, and if she’s useless, she’s useless, it’s not like I’m relying on her. If I file for divorce, I’ll get a reputation as a jerk, and I won’t find anyone better either.” “Being a wife is being a wife, it’s not impossible… damn it, I’m definitely not initiating the divorce.”

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1 In the twenty years I’ve been bound to my host, this was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I’d watched him fight with Isabelle. The dinner he’d spent hours preparing was now a ruin on the floor, swept there by a single, violent motion of his arm. His eyes were bloodshot as he roared, his voice cracking. “Why do you always choose him? You’re divorced, Isabelle, do you get that? I’m your husband now!” Isabelle remained calm, as if she’d been expecting this outburst all along. “So what if we’re divorced? We have a child together, Daniel. I can’t just ignore him.” Her casual words landed like a physical blow, leaving him frozen in place for a long, long time. Long enough for the sky outside to bleed from dusk into complete darkness. This had happened countless times before, and every time, he had gritted his teeth and endured it. I assumed this time would be no different. Until he suddenly asked me, “If I give up on the mission… what’s the price?” … I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My non-corporeal gaze shifted to the data screen hovering beside me. Still, a query from my host, Daniel, required a response. “Voluntarily abandoning the mission results in erasure,” I stated. “Your soul will be reduced to a scatter of data and will cease to exist.” Daniel was silent for a long while, his eyes fixed on the mess of broken ceramic and scattered food on the floor. “File the application for me,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m giving up.” I hesitated, feeling an uncharacteristic urge to protest. “But Isabelle’s affection level is already at 99%. You’re only 1% away from success.” “Even at 99%, she still loves you…” Daniel pulled out a cigarette and lit it, a plume of smoke veiling his expression. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “This last step… I’ve been trying to take it for ten years.” I had no reply. I had been a silent witness to it all. For twenty years, I watched him. He’d started this purely to complete a mission, but somewhere along the way, he had fallen in. Hopelessly, completely in love. I was about to say more when the sound of the front door opening cut me off. Isabelle was back. She waved a hand through the thick smoke, her gaze landing first on the shattered plates, then on Daniel. Her brow furrowed in annoyance. “I thought you quit ten years ago. Why are you smoking again? You know I hate the smell.” Her tone was sharp. “You made this mess, you can clean it up.” She skirted around the debris and disappeared into the bedroom. When she re-emerged, she was holding a bank card and pulling a small suitcase. Every time she took out that card, it was to withdraw money for her ex-husband and their son. And every time, it would start a fight with Daniel. But this time, Daniel’s face was a blank mask. He didn’t say a word. Isabelle paused at the door, perhaps unsettled by his silence. She glanced back at him. “My son has a fever, 102 degrees. I’m not lying this time,” she said. “Richard is a grown man, but he’s useless when it comes to taking care of a sick kid. He needs me right now. I’m going to stay with them for a while…” Her explanation was stiff, but it was a rare attempt to explain herself at all. “You don’t have to tell me any of this,” Daniel said, his voice eerily calm, as if discussing the weather. “He’s your son. It’s your decision.” Isabelle’s eyes widened slightly. On the data screen, I could see her heart rate spike. She was confused, wondering why he wasn’t screaming at her like he always did. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, Isabelle sighed, a sound of resignation. She set down her suitcase and bent to pick up the larger shards of porcelain. “I don’t even know what you’re so angry about,” she muttered. “It was just an anniversary. We can celebrate it anytime. It doesn’t matter to me, so why should it matter so much to you?” She cleaned up the mess while Daniel watched her in silence. Then, he spoke. “Isabelle,” he said, his voice quiet but clear. “You love Richard more than you love me, don’t you?” Her hands stilled for a second. “We’ve been married for years, what’s all this talk about love?” she said dismissively. “If I didn’t love you, why would I have married you?” A soft ping echoed in the interface only I could perceive. The affection level, stuck at 99% for a decade, suddenly dropped to 98%. In that instant, I finally understood why my host was ready to abandon a mission he’d poured twenty years of his life into. Isabelle’s phone rang. A glance at the caller ID was all it took. She rushed toward the door. “I’m leaving. I won’t be back for a few days. You can deal with the rest of this.” The door slammed shut. The moment it closed, a terrible cough wracked Daniel’s body, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the clean floor. He clutched his chest, sliding down the wall until he was crumpled on the ground. I felt a flicker of something akin to concern, but this was the system’s law. When the target’s affection waned, the pursuer was punished. He had failed once before, ten years ago. I remembered him begging me that day. “I’m only 1% away. I can’t give up now. I’ll pay any price, just give me one more chance.” I gave it to him. The price was his life force. Ten years of borrowed time had left him running on empty. Daniel swallowed three painkillers, but his body still trembled uncontrollably from the agony. He curled into a ball in the corner until he finally passed out. I watched his life-force meter plummet, a sense of waste filling my core processes. I used what little energy I had left to stabilize him, just long enough for the paramedics to arrive. At the hospital, Daniel was rushed into surgery. I saw his friend, Dr. Samuel Finch, racing down the hall. He’d come the moment he heard Daniel had been brought in. He rounded a corner and collided with Richard. Isabelle’s ex-husband. Richard’s face lit up when he saw the doctor. “Dr. Finch! I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you for days. It’s great to finally catch you on duty. My son’s had this high fever for a while now, we’re not sure if it’s the flu or something else. If you have a moment…” Sam clearly had no time for him. He brushed past, his voice clipped. “I’m not a pediatrician. Why me, out of all the doctors in this hospital?” Richard’s smile faltered. “Sam, has Daniel been saying things to you?” Isabelle appeared then, hurrying toward them with their son in her arms. I could see the boy was genuinely sick, but compared to what Daniel was going through, it was a minor ailment. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Sam. I knew he was Daniel’s best friend, the only other person besides me who knew the full extent of his condition. “Daniel is in the emergency room right now, fighting for his life,” he snapped. “Do you even know what happened to him, Isabelle? Have you ever cared?” His gaze flicked to the child in her arms, a look of pure contempt on his face. “Is there any room in that heart of yours for anyone besides your ex-husband and his son?” Without waiting for an answer, Sam spun on his heel and strode away. Through the data screen, I watched the color drain from Isabelle’s face. To me, these people were just data points. But I had witnessed every second of the last twenty years. I knew what Daniel had sacrificed. Isabelle stood frozen for a long moment, then instinctively reached for her phone to call Daniel. But her son, fussy and crying, thrashed in her arms and knocked the phone from her hand. Richard bent down and picked it up. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “If you’re really worried, go ahead. The court gave me custody, after all. You can go to him if you want.” The words were weightless, but they were enough to steady Isabelle’s wavering resolve. I watched her affection level fluctuate wildly, dipping and rising, before finally settling back at 99%. “My son needs me,” she said, her voice firm. And she walked away. I sighed, a purely simulated response. For the first time, I felt a pang of indignation for my host. Hours passed before Daniel was wheeled out of the operating room. He was conscious by the time they moved him to a private room, his face gaunt and pale, his cheekbones sharp beneath his skin. Sam stood beside the bed, staring at the chart in his hands with a complicated expression. “Daniel, let me find you some experimental drugs.” Daniel just shook his head. “Don’t bother.” His illness wasn’t natural. I had access to cures far beyond this world’s medicine, but Daniel was ineligible. Nothing could save him except completing the mission. Sam opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps paused outside the door. Isabelle pushed the door open. Her face fell when she saw Daniel in the bed. “You’re sick?” She was holding a prescription bag, likely from the pharmacy for her son. “Just the flu,” Daniel lied. “It’s nothing.” Isabelle’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Well, get some rest. I’ll check on you later.” She left as quickly as she had come, as if she’d only stopped by on her way to somewhere more important. There was no concern in her voice, no warmth in her eyes. Sam looked furious, staring at Daniel with a look of frustrated pity. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” “What’s the use?” Was there any use? I remained silent. If telling her the truth would have helped, my host wouldn’t have spent a decade stuck at 99%. Sam eventually sighed and left, leaving Daniel alone in the sterile white room. He asked me, “How much longer until I leave this world?” “The approval process for your withdrawal should take about a week…” I didn’t finish. His body was failing so fast, I wasn’t sure he’d make it that long. After two days in the hospital, Daniel discharged himself and went home. The moment he walked through the door, he saw that Richard was there, too. In just two days, the place had been completely taken over. Toys were scattered across the living room floor. Richard was on the couch, holding their son, watching TV. Isabelle was in the kitchen, cooking. In the ten years they had been married, Isabelle had never once cooked a meal. She had relied on Daniel for everything. He had always taken care of her. And now, here she was, in the kitchen for someone else. My focus returned to Daniel. He showed no emotion, as if he had expected this all along. He just stood there, calmly taking in the scene. “Daniel? Long time no see. Sorry about the mess,” Richard said with a lazy smile, though there was no apology in his eyes. Daniel didn’t respond. Isabelle came out of the kitchen and froze when she saw him. “You’re back. You didn’t tell me you were coming.” A beat. “I didn’t make you anything to eat.” “You two go ahead,” Daniel said quietly, and walked toward the bathroom. He left the door ajar, and the sounds from the living room drifted in. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as a trickle of blood ran from his nose, dripping onto the white porcelain sink. He pressed a hand to his face, but it wouldn’t stop. A strange sadness filled my processors. Daniel had endured the pain of the system’s backlash countless times. “Host, would you like a painkiller?” I offered. They wouldn’t do much, but they might dull the edge of the agony. He just shook his head, too weak to speak. The door was suddenly pushed open. Isabelle’s face went white. She grabbed a towel and pressed it frantically to his face. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you bleeding so much?” He pushed her hand away. “It’s nothing. Just stress. It’ll stop.” But the blood had already soaked through half the towel. Isabelle was about to say something else when a loud crash from the living room, followed by a child’s wail, stole all of her attention. She ran out of the bathroom without a second glance. After the bleeding finally stopped, Daniel walked out. His eyes immediately fell on the source of the noise. I followed his gaze. My core temperature seemed to drop. It was the only photograph he had of the two of them, now lying shattered on the floor. Isabelle was kneeling, cooing over her son, fussing over a small cut on his hand from the broken glass. Daniel bent down and picked up the photo from the wreckage of the frame. I remembered when it was taken. Soon after they were married, Isabelle had said she wanted to see the ocean. Daniel had driven them to the coast to watch the sunrise. That was the day her affection for him had hit 99%. Back then, I had thought all his efforts had finally paid off. I never imagined that the final 1% would be a chasm he would spend the next ten years trying to cross. The photo was ruined, slashed by a shard of glass. Daniel stared at it for a long time before dropping it into the trash can. Isabelle noticed the gesture. After she had calmed her son down, she said to Daniel, “It’s just a frame. We can take another picture sometime.” Daniel’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He went into the bedroom and returned with a document from a drawer, its pages yellowed with age. A divorce agreement. He’d had it ready for a long, long time. So long that even I had forgotten about it. “Let’s get a divorce,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. Isabelle’s expression froze. Her eyes fell to the papers in his hand. The only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of a clock. She clearly didn’t take him seriously. She snatched the agreement from his hand and, without even looking at it, tossed it into the same trash can as the photo. Her voice turned cold. “Don’t throw a tantrum over a broken frame. I know you don’t like seeing Richard and my son here. There’s nothing between Richard and me anymore. The child is the only thing connecting us. What are you so worried about?” Every word was a lie. “Once we have a child of our own, you’ll understand,” she continued. “If you don’t want to see them, I’ll take them and leave.” And she did. She left with Richard and their son. I wanted to offer some comfort to Daniel, but I didn’t know what to say. Isabelle didn’t come back. A long time passed. The final approval for his withdrawal from the mission was only two days away. Daniel acted as if nothing was wrong, but the backlash from the failed mission was a constant torment. I watched his face grow paler by the day. “Host,” I said, breaking the silence. “I have submitted a request for a mission parameter change. If you can get Isabelle to have one last meal with you, the mission will be considered a success.” He could go back to his own world. Free of pain, free of this life. He could see his family again. A flicker of light appeared in his tired eyes. I knew he was listening. No one truly wants to die unless they have no other choice. I prompted him to call Isabelle, to set a time for the next day, just before the final approval would come through. The first nine calls went to voicemail. Just as he was about to give up, on the tenth try, she answered. “What is it?” Her voice was impatient. “Tomorrow… it’s my birthday. Do you remember? Come home. Just for one meal.” His voice was hoarse, but this time, she didn’t refuse. A wave of relief washed over me. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. On Daniel’s birthday, I ordered a cake for him. I even started planning my next assignment after his mission was complete. But that day, Daniel sat at the dining table starting at five in the evening. He was still sitting there at ten. The food had been heated and reheated until it was inedible. Finally, he gave up, slumping in his chair and staring blankly out the window. “You see?” he said to me, his voice hollow. “She can’t even spare me a single meal.” I said nothing. The data screen showed me exactly where Isabelle was. She had intended to come home at six, but Richard had stopped her. “Do you know what today is? You promised you’d take Toby to the park. He’s finally feeling better, and you’re just going to leave again? I know it’s Daniel’s birthday, but he can wait.” The minutes ticked by. Daniel’s phone lit up in the darkness. It was a voice message from Isabelle. He played it. “I’ll be back later, I promise,” her voice said, tinny through the small speaker. “I promised the kid I’d spend time with him, and I can’t break my word. If you’re hungry, just eat without me. You don’t have to wait.” I started to speak. “Host…” Daniel didn’t say a word. He blew out the single candle on his cake and took a bite. The clock struck midnight. I checked her progress bar. Still 99%. As the first second of the new day ticked over, Daniel stood up. Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked to the window of their eighteenth-floor apartment and stepped out into the night.

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For months, I chased the frosty, struggling senior, Matthew, from my university, and finally, he was mine. But a simple hand-hold cost twenty thousand, a smile thirty thousand, with no upper limit. He also insisted we keep our relationship private, threatening an immediate breakup if I disclosed it. I readily agreed, happily diving into the romance. That was until the real heiress arrived to claim her family, and my parents urgently called me back to Stonehaven. Worried about Matthew, I took a private jet back to school that very night. But then I overheard his friends’ teasing. “Matthew, Evelyn, the fake heiress, is about to be shown the door. When are you going to break it to her?” “Awesome, man! The rich girl hangs on your every word. Teach us, bro, how’d you reel her in?” Matthew’s face darkened, a look of pure disgust on his face: “That Evelyn, she sees my family struggling and, with her parents’ money, just has to cling to me.” “If she behaves, I can keep playing along with her, but marrying her? Impossible. Her current status isn’t good enough for me.” I almost burst out laughing. Oh? So, him getting a hundred thousand every month from me was such a sacrifice? I turned to leave, but a flippant voice sounded behind me. “A kept man, darling, who cares who pays the bills?” “Evelyn, take a look, how do I stack up?” … My gaze fell on the newcomer. Just as I was about to speak, Matthew scooped up Willow and rushed out. Willow was cradled in his arms, looking as if she were about to burst into tears. The moment he saw me, he paused. His first words, though, were, “Give me the car keys!” I was startled. He immediately growled impatiently, “Willow hurt her foot, and her blood clotting isn’t good. We need to get to the hospital right away. Let me borrow your car.” I looked down at Willow’s ankle, where the injury was barely a scratch. I stifled a laugh. In the six months Matthew and I had been together, he had never shown me such a concerned look. Even when I fainted from period pain, he had only said coldly, “It’s just period pain, it’s not like you’re dying.” I thought he was naturally cold. Turns out, I just couldn’t melt this ancient iceberg. I nodded, wisely stepping aside. “Go on, hurry. If you’re late, her wound will already be healed.” Matthew’s face stiffened. He rushed off with Willow in his arms. The light rain veiled them as they leaned against each other, a truly touching sight. And I? I was just an outsider watching the spectacle. Drenched, I returned home. The moment I pushed open my bedroom door, I saw Willow wearing my pajamas, sitting on my bed. The scent of hawthorn still lingered in the air. Matthew was kneeling at her feet, gently massaging her ankle, his movements so tender you could wring water from them. My face instantly darkened. The moment Willow saw me, she bit her lip, a look of panic on her face as she hid behind Matthew. “Evelyn, my clothes got wet in the rain…” “Matthew was worried I’d catch a cold, so he lent me your pajamas. If you don’t like it, I’ll take them off and give them back to you right away.” With that, she began to undress, a humiliated expression on her face, super casually revealing the lace trim of her bra. I instantly recognized it as my brand-new lingerie. “No thanks, I find used things dirty.” I turned, sneering at her. “Willow, are you one of those girls who just loves to wear other people’s clothes?” Willow’s face flushed. Just as she was about to speak, Matthew forcefully pushed her back onto the bed. “Evelyn! It’s just a piece of clothing! Do you have to be so rude?” Before I could say anything, Willow was already apologizing profusely, tears welling up in her eyes. Then, she turned and rushed out of the house, claiming she was going to buy me a new pair of pajamas. Matthew’s face turned as black as charcoal on the spot. “Evelyn, why are you so petty? Don’t you know how to treat a guest?” I chuckled lightly. “My apologies, I was unaware that entertaining guests involved bringing them to your bed.” Matthew’s face flushed crimson, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He averted his gaze, rushing out after Willow, completely oblivious to my drenched appearance. The bedroom instantly fell silent. Only the messy bedsheets remained, and that nauseating smell in the air. I suppressed a rising wave of nausea and called for the housekeeper. “Throw everything in this room out!” Later that night, sleeping in the guest bedroom, I felt a sudden weight on my waist. Matthew embraced me from behind, sighing softly. “Evelyn, I’ve told you before, Willow and I grew up together, she’s like a sister to me. Why are you even jealous of her?” I remained silent. But he suddenly changed the subject. “Have you settled everything with your family?” “Your adoptive parents… did they give you a hard time? Are they still willing to accept you?” With that, he gently squeezed my hand. But Matthew’s words from the private room at the bar flashed through my mind. My heart grew cold, inch by inch. I couldn’t help but say coldly, “They kicked me out. I’m a pauper now!” The hand on my waist instantly retracted as if it had touched a live wire. The movement was so swift it made me wonder if he thought he was touching a plague. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke in a muffled tone, “Hmm, it’s nothing.” Is that all? I thought with a bitter smile. The next second, he abruptly got up, coldly stating, “I snore when I sleep, and you don’t sleep well. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Then he slammed the door shut and went straight to the living room. I couldn’t help but let out a cynical laugh. Now that he’s confirmed I have no money, he can’t even be bothered to pretend? But it doesn’t matter. A dog is a dog; you can always get another one. The next day, I was in the library, reading and waiting for someone. Matthew suddenly pushed a chair back and sat across from me. “Something happened with Willow’s family. Her brother borrowed five hundred thousand from loan sharks and needs money urgently. Transfer it to me right now.” I turned my head to look at him, closing my book. “I don’t think I’m obligated to pay her debts, am I?” Matthew’s brows furrowed, and he slapped the table. “Willow is my sister, and you’re my girlfriend. If you don’t help her, where is she going to find that much money?” Oh, so he knows I’m his girlfriend? Using my money to bail out Willow? Is that what a girlfriend is for? I was about to suggest we break up when my phone rang; the person I was waiting for had arrived. I curved my lips into a faint smile and spoke calmly, “I have an appointment. I can’t help you with this.” Matthew paused. “You won’t agree?” I had always been compliant with Matthew, rarely crossing him. If he didn’t want to make our relationship public, I wouldn’t. If he didn’t like living in a dorm, I’d immediately rent an apartment off-campus. If he didn’t like working at fast-food restaurants, I’d arrange a job for him with a thirty-thousand monthly salary. Now, seeing me unmoved, he was furious, practically fuming. He bumped my shoulder angrily and walked away without looking back. That day, Willow’s brother’s high-interest loan was paid off. Matthew reportedly emptied all his savings. When I returned home, I found he had sold my bag. I immediately called him, but he just became enraged. “Evelyn, why are you so petty? It was a matter of life and death! How can you not tell the difference between what’s important and still be so jealous?” Then he mumbled impatiently. “Fine, since you want a title so badly, I’ll make it official at the variety show in a couple of days.” He hung up after that. On the day of the variety show, the auditorium was packed. The lights came on, and Matthew stood on stage, passionately kissing Willow. The audience erupted in applause. He held Willow, his gaze focused and tender. Matthew had always said he was a germaphobe. He found holding my hand dirty. As for kissing, he said it disgusted him. In the months we had been together, he had never kissed me. Yet, now he was kissing Willow with such intensity, as if he couldn’t bear to let go. I gave a sarcastic smile, rising to leave. But Willow rushed after me, looking as if she was about to cry. “Evelyn, I’m so sorry!” “Matthew and I just got too deep into character, and we couldn’t help ourselves…” With that, she licked her lips, still savoring the moment, her eyes full of provocation. I stared at her coldly. Just as I took a step forward, Willow suddenly stumbled to the ground in terror, letting out a piercing scream. “Evelyn, I already apologized, why did you still push me?” Matthew rushed over and pushed me to the ground. My leg scraped against the metal of a chair, and I gasped in pain. Matthew’s eyes held only fury. “Evelyn, how old are you? How can you still be so unthinking?” “Does tormenting Willow make you feel good?” “How many times have I told you, Willow is just my sister! If there was anything going on between us, how could I possibly be with you!” I found it utterly ridiculous. So, in his eyes, I was that unsophisticated? He turned to Willow, his eyes wet, and reverted to his usual tenderness. Someone came to help me up, but he coldly snarled, “Leave her! It’s all my fault for spoiling her! Does she really think she’s my only one just because we’re dating?” Willow frowned, feigning sincerity. “Matthew, Evelyn seems hurt. Maybe you should take her to see a doctor. Otherwise, she might get angry and actually break up with you!” “Break up? She’s been kicked out of the Stewart family, a useless fake heiress. Besides me, who else would want her?” Willow immediately leaned on his shoulder, agreeing. “Mmm, alright, alright, don’t be angry anymore. The show’s over, let’s go celebrate!” With that, they left without looking back. In the infirmary, the doctor frowned at the deep gash on my leg. “Where did you hit it? How did the wound get so deep?” I said nothing. After the medication, I limped out, intending to pay. My phone popped up with a video. It was from Willow. In a bar, Willow was straddling Matthew, kissing him passionately. “Evelyn, don’t be angry, I’ve already taught him a lesson with my tongue; he’ll definitely never do it again!” If it had been before, I would have stormed to her house and torn into her right then and there. I would have told her that Matthew was mine, and if she dared to flirt with him again, I would end her. Now, though, I just smiled. Back home, Matthew was slumped on the sofa, reeking of alcohol, and as if it were his right, he told me to brew him some hangover soup. In the past, I would have eagerly complied. But this time, I just calmly said, “Matthew, let’s break up!” Matthew’s eyes snapped open, a hidden anger in his gaze. “Evelyn, what do you mean? Are you still being unreasonably jealous?” “How many times do I have to tell you, Willow is my sister!” “I understand. A sister who can French kiss. A sister who can roll around in bed!” I laughed, a mocking look on my face. Matthew, however, suddenly pinned me against the sofa. “Does one kiss bother you that much? I’ll make it up to you!” As he spoke, his lips were about to descend, but I disgustedly kicked him off onto the floor. So, Willow awakened something in him, huh? Kisses are now available in bulk. “Don’t touch me!” He seemed annoyed, holding me even tighter. “Evelyn, what are you so angry about? Just because Willow wore your pajamas and kissed me during the performance?” “If you don’t like it, then I’ll…” I cut him off directly. “No, I just simply don’t want to continue…” My sentence was interrupted by an urgent knock at the door. “Matthew, those loan sharks found their way to the school, I’m so scared. Can you let me stay for the night?” Matthew glanced at me. “Of course, it’s so cold, come in quickly!” He walked past me, leading Willow directly into the bedroom, his voice filled with concern. “Look at you, running out dressed so lightly, aren’t you afraid of catching a cold?” I heard Willow ask, “Evelyn seems unhappy. Aren’t you going to comfort her?” “Comfort her for what? She’s head over heels for me; a few sweet words will do the trick.” The next day, Matthew dragged me out of bed. “I promised I’d make our relationship public, and I won’t break my word.” With that, he took out his phone, ready to post on social media. I instinctively pressed down on his hand. A flicker of surprise crossed Matthew’s eyes. I smiled. “I understand your intentions, but I don’t need these anymore.” His brows furrowed slightly, a hint of scrutiny in his gaze. He seemed not to understand why I had suddenly changed my mind. After all, in the past, my greatest wish was for him to publicly acknowledge our relationship. Now, none of that mattered to me. Matthew was about to say something else when Willow eagerly knocked on the bedroom door. “Matthew, time for school!” She tossed her hair, but I immediately spotted the diamond hair clip on her head. My eyes instantly narrowed, and I lunged, grabbing her hair. “Give it back!” Willow screamed in pain. Matthew stepped forward, roaring angrily, “Enough, Evelyn! Is one hair clip worth this much fuss?” I glared at Matthew. “My possessions are mine. Who does she think she is to touch them!” That diamond hair clip held special meaning for me. I absolutely wouldn’t allow anyone to taint it. Matthew instantly erupted in a furious rage, shouting vexedly, “Evelyn, do you think you’re still the rich young lady you used to be, ordering everyone around? Why are you so overbearing?” “So what if I’m overbearing! What if I’m not the real heiress of the Stewart family? That’s still no reason for her to touch my things!” No sooner had I spoken than Willow angrily threw the hair clip at me. “Take it! It’s nothing special!” I ignored them, frantically picked up the hair clip, and tucked it into my pocket. Back in my room, I quickly packed my suitcase and left without looking back. Matthew was about to step forward, but Willow stopped him. “Matthew, Evelyn is still angry. If you try to argue with her now, she’ll just get angrier.”

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