Category: English

1 Five days. That was all before this decade-long system quest finally ended. When my wife arrived with her assistant to sign me out, orderlies were pinning me to the floor. Outside, my six-year-old daughter Elle looked at me with disgust. “He’s useless. Let’s take him back as a guard dog.” She added, “Uncle Rowan is Ivy League. He deserves you more than this trash.” Valerie stepped protectively in front of them, expecting an outburst like before. But I just leaned on my bad leg, stood, and nodded calmly. After leaving, I gave her the divorce papers and even surrendered the master bedroom. Once, Elle wished for a new dad on her birthday. I immediately signed emancipation papers. When Rowan tossed intimate photos on the table to provoke me, I just handed him a foil packet. In the bedroom, Valerie demanded angrily how long I’d keep this up. I only left a bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. She was wrong. I wasn’t acting. I just didn’t want either of them anymore. … Valerie threw the items on the nightstand right at my face, her hands covered in fresh hickeys. “Silas, if you want to play the saint, leave the crystal pendant. Rowan had a shock today and he needs it to calm his nerves.” That crystal pendant was the only heirloom my grandmother left me. I had treasured it with my life. Valerie knew that better than anyone. She stared at me with absolute certainty, waiting for me to fall to my knees and beg for my dignity like I always did. Instead, I simply raised my hand, unclasped the chain, and placed the pendant directly into Rowan’s palm. “Is there anything else you want? Ask for it all at once,” I said softly. I was leaving soon anyway. I wouldn’t be taking a single thing from this place. Valerie stared at me in sheer disbelief, a flicker of anger crossing her eyes. “Silas, you better not regret this.” She thought I was throwing a tantrum, playing hard to get to force her to care. She had forgotten, but the memory was burned into my skin. Two years ago, when I tried to fight Rowan for this exact pendant, she ordered her men to strip me naked. I was forced to kneel in the freezing snow, acting as a live target for their archery practice. The biting humiliation of that day still made my chest ache. I lowered my head in submission and turned to leave. Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the room. Rowan had deliberately crushed the crystal pendant in his palm. Blood welled up instantly. I turned around, about to call for the family doctor. Before I could speak, an arrow slammed brutally into my shoulder. I staggered, catching myself against the wall. Before I could even process the pain, Valerie shoved me aside to get to Rowan. She carefully cradled his hand, frantically yelling for the doctor to hurry. In the sudden quiet of the room, my precocious daughter stood there, her bow still raised and aimed directly at me. Her face was twisted in disgust. “You make Uncle Rowan unhappy the second you get back. I have to teach you a lesson.” “You piece of filth, why didn’t you just die in the asylum? Having a dad like you makes me…” “Elle!” Valerie snapped, cutting off her cold words. Valerie paused her steps, glanced back at me for a split second, then turned and hurried downstairs. Leaning against her shoulder, Rowan shot me a triumphant smirk. Everyone in our social circle knew Elle was my entire world. But this time, I just calmly pressed a hand over my bleeding shoulder. My voice was completely dead. “You haven’t been my daughter for a long time.” Under Elle’s resentful glare, I placed the signed disownment papers on the table. Then I quietly looked at the child I had once poured my heart and soul into. Elle was remarkably precocious, carrying herself with the rigid solemnity of a miniature adult. Her only real passion was archery. To support her, I had scoured the country for elite coaches and enrolled her in the most prestigious club. When she was four, she used to hold up her little training bow, her eyes shining with absolute adoration. “Daddy, when I master archery, I’m going to protect you.” Yet, the very first time she drew blood with a real arrow, it was aimed straight at my heart. Thankfully, I had long stopped expecting anything from her. My lack of reaction seemed to irritate Elle even more. She threw the bow on the floor, ran downstairs, and threw her arms around Rowan. “Don’t cry, Uncle Rowan. I already punished that shameless bad man for you. Are you happy now?” Her voice was sharp and cruel, but I acted like I heard nothing. I just grabbed the first-aid kit from the corner and retreated to the storage room. Behind me, Valerie’s eyes burned into my back. A wave of inexplicable frustration washed over her. A few minutes later, Valerie pushed open the storage room door, her expression complicated. She watched me struggling to clean the wound on my shoulder and instinctively handed me a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Elle is just a kid. Don’t hold it against her.” I leaned away, avoiding her touch, and simply whispered an acknowledgment. Valerie’s hand froze in midair. A heavy silence settled between us before a dark fury twisted her features. “Silas, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” “If you hadn’t acted completely spineless before, why would our daughter treat you like this?” Spineless. I chewed on the word in my head. If she hadn’t brought it up, I would have almost forgotten. Her definition of “spineless” referred to an incident two years ago. She had wanted to give Elle to Rowan to raise, claiming Rowan suffered from severe depression and a child’s company would cure him. I refused with everything I had. The thought of giving my four-year-old daughter to a strange man terrified me. But my wife backed me into a corner. She told me that if I wanted to keep my daughter, I had to make her assistant happy first. For Elle’s sake, I had no choice. That day, Rowan stood over me with a sneer. He ordered me to drop to my knees, crawl over to him like a dog, lick his shoes clean, and bark while calling him “Daddy.” Those few agonizing seconds of utter degradation were recorded and posted online. Overnight, I became the internet’s favorite joke, mocked as a pathetic submissive dog. That same day, Elle watched the video on a phone. The adoration in her eyes warped into pure disgust. She looked at me coldly and said, “You are such an embarrassment.” A faint throb of pain rippled through my chest. I looked at Valerie and pulled a hollow smile. “You’re right. I am spineless.” My complete apathy infuriated Valerie. She slammed the door and stormed out. When she returned, she ordered her guards to grab me by my injured arm and drag me out. I was violently forced down in front of Rowan, my palms pressing directly into the shattered glass on the floor. “Silas, you deliberately gave Rowan a cracked pendant to cut his hand. Do you admit your mistake?” Mistake. Ever since Rowan showed up, I had been constantly apologizing. Even when Rowan shoved my grandmother’s urn into the lake, somehow, it was still my fault. I pressed my bleeding palms against the floor, closed my eyes, and obediently said, “I was wrong,” three times. Then I looked up at Valerie. “Is that enough?” Valerie’s face turned livid. She grabbed my collar. “Don’t give me that tortured martyr look, Silas!” “Don’t think this act is going to make me feel sorry for you!” Her voice trembled slightly at the end. I didn’t argue. I just kept my weight supported on the floor and gently reminded her, “You are holding onto Mr. Rowan with your other hand. Be careful not to hurt him.” Valerie’s eyes went red. She pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” I nodded, turned around, and started to walk. But before I reached the exit, Rowan whined. “Valerie, you didn’t even avenge me properly. I’m still upset.” Valerie immediately softened, looking back at me while coaxing him. “Then how about we whip him a few times? Will that make you feel better?” Rowan pretended to hesitate. “Is that allowed?” “Of course it is,” Valerie said coldly. “He’s just a watchdog anyway.” A second later, a heavy leather crop lined with sharp metal barbs slashed across my back, tearing away flesh and cloth. I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing every scream, enduring the agony in dead silence. Valerie and Elle lounged on the sofa, watching me with freezing indifference. It wasn’t until Valerie casually glanced down and saw the massive pool of blood spreading beneath me that her face drastically changed. She lunged forward, trying to support my weight. “Why is there so much blood?” In that exact second, the cold, mechanical voice of the System echoed in my mind. [Return portal initializing. Host’s lifespan has three days remaining. System will now formulate a death trajectory.] Valerie and Elle surrounded me in a panic, shouting for the doctor. “Ah!” Rowan suddenly hissed, grabbing his hand. “Babe, my hand hurts so much. I think there’s still a piece of glass in it.” Hearing his whine, Valerie instantly shoved me away. She grabbed Rowan’s coat and ordered the butler to drive them to the hospital immediately. The living room fell dead silent. I lay on the freezing floor, my body covered in lacerations. The blood flowed faster, and my bones felt like they were being pulverized inch by inch. Yet, a slow smile curved my lips. This was wonderful. Only three days left, and I could finally go home. I was jolted awake by a doctor’s heavy sigh. Seeing my eyes open, he visibly relaxed. “Mr. Silas, you need to beg your wife for permission to use painkillers. Digging out these glass shards without numbing agents could kill you in your current condition.” I listened to his warning with a wooden expression and shook my head. “Just dig them out.” I didn’t care about the pain anymore. I only wanted a quick release. After the agonizing procedure, I stumbled out of the clinic room to pay the bill. I accidentally spotted Valerie standing near the entrance. She glanced at my bandages, then picked up a gift bag and walked straight into Rowan’s private ward. As I limped past the cracked door, I heard my daughter’s sweet, fawning voice. “Don’t be mad, Daddy Rowan. When you get out of the hospital, Mommy and I will help you punish that bad man.” Valerie looked toward the hallway, but she only saw my retreating back. When I finally returned to my own sterile room, Valerie was waiting for me with a thunderous expression. “Where have you been?” I raised the medical receipt as my only answer, then leaned against the bed and closed my eyes. The hostility radiating from Valerie spiked. She stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. “What the hell is this attitude, Silas?” “You haven’t been acting right since you got back.” Her voice trembled, carrying a sick kind of desperation. “You were never like this. Why aren’t you fighting me anymore?” “Are you cheating on me? Is that why you don’t care about me or Elle anymore?” All her pent-up paranoia finally erupted into the open. In the heavy silence that followed, a horrific sound pierced the room. It was the sound of my own voice, sobbing and begging for mercy. The noise came from Rowan’s phone. The screen was lit up, broadcasting a video of the sick abuses I had endured while trying to “learn my lesson” in the psychiatric ward. Every single frame was a living nightmare I was terrified to remember. Seeing the blood drain from my face, Rowan put on a mask of fake panic. “Oh no, Valerie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to play this in front of you. My sister was just showing it to me to cheer me up. I forgot to turn it off.” All the blood rushed to my head in a blinding wave. So Valerie knew. She knew everything. She knew I was living worse than an animal for two years. She knew I was being tortured until I begged for death. But in her eyes, my personal hell was nothing more than a funny video to entertain her lover. I stared dead at the woman I had cherished and protected with my life for ten years, desperately searching her eyes for a single shred of guilt. But there was nothing. Only irritation at being caught. A harsh, broken laugh tore from my throat. “Valerie, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Are you not entertained?” The room spun. Black spots danced across my vision. Valerie instinctively reached out to catch me, but the pure hatred in my eyes made her flinch and snap. “It’s your own fault, Silas! If you hadn’t gone crazy and kicked Rowan into the water back then, I wouldn’t have locked you up. At the end of the day, you brought this on yourself.” Behind her, Rowan smugly fanned the flames. “Looks like you didn’t learn a thing in those two years, Silas.” “Allow me to refresh your memory.” He waved the phone maliciously, then sent the video directly to my younger sister, Sophie, who had just been transferred out of the ICU. Sophie was the only family I had left in this world. The final thread holding my sanity together snapped. I grabbed a surgical scalpel from the medical tray and lunged straight for his chest. Even if I died today, I was dragging him to hell with me. But before the blade could even graze him, Valerie shoved me violently to the floor. Hearing the commotion, Elle rushed into the room. She grabbed an empty IV glass bottle and smashed it directly against my face. “Die, you psycho! Just die!” she shrieked. Through a blinding haze of blood, I looked up. Valerie and Elle stood over me, looking down like I was trash. “Two years in the ward, and you’re still completely toxic, Silas. Trying to murder Rowan right in front of me?” My vision was swimming, but a sense of profound, liberating irony washed over me. I raised an eyebrow, speaking slowly, letting every word slice through the air. “Do you want to know my biggest regret in life, Valerie? It’s meeting you. And spawning that little monster.” Valerie’s face lost all its color. Elle froze, staring at me blankly, unable to comprehend that those words actually came out of my mouth. After a suffocating silence, Elle tightened her jaw and turned away. “Mommy, he still hasn’t learned the rules. You better send him back to that place until he does.” Valerie closed her eyes, her expression hardening into stone. “You’re right. Some people are just born with cheap bones. They need to be broken before they learn.” She pulled out her phone and made a single call. Minutes later, the orderlies from the psychiatric ward marched into the room. The sheer sight of their uniforms triggered violent tremors through my body. Flashbacks of being electrocuted, starved, and humiliated assaulted my brain. I clutched my head, scrambling backward until my back hit the wall. Valerie frowned at my severe trauma response. She stepped forward, trying to pull me into her arms to calm me down, but I shoved her away like she was venomous. “Stay away from me! Don’t touch me!” That rejection shattered the last bit of Valerie’s patience. She rubbed her stinging hand, her eyes darkening as she gestured for the orderlies to tie me up. Drowning in absolute terror, I grabbed Valerie’s wrist. My voice was broken, trembling uncontrollably. “Valerie, please don’t send me back. I’m begging you, please.” “I’ll do whatever you want. If you want me to act crazy, I’ll act crazy. If you want me to apologize, I’ll apologize. Just don’t send me back to that place.” It was the very last time I would ever plead with her. But Rowan simply whispered, “Babe, looking at him is giving me anxiety. Just send him away.” And with those words, Valerie pried my fingers off her wrist, one by one. I looked at her, tears streaming down my face as I laughed. It was always like this. Two years ago, it was the exact same. No matter what I did, I could never outweigh a single sentence from Rowan. It was Rowan who threw my grandmother’s ashes into the lake. I fought back and shoved him into the water. But Valerie refused to listen to a word I said. She threw me in the asylum without blinking. I let out a soft chuckle, dropping my hands, and let the orderlies drag me away without another struggle. In that dark, damp cell, just before the electrocution and humiliation began, the System mercifully blocked my pain receptors. Even so, the next morning, I was dumped back at the front door of our house, barely breathing, like a beaten dog on the verge of death. When I opened my eyes, Valerie was glaring impatiently, tossing a bottle of pills at my feet. “Enough with the act. If you’ve learned the rules, come inside.” The second I stepped through the door, Rowan smiled brightly. “Babe, I want to run a little emotional stability test on Silas.” As he spoke, my sister Sophie, covered in surgical bandages and breathing tubes, was wheeled into the living room by the guards. My heart slammed against my ribs. I tried to run to her, but Rowan’s men forced me to my knees. “Don’t rush the show, Silas. The test is just starting.” Rowan grabbed Sophie by her hair and shoved the phone playing my torture video right into her face. “Since you wouldn’t watch the clip I sent, I’ll just have to show it to you in person.” Sophie struggled frantically, fresh blood seeping through her fresh sutures. “Rowan, he is innocent! Leave him alone!” Seeing the tears streaming down my sister’s face, I panicked and started begging. “Valerie, you promised me! You promised that if I stayed quietly in the ward for two years, you wouldn’t touch Sophie!” But before my words even landed, the piercing, continuous wail of the heart monitor filled the room. I stared in frozen horror. Rowan had yanked Sophie’s life-support tube clean out. “Oops. My hand slipped.” “You animal! You fucking bastard!” I screamed, my eyes completely bloodshot as I thrashed wildly, but the guards held me down like a vice. All I could do was watch my sister take her last, suffocating breath right in front of me. My brain buzzed with static. A sharp, physical tearing sensation erupted in my chest. Just as the grief threatened to crush me, the System’s voice echoed. [Host, the return portal is now open. Commencing countdown: 3… 2…] The mechanical voice blended with Valerie’s annoyed reprimands. Elle stood nearby, irritated by my devastation. She crossed her arms and sneered. “Why are you acting so dramatic? If you’re really that sad, go bash your head in and join that bitch in hell.” “She got what she deserved. Who told her to hire thugs to beat up Uncle Rowan while you were locked up?” I curled into myself, trembling in agony, and slowly raised my head to look at my sister’s lifeless body. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll go join her.” Summoning every last ounce of strength left in my broken body, I launched myself forward and slammed my head full force into the concrete pillar right next to Valerie.

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I was in the middle of a performance review at the office when I received news of my husband’s death. My boss patted my shoulder, telling me to accept my loss with grace. I held myself together, gave a shaky salute, and then went home. Once there, the delivery guy called, saying he had a package that required my signature. The moment I opened the box, I froze. Inside were two pairs of underwear, stained with a milky white substance, and at the bottom of the box, a dozen used condoms. There was also a note that read: “Mrs. Peterson, I’ve taken Mr. Peterson for myself.” Another note said: “Afraid you’d be too lonely, so I mailed you some of Mr. Peterson’s things. No need to thank me, darling.” … So that’s how he “sacrificed” himself. I sat in the living room for three hours, numb. I didn’t go to the funeral home to mourn. Instead, I printed out documents, preparing to get a death certificate. No matter what, legally, I needed to confirm my husband’s death today. I walked into Human Resources. The door behind me clanged shut, cutting off the sunlight from outside. “Ms. Quan.” A young administrator greeted me. She probably hadn’t handled a case like mine before. “My… my condolences.” I nodded at her, saying nothing. My condolences? I wanted to beat drums and blow trumpets, celebrating his ultimate demise. I walked straight to the service window, pulled the documents from my briefcase, and placed them on the counter. “Hello, I’m here to process the death certificate for my husband, Commander Peterson.” A woman in her fifties, wearing reading glasses, sat behind the window. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a flicker of pity. She probably mistook me for a grieving spouse who was abnormally calm due to shock. Good. Saved me the trouble of acting. The office was quiet. Those around us pretended to be busy, but their ears were probably perked up like antennae. “Ms. Quan,” “Commander Peterson… he was a hero to us. The organization will not forget his contributions, nor will it neglect the family of a hero.” I forced a smile. “Thank you, I understand. Please, just process it according to procedure.” She sighed, said no more, and began typing on her computer. I stood there, my gaze falling on my blurry reflection in the window glass. A faint scar above my eyebrow shimmered under the light. This face had been with Commander Peterson from his humble beginnings to his decorated achievements. Everyone said I was his virtuous wife, his strongest pillar of support. They were right. Without me, Commander Peterson was nothing. “Here, family signature.” The officer handed me a form and a pen. I took the pen and saw the space after “Spouse,” where my name was required. That word, now, wasn’t an identity; it was a qualification. The qualification to legally take control of all his assets, the qualification to dismantle all his lies, the admission ticket to send him to hell. My pen pressed hard, signing “Evelyn Quan.” The force was so great it almost tore through the paper. The officer retrieved the form, picked up a red stamp, and forcefully pressed it onto the final certificate. “Thud!” She handed the paper with the crimson stamp, along with the subsidy application form, through the window. “Ms. Quan, the paperwork is done.” I took the paper, folded it, and tucked it into the closest pocket near my chest. That spot, once, was where I kept photos of us together. “Thank you.” I said, then turned and left. Pushing open the heavy door, blinding sunlight rushed in. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart. “Run a check on an account for me,” My voice was cold as ice, “Commander Peterson’s special offshore account. I need all his financial transactions from the past year, not a single one missing.” The certificate with the red stamp hadn’t even warmed in my pocket when the call came back. “Ev, I found it.” “Commander Peterson’s account has thirty-seven procurement records in the past year, but one three-million-dollar fund bypassed regular procedures and went directly into an offshore anonymous account.” “Can it be traced?” “No,” She answered bluntly, “The recipient is a top expert. All paths have been destroyed. To trace it, we’d have to start from the original paper documents—see who signed off and which approval channel it went through.” “Got it, thanks.” Early the next morning, I put on my work uniform and went straight to the archives. The archives had a scent of old paper and dust, making my nose itch. The archivist saw me and immediately stood up from her chair. “Ms. Quan, what brings you here? You could have just called, and I would have brought it to you.” “I’m here to find something.” I was concise. “What exactly?” “All files from Commander Peterson’s last mission, including logistics and supply requisitions.” The archivist’s expression froze. She wrung her hands. “Ms. Quan, this… this isn’t allowed. Mission files, especially those involving fatalities, are sealed. As family, you should avoid any appearance of impropriety…” I ignored her “rules,” walked past her, and headed for the row of metal cabinets. From memory, I quickly located the section marked “Highly Classified.” My hand rested on the handle of one of the cabinets, about to pull it open. “Ms. Quan.” I turned. A ranking officer in uniform stood not far away, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Her eyes behind the lenses were calm and sharp, fixed on me. She also held a file folder, apparently there to check documents herself. I didn’t know her. “Can I help you?” I asked. She pushed up her glasses, walked over, and stopped in front of me, her gaze falling on the metal cabinet by my hand. “According to regulations, the files for this mission have been sealed. Access requires special authorization from a superior officer.” Her voice, like her demeanor, was devoid of warmth, strictly business. I released the handle, turning to her, and forced a weary smile befitting a “grieving widow.” “My apologies, I just… wanted to look at the records of his last mission again. I want to know what he went through in his final moments.” The excuse was flawless, full of emotion, enough to silence anyone with a shred of sympathy. She quietly watched me for a few seconds. Then, she smiled too. “Is that so?” She softly countered, then leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice to a volume only we could hear. “I thought Ms. Quan would be more interested in the amount of the death benefits.” I stared into her eyes behind the lenses. There was no sympathy there, only scrutiny and probing. I deepened my feigned weariness, my voice taking on a hint of offended hoarseness. “Ma’am, my husband just died, his body barely cold. I’m just a widow wanting to know what he last experienced. As for the death benefits,” I paused, looking directly at her, “That’s an honor he earned with his life. Of course I care. What, is there a problem with that?” She pushed up her glasses, not pursuing the topic. Instead, she stepped back half a pace. “My condolences. But regulations are regulations, Ms. Quan. Without authorization, no one can see them.” “The memorial service is about to begin.” The archivist behind her scurried over, as if she’d found a savior. “Ms. Quan, please hurry. The senior officers have all arrived. As family, you can’t be late!” I took one last look at the metal cabinet, then turned and left. Alright, rules, huh? I love playing by the rules. Commander Peterson’s memorial service was of high stature. The auditorium was packed, a sea of dark uniforms. His enlarged black-and-white photo hung prominently in the center, showing him in his crisp uniform. I sat in the very middle of the first row, holding his portrait. The ceremony proceeded, with speeches from senior officers and eulogies from comrades. Just then, a small commotion erupted at the back of the auditorium. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Barbie Seiple. She had indeed arrived, and with quite a show. Two male dancers from her troupe flanked her, helping her along. She wore a pristine white performance gown, starkly conspicuous amidst the sea of uniforms. Her innocent face was drenched in tears, her lips bitten pale, as if a gust of wind could topple her. Well, well, someone might think the memorial was being held for her. She was supported as she walked, step by step, her destination clear—the empty seat next to me. That seat was reserved for the closest family. She wanted to sit there. All eyes in the auditorium converged on us. This was getting interesting. She stopped beside me, her voice choked with sobs. “Mrs. Peterson… I’m so sorry, I’m late… I… I just couldn’t stand when I heard the news about Commander Peterson…” As she spoke, her knees buckled, and she began to sway towards me. I didn’t move. Just as she was about to lean on my shoulder, ready to perform a melodramatic scene of “we both loved him, let’s comfort each other,” I, holding his portrait, stood up. I turned to her, my movements slow, my gaze traveling from her tear-swollen eyes to her white dress, utterly inappropriate for the occasion. “Which unit are you with?” I spoke, my voice low, yet it cut like a cold blade. She froze, her sobbing pausing for half a second. “I’m… Barbie Seiple from the dance troupe. Commander Peterson, he…” “Madam.” I cut her off, raising my voice slightly, enough for the senior officers in the first three rows to hear clearly. “A memorial service is a solemn and respectful occasion, with explicit dress code requirements. Your attire is inappropriate.” I took a step forward, holding Commander Peterson’s portrait, blocking her view of the officers. “Furthermore, this is the family section.” I looked at her, enunciating each word. “Your place is with your unit, in the back. Now, please return to where you belong.” Barbie’s face instantly went from ashen to crimson, then back to ashen. She stood there, like a clown stripped naked in public. She probably thought I would argue, make a scene, or at least silently condone her performance for sympathy. A mere clown. I didn’t even need to lift a finger. Rules and discipline would clearly tell her—she didn’t belong. The memorial service ended, and I returned home with Commander Peterson’s portrait. The house was empty, no different from when he was away on assignment, but I knew this time, he wouldn’t be coming back. At least, not as my husband. They wouldn’t let me see the files? No problem. Rules are rigid; people are flexible. As an information warfare expert in a specialized unit, I had plenty of ways to see what I wanted to see. I opened a specially modified laptop, bypassing conventional paths, and directly entered the Southern Command’s mission database. The entire process took less than ten minutes. Commander Peterson was a logistics officer; he couldn’t have imagined that his wife could so easily tear through his proudly built firewall. All the data about his last mission unfolded before me, entry by entry. Mission brief, travel routes, logistical supply requests, casualty reports. Everything looked flawless. I pulled up all associated information preceding the mission’s initiation. An inconspicuous dynamic brief was retrieved from the depths of the data. The brief stated that a border patrol unit had detected signs of small-scale hostile activity, urgently requiring a batch of specialized communication equipment. It was this very brief that directly led to Commander Peterson’s “perilous” transport mission. The problem was, the source of this brief was tagged “Snow Wolf Assault Team.” The Snow Wolf Assault Team was my former unit. During that period, they were not conducting missions in that region at all. The records were clear: they were undergoing wilderness survival training in another jungle, three hundred kilometers away. I magnified the digital signature of the message file. Beneath layers of encrypted code, I found the original issuance key. The key belonged to Commander Peterson. He had forged a front-line message. Using the name of my unit, he forged a message significant enough to mobilize an entire transport echelon. This wasn’t simple greed, not a minor financial scheme. This was a treasonous felony that could shake the very foundations of the organization. If confirmed, a special tribunal would make him regret ever being born. So this was his true Achilles’ heel. Faking his death to escape, embezzling funds—these were just the surface. What he truly wanted to hide was this. I leaned back in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. I thought I was just catching a cheating spouse; I never expected to stumble upon a bomb capable of destroying an entire unit. Just then, my personal phone “pinged.” It was a multimedia message from an unknown number. I tapped to open it. Azure skies, turquoise waters, white sandy beach chairs, and Barbie, in a bikini, intimately nestled in Commander Peterson’s arms. Commander Peterson held her, a smile on his face I had never seen before. The background of the photo was a locally distinctive seven-star sail-shaped hotel. Below the photo, a line of text read: [Mrs. Peterson, Commander Peterson would rather fake his death than not be with me.] [You had him for so many years; now he’s mine.] I looked at that foolish, triumphant face and suddenly laughed. The heavens truly helped me. I was racking my brain trying to find them, and they delivered their address right to my doorstep. I put down my phone, picked up another encrypted device, and dialed the number of a distant cousin of Barbie’s from her hometown. I had arranged to get it earlier. “Hello, who is this?” “Hello, I’m from the Family Welfare Committee. Regarding Barbie Seiple’s application for special medical assistance for a family genetic illness, we need family members to verify the situation.” “What? What illness?” The woman on the other end of the phone was clearly bewildered. “Our family has been as strong as oxen for generations. We don’t have any genetic illnesses!” I hung up. Alright, all done. Evidence of betrayal, hidden location, motive for fraud. I looked at everything spread out on the table—the forged message, the boastful photo on my phone, and that phrase I’d just written down: “Our family doesn’t have any genetic illness.” Commander Peterson, Barbie Seiple. You’re in for a treat. I arrived at the Tribunal without an appointment. The guard at the gate stopped me. I showed the faint scar above my eyebrow and handed over my ID. “Special Information Unit, Evelyn Quan. I need to see Director Rogers.” The guard glanced at my ID, then at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but he quickly saluted and let me pass. I walked straight to Director Rogers’s office door; it wasn’t fully closed. I didn’t knock, just pushed the door open and walked in. Director Rogers looked up, and seeing me, he clearly paused. “Ms. Quan,” he pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses. “My condolences.” I took an encrypted USB drive and several paper documents from my briefcase. “Director Rogers, you said last time that everything is based on evidence.” “This is the intelligence related to Commander Peterson’s last mission.” I pushed the forged border message across the table to him. “Issued under the name of the Snow Wolf Assault Team, signed with Commander Peterson’s encryption key. During that time, my unit was training three hundred kilometers away. This is their complete operational log.” Director Rogers’s gaze fell on the document. He scanned it quickly, then picked it up, examining it carefully. His brow furrowed progressively. I didn’t give him much time to process, plugging the USB drive into his computer. “This is the financial flow from Commander Peterson’s logistics account, ultimately leading to an offshore anonymous account. Totaling nine million seven hundred and twenty thousand.” Next, I pushed the printed copy of the multimedia message photo across. “This is Commander Peterson and Barbie Seiple, two days ago at the Burj Al Arab in Dubai. He’s not dead.” Finally, I placed a summarized transcript of a phone call. “This is my conversation with Barbie Seiple’s relatives from her hometown. Her family comes from three generations of poor farmers, all in good health. No one knows anything about a ‘family genetic illness.’” I finished speaking. The office was dead silent. Director Rogers’s fingers still clutched the forged message, his knuckles white from the pressure. He finished reviewing everything without a word. “Forging military intelligence, faking his death to escape, embezzling public funds, and desertion.” He summarized, word for word, “Ms. Quan, your husband has committed treason.” “Ex-husband,” I corrected him, “I need you to bring him back to face trial in a special tribunal.” “This isn’t your ‘need,’ Ms. Quan.” Director Rogers’s voice was gravely serious. “This is my responsibility, and the responsibility of this uniform I wear. Anyone who defiles its honor must pay the price.” He stood up, walked to me, saluted, and spoke solemnly: “Thank you, Evelyn Quan. You have upheld the dignity of this uniform.” With that, he turned back to his desk and picked up the red encrypted phone. His voice was devoid of any personal emotion, only the resolute and cold tone of command. “Connect me to Sector Two Intelligence. I need to speak directly with Deputy Director Vance.” The call connected quickly. “Director Vance, this is Director Rogers. I’ve uncovered a Level One security incident here and require your department to immediately initiate an international fugitive recovery procedure. Target: Commander Peterson. Yes, the combat hero who just ‘sacrificed’ himself.”

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The bewildered stare of the immigration officer pierced me like a physical blow. Under the sterile fluorescent lights, the computer screen facing me displayed Kelly’s legal spouse. The name staring back at me was Paul. “Sir, are you sure you didn’t make a mistake on this form?” That single question dropped the floor out from under me. The chill of the air conditioning suddenly felt like a plunge into a frozen lake. So, for the past five years, not only had I been waiting in vain for my Green Card, but even my identity as her husband had been a complete lie. Five years ago, I gave up everything to follow Kelly across the ocean, driven by nothing but blind love. Time and time again, my residency applications were met with endless delays and rejections. Yet Paul, the so-called helpless younger brother crashing in our guest room, secured his permanent residency in barely three months. I only found out later that Kelly had personally hired a top-tier immigration lawyer to expedite his case. When my disappointment finally boiled over and I packed my bags to fly back home, Kelly panicked. She wrapped her arms around me, her tears soaking through my shirt. “Noah, you are my husband. Getting your papers is just a matter of time.” Then she looked up at me with those pleading eyes. “But Ollie is different. He has no one here. Without his papers, he could be deported at any minute. Please, just stay. Do it for me?” Like a fool, I let her tears anchor me down once again. 1 I didn’t go back to the house we shared. Instead, I headed straight to the airport terminal. Right before I reached the departure gates, my phone vibrated. It was a text from her: “Stop throwing a tantrum. Come home.” But Kelly, we hadn’t had a home in a very long time. The officer behind the glass tapped her pen, thinking I hadn’t heard her. “Sir, you might want to double-check your documents.” Her voice pulled me back to reality. I slowly slid the paperwork off the counter, forcing a stiff, polite smile. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you for your time.” I stood in the corridor for a long moment, my finger hovering over Kelly’s contact. Instinct told me to call her, to demand an explanation, to scream until my throat gave out. The phone rang endlessly. When the line finally clicked open, it wasn’t Kelly’s voice. “Hey man, Kelly is in the middle of a board meeting right now,” Paul’s voice floated through the speaker, dripping with a sickening sweetness. “Did you need something? You can tell me, and I’ll pass the message along. Though, unless you’re out of groceries, I doubt it’s an emergency.” “We’re going over a massive merger here. You’re just a stay-at-home guy, Noah. Let the adults handle the real work.” His words were laced with poison, striking so deep I couldn’t form a single syllable. In the background, I heard Kelly’s muffled voice asking who was on the line. Paul let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “Nobody important. Just a spam call.” “Focus on the contracts,” she replied. The call abruptly disconnected. I stared at the blackening screen of my phone. A single tear broke free, splashing against the glass. But the crying didn’t last. A hollow, bitter laugh escaped my throat, echoing in the crowded terminal. Looking back, none of this was genuinely surprising. Kelly and Paul grew up on the same street. They were each other’s first loves. I knew all of this before I even put a ring on her finger. But Kelly had held my hands, her gaze burning with absolute sincerity. “That belongs to the past, Noah. You are the only man I love now.” And I swallowed the lie whole. Not long after we moved to the States, Paul magically got a job transfer to the same city. Kelly played the anxious caretaker perfectly. “He’s all alone in a foreign country, Noah. I can’t sleep knowing he’s out there fending for himself.” Just like that, Paul moved into our home, taking up space like he owned the place. Months later, a convenient career change landed him the role of Kelly’s personal assistant. Anyone with eyes could see the boundaries blurring. But Kelly just brushed my chin and whispered, “He’s just like a little brother to me. Stop overthinking.” And so I did. I covered my eyes, plugged my ears, and played the role of the devoted partner. Right before I left my home country, my mother had watched me pack. She didn’t try to stop me. She just offered a tired, knowing smile. “You’re young, Noah. I won’t stop you because you won’t listen anyway. But you’ll understand eventually. A man who relies on someone else with his palms facing up will lose everything the second they decide to stop giving.” “No man who shrinks himself just to keep a house ever gets a happy ending.” I was young, arrogant, and drunk on romance. I believed love conquered logic. I refused a single dime from my family, crossed the Atlantic with nothing but passion, and threw myself into a world where I didn’t even speak the local slang. I bled for five years to build a life for her. And when I finally turned around, the woman I did it all for had already walked away. Only now did my mother’s words ring with devastating clarity. Without a second thought, I opened the airline app and booked the next available flight out. Tonight. Five years was enough. I didn’t have another five years to waste on a ghost. Just as the payment confirmation popped up, an incoming call overtook the screen. Kelly. “Noah, I was in a meeting. What’s going on?” “Are you at the office? I need to see you right now.” Kelly’s tone shifted, sounding instantly burdened. “Right now? That’s going to be tricky. I have a dinner with clients tonight. If nobody is dying, we can talk when I get home…” “I’m not waiting.” My voice was sharp, cutting through her excuses. Even Kelly paused, caught off guard by a tone I had never used with her. I was always the understanding one, the compromising one. She sighed heavily. “Are you still throwing a fit about the residency papers? I told you, you are my legal partner. Getting your status fixed is just a matter of time. Besides, it’s not like you need to work anyway. Why are you obsessing over a piece of plastic?” “Noah, I’m taking care of you.” She had fed me that line a thousand times to make me feel secure. Now, it just sounded like a sick joke. Taking care of a man who wasn’t even legally her husband? What did that make me? A kept man? A dirty little secret? I didn’t bother spelling it out over the phone. I just dropped the words, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” and hung up. Some truths needed to be spoken to her face. I rarely visited her firm. I didn’t understand corporate finance, and I never wanted to be a distraction. Because of my absence, the receptionist had to verify my identity for ten minutes before finally pointing me toward the executive suites. When I reached her door, I heard voices. Her inner circle, the wealthy expat crowd she loved to run with. “Come on, Kelly,” a slick, teasing voice drifted through the wood. “When are you and Ollie finally making it official? I’ve got my wedding gift picked out already.” Another chimed in. “Seriously, you two have been legally hitched for five years now. You should have kids running around by now. Why keep playing hide and seek?” Paul’s voice joined the chorus, dripping with fake modesty. “Guys, stop it. Kelly only married me on paper so I wouldn’t get deported.” “If Noah hears you guys talking like this, he’s going to get the wrong idea.” The instigator didn’t miss a beat. “Let him get the wrong idea. If Kelly wasn’t funding his entire existence, he’d be kicked out of the country tomorrow. It’s not like he contributes to the firm like you do, Ollie. He just cooks and cleans. He’s a glorified maid.” A low chuckle followed. “If I were you, Kelly, I’d turn the fake marriage into a real one. Keep Ollie. Give the maid a severance check and put him on a plane back home.” My hand froze on the doorknob. Inside and out, everyone was waiting for her answer. It sounded like she was genuinely considering it. After a heavy silence, she let out a careless laugh. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re embarrassing Ollie.” “As for the guy at home… he’s been acting up lately. I’ll buy him something nice to quiet him down. If that doesn’t work, whatever. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The implication of “whatever” hung heavily in the air. As knowing laughter erupted inside, I didn’t stand there playing the tragic victim. I turned the handle and pushed the door wide open. The laughter died instantly. Several people lounging around the sleek office snapped their heads toward the doorway, their expressions freezing in horror. Kelly turned. The smirk vanished from her lips, replaced by pure shock. “Noah? How did you…” She recovered quickly, striding toward me with frantic steps. “You got here so fast. Didn’t I tell you to call me from the lobby so I could come down?” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at her. My silence gnawed at her composure. She swallowed hard, testing the waters. “Did you… hear any of that?” “We were just messing around. It’s just office banter, Noah. I promise, next month, I will personally make sure your residency application goes through.” I remained completely silent. My eyes moved past her, slowly taking in the faces of the people who had just been laughing at my expense. After a long minute, I spoke. My voice was steady, void of any emotion. “Don’t bother. Clearly, I chose a bad time to drop by. I didn’t mean to interrupt your little brainstorming session.” “If you’re so busy, we’ll leave it at that.” I had heard enough. Confronting her about the marriage fraud in front of her sycophants wouldn’t give me closure. It would only make me look like a pathetic, jealous joke. I wasn’t going to humiliate myself any further. My flight was leaving tonight. All I wanted was to pack my essential documents and walk out of her life forever. But as I turned to leave, a hand clamped down on my sleeve. Paul. “Noah, wait. Please don’t leave. It’s not what it looks like.” “Kelly and I only got married for the paperwork. Please, I’m begging you, don’t be mad at her because of me.” My brow furrowed in utter disgust. The sheer audacity of him playing the peacemaker when I was the one being ripped apart made my blood boil. I looked down at him with ice in my veins. “If you really cared about my feelings, you would let go of my arm.” Instead of letting go, Paul gripped the fabric tighter, his knuckles turning white. “No. I won’t let go until you forgive us. I won’t let you ruin things with Kelly.” He buckled his knees, acting as if he was about to drop to the floor in repentance. “Noah, please. Just forgive her. I swear to you, the second my status is permanent, I will sign the divorce papers. I swear.” His pathetic display drew sympathetic looks from the crowd, and their stares turned toward me, judging me for being so cruel to the poor, helpless assistant. Even the most patient man has a breaking point. Facing this shameless manipulation, the anger finally snapped loose. “Drop the act.” “Your mother was a parasite who used her friendship to crawl into my father’s bed. And look at you. You’re doing the exact same thing, using the ‘little brother’ routine to crawl into Kelly’s. And now you want my forgiveness?” “What, do you share the family trait? You love destroying homes but still demand a round of applause?” The words hit their mark. Paul gasped, and Kelly’s protective instincts flared. She stepped between us, her eyes blazing with fury. “That is enough.” “Watch your mouth, Noah. If we have a problem, we handle it behind closed doors at home. Stop acting like a hysterical lunatic in front of my team. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Seeing her instinctively shield him extinguished the very last ember of hope in my chest. I was completely dead inside. I couldn’t even summon the energy to scream at her. I simply yanked my arm back to free my sleeve from Paul’s suffocating grip. I didn’t even pull hard. “Ah.” Paul let out a theatrical shriek. He threw himself backward, collapsing toward the leather sofa and deliberately grazing his hip against the sharp corner of the glass coffee table. He clutched his side, his face instantly draining of color as he groaned in agony. “It hurts… God, it hurts.” Before I could even process the performance, a harsh shove sent me stumbling backward. Kelly stood over him, glaring at me like I was a monster. “Are you out of your damn mind, Noah?” “Ollie was just trying to fix things, and you get violent?” I looked at her, truly seeing the stranger she had become. “You were standing right there. You saw how little force I used. Are you blind?” “How do you have the nerve to stand there and lecture me about morals?” But Kelly was blinded by rage, and her words became daggers designed to inflict maximum pain. “So what if you didn’t push him hard? Let me remind you of something, Noah.” “I am the one who has paid for your life for the last five years.” “As of this second, your credit cards are frozen. Your access code to the house is revoked. Without me funding your life, you are nothing but a stray dog in this city.” She didn’t spare me another glance. She knelt down, wrapping her arms around a whimpering Paul to help him stand. She barked at her stunned coworkers. “Don’t just stand there. Get the car. We’re taking him to the ER right now.” The room emptied in a chaotic rush. I was left completely alone in the sprawling office, rubbing my aching shoulder where she had shoved me. A quiet, self-deprecating smile touched my lips. I shook my head. Look at you, Noah. This is what you get for trading your youth and your pride for love. It was better this way. There was nothing left to hold onto. I knew Kelly well. When she made a threat, she followed through. I didn’t even care to go back to the house to pack clothes. If she claimed she bought everything for me, taking those things would only make me feel filthy. Thankfully, I had brought my passport and essential IDs to the immigration office that morning. That was all I needed to vanish. I walked out of the building, hailed a cab, and told the driver to take me straight to the airport. Deep down, Kelly probably suspected Paul was faking it. But she couldn’t resist the urge to punish me. Her friends had fed her ego. She had financed a luxurious life for me, so in her mind, I owed her absolute obedience. Even if she crossed a line, she expected me to accept a half-hearted apology and sweep it under the rug. Because she was the one paying the bills. With that twisted logic in her head, she froze the cards and locked the smart home system. An hour later, a text buzzed on my phone. “Do you realize you’re out of line yet?” “Get to the hospital and apologize to Ollie. Do that, and I’ll consider letting this go.” But Kelly forgot one crucial detail. I had a family, a degree, and friends back home. I wasn’t some stray begging for scraps. I gave up my world because I loved her. Reading that message, I didn’t feel anger. I just felt a profound sense of comedy. I glanced at the screen, swiped the notification away, and didn’t reply. Three hours passed. Night fell completely over the city. My silence was highly unusual. Without legal status, I didn’t have a personal bank account here. The streets of this city were notoriously dangerous after dark, and I rarely carried more than fifty dollars in cash. I couldn’t even afford a motel room. Kelly must have realized that pushing me into the streets at night wasn’t a game to play. Unable to shake her anxiety, she texted me again five hours later. “I unlocked the doors and the cards. Go home.” “Don’t wander around outside, it’s not safe. We’ll sit down and talk like adults when I get back.” I didn’t answer. Another hour ticked by. Kelly checked the banking app. Zero transactions on my card. She pulled up the security cameras at the front door. The porch had been empty since the afternoon. Wandering the streets past midnight with no money, no car, and no destination. A cold spike of panic finally pierced Kelly’s arrogance. She began pacing the hospital corridor, her thumb hovering over the screen, typing and deleting repeatedly. Finally, she sent one last message. “Stop this. Come home.” I didn’t reply to that one either. I was standing at the boarding gate. I read the text, calmly blocked her number, deleted her contact, and powered down the device. I stepped into the cabin without a single backward glance. As the plane thundered down the runway and lifted into the night sky, I watched the glittering grid of the city shrink into nothingness. There were no tears. There was no regret. There was only the sweet release of freedom. Goodbye, Kelly. Let’s never cross paths again. Back at the hospital, my absolute silence was driving Kelly insane. She finally swallowed her pride and prepared to call me, but her phone lit up first. It was Sarah, a mutual friend from our university days. “Hey babe, I just landed at the airport. I wanted to surprise you guys, so I didn’t ask for a ride. You promised you and Noah were going to show me around the city, right?” “But the weirdest thing just happened. I swear I just saw Noah at the international terminal. He was boarding a flight back home.” “Did he leave the country?”

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It was International Women’s Day, and HR delivered flowers to every woman in the company, except me. Confused, I went to look for the HR manager, but stopped when I heard her talking with colleagues in the stairwell. “Isn’t it too much to exclude Aurora? She is the Head of Tech,” one whispered. Another answered, “It’s her own fault. She keeps going to the CEO and upsetting his girlfriend. The budget for her flower was used for Jenna’s huge bouquet. That was the only way to calm the girlfriend down.” “Liam is clearly avoiding her, but she still shamelessly chases him, trying to break them up.” Their words stung. I remembered the enormous bouquet that caused a stir in the office this morning, given to Jenna, the new intern. My husband, Liam Vaughn, had not given me flowers since we founded the company. He did not even have time for dinner on our anniversary. Lately, even when we were together, he felt distant, always preoccupied with work, worried our competitor Apex Dynamics would beat us to the market. I knew how hard he had worked to build this company. I felt his struggle so deeply that I turned down a generous offer from Apex and brought my core technology to his startup instead. I became a workaholic, working through the night, pushing myself to the limit. I even agreed to keep our marriage a secret to avoid office politics. And what did I get? While colleagues spread rumors about me, he stayed silent, yet never hid his favoritism toward an intern. I looked at the hard drive in my hand, which held my latest breakthrough. I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and called Donovan Pierce, CEO of Apex Dynamics. “I accept your offer,” I said calmly. “I will join as a partner, with my technology as my stake.” 1 There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then, Donovan Pierce, a man known as the “Stone-Faced Godfather of the tech world,” couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice. “Aurora, you won’t regret this. I will make sure this is the best decision you’ve ever made. With your tech, the Titan Corp bid tomorrow is ours for the taking!” The second I agreed, the phone was snatched from my hand. I turned to see Liam’s icy glare. A crowd of smirking employees stood behind him. He hung up without even looking at the screen, his tone frigid. “It’s just a flower. You’re the Head of Technology, and you’re going to cause a scene in the administrative department over it? What will people think? It’ll look like Jenna is bullying you. Have you thought about her position?” A bitter smile touched my lips. I hadn’t even found the HR manager, and he was already this worried about Jenna. Yet for the past year, as I was branded the desperate older woman trying to ruin his relationship, as the rumors flew, he had been conveniently deaf. Seeing their boss angry, the others eagerly piled on. “An old hag like Ms. Vale has probably never gotten flowers in her life. That’s why she’s making such a big deal out of it.” “Are all homewreckers this shameless? Liam is obviously trying to keep his distance by not giving you a flower, and you’re still forcing the issue!” “It’s Women’s Day. It’s for young, beautiful women like Jenna and us. What makes a washed-up, old mistress think she deserves anything?” Every word was a dagger to the heart, but Liam’s expression remained unchanged. I understood then. They were just saying what he was already thinking. I trembled with rage, my eyes fixed on the man I’d been married to for seven years. “I am also a female employee of this company. Is there a problem with me fighting for a benefit I’m entitled to?” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, a flicker of emotion crossed his face. He sighed. “If you really want one…” Just then, Jenna appeared, clutching her enormous bouquet, her eyes brimming with tears. “Aurora, it’s my fault! I’m just an intern, I don’t deserve this! If you want them, you can have them, just please don’t use your position to bully me! I’m so scared!” A few of her friends in the office chimed in with saccharine-laced accusations. “Liam, as soon as Jenna got the flowers this morning, Aurora made her print hundreds of pages of pure gibberish, and she only gave her an hour to do it. Jenna’s back is killing her from standing by the printer, and for what? A stack of useless paper no one will ever read. It’s blatant workplace harassment!” Liam’s gaze fell on the half-printed stack of paper on the desk. The flicker of sympathy vanished. He grabbed a handful of pages, the contents looking like nonsense to him, and in a fit of rage, ripped them to shreds, showering me with the pieces. “And to think I was about to compensate you! Vertex Innovations prides itself on its supportive company culture. A toxic shrew like you who bullies her subordinates is a disgrace!” Behind the fluttering confetti of my hard work, I could see Jenna and her friends smiling triumphantly. What Liam didn’t know was that those pages contained the technical report I had spent five sleepless nights perfecting. I’d asked the intern to print them this morning so I could get them to Titan Corp, the biggest client in the industry, before their bidding process was locked down. It would have secured us the project without a fight. He grabbed another stack of paper and slapped me across the face with them. “Apologize to Jenna. Now!” The sharp edge of the A4 paper left a stinging cut on my cheek, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the desolation in my soul. I bent down and began to gather the scattered pages, my voice as cold as my heart. “She was too busy showing off her flowers this morning to complete the task I gave her within the one-hour deadline. She’s the one who should be apologizing.” Liam’s face darkened. He lunged forward and grabbed me by the collar. “Aurora, when did you become so manipulative and cruel? You’re the one in the wrong, and you’re so consumed by jealousy you’ve lost all sense of shame? Get on your knees and apologize to Jenna, and I… I might still let you stay on the team.” The sycophants erupted. “You pathetic homewrecker, abusing your power to bully the real girlfriend! How dare you demand an apology?” “Wasting company resources on a pile of garbage and disrupting our work. Why should a selfish bitch like you be a department head?” “You’ve always known your place, working without a salary, throwing yourself at Liam. I guess a single flower was enough to make you finally drop the act, huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. When Liam and I first married, he had nothing. But he knew I loved flowers and would often pick wildflowers for me. We were poor, but our hearts were full. Then he decided to start his own company. Every penny was pinched, and there was certainly no money or time for flowers. As a renowned expert in my field, I poured my own money and talent into supporting him. Last year, the company finally started to turn a profit. We expanded, hired new staff, and aimed to conquer the market. I had been with him every step of the way, so I understood the struggle. That’s why I joined his company without a salary, letting all my benefits go to the new hires. Even when the rumors about him and Jenna started, even when I found out that as an intern, Jenna had an unlimited, no-receipts-required expense account, even when I saw that after a year of not even being able to operate a printer correctly, her annual bonus was a brand-new sports car, I believed him. “It’s about showing appreciation for our junior staff, building team morale,” he’d said. And I had believed him. But today, this one small benefit, I thought he would remember my love for flowers. I thought he wouldn’t leave me out. Instead, all my years of silent support had earned me was the consensus that I was unworthy. I pointed to the data on the shredded papers, my heart aching as I looked at him. “This is the technical data I poured my soul into. If it had been delivered on time today, we would have won the Titan bid without even competing. Now it’s all ruined. Shouldn’t she be the one to leave?” At the mention of her name, Jenna’s eyes darted around, and fresh tears began to fall. “Aurora, just because Liam favors me, you have to set such a vicious trap? No wonder you gave me an impossible printing task. You couldn’t deliver the software Liam needed, and you were afraid of failing at the bid tomorrow, so you decided to make me the scapegoat! Is this how far you’ll go just to keep clinging to him?” The others rushed to her defense. “I heard Liam was already pissed that the tech department hasn’t had a breakthrough in a year. This old witch is just trying to use Jenna to save her own skin!” “That’s why it didn’t matter if the documents were gibberish! She just needed to give Jenna an impossible task so she could shift the blame!” “She’s pure evil. No wonder she’s trying to sleep her way to the top. She knows she’s incompetent!” Liam’s eyes were like daggers. He shoved me, and I fell into the pile of my ruined work. “You really went to great lengths to frame Jenna, didn’t you? I wondered why your so-called ‘breakthrough’ was taking so long. You were too busy plotting against her! Apologize to Jenna right now, or you’re out of this company!” He’d forgotten that in the early days, when we couldn’t afford employees, I often filled every role, including printing hundreds of documents in an hour. It was his own standard operating procedure. But when applied to Jenna, it became an act of deliberate cruelty. A sad smile touched my lips. I stood up, brushed the paper from my clothes, and took off my employee badge, tossing it on the floor. I started gathering my personal belongings. “No need for threats. I quit.” I printed out a single document, signed it, and handed it to him. “Sign this. I’ll send you a mailing address.” The words “Divorce Agreement” made him freeze. He instinctively reached for me as I turned to leave. The others, assuming it was a resignation letter, began to cheer. Only Jenna, seeing him grab me, scowled and pulled his arm away. “Liam, are you trying to make her apologize to me? If she’s resigning as an apology, I suppose I could accept…” Liam snapped back to reality. Ever conscious of his image, he went along with her. “Exactly. We can’t let this toxic woman off so easily.” He yanked me back, pinning me against the wall. “Tomorrow’s bid will make me a legend in this industry! How dare you try to walk out on me now?” The desperation and fury in his eyes made it impossible to tell if he was trying to save the bid or the hollowed-out shell of our marriage. But I no longer cared to guess. I looked him straight in the eye, my heart a dead weight in my chest. “You think I’m incompetent. You think I’m getting in the way of your love life. Why are you stopping me?” He flinched, glancing at Jenna over his shoulder. “You’re derelict in your duties and you’re a bully. Don’t try to drag me into this!” he said, before leaning in and hissing in my ear, “Is this because I’ve been busy with work and haven’t paid you enough attention in bed? Is that why you’re making a federal case out of a damn flower?” I shook my head, speechless, and shoved him away. The box of my belongings in my arms fell, scattering its contents across the floor. Jenna immediately snatched the most prominent item, a photo album. She flipped it open and sneered. “No wonder she’s in such a hurry to leave. Looks like she’s already found a new target!” The others crowded around, laughing. “She saw she wasn’t getting anywhere with Liam, so she started lining up her next sugar daddy. What a slut! She must have spent a lot of time in his car trying to seduce him.” But as Liam looked at the contents of the album, the color drained from his face. There were no photos inside. Only a thick stack of train tickets. They were from college. I was a rising star in the national programming competition circuit, a recognized genius. He was just a logistics volunteer from another school who had fallen for me at first sight. He, a notorious slacker who barely passed his classes, and I, a prodigy. We were worlds apart. I had politely turned him down. But after the competition, he had relentlessly pursued me, taking the train for hours, often standing the whole way, just to see me. On our wedding day, he had presented me with this album, filled with every single one of those tickets, and held me in his arms, tears streaming down his face. “It took me ten thousand miles to finally win you over,” he’d whispered. “How could I not cherish you?” Now, the album was a cruel joke. Seeing my silence, the employees assumed their suspicions were correct. They took out their phones and started a livestream, shoving the cameras in my face. “You’ve never seen a homewrecker this desperate! When one man doesn’t work out, she moves on to the next! Everyone, watch out for this one!” Instantly, my bruised face, under the headline “The Hardest Working Old Mistress,” went viral. The internet trolls descended. “An old hag like that still trying to be a mistress? Is money earned on your back that good?” “She’s got no talent, so she has to use her body!” A few people were skeptical. “She looks familiar. I think she’s won a bunch of tech awards. She should be able to make good money on her own. Why would she need to be a mistress?” I was livid. I grabbed Liam’s shirt. “You know the truth! Tell them!” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He was about to speak when my phone buzzed with a notification. Jenna saw it and snatched it, holding it up like a trophy. It was a message from Donovan Pierce. “I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning. I’ll bring breakfast.” He had messaged me from a personal account they didn’t recognize. Their imaginations ran wild. “See? The old mistress is already scheduling her next hookup! No wonder she was in such a hurry to quit!” The few netizens who had defended me turned. “So she really is a shameless, desperate slut. Disgusting!” Before I could explain, Liam’s eyes were blazing. He slapped me so hard I fell to the floor. “Aurora, and to think I was about to defend you! You really are this pathetic! No wonder you were so determined to leave. You were just eager to climb into another man’s bed! This company has no place for a whore like you!” The others swarmed me. “You’re a disgrace to this company, with your depraved lifestyle and your bullying! You’ll apologize to all of us on your knees before you leave this building!” Before I could react, someone kicked the back of my knees, and I collapsed. Another grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor. Blood streamed from the wound. Jenna knelt, pinching my chin, her voice a triumphant whisper. “You really thought you could compete with me for him? This is what you get, you old bitch.” Seeing the blood, Liam finally seemed to regain some semblance of sanity. He hauled me to my feet, threw me into the elevator, and snarled, “Go home and wait for me. If you mention divorce again, you’ll see what I do to you when I get back.” But as the doors were closing, I heard Jenna’s sweet voice. “Liam, you promised you’d spend tonight with me! You can’t go back on your word!” Liam’s tone instantly softened. “Of course not, my dear. When have I ever missed a special day with you?” I thought of all the important days he had missed over the last year and smiled a bitter, bloody smile. He didn’t come home that night. Neither did I. The next morning, at the Titan Corp bidding presentation, Liam saw me, my wounds bandaged, a satisfied look on his face. He had a faint hickey on his neck. “I knew it. You must have stayed up all night working on a new proposal to win me back.” He leaned in closer. “Look, I had to calm Jenna down last night. That’s why I didn’t come home. But you’ve been good today. I’ll come home tonight. Consider it your company benefit. Happy now?” Jenna, however, was furious when she saw me. “So you still can’t let him go? Have some self-respect, you’re not young anymore.” The media, who had all seen yesterday’s livestream, swarmed me with hostile questions. “You’ve been branded a whore by the entire industry. Do you have no dignity?” “Did your new sugar daddy see the stream and dump you? Are you here looking for a new man?” “Or are you here to win Liam back? Are you really that pathetic?” I walked right through them and handed my proposal to the Titan Corp executives. “Everything you’re looking for is in here. You don’t need to see anyone else’s.” The head of Titan Corp looked shocked. He flipped through a few pages, then grabbed my hand, his face alight with excitement. “We knew it! Whichever company has Ms. Vale is the one with the Midas touch!” Liam beamed, turning to the media and bowing. He preened for the cameras. “Taming a woman is as simple as training a dog. That’s how you unlock her true potential…” He then shot a smug look at his biggest rival, Donovan Pierce. “Next time, don’t even bother showing up! Today, you’ll learn who the king of this industry is!” Donovan just smiled faintly and gestured to the stage. “Perhaps you should listen a little more closely.” The next moment, the Titan Corp executive made the official announcement, and Liam’s world fell apart. “This year’s winning bid… is Apex Dynamics, the new home of a tech titan like Ms. Aurora Vale!”

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On my brother’s bedside table, that familiar bouquet of white bellflowers froze me in place. Everyone used to say it took ten years for Quinn—the girl whose flowers I’d toss in the trash every day—to become the only girl by my side. Growing up, I’d always gotten away with things, relying on my good looks. My admirers came and went, but she, my childhood friend, always stayed. They’d often tell me I’d never find anyone like Quinn if I let her go, that companionship was the most moving declaration of love. Just as I was finally ready to let my guard down and accept her, this discovery hit me like a bucket of ice water, dousing all my courage. I’ve always had a terrible personality, but I just happened to be born with a face that drew people in. 1 The next day at school, Quinn brought me a red rose. I frowned, didn’t even glance at it, and tossed it straight into the trash. Quinn paused, then, unfazed, leaned in with a sweet smile. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” From seven to seventeen, no matter how much I snapped at Quinn, she’d always indulge me like this. The worst time was when I accidentally broke a jade pendant her deceased mother had left her. My eyes welled up, ready to apologize. But Quinn just quietly asked if I’d hurt my hand. Even if, later, she’d hide away and cry by herself. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I turned my head, asking in a muffled voice, “Why did my brother have the same white bellflowers you gave me yesterday?” Quinn chuckled. “Nothing to do with me. I know you can’t stand him, so I’ve never even spoken to him.” Right. Quinn and Leo had barely exchanged a few words. How could she have given him flowers? I let out a sigh of relief, just about to swallow my pride and apologize to Quinn. Then the school bell rang. I scribbled a note and slipped it into her desk. But as I did, I noticed a pink envelope tucked inside her textbook. It had a little heart drawn on it. And I recognized the handwriting. It was from my brother, Leo. 2 My fingers hooked the pink envelope, and without a moment’s hesitation, I pulled it out. As the letter unfolded, Leo’s familiar, elegant handwriting filled the page. He wrote about falling for Quinn the first time he saw her, about envying her when she brought me flowers, about his internal struggle, afraid to get close. I patiently flipped through the pages until I reached the last line: “If you agree, please give me a single white bellflower.” My gaze froze. So it wasn’t a coincidence. That white bellflower by his bed—that’s how it got there. The teacher was lecturing animatedly at the front of the classroom. I bit back my fury, slamming the letter onto Quinn’s desk, glaring at her. The grating sound of my chair scraping the floor was too loud. The teacher frowned, calling out my name. “Alex, what’s with the fidgeting in class? You answer this question.” I stared at the formula on the blackboard, my mind a blank, filled only with the contents of that letter. Quinn whispered the answer to me, her voice laced with urgency and reassurance. But I didn’t want to say a word. The teacher waited for a long moment, his face darkening. “Alex, what do you have besides a pretty face? Your grades are worse than your brother’s, you’re spoiled and arrogant, always stirring up trouble with girls, making a mess of this class!” I just kept my head down, gritting my teeth, silent. I didn’t care what people said about my personality. But I hated, absolutely hated, being compared to my brother. I didn’t look at the teacher, didn’t look at Quinn, just walked out of the classroom, my face cold. I’d barely splashed water on my face in the boys’ room when I heard Quinn’s hurried footsteps behind me. Her face was etched with anxiety, completely unlike her usual composed, accommodating self. “Alex, please don’t be mad.” “You know I hate being compared to him!” I glared at Quinn, my eyes blazing. “Quinn, don’t play dumb. You know that’s not what I’m most angry about.” She pressed her lips together, a hint of hurt in her eyes, explaining softly, “The white bellflowers were specifically for you. I didn’t know he wanted them, and I certainly didn’t plan to give him any.” I demanded, “Then what about the white bellflowers by his bed?” “He must have bought them himself, trying to make you misunderstand,” Quinn sighed, her voice laced with resignation. “Lots of girls in class like you, saying they’ll confess after exams. I was scared of losing you, so I just wanted to make you a little jealous, to let you know I cared.” Her eyes held a pleading look. “I’ve already explained things to the teacher, don’t take it to heart. I can wait, until you’re ready to accept me, until exams are over, however long it takes.” Looking at the stubbornness in her eyes, remembering her unwavering presence for the past ten years. The fire in my chest cooled a bit. I said, my voice still cold, “Alright, after the exams.” Quinn’s eyes immediately lit up, and that gentle smile returned to her face. On the way home from school, she took a call, frowning. “Something urgent came up. You go home first; I’ll find you after I’m done.” I nodded and walked on. After only a few steps, I remembered my water bottle in the classroom and turned back. As I reached the classroom door, just about to push it open, I heard Leo’s voice, a hint of a whine in it. “Quinn, are you really going to wait until after exams?” I froze in place. 3 The classroom door was ajar, and Leo’s voice drifted out, soft and submissive. “Quinn, big brother walked out of class like that today. The teacher must be furious, and you still went to explain for him. Isn’t that exhausting?” “Sometimes I wonder, you’ve waited for him for so many years, given him everything good, and he… he never seemed to care.” “Big brother probably doesn’t understand how rare it is for someone to wait with their whole heart. Just like I’m waiting for you.” He looked at Quinn with what seemed like concern. “I just worry you’ll get too tired. If big brother keeps acting like this, won’t you feel too wronged?” No tears, no self-pity, no overt criticism. It just made my chest ache, but there was no outright malice to pinpoint. I shoved the classroom door open. It hit the wall with a thud. Leo turned, no panic on his face, just a perfectly timed look of surprise. Then he lowered his eyes, docile as a harmless kitten, completely devoid of the awkwardness from moments ago. My gaze landed on him, and I raised an eyebrow. “Leo, you’re certainly more well-behaved discussing people behind their backs than you are in front of Mom and Dad.” “Worried about her? It’s not your place to worry. How I treat her is between us. It’s not up to someone who’s barely exchanged words with her to stick up for her.” Leo’s eyes reddened, but he only softly argued, “Brother, I didn’t. I was just worried about Quinn. I didn’t mean anything else. Don’t overthink it.” Quinn, beside him, frowned slightly and took a half-step forward. Her tone held a hint of exasperation towards me, and a gentle protectiveness towards Leo. “Alex, don’t say that. Leo was just being kind, he didn’t mean any harm. Why are you being so aggressive?” Just that one sentence, but it twisted my insides into knots. The year I was born, Leo arrived shortly after, premature and frail. The family’s focus instantly shifted. He was given the name Leo, wishing him a life of joy, cherished by all. And I was named Alex. To bid farewell, to yield, to always give way. Growing up, if he wanted something of mine, I had to let him have it. My only friend was snatched away by his soft words: “Brother’s just like that; you’ll always feel wronged playing with him.” Everyone told me, “You’re the older brother, he’s not well, you have to let him have his way.” I was forced to become sharp, unruly, and difficult. Only then could I hold onto a tiny bit of what was mine. Everyone doted on him, everyone but Quinn. From the age of seven, she ignored everyone’s accusations, ignored me throwing her flowers in the trash, ignored my cold remarks, and always, unconditionally, stood by me. Seven-year-old Quinn stubbornly told me, “I love how you protect yourself! We’re friends, and I’ll always stand by you!” “Someone who has to steal from others to thrive isn’t worth getting upset over!” But just now, for Leo, she frowned and casually defended him. No favoritism, no excessive protection, just a simple word of caution. Yet she knew perfectly well what I had been forced into. And still, she chose to defend him. I took a deep breath, refusing to swallow my hurt. The next second, I raised my hand and slapped Quinn across the face. Quinn’s head snapped to the side from the impact. She turned back, stunned, her eyes filled with disbelief and a flicker of pain. I didn’t look at her, nor at the bewildered Leo. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let them fall. The way to avoid being wronged wasn’t to cry. Turning, I bolted out of the classroom without a backward glance. Leaving ten years of companionship, ten years of unwavering loyalty, all behind me. 4 I stormed back to my dorm room. I’d chosen to live on campus after my family and I became estranged a long time ago. A while later, my roommate edged closer, his voice cautious. “Alex, there’s a girl waiting for you downstairs. It’s Quinn.” I was listening to music. Hearing him, I replied, “Got it, thanks.” I picked up my phone and messaged Quinn directly: [Go away. Don’t be a nuisance.] Message sent. I flipped my phone face down on the desk. My roommate stood there, hesitating for a long moment, then, as if gathering great courage, spoke softly. “Alex, my sister… she’s liked you for a long time, since freshman year. You’re so handsome, you don’t have to just focus on one person. Wouldn’t it be good to look at others?” His sister, Willow. The only person in school who dared to openly defy me, who I’d pushed back against countless times, and who still wouldn’t back down—she liked me? That was even more laughable than Quinn’s explanations. I didn’t respond. The sky outside gradually darkened. Evening study hall ended at nine. It was now 11:50—a full three hours. My phone vibrated countless times on the desk. Quinn’s messages popped up one after another, but I didn’t look at a single one. Ten minutes left until the dorm gates closed. If Quinn didn’t leave soon, she’d be stuck outside all night. The screen suddenly lit up. The caller ID was “Mrs. Davis.” Quinn’s mom, widowed years ago, raised her alone and always treated me like her own son. Every time I went to their place, she’d make all my favorite foods, always saying it was her blessing that Quinn stayed with me. I sighed, finally picking up, my voice softening a bit. “Mrs. Davis.” “Alex,” Mrs. Davis’s voice was anxious. “Quinn has been standing downstairs for almost three hours. It’s so cold out. Can you please go see her? I’m begging you.” “…I understand.” I grabbed my jacket and headed downstairs. Quinn stood under the streetlamp, her voice terribly hoarse, laced with profound hurt. “Alex, you finally came to see me.” “This afternoon, when I met Leo, I really just wanted to make things clear, to tell him to stop overthinking and to stop meddling in our business.” “I was protecting him not out of favoritism, but because I was afraid he’d be manipulative, and turn around to spread rumors in class or at home, ruining your reputation and making things even harder for you.” “I know you hit me because you were hurt, because for so many years only I stood by you, and I let you down. I don’t blame you, not one bit. I only feel for you…” As she spoke, her voice choked up, and the tears in her eyes finally spilled over. The girl’s disheveled vulnerability was laid bare before me. She reached out, gently tugging at my sleeve. “Alex, could you just… give me a hug? Just one, and I’ll go straight home, I won’t bother you.” The figure who protected me at seven, the white bellflowers she gave me at seventeen, her question “Are you hurt?” when I broke the jade pendant… All my sharpness, in that moment, softened for an instant. I didn’t push her away. Quinn immediately stepped forward, gently embracing me, holding on tightly, sobbing into my shoulder. “Don’t leave me… please.” After only a few seconds, I gently pushed her away. “Go back. The gates are closing.” Quinn reluctantly let go, her eyes red, nodding and running towards the school gate, looking back every few steps. I turned around, ready to head back to the dorm. A tall figure suddenly emerged from the shadows nearby, blocking my path. It was Willow. I raised an eyebrow. “Good dogs don’t block the road.” Willow scoffed, retorting, “And you’re too blind to know what you’re looking at.” She didn’t say anything else, just handed her phone to me. The screen was lit. A clear photo, taken just moments ago. In the blind spot by the corner of the dorm building, where I couldn’t see. Quinn was tightly embracing Leo, kissing him with deep, frantic passion. Leo returned the kiss, one hand clasped around her waist, the other cradling the back of her neck, docile and dependent. There was no trace of a man who had been rejected. 5 Back in my dorm, I blocked and deleted all of Quinn’s contact information. Only six months until graduation. No matter how much of a jerk I, Alex, might be, no matter how arrogant, I wouldn’t waste what little time I had left on someone who was full of lies and playing both sides. As dawn broke, I got myself ready and walked into the school building as usual. But today, it felt like I’d gone back a few years. In the hallway, many eyes were on me, whispering. “That’s him, Alex. I heard he strung Quinn along for ten years, treated her like a dog, and now he still won’t let go, even trying to steal his own brother’s girlfriend.” “Not just that. Someone saw him actively hugging Quinn downstairs by the dorm yesterday, totally clinging to her.” “I never liked him. He just uses his looks to mess with girls. I heard he used to constantly steal his brother’s things. It’s disgusting. Why hasn’t he been expelled yet…” And then there were the rumors about my chaotic personal life, implying I’d been with countless people. Every word was too filthy to even hear. Just like before. My freshman year, Leo had a crush on a girl in our class. She casually complimented me, saying, “He’s so handsome.” Leo immediately burst into tears, telling our family and classmates that I deliberately seduced her, that I used my looks to steal his things. My family, without asking any questions, pointed fingers at me, calling me inconsiderate, selfish, and malicious. I got into a fight with the person who spread those rumors about me, beating him unconscious, my eyes blazing. The school wanted to discipline me, and my family, because of Leo, didn’t care. I was driven to the rooftop, wanting to jump and end it all. It was Quinn who rushed up like a madwoman, clinging to my waist, pulling me back. She knelt on the ground, trembling all over, her eyes red as she screamed, “Alex, don’t you dare die! I believe you, I’ll always believe you! Everyone else can doubt you, but I won’t! If anyone dares to say a bad word about you, I’ll fight them to the death!” She ended up taking a disciplinary action for me, and helped me explain to classmates and mend relationships. But now? Quinn stood at the classroom door, for the first time openly by Leo’s side. Willow walked past, leisurely remarking, “Are you waiting for Quinn to stand up like she did back then and say, ‘He’s not like that’?” I didn’t speak, just walked step by step to Quinn, my gaze calm. “Quinn, I’ll only ask you one thing.” “You were with a boyfriend while still clinging to me, right?” A flicker of struggle crossed Quinn’s eyes. The person she had once staked her entire youth on believing stood before her, tears welling in her eyes. But in the end, she only said: “No.” “You were the one clinging to me, it has nothing to do with Leo.” The entire room erupted in whispers.

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On my way home from work, a luxury car hit me, fracturing my arm. The driver then falsely accused me of trying to extort money. Halfway through my emergency surgery, the male driver forcefully dragged me to court. “Do you know how much the car My wife bought me cost? Five million! My wife is the best lawyer in the entire country; you’ll be bankrupt by the time this is over!” From the defendant’s stand, my vision kept blurring. The pain was beyond anything I had ever felt. The next second, a female lawyer rushed in, shielding the man behind her: “Your Honor, my husband would never intentionally hit someone. This must be an attempt at fraud, and it deserves severe punishment.” Watching that familiar back, the blood in my veins turned to ice. The elite lawyer, impeccably dressed in a suit, was none other than Lester, my wife, who had told me she was on a business trip in Europe. With her soothing words, the man, Cedric, looked even more aggrieved as he pointed behind her. “It’s him! He got blood all over the new car you gave me. It’s disgusting!” Lester turned her head in the direction he pointed. One glance, and the anger in her eyes turned to shock. But three seconds later, she quickly composed herself, her expression so cold it made her a stranger to me. “I am Mr. Cedric’s defense attorney. Please direct all your questions to me.” My wife, with whom I had shared a bed for five years, was suddenly speaking with such detachment. All my questions instantly choked in my throat, leaving me unable to breathe. A while ago, she called to say her company had transferred her to a neighboring city for a business trip, with a doubled salary. My calls often went unanswered, and my messages unreturned. Even when I was sick, I went to the hospital alone, running up and down the floors five or six times. It turned out she was building a family with another man. The thought sent a sharp pang through my wound, and I couldn’t help but hunch over. Lester finally noticed my horrific injury. “This is…” Cedric abruptly cut her off. “Anyway, a good-for-nothing like him wouldn’t be affected by a broken arm.” “But my car cost five million, Lester. He has to pay for the damages!” I clenched my fists, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. Lester had told me her family was deep in debt and had lost everything, and that I’d have to make sacrifices for a while. I had been frugal, and the thought of having children in the future made me so anxious I relied on medication to cope. Now, it seemed my efforts were nothing short of a clown act compared to that five-million-dollar luxury car. “Lester, I want him to compensate me and apologize.” The man confidently wrapped his arm around Lester’s waist. And I stood by, my heart in my throat. Lester looked conflicted, as if she wanted to stop him, but seeing his insistence, she forced a doting yet helpless smile. Lester looked at me, her eyes filled with a warning. “Just apologize.” I froze, my limbs turning cold. I had lost an arm, yet she was telling me to apologize to the person who had maimed me. At the judge’s urging, I stiffly bowed. “Mr. Cedric, I’m sorry.” The man ignored me, instead affectionately wrapping his arm around Lester’s slender waist. “You couldn’t pay for the car repairs even if you gave your life. Three hundred thousand. Consider it a lesson learned.” Hearing the exorbitant sum, my heart froze completely. Lester watched him dotingly, not sparing me another glance. She seemed to have forgotten that I once sold off all my assets to gather medical funds for my mother, and even then, I couldn’t come up with three hundred thousand. Clutching the fine, I walked out of the courtroom alone. It wasn’t until a Maybach sped past me that I snapped back to reality. A SnapChat message popped up from Lester: “We’ll talk properly when I get home. Don’t let him find out.” Tears silently streamed down my face. The endless nights working overtime until dawn, the five years of tirelessly nurturing our home, had all become a cruel joke.

As I entered the hallway, I saw movers carelessly throwing my luggage out. I rushed forward to stop them. “What are you doing? Stop it!” Just then, Lester, dressed in a haute couture suit, calmly walked out of the house. “You should move out for a while. It’s for your own good.” I trembled, my voice hoarse. “Was five years of lying not enough? Are you trying to drive me to ruin? Do you have a heart at all?!” Lester briefly closed her eyes, exhaling helplessly. “Can you stop making a scene?” “Cedric and I are bound by a family arrangement. I hid you away for your own good, you understand, right?” “As for this entire building, I actually bought it for Cedric, but now that he knows about you, you’ll eventually be discovered if you stay here.” My eyes blurred with tears, but her words became even clearer. Every word pierced my heart, leaving me raw and bleeding. The house that held five years of beautiful memories had never truly been mine. As she left, Lester tossed a set of keys at me. “My assistant will take you. You can stay in the suburbs for now. Don’t be difficult.” Watching her retreating figure, I picked up the keys and powerlessly threw them at her. I never imagined my wife, my partner through thick and thin, could become so hateful. Lester’s assistant took me to a lavish villa. The moment I stepped inside, the assistant locked the door behind me. My eyes landed on a huge family photo of three people. Lester and Cedric were smiling brightly, holding a three-year-old child. No wonder every time I brought up having children, she would look resistant and quickly change the subject. It turned out she already had a son. Seeing the date on the photo, my heart sank to rock bottom. That day, my father had died of a sudden heart attack, and I desperately called Lester from the hospital corridor. I cried until my voice was hoarse, but her tone was dismissive. “I’m sorry, my boss sent me on another business trip. I won’t be home for another week.” She hung up quickly, without even a proper word of condolence. It turned out that while I was at my most heartbroken, she was taking family photos with Cedric and their child. I uncontrollably smashed the photo frame and knelt on the floor, weeping silently. After my tears dried, I pulled out my phone to contact a lawyer. “Please draft a divorce agreement for me.” I stared at it self-torturingly for a long time before realizing that fresh blood was gushing from my unhealed wound. I instinctively dialed Lester’s number. The first call was hung up; the second went straight to voicemail. The pain was so intense I passed out. Just then, two or three bodyguards burst in, forcibly dragging me into a car. The car sped all the way to the hospital. In the ward, they tied me up. Until an alarming needle appeared before my eyes, I struggled desperately. “What do you want from me?!” The next second, Lester’s fierce face entered my vision. “I warned you not to upset Cedric, but you insisted on taking risks.” “Now Cedric knows about you and just tried to slit his wrists. I know you have a rare blood type. We need to draw your blood to save him immediately!”

“Doctor, do it now!” I barely managed to open my eyes, only to see her face was deathly pale, her lips trembling as she spoke. I had never seen her so frantic. Before I could struggle, a thick needle pierced my vein, and pain spread from my arm to my entire body. Due to excessive blood loss, I quickly lost consciousness. I don’t know how long passed, but I woke up to a sharp, severe pain in my lower body. “What… what happened to me?” Seeing the bloody mess below me, a terrible premonition crept into my heart. After my persistent questioning, the doctor finally spoke with difficulty. “Mr. Cedric was very angry after learning about your identity and insisted you undergo a vasectomy. Ms. Lester signed the consent form.” In that instant, I felt the world spin. Simply because of a petulant remark from Cedric, Lester would go to such an extreme. I violently vomited a mouthful of blood. Just then, my phone vibrated frantically. I opened it and saw an overwhelming torrent of insults. “Rub yourself with steel wool if you’re so desperate. Is another man’s wife really that great?” “These days, affairs are so blatant. Just a few days ago, he was trying to extort money!” Words like “homewrecker” and “scum” flashed across the screen. I couldn’t believe it. I was Lester’s legally recognized husband. Why should I bear such infamy? I painfully posted my marriage certificate online, detailing the timeline of my relationship with Lester. To my surprise, someone online circled the seal on my marriage certificate. “This is clearly fake! What a cunning homewrecker!” I was too shocked to speak, zooming in to confirm. The next second, Cedric publicly posted hismarriage certificate online, specifically highlighting its embossed seal. At the same time, Lester called. My question blurted out. “Lester, is his marriage certificate the real one?” Back then, my mother was gravely ill, and her greatest wish was to see us get married. We went to City Hall together. She held my hand, solemnly swore, and promised to be with me for life. Now, she cruelly said: “I have to give him an explanation. I can’t just let him follow me without any status.” “You’re different. You’ll stay by my side no matter what. Let’s not dwell on these things right now.” From her end, I heard the sound of things being smashed. “Cedric is very unstable right now. Quickly apologize to him and admit you’re the homewrecker.” Hearing those words, I was so shocked I was almost breathless. “I’m the one who’s been deceived for five years! Why do you think I would apologize?!” Lester suddenly sneered on the phone. “Because your mother is barely alive thanks to my money and medical resources. Think about it!” The call ended, and I collapsed powerlessly beside the bed. My mother’s illness had recurred repeatedly, with each hospital visit costing tens of thousands. Lester had covered all her medical expenses, even making time to visit her at the hospital, no matter how busy she was. “Ethan, don’t stress too much. Your mother will get better.” But now, she was using my only living relative to threaten me. With injuries all over my body, I checked out of the hospital and desperately searched for work. When people saw me, they furiously threw trash and vegetable scraps at me. “Who would hire someone so morally corrupt? Get out!” “He’s promiscuous! Who knows what dirty diseases he might have!” I had become a rat scurrying across the street, despised by everyone. The news reached my mother’s ears. She called me, her voice weak. “Don’t beg her for my sake again…” The piercing sound of medical equipment grated on my nerves. I held back my tears. “Mom, don’t worry about me. I have to go now!” Finally, I found Lester. Seeing my compromise, the woman smiled with satisfaction and handed me a written statement. “After you confess to being the homewrecker live, I’ll compensate you.” As soon as she finished speaking, reporters aimed their cameras at me, frantically snapping photos. I couldn’t believe it. “How is this any different from a public execution?!” Lester’s voice suddenly dropped very low, gentle yet cruel enough. “If you don’t want to go live, that’s fine. Then go admit to your mother that you’re the homewrecker. Didn’t she always hate homewreckers the most?”

In an instant, my heart clenched violently. She knew full well that my mother’s illness had stemmed from finding out about my father’s affair. If she knew my “identity” now, it would be tantamount to killing her! My mother was the only family I had left in this world. I couldn’t stand by and watch her die. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my throat, shuffled my steps, and knelt before Cedric for the cameras. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cedric. I ruined your family. I am shameless.” “I… am… sorry.” I felt like a dog with no dignity. After it was over, I looked up, glaring at Cedric’s smug face, then at Lester. “Is this apology… sufficient?” Lester’s chest visibly rose and fell. She cleared her throat and tossed a bank card at my feet. “Three million should be enough. Take it to save your mother.” I snatched the bank card and raced to the hospital. Seeing my mother’s pale face on the bed, I trembled like a leaf. I frantically handed the bank card to the doctor. “Doctor, please, you have to save her!” A few minutes later, the doctor returned with the bank card. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve tried several times, and it’s not working. This card has been frozen.” I didn’t have time to think. I pinned my hopes on the gold ring on my wrist. “This ring must be worth a lot. It’s pure gold!” But the doctor just glanced at it and looked at me with pity. “Sir, you’ve been scammed, haven’t you? This is clearly fake.” The crisp sound of the ring hitting the floor struck my heart. Three months ago, for my birthday, Lester had bought me this ring after I pestered her. Even after publicly admitting I was a homewrecker, I hadn’t brought myself to sell it for my mother’s medical expenses. It turned out that in Lester’s eyes, I was utterly worthless. The next second, the monitoring equipment emitted a piercing alarm. My mother closed her eyes, and my grief-stricken cries spread from between my teeth. I held the urn, my expression numb, and walked toward the rooftop. A SnapChat message popped up from Lester: [Sorry, I’m at the hospital with Cedric for his IV. I’ll go see Mom once he falls asleep and tell her not to worry.] [I’ve bought you a new house. You can tell me anything you want.] [Cedric said he can compromise. I’ll make more time for you in the future.] I didn’t reply. The cold wind on the hospital rooftop ruffled my hair as I took step after step toward the edge. “Lester, there’s truly no future for us anymore.” With those words, I smiled and jumped from the hospital rooftop. At the same time, inside a hospital room. Lester inadvertently looked out the window. Just a glance, and her pupils suddenly constricted.

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My husband Giovanni and his first love, Christine, died in a car accident, leaving me with a pair of illegitimate sons. Eighteen years flew by. I painstakingly raised those boys, even sending them to Harvard. But the day they got into Harvard, Giovanni and Christine, who had supposedly died years ago, returned. Christine, holding Giovanni’s arm, smiled sweetly. “Thanks to your careful upbringing, my sons got into Harvard.” “Without you, we couldn’t have enjoyed ourselves for so long…” Later, Giovanni asked for a divorce, wanting to marry Christine and reunite their family of four. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I just smiled faintly: “Fine by me!” “Mom! Mom! We got in! We got in!!” I was preparing dinner when I heard my two sons shouting loudly from the study. “Mom! Gabriel and I both got into Harvard!” They ran out of the study and hugged me tightly. I looked at my sons, who were a head taller than me, with pride. “You two are amazing; you’re my pride and joy.” Giovanni had died many years ago. As a single mom, I had raised two children alone for eighteen years. Now, seeing them get into a top-tier university, I couldn’t have been happier. Back then, Giovanni and his first love, Christine, both supposedly died, leaving me with a pair of twins. Against everyone’s objections, I insisted on raising Giovanni and Christine’s illegitimate sons. Eighteen years passed in a blink, and the two boys grew into young men. With my painstaking nurturing, they even got into Harvard. Now that I’d raised them into successful young men, I was overjoyed. “Mom, thank you for all your hard work raising us these past years…” “Yeah, if it weren’t for your careful guidance, we wouldn’t be where we are today…” My sons were always thoughtful, feeling for the struggles I’d endured raising them. They promised that once they graduated and found good jobs, they’d make sure I could live comfortably in my old age. Watching them, I remembered that their birthday was in two days. I decided to throw them a grand birthday party, a good excuse for a celebration. I booked a banquet hall at the city’s best restaurant. Meanwhile, I posted the news about my sons getting into Harvard in our family SnapChat group. As soon as the message went out, the group instantly flooded with replies. “Eric and Gabriel really made us proud…” “If Giovanni knew, he’d be thrilled in heaven.” I quickly scrolled through the messages, then sent the location of the banquet hall to the group. After doing all that, I muted my phone notifications. I quietly awaited the birthday party…

The birthday party was scheduled for 10 AM two days later. Early that morning, I arrived at the restaurant. I double-checked the menu and the event schedule, making sure nothing was overlooked. Most of the attendees today were Giovanni’s relatives. My own parents hadn’t come. Years ago, I’d gone against their wishes to adopt these illegitimate sons, and my parents had nearly had heart attacks when they found out. Even after all these years, they still didn’t understand why I chose to jump into a burning pit, raising someone else’s children, instead of living a normal life. Ivan and Ruth arrived in the hall, supported by others. They headed straight for the head table and sat down. Simon, Giovanni’s brother, and Julia, his sister, with their families, sat on either side. They crowded around my sons, leaving no room for me. “Elliotte, what are you waiting for? Pour drinks for Mom and Dad.” Julia grabbed some nuts from the table and glanced at me. She hadn’t married well, not only suffering domestic abuse but also being scorned for not having sons. Now, at the ripe old age of 40, she’d tried for a third child and finally had a son. Of course, she started acting all high and mighty, walking with a newfound confidence. My two sons, sitting in the middle, tried to stand up and help. But Ivan and Ruth immediately pressed them back down. “Eric, Gabriel, come on, chat with me.” “Look at these two handsome young men, so much like Giovanni.” “I think they look more like Christine,” Simon interjected. Ivan and Ruth shot him a fierce glare, and he quickly shrank back into his seat, not daring to speak. I circled the main table, serving tea one moment, pouring drinks the next. My sons couldn’t bear to watch any longer, so they pulled up a chair between them and pressed me into it. “Mom, our birthday is your day of sacrifice. Please sit down and rest.” At these words, everyone at the table had varied expressions. Julia even let out a mocking smile. “If Giovanni knew Elliotte raised his sons so well, he’d be thrilled.” “Ahem, ahem.” Ivan cleared his throat twice, and Julia closed her mouth. “Elliotte, on such a wonderful day, I have something I want to talk to you about,” Ruth said, her eyes darting, looking at me with a smile. “Please tell me.” “You see, Eric and Gabriel are going off to college soon. It must be so empty living in a three-bedroom house all by yourself.” “Once they start school, your dad and I will move in. I’ll cook for you while you’re at work.” So that was Ruth’s plan. My parents had paid for the house I lived in. It was originally supposed to be in Giovanni’s name. But six months into our marriage, he drove off with his first love and got into a car accident. Both of them died. The next time I saw him, he was just a handful of ashes. My parents saw how hard it was for me and helped me with the mortgage, so the house was only in my name. Now that the kids were grown, they were eyeing my house. “Mom, it’s not that I won’t let you stay. Eric and Gabriel will be studying abroad in the future. So I’ve already sold the house and plan to move into a one-bedroom apartment, using the remaining money to fund their education.” Ivan’s face turned ashen, and he slammed his hand on the table. “You’re Giovanni’s daughter-in-law! Why didn’t you discuss such a big matter with the family?” I looked surprised. “Isn’t everything I’m doing for Giovanni’s children?” “What about the money from the sale? Put it with me; I’ll save it for you. I don’t trust you with money; you’re too careless,” Ruth said. Normally, if I framed everything as being for the children’s good, they usually wouldn’t object. But today, Ivan and Ruth were acting unusually, as if now that their sons were in college, I was no longer needed. Thinking about this, I calmly said, “I’ve entrusted the money to a lawyer and put it into a growth fund. Every month, Eric and Gabriel will receive $10,000 until they turn 40.” When Ivan heard this, his tightly furrowed brows relaxed. “At least you have some foresight, knowing to save the money for my grandsons. And don’t buy another house; just rent one. Don’t waste money.”

Just as they were still going on and on, the restaurant manager walked over and handed me a microphone. “Today is a birthday party and a celebration of their college acceptance. As their mother, please say a few words and share some parenting wisdom.” I took the microphone. “Thank you all for attending the college acceptance celebration for my sons, Gabriel and Eric. Today…” “Today, my two sons got into Harvard. On such a wonderful day, what kind of celebration is it without their biological parents here…” I was halfway through my speech when I was interrupted. A man and a woman, holding hands, walked in. I looked up. Even after eighteen years, I still recognized them: One was Giovanni, supposedly dead for many years, and the other was Christine, Giovanni’s first love. The hall immediately erupted in gasps, followed by murmurs of discussion. Ivan and Ruth, seated at the head table, didn’t seem excited to see their son, supposedly returned from the dead; instead, they were unsettlingly calm. They even pulled Christine to their side and had her sit down. Giovanni, who had been dead for 18 years, came over to me. “Elliotte, you might not have been a great wife, but you were a damn good mother.” At this point, my two sons finally snapped out of their daze, watching the scene unfold. “What’s going on?” Giovanni pointed at Christine. “She’s your real mother. This woman is nothing but a barren old hen.” “If she hadn’t threatened to die if I left her, our family wouldn’t have been separated for eighteen years!” Before I could say anything, Giovanni’s family members started talking over each other to my two sons: “That’s right, Elliotte dragged her feet and refused to divorce Giovanni back then, which is why you were separated from your biological parents for eighteen years…” “Don’t let Elliotte fool you; she might have raised you well, but she’s got a wicked heart.” “Now it’s all good. You two are grown and got into Harvard, and our family can finally be reunited.” My sons were confused, standing there bewildered, unsure what to do. Christine pulled her sons’ hands, crying softly, and then pulled out her phone: “I’m your biological mother! I’d send you gifts every year. I even secretly watched you after school.” As she spoke, she turned to me. “Elliotte, thank you for raising my two sons so well.” Giovanni put his arm around her shoulders, and his eyes held a flicker of mockery as he looked at me. “Come with me to file for divorce. It’s been eighteen years. I’m going to marry Christine and give her what she deserves.” Everyone expected me to disagree, even to throw a fit. But facing the dozens of Giovanni’s relatives gossiping and the onlookers’ staring eyes, I just smiled faintly. “Fine! I agree. We’ll go get divorced tomorrow, so your family of four can be reunited.” My words stunned everyone in the hall. All eyes were on me, dumbfounded. Would I really just hand over the sons I’d painstakingly raised for 18 years? Even Giovanni and Christine stared at me in disbelief. They thought I’d rant and rave, crying dramatically, but they never expected me to agree so readily. Giovanni looked at me incredulously, asking, “What the hell is wrong with your head?” Facing his accusation, I simply said, “What? Not happy about it?” Christine immediately tugged Giovanni’s arm. Giovanni understood. He quickly pulled out an agreement from his bag, afraid I’d change my mind. “Then sign the divorce agreement. From now on, the two sons have nothing to do with you, and you are not to see them again.” I didn’t even read the agreement, simply signing my name at the bottom. “Mom? Mom, you don’t want us anymore?” My sons looked at me sadly, not understanding why I’d signed so easily. Christine carefully put away the agreement. “Elliotte, thank you for making us complete.” “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have been able to live it up so freely all this time.” Looking at my two sons, Christine grinned, a triumphant smile on her face. “Alright, you’re done here. You can leave now,” Ivan said impatiently, waving his hand to dismiss me. “Wait,” I began. “Now that the agreement is signed, it’s time for you all to know the truth.” “What do you mean?” Christine asked, confused. I sighed in relief. I had waited eighteen years for this moment. It was time for it all to end. Then I clapped my hands and spoke towards the main entrance: “Come in.” A few seconds later, two figures appeared in the hall…

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I spent seven years teaching Eric, this emotionally unavailable creature, what love was. But once he learned it, he gave all that love to another woman. I thought if I was patient enough, he would eventually come back. Until Eric believed her lies and had people rip my clothes off, all while the blood of our second child flowed beneath me. In that moment, I finally understood. My love was worthless in his eyes. I signed the divorce papers and moved far away. Years later, successful in my career, standing at my own art exhibition, I saw Eric kneel before me, begging for my forgiveness. But I simply linked my arm with the man beside me. “Eric, you’re not even fit to be a security guard outside my studio.” Sophia POV In the spacious bedroom on the top floor of the mansion, the headboard thumped against the wall, making a rapid, erratic sound. I exhaled heavily, feeling Eric’s sweat on me. “I’m too tired. I want to sleep.” “Don’t you want a baby? Let’s try tonight.” My heart pounded faster at Eric’s words. “But you don’t like kids.” “But I like you.” His kisses landed on my cheek and neck, making me incredibly excited. I hugged Eric tightly. But when I saw the tattoo on his inner thigh, my smile suddenly vanished. When did this tattoo appear? It was a butterfly. Looking at it, my restless heart suddenly grew quiet. A name flashed through my mind: Maya. She loved butterflies. The woman who almost ruined my marriage. Was she out of prison? Counting the days, she should have been released three months ago. “Sophia, why aren’t you focused?” “My stomach feels a bit upset. I want to shower and go to bed first.” Eric stopped. He picked me up and carried me to the bathroom, just like he always did. But this time, I didn’t let him help me wash. Three years ago, Eric knelt and swore he wouldn’t cheat again, promising to cherish only me. For three years, he canceled all evening work, came home on time every day to cook for me, prepared surprises even when there were no holidays, and planned a romantic trip every month. He was so good to me, so good that I almost forgot he had cheated once, even throwing divorce papers at me with such a decisive attitude. The sound of the shower stopped, and I dragged my body, feeling deflated, back to bed. Closing my eyes, I told myself I must be overthinking things. It was just a tattoo, and I hadn’t actually seen Eric cheat. But I couldn’t sleep. At 3 AM, there was a sudden rustling by the pillow. Eric, who never got up in the middle of the night, took his phone and went outside the bedroom. Wrapped in a shawl, I stood by the bedroom door. Through the thin wall, I heard everything clearly. “Sophia’s asleep. Was I too rough yesterday? Are you still sore?” “We haven’t seen each other in so long. I miss you so much…” “Of course I love you, but we can’t be together, at least not now. My family really admires Sophia. She did help me with my condition, after all. I want to protect you, but only in this private way. I don’t want you to be hurt again.” Eric’s voice was tearful, filled with an affection I had never felt from him. I leaned against the cold wall, my chest aching and raw. I felt like a hateful old witch breaking up true love. I didn’t want to hear any more of their conversation. I returned to bed and lay there. Maya was really back. Eric still loved her. What did my pain from three years ago mean then? What did all my efforts to save this marriage mean? I was so foolish, foolish enough to think that a man who’d once strayed could truly love me forever. Eric and Maya chatted on the phone for a long time before he returned to bed. I could feel him watching my face for a while, making sure I was really asleep before he relaxed. The next morning, Eric woke up as usual, preparing for work. He was as energetic as ever. I met his gaze at the dining table. Eric stroked my head. “Want me to bring you a cupcake tonight? What flavor do you want?” “The usual.” “Okay.” Eric kissed my forehead before he left. I stared numbly into his eyes, realizing that love truly could be faked After the door closed, I made a call. “Anything new lately?” “I’m divorcing Eric.” “Because Maya’s back?” “You knew about them too?” “Sophia, I don’t know what to say. Three years ago, most of Eric’s assets were transferred to your name. You know how to enjoy the life of a wealthy woman, don’t you? Three years have passed. Why are you still caught up in emotional matters?” “I chose to marry Eric because I loved him. Nothing more.” “Then I won’t interfere with your decision. I’ll have the lawyer arrange your divorce.” “As soon as possible.” “A week.” 2. Sophia POV After hanging up, I suddenly noticed a photo frame on the table. In the picture, I looked naive but smiled happily. Next to me was a serious-looking Eric, standing quite far away. It was our first photo together. Back then, Eric still had his emotional disorder. I became interested in Eric on my first day of college. I loved handsome guys, and Eric perfectly fit my aesthetic. To get to know him better, I tried to have chance encounters with him. Eric liked to read in the library, always sitting in a corner. I’d sit opposite him, holding the same book. He wasn’t good at socializing and always ate alone, so I’d always sit next to him and talk his ear off. After a semester, Eric still showed no reaction. He rejected every invitation and didn’t even give me his contact info. Some people told me to leave this emotionally unavailable monster alone, but I refused to listen. Until I received a call that my grandma had passed away. I ran to the station through the heavy rain, and Eric actually handed me an umbrella. I thought he had finally learned to care about me. But Eric spoke with a cold expression. “What’s there to cry about over something like this?” Eric left the umbrella with me and turned to walk away. From that day on, I decided to ignore him. Later, Eric told me it was the first time he’d experienced the feeling of “loss.” Unlike when his longest-serving nanny left, my deliberate distancing caused him pain. He wanted to understand this feeling, so he begged me to teach him how to distinguish emotions. When my hand touched his chest, he said it was the first time he heard his heart race. He asked me why he felt this way. I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” So he started pursuing me. He mimicked my old ways, appearing everywhere I went, inviting me to eat, offering to go shopping with me, giving me gifts, and telling me what had happened recently. Over time, I gradually discovered how interesting he was. The once dull Eric actually brought me a heat pack during my period. “I read a book about periods. Women need to keep their lower back warm; it makes it more comfortable.” Eric even actively criticized negative comments about me on social media. “This is Eric. All the negative rumors about Sophia at school are false. She wasn’t chasing me; I’m the one pursuing her.” His words shocked many. They all said I had turned this emotionally unavailable monster into a deeply affectionate man. “My chest feels tight when I see you, my heart is pounding, and it hurts. Why is that?” I looked at his serious expression and playfully kissed his cheek. “And now?” “I feel like I’m suffocating.” “That’s because you like me.” We started dating. I taught him how to love, how to express affection, gradually transforming him into a normal boyfriend, even a more considerate one. Eric prepared romantic surprises for me, each one more delightful than the last. The day he proposed, Eric bought a plot of land in the most expensive district, covered a thousand square meters with a sea of flowers, and ordered a one-of-a-kind oversized diamond ring. Everyone said Eric didn’t know what love was, only how to give me the best. I also thought he would be my eternal love. Until our third year of marriage, an intern named Maya joined the secretarial office at Sterling Group. After meeting this girl, Eric completely changed. He’d forget our anniversaries and stopped preparing surprises for me. He also frequently worked late, traveled for business alone with Maya, and even drove his luxury car to Maya’s dorm building to pick her up and drop her off. I spent seven years teaching Eric how to love, but once he learned, he fell in love with someone else. That was the first time I yelled at him, demanding to know whose lipstick was in his pocket. He admitted it frankly. “I fell in love with someone else. My heart races when I see her, my mind buzzes when I’m near her, and I get anxious when she leaves. I don’t feel that way about you anymore.” He handed me divorce papers and walked away. My head throbbed. I lay on the sofa, my tears almost dry, my throat sore and parched. I couldn’t believe he had fallen for someone else. I started frequenting Eric’s office, insisting on eating lunch with him every day and attending all his evening functions. But it was useless. I saw Eric and Maya kissing in the office. That completely enraged me. I yanked Maya’s hair, slapped both of them, blew up the situation, ruined Maya’s job, and made sure everyone at her school knew she was a mistress breaking up a family. I went to complain to Eric’s mother, Eleanor. Eleanor sternly reprimanded Eric, and he finally promised me he wouldn’t divorce. The day I learned Maya had completely vanished from my life, I happily went out shopping, only to be hit by a car at an intersection. The car was going very fast and ran over my stomach. When I was rushed to the hospital, the doctor told me I’d lost the baby. It was our first child, mine and Eric’s. We didn’t even know it was coming. I kept it a secret because Eric had said he didn’t want children yet. The person who caused the accident was Maya. She was drunk, but the car was Eric’s. I lay in the hospital bed, watching Eric kneel before me, weeping. “She’s so young. If she went to prison, it would ruin her future. I’m begging you, please, let her off. I promise I’ll only be good to you from now on, and I’ll never cheat again.” I had my lawyer reduce Maya’s penalty to the minimum. All I wanted was a stable marriage. I thought this compromise would bring Eric back to his old self. Maya went to prison, vanishing from our world, but her traces were everywhere. There was a butterfly charm on Eric’s desk. His car played Maya’s favorite music. He’d wake up in the middle of the night calling Maya. I often wiped away tears, telling myself that at least I was by his side. But three years passed, and he saw Maya again, and his heart strayed once more. Bang! I slammed the photo frame face down. I was done with these two scumbags. 3. Sophia POV I rested at home for most of the day. In the evening, I received a call from my mother-in-law, Eleanor. She invited me over to talk. As soon as I arrived at the underground garage, I noticed something was off. My car, which I hadn’t driven in ages, had been moved. I opened the car door. There wasn’t a speck of dust inside, but I could smell perfume. I hadn’t driven this car in a year. Eric had used my car. I tapped on the car’s navigation, about to enter my destination, when I saw a notification. In the past three months, this car had traveled to one specific location hundreds of times, almost every day, sometimes even three times a day, mostly on weekdays. I clicked on it, and the system automatically routed me to a familiar address: the plot of land Eric bought me before we got married. A villa was built there in our second year of marriage, but I hadn’t been there in six months. What was Eric doing there? A bad feeling washed over me. I drove there without hesitation. The car stopped at the villa entrance. I skillfully entered the code and pushed the door open. By the entrance, there was a photo frame holding a couple’s photo of Eric and Maya. Walking into the living room, I saw several cute throw pillows on the sofa, and the floor lamp I had carefully chosen had been replaced. In the kitchen, there were some leftover dishes: pan-fried steak, Caesar salad, wine… all the meals Eric used to make for me. No wonder he had to try each dish so many times; he was perfecting the taste for Maya. I felt like a thief spying on someone else’s happiness. I scanned every corner of the room, as if I had intruded into a sweet couple’s domain. Suddenly, a scream came from upstairs. I followed the stairs up. The bedroom door was open, and a dress and a suit were scattered outside. I immediately recognized Eric’s clothes, followed by another scream from inside… I looked up. Eric’s face showed a greed and lust I hadn’t seen in a long time, and the bed continued to thump against the wall. I saw Eric’s name tattooed on Maya’s thigh. “Did you do this in this room with Sophia…?” “I don’t want to hear her name right now.” “Do you like her or me more?” “Of course, you.” The sheets beneath them were custom-made by me, with a pattern I designed myself. Thinking back to when the house was first renovated, Eric and I lived here for over six months, lying on this very bed every day. A wave of nausea suddenly washed over me. I went downstairs, holding onto the railing. The nausea eased slightly, but I still felt unwell. My phone suddenly buzzed with a message. It was Eleanor asking where I was. I quickly pushed the door open and got into the car. Just as I was about to start the car, I glanced in the rearview mirror. I realized I was crying, though I hadn’t even felt the tears falling. I pulled open the car’s glove compartment, looking for tissues, but found an unopened box of condoms and a torn dress in the corner. My stomach started to churn again. I gripped the steering wheel, trying to drive home as fast as I could. I kept the windows down the whole way, but Eric and Maya’s images replayed in my mind. I thought deciding to divorce meant I was free, but my tears didn’t lie. My vision blurred with tears, and I could barely see the road. When I tried to hit the brakes, there was a sudden loud noise. Crash! My car crashed into the barrier and was forced to stop. My eyelids felt so heavy. I couldn’t even manage to speak. I regained consciousness after being rushed to the hospital. The first words I heard made me even more alert. “Madam, I’m so sorry, we couldn’t save your baby.” I thought I had gone back three years in time. I forced my eyes open and saw the date on the clock. When I felt the intense pain radiating through my body, I finally accepted the truth. “Your condition is unstable right now and you need surgery. Please call a family member.” I instinctively called Eric. It took a long time for him to answer, his voice hoarse. “What is it, Sophia?” “I was just in a car accident. Do you have time to come to the hospital for my surgery?” Eric was silent for a long time. I heard a woman’s voice beside him chuckle, “The steps for your recipe are too complicated. I can’t learn it. Can you teach me again?” The phone was suddenly muffled, and I heard a quieter voice say, “You don’t need to learn how to cook when you’re with me.” I lay numbly on the hospital bed, my heart feeling hollowed out, a chill constantly invading me. I was about to hang up, but Eric spoke again. “Sophia, my assistant just called me to an urgent meeting. I’ll come see you later, okay?” I was silent for a moment, then hung up. “Can I proceed without a family member?” The nurse gave an awkward smile. “Under normal circumstances…” Suddenly, my phone rang again. It was Eleanor. I answered and told her to come to the hospital. At least someone cared if I lived or died. When I was wheeled out of the operating room, Eleanor was the first person I saw. She handed me divorce papers. “Eric already signed them at the office. He didn’t know they were divorce agreements.” I forced a smile. I tucked the papers into my bag and finally felt a sense of relief; even my wounds didn’t seem to hurt as much. “I heard you had a miscarriage. Didn’t you two say you didn’t want kids?” “Recently, Eric suddenly wanted a child. Maybe he felt he owed me for cheating, but it’s gone now.” “Eric isn’t coming for your car accident?” “He said he had something urgent, and he’d come later. I don’t want him to know about the baby; after all, we’re over.” Eleanor sighed. “I’m not getting involved in your affairs.” 4. Sophia POV I slept for a while in bed. When I opened my eyes, Eric was there. He stroked my head, staring at the stitches on my leg with a pained expression. He was such a good actor. If I hadn’t found the evidence, how much longer would he have kept lying to me? “Sophia, why didn’t you have the driver take you out?” “I just wanted to go home. I didn’t want to trouble the driver.” “The car was badly damaged, already sent to the junkyard. We’ll order a new one tomorrow.” I had been at the accident scene. Though serious, the car wasn’t totaled. Eric was so anxious, probably afraid I’d find traces of his affair with Maya in the car. But I had already found them. I nodded, pretending to know nothing. After I was admitted, Eric seemed more relaxed. He didn’t have to hide from Maya so carefully anymore and had plenty of time to spend with her every day. He pretended to have meetings, pretended his car broke down on the road and he’d be late visiting me at the hospital. Eric didn’t even want to pretend anymore. He repeatedly put off visiting me, and I even handled my own discharge papers. Only two days remained until the divorce agreement became effective. I had planned to go home to pack, but when I pushed open the front door, I saw a familiar sight: a suit, a nightgown, thrown on the floor. I hadn’t come to the wrong house; they were bold enough to come to our home. The sound of keys falling to the ground startled the couple on the sofa. Eric instantly stood up, hiding Maya behind him as he walked toward me. “Sophia, let me explain…” He was afraid I’d snap, so he tightly gripped my hand. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t forget Maya, so I went to her. Everything is my fault…” I couldn’t suppress my rage. The cramping in my lower abdomen shot up to my head and then sank to my feet. I scanned the room, then forced myself to act calm and went upstairs. I pushed open the walk-in closet door. I couldn’t wait another minute. Since Maya was already in my house, I’d just give her my place. Eric followed me upstairs, stopping me from packing. “Sophia, don’t be angry. I swear I won’t cheat again. This is the last time. I won’t contact Maya anymore…” At this point, what good were lies? Why was he still deceiving me? I raised my hand and slapped Eric across the face. “Get out! Stay away from me!” I thought the slap would shame him, but the next second, Eric wiped away my tears. He lunged forward and kissed me. “I swear, I truly swear I won’t cheat again.” A sickening taste entered my mouth. I could smell Maya on him; it was utterly revolting. I pushed Eric away and immediately rushed to the bathroom to rinse my mouth, only to realize, staring at my reflection, that I was crying again. I suddenly understood why Eric had kissed me. He was just trying to appease me. He thought my slap was just me being petulant, like three years ago when I begged him to love me, and only me. How could I be so pathetic! Even my anger wasn’t taken seriously! I splashed water on my face and went out. Eric was still standing there. “Let’s have a baby. I’ll give you a child. I promise, I won’t cheat again. From now on, I’ll focus on our family.” Eric forcefully wrapped his arms around my waist. He leaned in again, pinning me to the bed. Though I liked children, I wanted a child conceived out of love with my partner, not with this lying beast. “No! Let go of me!” “Don’t be angry with me anymore. I’ll listen to you from now on, okay?” I slapped Eric again. He tried to lean in again, and I slapped him again. He finally understood; I wasn’t being petulant. I pushed him out and then locked the door. I wanted to pack my bags and leave as soon as Eric was gone. That night, Eric knocked on the door, but I ignored him. He called me, and I hung up every time. The next day, I woke up very early. After confirming Eric had left the house, I planned to leave. Just as I dragged my suitcase into the living room, the front door was suddenly pushed open. I instinctively flinched from Eric’s gaze, but then I heard a furious roar. “Sophia, are you even human? I never thought you’d do something so disgusting!” I felt confused. By the time I reacted, Eric had already grabbed me by the throat. “You actually hired people to assault Maya? If you can’t have my heart, you want to destroy the woman I love? How vicious can you be!” His grip made my cheeks red and my neck bruised. I struggled, unable to utter a single word of explanation. Suddenly, several men entered through the doorway. I stared at Eric’s eyes in shock, desperately pounding on his chest. “Maya is suffering from trauma now, refusing to eat, sleep, or see me. You can experience her pain too!” I was suffocating. Eric suddenly released his grip, and I collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. Eric motioned for the men to come over, and they dragged me to the floor, starting to tear at my clothes. “Eric… I didn’t…” Any explanation was useless. The door was already closed. Eric stood outside, smoked a cigarette, and then quickly left, leaving me with only those beastly eyes. My clothes were ripped off. I struggled to crawl onto the sofa, only to hear the sound of fabric tearing. I stared at the ceiling in despair; my strength was no match for these men… My lower abdomen was throbbing. I had just lost a baby. I saw blood continuously flowing down my inner thighs. “Stop, she’s bleeding. Eric only told us to scare her, not to be too rough…” My tears had long run dry, my throat was hoarse, and my whole body ached. After hearing the men leave, I finally had the strength to get up. I hid in the bathroom and showered for over two hours, leaning against the wall, my body trembling. I changed clothes, placed the divorce papers on the table, dragged my luggage, and finally left this painful place.

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Marcus Thorne, the serial killer responsible for nineteen deaths, was finally caught. A reporter asked him, “Which victim left the deepest impression on you?” He remained silent for a long time, then suddenly chuckled. “The fifteenth one. I hadn’t intended to kill her.” “But someone paid two million dollars for her life. And that money, it came straight from her husband’s account.” “The person who hired me was his former student. That woman later married her husband, and she’s now pregnant.” As he spoke, eight hundred thousand viewers flooded the livestream. The comments section exploded. Meanwhile, my husband, Ethan Vance, a university professor of criminal psychology and a special consultant for the City Police Department, was completely oblivious. He sat in his office, on a FaceTime call with his new wife, seven months pregnant. On the screen, Seraphina Hayes was proudly showing off her baby bump, laboriously displaying a newly purchased crib. “Honey, don’t you think this color is beautiful?” Seraphina smiled, her eyes crinkling. “Anything you choose is beautiful.” Ethan’s voice was unbelievably gentle. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze full of affection. “Seraphina, don’t overdo it. I’ll put it together when I get home after work.” “But I want our baby to feel daddy’s presence sooner!” Seraphina pouted, her voice sickeningly sweet. I floated behind Ethan, quietly watching the scene unfold. I had been dead for three years. In these three years, I had watched Ethan go from anguish to numbness, then to a comfortable acceptance of Seraphina. He had even forgotten that three years ago today was the day I disappeared. The intercom on his desk suddenly rang. Ethan frowned, making a shushing gesture to Seraphina. “Professor Vance, Marcus specifically asked to see you.” Chief Miller’s voice on the other end sounded urgent. “He said he won’t reveal the location of the fifteenth body unless it’s to you.” Ethan’s expression instantly turned serious. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, gave Seraphina a few hurried instructions, then grabbed his jacket and headed out. Seraphina seemed a little uneasy on the video call. “Honey, Marcus… is he the serial killer?” “Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” Ethan ended the call, his footsteps quick. I followed him into the interrogation room. In the dim room, Marcus sat on an iron chair, his face covered in stubble. Seeing Ethan enter, he flashed a strange smile. “Professor Vance, I’ve heard a lot about you.” “I watched your public lectures on criminal psychology. They were excellent.” Ethan didn’t look up. “Marcus, male, forty-one years old. From 2019 to 2024, operated in six states, committed nineteen cases—” “You don’t need to recite it.” The chains rattled. “I want to talk about the fifteenth one.” “Speak.” “Aren’t you curious why I asked for you specifically?” “Not at all. Criminals try to seize control by creating conversation during high-pressure interrogations. It’s basic psychological profiling. Doesn’t work on me.” Marcus suddenly burst into laughter, the chains clanking loudly. “Professor Vance, you’ve spent your life studying criminal psychology, yet you can’t even tell who your own partner truly is. How ironic.” Ethan closed the file, his eyes contemptuous. “That kind of juvenile psychological tactic won’t work on me.” “Oh really?” Marcus leaned closer, lowering his voice. “What if I told you the fifteenth person was named Elara Reed?” Ethan’s body instantly stiffened. His fingers clenched, knuckles turning white. “See? The moment I mentioned that name, you clearly lost your composure while going through those files.” “I haven’t changed at all.” Ethan closed the file, crossed his hands neatly on the table, and sat up straight. “She was consumed by jealousy, sensitive and overly suspicious.” “She’d complain when I didn’t answer my phone, complain when I came home late, complain when I was nice to my students.” “If we argued, she’d run off and wouldn’t come back unless I went to get her.” “A thirty-year-old acting like a child.” After saying all this, Ethan’s fingers tried to twist the cap onto his pen. It didn’t catch the first two times, only sealing on the third. “So the last time she left, I didn’t go looking. No need. I was tired, too. She could go wherever she wanted.” “What, did she run out of money? Does she want to come back?” “Tell me, how much did she pay you to play this game?” Marcus chuckled. “Professor Vance, I’m a killer, not a con artist. I buried her with my own hands.” “You’re making this up.” Ethan’s tone was resolute. “Your victims fit a fixed selection standard — living alone, remote location, high-risk profession.” “Elara Reed fits none of those criteria. You wouldn’t have chosen her.” I stood behind him, a sharp pain in my chest. Even though I no longer had a heart. But I still felt that heartbreaking sorrow. “To frame Seraphina, she actually managed to bribe you into saying all those things. She’s really gotten quite skilled.” He opened SnapChat and sent a voice message. “Elara, stop playing dead.” “I let it go when you spread rumors about Seraphina on the forum back then.” “Now that we’re finally happy, you’re trying to sicken me again. Is this your new trick?” “Even if a manipulative woman like you truly died, I’d only feel relieved.” I watched the voice message send successfully. Ethan, do you really think I’d joke about my own life with you? Marcus stopped laughing, his eyes softening with pity. “But Professor Vance, someone paid me two million dollars to kill her.” “A full two million, transferred from her husband’s bank account.” “Doesn’t that number sound familiar to you, Professor Vance?” The chair legs scraped across the floor with a harsh sound. Ethan stood up, his face dark. “The interrogation ends here.” “I have no interest in your nonsense.” “Go to Westwood.” Marcus suddenly spoke. “Under that old oak tree. You know the place.” Ethan’s footsteps halted. That was where we first met.

Ethan didn’t go home. He went straight from the interrogation room and called the Criminal Technology Division. “Marcus has confessed to a suspected burial site.” “Westwood Forest, by the oak trees.” “Deploy the tech team and forensic unit. Depart now.” His voice was all business, betraying no emotion. I floated behind him, watching him get into his car. He didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened the pinned chat. “Elara, what do you want?” “To think I actually believed you’d bribe a killer to put on this act with you.” “I don’t know if you’re crazy, or if I am…” The message sent successfully. He stared at the screen for a long time. Her profile picture was their wedding photo from three years ago, never changed. Just like his. I stood outside the car window, looking at that chat window. In three years, he had sent me over two hundred messages. I hadn’t replied to a single one. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I couldn’t. He took a deep breath and started the car. The convoy sped through the city in the dead of night, red and blue police lights flashing silently. Their destination was Westwood. I sat in the passenger seat, watching his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and his jaw clenched tight. I wanted to reach out and touch his face. But my hand passed right through his body. The cars drove onto the Westwood road, high beams illuminating the abandoned oak grove ahead. Ethan’s breathing hitched. He remembered Marcus’s last words. “You know the place.” He knew. Of course, he knew. Under that tree, he had kissed me, and he had also betrayed me. The convoy arrived at the oak grove. Several high-powered floodlights illuminated the old oak tree, making it look ghostly pale. Ethan stood outside the crime scene tape, hands in his pockets, his expression cold. Detective Dawson, his deputy, quietly asked, “Professor Vance, this… can it be true?” “If they dig and find nothing, I’ll personally interrogate Marcus and make him regret wasting my time.” Ethan’s tone even carried a hint of disdain. But I noticed that his position never strayed more than three steps from that tree. The tech team began to dig. He smoked cigarette after cigarette. He hadn’t smoked before. He only started after I disappeared. I remembered, when I was alive, he wouldn’t even touch a lighter. Half an hour later, a young Officer Kim shouted. “We found something!” Ethan’s shoulders tensed suddenly. Instead of moving closer, he actually took half a step back. From the mud, tweezers pulled out a broken metal watch strap. Then, a shattered watch face. The technician carefully flipped it over. On the back of the watch face, two letters were engraved. “E.R.” It was the twenty-fifth birthday gift he had given me. He had spent two hours picking it out at the counter, his hands trembling when they engraved the letters. Ethan’s pupils constricted violently. He turned his head away, not letting anyone see his expression. Without a word, he turned and walked to his car. He opened the door, got in, and closed it. Cutting off all outside sounds. I followed him into the car. His hands were on the steering wheel, all ten fingers trembling. “Impossible.” He mumbled to himself, his voice so faint that only I, a ghost, could hear it. Three seconds later. He slammed his fist onto the steering wheel. The harsh blare of the horn pierced the stillness of the desolate night. Then a second punch. A third. He stopped, gasping for air. A memory suddenly flashed through his mind. The night I disappeared three years ago, Seraphina Hayes came to him, her eyes red-rimmed. She carefully, casually mentioned. “Professor Vance, I think I saw Elara with a man getting into a car today…” “It might have been a mistake, but she seemed to be wearing that watch you gave her.” At the time, he believed her.

Ethan sat motionless in the car, his body rigid like a statue. I sat in the passenger seat, watching him. The tide of memories surged, without warning. Our first meeting was under that same old oak tree. I was crouching on the ground, searching for a rare book I’d bought from a used book stall. The wind was too strong, blowing the pages away. He walked past and stepped on the book. When he handed it to me, he adjusted his glasses, wearing a detached, academic air. “History major? I have the original edition of this book. You can come get it if you want.” Only later did I learn. For that casually delivered line, he had secretly borrowed the book from the university library three days in advance. His way of pursuing me was also precisely in line with “criminal psychology.” He knew I went to the library every day at three in the afternoon. So he would arrive at two fifty. He knew I liked the window seat. He would occupy the seat next to mine in advance. I later asked him, “How long did you follow me to know me so well?” He maintained a straight face and stubbornly said, “That’s called target subject behavior pattern analysis.” I laughed, my eyes crinkling. “I love sunflowers because they always face the sun.” He didn’t say anything then. Two months later, a vast field of golden flowers had bloomed on the barren land behind the university. He stood by the flower field, waiting for me, his face peeling from the sun. When he saw me, he turned his head away, his words still just as stubborn. “Just saw it passing by. Nothing to do with me.” The day he proposed. He rented out the entire top-floor restaurant and memorized his lines for three days. But the moment he stood before me, he forgot everything. Stuttering, his face bright red, he finally managed to blurt out: “Elara… let me… take care of you.” I smiled and said yes. Blushing, he put the ring on my finger. He put it on the wrong way. Then, fumbling, he took it off and put it on again. His hands trembled uncontrollably. I thought of the clumsy, stubborn Ethan from my memories, the one who was clearly terrified but insisted on acting nonchalant. A smile touched my lips, then slowly faded. The Ethan in my memories was so wonderful. So wonderful that I couldn’t understand how he had changed later. One day, in the second year of our marriage. The doorbell rang. Seraphina Hayes stood at the door, her hair in a ponytail, carrying a thick stack of research papers. She shyly said, “Professor Vance, I’m your new graduate student, Seraphina Hayes.” Her gaze swept past Ethan’s shoulder and landed on me. I still remember that look. It wasn’t shyness, nor was it admiration. It was an assessment. It was like she was examining something that belonged to someone else, calculating how to make it her own. From that day on, my marriage began to crack, little by little. And what I didn’t know then was this: The very night Seraphina first came to our house, she posted an update on her Ins. The accompanying picture was a corner of Ethan’s study. She wrote: “New semester, new beginning.” Someone in the comments asked, “Where is this?” She replied: “My future home.”

Seraphina frequently entered and exited Ethan’s study, using the excuse of “discussing research topics.” Sometimes I’d come home late from work and find her sitting in the living room, waiting for Ethan. I had reminded Ethan to be mindful of boundaries. He impatiently cut me off. “She’s just my student, can you stop being so suspicious?” “Why are you so neurotic all of a sudden?” I spent half a year compiling a collection of extremely valuable annotations for a rare historical manuscript. I planned to give it to Ethan as a surprise on his birthday. I knew he was writing a new textbook, and this material was the final piece he needed. However, on Ethan’s birthday. Seraphina Hayes got ahead of me, put her name on this material, and presented it to Ethan as a “research report.” Ethan was greatly surprised. In front of me, he praised Seraphina for “possessing rare academic talent.” I immediately pulled out my manuscript and confronted her. Seraphina’s eyes instantly welled up, her voice trembling. “Elara, I didn’t know you were working on this too…” “I just wanted to help the professor so badly…” “I’m sorry, it’s my fault…” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face. Ethan looked at his weeping student on one side and me, angry, on the other. He frowned and said something I remember to this day. Something I will never forget, even in death. “Elara, you’re regressing. You can’t even tolerate a student?” “How much effort did she put into organizing this material, and you just claim it as yours?” “Aren’t you ashamed of how jealous you are of her? Your jealousy has made you unrecognizable.” I froze, the hand holding my manuscript trembling. After that, I didn’t say another word. I placed the manuscript on the table, turned, walked into the bedroom, and packed a suitcase. Ethan stood in the doorway, watching me, his face livid. “If you leave, don’t come back.” “Every time we argue, you pull this ‘running away’ stunt. You’re thirty years old, isn’t it annoying?” I dragged my suitcase to the front door and looked back at him. I wanted to say so many things. In the end, I only managed. “You owe me an apology.” “Ethan, when you understand what you’ve done, then come find me.” He didn’t follow. I waited for half a month, but I never got his apology. What I got instead was a text message, sent by Seraphina pretending to be him. And that address led to an abandoned factory. My burial ground. When I came to, it was already dawn. Ethan hadn’t gone home; he had sat in his car all night. Suddenly, the car window was tapped forcefully by an Officer Kim. “Professor Vance! Detective Dawson!” His face was ecstatic, holding up a transparent evidence bag. “We found it! We found crucial evidence!”

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Three years into our marriage, I thought Ethan was just naturally cold and incapable of love. Then I saw the texts he sent his first love: “Fall for her? No way. She’s just a stand-in for you.” “Baby, when you come back, we’ll get married right away.” Turns out, he wasn’t incapable of love; he just wasn’t in love with me. I signed the divorce papers and left with nothing, but he went crazy, searching the whole world for me. Too bad, Ethan. Your belated affection is just too cheap. Chloe POV “Leo, I’m getting a divorce.” I stood by the master bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the glittering New York skyline, my voice so calm it even surprised me. On the other end of the line, my brother Leo was silent for a full five seconds before letting out a cold laugh. “You’re finally willing to give up on Ethan?” I forced a smile, my eyes dry, unable to squeeze out a single tear. “Yeah, I tried for so long, but I couldn’t make him love me.” “I told you before, Ethan has no heart. You just had to be with him,” Leo’s voice held concern, though he tried to sound casual. “Come to Paris. It has everything. French men are romantic and devoted; aren’t they all better than that guy? You’re so amazing, why waste your time on someone from the Sterling family?” “Mmm, I’ll come once the papers are done.” Hanging up, I turned, my gaze falling on the black backup phone on the vanity. It was Ethan’s phone. Half an hour ago, he went to shower, and the phone vibrated, sliding onto the carpet. When I picked it up, the screen was lit, showing an un-saved text message: 【Ethan, my flight home is tomorrow.】 On an impulse, I typed in Ethan’s lock screen password. It wasn’t his birthday, nor mine. It was a regular day from six years ago. The password was correct. Opening the chat history for that number, I saw the most frequent, most affectionate Ethan I’d ever seen in my life. 【It snowed in New York today. Is it cold where you are?】 【I’ve secured all of Sterling Corp’s shares. The board can no longer interfere with my decisions.】 【She’s been docile, a perfectly acceptable ornament. But once this period is over, my wife’s position will still be yours.】 【Ivy, I miss you so much.】 Every word was like a poisoned dagger, piercing my heart, twisting the flesh to shreds. Ivy. Ethan’s first love, the woman forced to leave the country because his grandfather had blocked their relationship. I’d always thought Ethan was naturally cold, a workaholic machine. In three years of marriage, he’d given me endless material comfort. A black card with no limit, haute couture on demand. If anyone in the New York elite dared to cross me, Ethan would ensure their family was ruined by morning. Everyone said, Mr. Sterling loved me very much. I used to believe it too. Until today, I finally understood that kind of love was just compensation, an empty gesture, like feeding a prized pet. He reserved all his patience, tenderness, and scheming for another woman. And I? I was merely a “decoration” he used to consolidate his power and protect the woman he truly loved. The sound of the shower stopped. Ethan walked out in a black bathrobe, water droplets still clinging to his chiseled jawline, tracing paths down to his firm chest. He glanced at me, standing by the vanity, his gaze as deep and unreadable as ever. “Why aren’t you in bed yet?” He walked to the bedside, casually picking up a watch to wipe it. I looked at Ethan, at this face I’d loved for five whole years. I pursued him for two, and married him for three. I reined in all my temper, learning to be a gentle and agreeable wife, just to be closer to him. “Ethan,” I spoke, my voice a little hoarse. He paused, looking up at me. “What do you want? That art gallery space downtown? I’ll have my assistant send you the transfer papers tomorrow.” See, that was his way. Whenever my mood was off, he’d just throw money at me. Simple, crude, effective. “No need.” I smiled, walking over and handing him the black phone. “Your phone fell earlier.” Ethan’s pupils constricted for a split second. I caught it. He took the phone, his knuckles slightly white, his voice steady. “You looked through it?” “No,” I lied. I didn’t want to be hysterical, didn’t want to question him like a lunatic. If I was a decoration, I should act like one. Ethan gave me a long, hard look, then tossed the phone into the drawer. “Get some rest early. I have an important meeting tomorrow; I won’t be back for dinner.” “Okay.” I turned my back to him and lay down. In the darkness, I lay with my eyes open, listening to the steady breathing of the man beside me. The last flicker of hope in my heart was extinguished completely.

Chloe POV The next afternoon, I drove to the law firm. “Miss Hayes, are you sure you want to draft these divorce papers?” My acquaintance, Mr. Davidson, looked at me, full of disbelief. “Your marriage to Mr. Sterling… the outside world has always been very optimistic about it.” “I’m sure. The sooner, the better.” I sat on the sofa, stirring my coffee. “Regarding assets, I don’t want anything. I’m leaving with nothing, as long as he signs.” Mr. Davidson sighed, starting to take notes. “Alright, I’ll expedite it.” Emerging from the law firm, the sky had already darkened. The evening breeze in New York carried a hint of chill. Instead of going home, I drove to The Velvet Lounge. In three years of marriage, I hadn’t stepped foot in a place like this. Ethan didn’t like the smell of smoke or alcohol, didn’t like me dressing too provocatively, didn’t like me hanging out with those friends. So I’d thrown out all my sultry dresses and replaced them with elegant suits. Today, I wore a deep V-neck, wine-red slip dress, ten-centimeter heels, and aggressive, heavy makeup as I pushed open the bar’s door. The deafening music instantly enveloped me. I walked to the bar and ordered the strongest drink. “Well, well, isn’t it Chloe? Long time no see.” My best friend, Sophia, came over with her drink, scrutinizing me, her eyes lighting up. “You look amazing today! So beautiful! Ethan actually let you out?” “Don’t even mention him.” I tilted my head back, downing the drink in one gulp. The burning liquid traveled down my throat to my stomach, forcing out tears from the corners of my eyes. I slid onto the dance floor, twisting my body wildly to the music. The men around me swarmed like sharks scenting blood. I didn’t refuse; I smiled, dancing intimately with them, savoring the long-lost feeling of abandon and freedom. Upstairs, in the VIP section on the second floor. I only found out later that Ethan was up there, watching my every move. On the dance floor, I grew tired, pushed away the men around me, and stumbled towards the restroom. As I reached the corner of the corridor, my wrist was suddenly grabbed. A strong force pulled me into a dim private room, and then I was slammed against the cold wall. “Ethan, isn’t this Chloe?” Liam, standing nearby, widened his eyes. “Chloe’s outfit is really hot! Those guys were practically glued to her. Aren’t you going to do something, Ethan?” Ethan glanced at him, then expressionlessly averted his gaze, his voice icy. “I trust her.” “Ethan! You’re really letting your guard down.” Liam sighed. “Still, Chloe looks stunning today, like a completely different person. I always thought you were too demure, never knew you had this side to you.” Ethan turned to face me, his body leaning in. The familiar scent of fir trees wafted over me. “Had enough fun?” Ethan’s voice, laced with suppressed anger, sounded above me. I looked up, seeing the man’s handsome face in the faint light filtering from the corridor. I suddenly laughed, a terribly cheerful laugh, and hooked my arm around his neck. “Mr. Sterling, what’s wrong? Only you get to come here? I can’t?” Ethan’s brows furrowed tightly. He inhaled in distaste, smelling the alcohol and cheap perfume on me. “Come home with me.” “Home? Which home?” I leaned closer, my warm breath fanning his Adam’s apple. “The gilded cage you built for me, or the spot you’re saving for someone else in your heart?” Ethan’s body stiffened, his eyes instantly turning sharp. “You’re drunk.” “I’m not drunk.” I pushed him away abruptly, the smile vanishing from my face, leaving only cold indifference. “Ethan, don’t touch me. You make me sick.” With that, I walked out of the private room without looking back.

Chloe POV Ivy was back. I didn’t hear this news from Ethan; I saw it on Twitter. SterlingCorpCEOspottedatairportlateatnight,mysteriouswomanallegedlymistress The photos were blurry, but I recognized that tall back instantly. Ethan had draped a large suit jacket over the petite woman, his head bowed as he shielded her into the car. The gesture showed a tenderness and carefulness I had never seen before. Today was our third wedding anniversary. I sat in the empty restaurant, looking at the cold steak on the table and the nearly burned-out candle, and suddenly found it all a bit laughable. I picked up my phone and dialed Ethan’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The background was quiet, with only the occasional beep of medical equipment. “Something wrong?” Ethan’s voice was low. “Where are you?” I asked. “Working late at the office. An urgent project to handle.” He lied, his voice steady. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Ethan, today is our wedding anniversary.” Silence on the other end for two seconds. “Sorry, I forgot. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Buy whatever you want, just use my card.” “No need,” I said softly. “You must be busy.” Hanging up, I called the waiter for the check. I didn’t go home. Instead, I drove to an upscale downtown apartment complex. It was one of the properties Ethan owned. I parked the car by the roadside, quietly watching the apartment building. Half an hour later, Ethan’s car pulled up. He got out, walked to the passenger side, opened the door, and carefully helped a pale woman out. Ivy. She looked very weak, leaning into Ethan’s embrace. Ethan’s head was bowed, whispering something to her, his eyes full of tenderness. He even bent down to straighten the hem of her skirt, which had been ruffled by the wind. I sat in my car, a street away, watching the scene unfold. I didn’t cry, nor did I rush over to cause a scene. I just watched quietly, as if observing a movie unrelated to me. So, he wasn’t incapable of love; he just didn’t love me. He could drop a billion-dollar project to pick up Ivy from the airport, stay with her at the hospital until midnight, and bend his proud waist for her. And all I got was a dismissive, “Just use my card.” I started the car, turning around to leave. In the rearview mirror, the embracing figures grew smaller and smaller, until they completely disappeared into the night. Back at the mansion, I started packing. I didn’t take anything Ethan had bought me. All those designer bags, haute couture dresses, and expensive jewelry, I left them all in the walk-in closet. I only packed a few old clothes I’d brought before the marriage and the laptop that had been with me for years. My suitcase was empty, just like my three years of marriage. Aside from countless scars, nothing remained. The next morning, Mr. Davidson delivered the drafted divorce papers. I didn’t even glance at them, signing my name on the last page without hesitation. “Miss Hayes, are you truly not going to reconsider?” Mr. Davidson looked at my calm face, unable to help but ask. “No need,” I said, putting the papers into a folder. “Please deliver this to Ethan for me. Tell him I don’t want anything, just his signature.”

Ethan POV I’ve been extremely busy these past few days. Ivy wasn’t well. She’d just returned to the country and hadn’t adjusted, her old illness flaring up, landing her back in the hospital. I spent my days at the office dealing with mountains of paperwork, and my nights at the hospital caring for her. Ivy was always delicate. She’d frown if the IV drip was too slow, or pout if the medicine was bitter. Though I was exhausted, I had to patiently coax her, given her frail health. For three consecutive days, I didn’t return to the mansion. I expected Chloe to call me frantically, text me, demanding to know where I was, just like before. But to my surprise, my phone was eerily silent. No calls, no messages, not even a routine “Good morning.” At first, I didn’t pay much attention. Work was too overwhelming, and I couldn’t leave Ivy’s side. I even felt a subtle sense of relief – Chloe not making a fuss saved me a lot of trouble. She had probably finally learned to be sensible, to give me space, no longer clinging to me like a piece of gum. But her continued silence… it made me a little uneasy. I sat behind my desk, frowning at my still phone screen. “Mr. Sterling, these are the transfer papers for the downtown art gallery you requested.” Mark, my assistant, knocked and entered, placing a document on my desk. “Regarding Miss Hayes…” “Send them to her.” I rubbed my forehead. “Tell her I’m busy these days, but I’ll take her to a fashion show in Paris in a few days.” Mark hesitated for a moment before saying, “Mr. Sterling, Miss Hayes… isn’t home. The mansion staff said she left three days ago with a suitcase.” I shot up from my seat. “Left? Where did she go?” “I don’t know. She didn’t take anything, just a small suitcase.” My heart sank instantly, a sudden, inexplicable panic gripping me. I grabbed my car keys and stormed out of the office. I sped all the way back to the mansion. Pushing open the door, the house was eerily silent. No sign of Chloe bustling in the kitchen, no sound of her voice, not even a faint trace of her usual perfume in the air. I rushed upstairs, pushing open the master bedroom door. The bed was neatly made. In the walk-in closet, all the clothes and bags I’d bought her were quietly arranged. On the vanity, there was a brown paper envelope. I walked over and picked it up. Inside, was a Divorce Agreement. Her name was clearly written in the signature space for the wife. I stared at her name. Then, I violently tore the agreement into shreds, throwing them forcefully onto the floor. “Chloe, you’ve got guts!” I roared. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off…” The cold, mechanical female voice echoed in the empty room. I slammed the phone against the wall, and the screen instantly shattered. I thought she was just throwing a tantrum, that she just wanted more attention. I never imagined she would actually leave. Chloe loved me so much, loved me to the point of sacrificing her dignity. How could she bear to leave me? “Find her! Get her out here!” I yelled at Mark, who had rushed in. “Even if you have to use every resource, find her!”

Chloe POV I didn’t leave the country; I moved into a small apartment on the outskirts of New York. It was a place I’d bought in college, small, only fifty square meters, but quiet enough. I changed my phone number, severing all ties with my past. Every day, besides painting, I’d go downstairs to buy groceries. Life was simple, yet it had a peace I’d never experienced before. A week later, I received a call from Leo. “Chloe, Ethan has gone insane,” Leo’s voice held a hint of amusement. “He’s been looking for you non-stop. Sterling Corp’s stock has been crashing disastrously these past few days. He’s not even attending board meetings, just wandering around like a madman.” My hand, holding the paintbrush, paused slightly, then resumed its normal movement. “Everything about him is irrelevant to me. I’ve already signed; his search is useless.” “You’ve truly let go?” Leo asked. “I’ve let go.” I looked at the gray, desolate ocean on the canvas, my voice as light as a breeze. “I don’t love him anymore.” After hanging up, I walked to the window, looking down at the bustling street. I expected to be in pain, to suffer from insomnia. But strangely, I slept wonderfully. Without the agony of waiting, without the torment of fearing loss, my heart was completely empty. In the afternoon, I went grocery shopping. As I stepped out of the apartment building, a sleek black Maybach suddenly pulled up in front of me. The car door opened, and Ethan emerged. He had lost a lot of weight, his eyes were bloodshot, and a shadow of stubble darkened his jaw. He looked utterly wasted and agitated. The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up fiercely, like a dying man spotting an oasis in the desert. He strode over, pulling me tightly into his embrace. “Chloe, I finally found you…” His voice was terribly hoarse, with a hint of an almost imperceptible tremble. I was squeezed so tightly I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t struggle, just spoke coldly. “Let go of me.” Ethan’s body stiffened. He slowly released me, looking down at me. My gaze was calm, as if I were looking at a stranger. No love, no hate, nothing at all. “Come home with me.” He reached out to take my hand, his voice holding a hint of almost pleading desperation. “Stop this, okay? I’ll give you whatever you want. Let’s go home.” I avoided his hand, stepping back. “Ethan, you must have seen the agreement.” I looked at him, my voice flat. “Sign it. It’s better for everyone.” “I won’t sign!” Ethan’s voice suddenly rose, a hint of madness flashing in his eyes. “Chloe, you’ll always belong to me! There’s no way you’re getting a divorce!” I looked at Ethan, so hysterical, and suddenly felt a bit pathetic. “Ethan, what exactly are you so angry about?” I forced a cynical smile. “Your pretty little ornament isn’t playing nice anymore, and you don’t like it? Or perhaps I didn’t obediently vacate my position for your Ivy?” Ethan’s face instantly went pale. “You… you knew?” “Yes, I knew.” I looked at Ethan’s suddenly bloodless face. I felt no sense of satisfaction or revenge, only a profound weariness. “That backup phone, those texts, I saw everything.” My voice was soft. “Ethan, you disgust me.” Ethan’s breathing grew ragged. He stepped forward, trying to grab my shoulders. “Chloe, listen to me, things aren’t what you think…” “Aren’t what?” I cut him off, my eyes cold. “Were you not marrying me to protect Ivy, using me as a mere decoration? Were you not leveraging my family’s influence to consolidate your power? Or did you not throw me aside like garbage the very day Ivy returned?” Ethan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Because everything I said was true. He married me back then because his grandfather was pressuring him, and my family background was good. Plus, I loved him so much, making me the perfect candidate. What, is he coming to me now because he regrets it? “Chloe, I admit I did use you at first.” Ethan’s voice trembled slightly. “But later… later I really was…” “Really what?” I sneered. “Really got used to having someone circle around you like a loyal dog? Ethan, save your ‘deep affection’ act for your Ivy. I find it filthy.” With that, I turned and walked away. “Chloe!” Ethan abruptly embraced me from behind, his arms clamping tightly around my waist, as if trying to merge me into his own body. “I won’t divorce! I’d rather die than divorce! You won’t leave me!” I forcefully pried open his fingers, one by one, resolute and unfeeling. “Ethan, don’t make me hate you.” I broke free from his embrace and walked into the apartment complex without looking back. In the following days, Ethan acted like a madman, waiting downstairs by my apartment building every day. He didn’t dare to disturb me, only sitting in his car, chain-smoking. He sent me messages on his phone, telling me he had broken off things with Ivy. He said he couldn’t lose me. I looked at the messages on my phone coldly, my heart completely unmoved. Whatever he wanted to do was irrelevant to me.

Chloe POV Ethan didn’t give up. It seemed he’d poured all his energy into winning me back. He bought me my favorite art gallery, presenting me with the property deed; he canceled all his engagements, showing up promptly downstairs at my apartment every day, bringing me my favorite pastries from that downtown bakery. But my reaction remained as cold as ice. The gallery deed was returned untouched; the pastries were directly tossed into the trash. “Ethan, what’s the point of all this?” I stood by the trash can, looking at Ethan. “What were you doing before? Now you’re putting on an act of loving me, it just makes me laugh.” Ethan looked at the scattered pastries in the trash can, a flicker of pain in his eyes. “Chloe, I know I did a lot of wrong things before,” he pleaded humbly. “Please, give me one chance to make it up to you, okay?” “Make it up?” I laughed. “Alright, then sign the divorce papers right now. That would be the best compensation for me.” Ethan’s face instantly darkened. He gritted his teeth, firmly saying, “Anything but divorce.” We were at a standstill. Until half a month later, I received a call. It was Ivy. “Chloe, let’s meet,” Ivy’s voice carried a hint of triumph. “Regarding Ethan, I think we need to talk.” I didn’t intend to respond, but I changed my mind. Maybe this was a chance to finally get rid of Ethan. We met at a secluded private coffee shop. Ivy wore a white dress, looking very gentle, but her eyes were full of provocation. “Chloe, don’t think that just because Ethan is clinging to you now, he truly loves you,” Ivy sipped her coffee slowly. “He’s just not over it. After all, you chased him like a loyal dog for so many years, and suddenly you’re ignoring him. It’s just a man’s possessiveness kicking in.” I looked at Ivy expressionlessly. “Are you done? If so, I’m leaving.” “Wait!” Ivy pulled out a document and pushed it towards me. “This is the deed for the mansion Ethan just bought me yesterday. He said it was compensation for me.” I glanced at the property deed, my heart completely unmoved. “Congratulations then,” I stood up. “I hope you two stay together forever. You two deserve each other—a scheming witch and a blind fool. Everyone loves a good show.” Ivy’s face changed. She suddenly stood up, picking up the coffee cup on the table and splashing it towards me. I dodged sideways, the coffee splashing on the hem of my skirt. Just then, the private room door was violently pushed open. Ethan strode in, pulling me behind him, glaring darkly at Ivy. “What are you doing?!” Ivy instantly put on a wronged expression, tears streaming down her face. “Ethan, I just wanted to explain things clearly to Chloe, but she not only insulted me, she also tried to hit me…” Ethan didn’t even look at her, nervously checking my clothes. “Are you hurt?” I coldly pushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” I looked at Ethan, my eyes full of mockery. “Mr. Sterling, you certainly have a way. Clinging to me, refusing to divorce, while buying mansions for your mistress. Do you want to have your cake and eat it too?” Ethan’s face went pale. He quickly tried to explain, “Chloe, listen to me, that mansion is…” “Enough!” I cut him off. “Ethan, I came here today to tell you that I’ve filed for divorce in court. We’ll see each other there.”

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