Category: English

1 I was reborn at fourteen. My father’s smooth voice asked: “Stay with your mother, or take a $20 million trust fund abroad?” In my past life, I’d sobbed “I want Mom!”—only to watch him move his mistress (a company executive) into a mansion, raising their three illegitimate kids while tormenting my mother. She wasted decades before being discarded without a cent. I died destitute overseas, my corpse shipped home via crowdfunding. This time, I signed the papers. “Twenty million. I’ll take it.” Not heartless. Just awake: no one here ever loved us. I won’t be that pitiful girl again. This life, I’ll amass wealth, control the game—and when I’ve won everything, I’ll bring my mother home myself. … I was reborn at fourteen. My father had just come home from a board meeting. His suit was immaculate, his tie perfectly knotted. He sat on the sofa in the study of our old family home, a contract laid out on the table beside him. I stood before him in my wrinkled school uniform, my hair a mess from a long day of tutoring, looking every bit the clueless teenager, utterly ignorant of the family’s turmoil. “Anne,” he said, his voice soft. “Your mother has been… emotionally unstable lately. You have a choice. You can stay here and keep her company, or you can go abroad, to any school you like. When you graduate and come back, I can even let you start managing a portion of the company shares.” He sounded so sincere, so reasonable. The perfect, enlightened father. “I’ve already prepared your living expenses for when you’re abroad. Twenty million dollars, deposited into your personal account, for you to manage as you see fit.” In my past life, standing in this exact spot, I was terrified. Twenty million dollars. It was an astronomical sum. And it was. But what I know now is that it was nothing more than a strategic transfer of assets. My mother sat on the living room sofa, silent, her eyes red and raw. I had cried, torn the agreement to shreds, and thrown the pieces at my father’s feet, screaming, “I want my mother!” I truly thought I had won. Looking back, I was such a fool. I chose to stay with my mother, and what was the result? Within six months, my father sent me abroad anyway, dumping me in his mistress’s home in America. He called it “broadening my horizons,” “training the future successor.” I became the only person in that mansion with no one to rely on. By the end, even the nanny felt she could order me around. The mistress’s twins, a boy and a girl, seemed harmless enough. But they were my father’s secret children, and they were rotten to the core. They would eventually fight for the family fortune, and I, idiot that I was, had treated them like my own siblings. And me? In the end, no one even remembered that I was the eldest daughter of the Sterling family. My mother was still back home, guarding the empty mansion, desperately trying to contact schools, learn English, hire lawyers—anything to bring me back. She thought she was the rightful wife. She thought she still had a voice. Until the day she received a letter from a lawyer, informing her that the title to the house was being reclaimed. She didn’t move. She sat in the cavernous living room, not even bothering to boil water, eating cold leftovers bite by bite. “I’m waiting for Anne to come home,” she’d say. I heard the rattle of pill bottles over the phone and knew. She was so depressed she was afraid to fall asleep. I graduated at nineteen. My first job was scrubbing floors in a diner in Melbourne. My second was cleaning dog kennels for a wealthy family. The day my mother was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, I was handing out flyers in a parking garage. The doctor called me from across the world. “She’s tried to jump from her window three times tonight, but we don’t have your father’s authorization for involuntary commitment.” I stood on the street below the hospital, the phone pressed to my ear, unable to speak. The last time I saw her was five minutes before her cremation. She couldn’t hear me calling her name anymore. It was only then that I understood. She didn’t lose to my father, Edward Sterling. She lost to me. The daughter she had spent her life trying to protect wasn’t strong enough. This life, the agreement was on the table again. I didn’t cry. I picked up the pen and signed my name—Anne Sterling—with a clean, decisive stroke. My father raised an eyebrow, as if seeing me clearly for the first time. “You’re sure about this?” “I’m sure,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice calm. I paused, then added, “As your only child, it’s about time I went out and got some experience.” I put a sharp emphasis on the word only. He froze for a second, then let out a low chuckle. “That’s my girl. Spoken like a true Sterling.” I smiled too. But my smile was colder, clearer than his. He thought I had finally come to my senses, that I was willing to be obedient. But I knew the truth. Sending me away was just an excuse to start bonding with his illegitimate children. He needed me out of the picture so he could finally get rid of “Mrs. Sterling” and install his mistress in her rightful place. My mother would never understand this. She was still living in a dream, believing he would eventually come back to her. She had no idea that the moment I signed that paper, she and I had both been kicked off the Sterling family game board. That night, I closed my bedroom door. The moon outside was a cold, indifferent sliver. I didn’t cry. I just opened my laptop and logged into the black card account he’d set up. Twenty million dollars. Confirmed. I stared at the balance for a full minute, then pulled open a drawer and took out a small notebook. On the first page, I wrote: • Edward Sterling’s illegitimate children: Julian & Aria Vance. Born: New York City. • Edward Sterling’s offshore trust accounts: To be investigated. • Disposition of Mrs. Sterling’s dowry shares in the company: To be investigated. • Objective: Within four years, reclaim everything that belongs to me and my mother. I clicked on a photo of my mother. Her young, smiling face stared back at me. She was wearing a ten-year-old trench coat, her smile endearingly goofy. She later gave that coat to the nanny, saying the woman’s family wasn’t well-off. I found it in the trash later, stained with cake frosting and a dirty footprint. This life, I would trust nothing and no one. It’s not that I’m merciless. It’s that I finally see the truth—in this family, no one ever truly cared about me or my mother. Starting today, I, Anne Sterling, will use this twenty million dollars to burn the entire Sterling family to the ground. 2 The night I signed the papers, the house was dark, but the lamp in the living room was still on. As I started up the stairs, I glanced back and saw my mother, still sitting there. Her eyes were as red and raw as shucked oysters. In her hand, she clutched a small pencil case I’d used in elementary school. My name, Anne Sterling, was spelled out on it in faded stickers. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth, lowered her head, and drifted off, either lost in thought or trying to convince herself of something. I didn’t say a word. I turned and went to my room. The moment the door clicked shut, the world went silent. But my heart was pounding like a war drum. I lay in bed and counted to five hundred, but sleep wouldn’t come. The moon hung frozen in the sky, and she was still awake. I could hear the faint rustle from her room, the soft clink of a pill bottle, the sound of a water glass falling to the floor, and a whisper so quiet it was barely there: “She’s changed…” Of course, she had no idea. What had changed was an entire lifetime of regret and tears. At 2 a.m., I tiptoed downstairs. She was still on the sofa, leaning against a pillow, her eyes wide open, like a doll whose batteries had died. I walked over and draped a light blanket over her. She flinched, startled, and slowly looked up. “You’re still awake?” Her voice was hoarse, like an echo in a sand dune. “Writing my application essays,” I said, a small lie. She nodded. I looked at her, and she looked at me, searching my face for any sign of softness, of hesitation. But there was none. The hope in her eyes died out, like the last rain of summer. “Are you blaming me?” she asked, her voice raspy. “No,” I said. She gave a bitter smile. “Your father didn’t just offer you twenty million dollars out of the blue. He’s not sending you abroad. He’s sending you away.” “I know.” She looked up at me, her eyes suddenly bright with a frightening intensity. “Then why did you sign it?” I didn’t answer. Because I couldn’t explain it to her. I couldn’t explain that I had already lived through one version of her defeat, that if I didn’t leave now, it would be too late for both of us. She clutched the copy of the agreement, and a tear splashed onto the paper, pinning me to the spot. “It’s not that I didn’t try,” she murmured. “I fought with everything I had. But he never intended to let me win.” In that moment, I wanted so badly to hold her, to tell her that this time, I would protect her. But I didn’t move. I just watched as she curled into a ball on the sofa, wiping away tears, biting her lip, looking like a small child who had been cast out of her own home. My chest tightened. But I couldn’t be soft. I knew that in my past life, it was a single hug on this very night that had dragged me back into the emotional quicksand. I let her emotions guide me, and the result was her jumping off a building while I was slaving away at a dead-end job just to save enough for a plane ticket home. This time, I could not afford to be soft. I turned and went back to my room. At 4:30 a.m., she finally fell asleep. But I was wide awake. I opened my email and began preparing. Transfer applications, visa documents, a plan to move the funds before the account was frozen, and the B-plan I had never told my mother about: • A list of all executives in Sterling Corporation’s subsidiary branches. • Records of all recent property transfers under the family name. • A list of all known contract loopholes. • The contact window for the offshore asset management trust. • And—the training program list for the “Future Heirs Initiative.” The first name on the list: Julian Vance, age 3, future student at a prestigious preparatory school in New York. I chewed on the end of my pen and circled the name Julian three times. Julian Sterling. The future heir. How laughable. To think that in a few years, the world would be told that the renowned Sterling Corporation had only one child, a daughter treasured by her father. The thought made me want to vomit. In my last life, I watched him join the company, sign contracts, lead projects, and be praised by the media as a young prodigy, while the world conveniently ignored the fact that he was illegitimate. This life, he would have to go through me first. At 7 a.m., my mother woke up, her eyes swollen, her face sallow. As I was getting ready to leave, she stood in the doorway, blocking my path. “Anne,” she called, her voice trembling slightly. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” I stopped and turned back. “Not this time,” I said. “I’m going out there to win. And then I’m coming back for you.” She looked at me, silent for a long moment. Finally, she nodded. Not a single tear fell. She just said, “Then don’t you dare lose.” I smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” The moment I closed the door and walked away from the Sterling house, the sun was bright, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the wind was cold. 3 The day I left for good, my father, Edward Sterling, drove me to the airport himself. My mother was in the passenger seat, silent. She had spent three hours on her makeup. Her lipstick was a defiant red, the powder on her face too thick, but her complexion was still ashen, bloodless. She stared out the window the entire time, watching the familiar roads pass by, as if sealing herself away in her memories. Edward wore a slightly worn navy blue suit, his smile impeccable. To any outsider, he was the perfect husband and father. He gripped the steering wheel, talking to me about school, then turning to my mother. “I’ve already arranged Anne’s accommodations. Serena Vance will look after her. The child will be much more settled at her place.” My mother didn’t respond. She just tightened her grip on her handbag, her knuckles turning white. Of course she knew who Serena Vance was. The youngest female executive in the company. Thirty-five years old, a double MBA, beautiful, charming, and most importantly—three years ago, she had given birth to Edward Sterling’s twins. The HR department at Sterling Corp even had a nickname for her: the Corporate Princess. My mother wasn’t ignorant. She just pretended to be. Just like now, she was wearing her most expensive dress, a champagne-gold sheath, supposedly the first expensive gift he’d ever bought her after making his fortune. She sat bolt upright, her posture rigid. She was sending me off, and she was going to do it looking like a proper wife. Even if, after I was gone, she would be just another forgotten woman. At the airport, my father’s driver was already waiting in the VIP lane with my luggage. My mother held my hand, her voice a soft whisper. “Do you have your passport? Your allergy medicine? Don’t forget that cashmere scarf…” I nodded, watching her eyes redden. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. Her voice tightened. “If it gets cold over there, video call me. I’ll mail you some clothes…” My own eyes started to burn, but I held back the tears. This wasn’t a goodbye. It was a deployment. My father stepped forward and wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders, smiling at me. “Your mother’s been so worried. She hasn’t slept well these past few nights.” My mother flinched, visibly shaken by his use of the phrase “your mother,” as if it had jolted her out of a daze. Her eyes actually welled up, as if she were being loved again. I looked at her, my heart aching with a mixture of anger and pity. This was her. Even knowing she had been betrayed completely, she would still try to scrape together a shred of security from the smallest crumb of false affection. Maybe it was because she had spent her entire youth by his side. I stood up. Just before I walked through the gate, my mother suddenly hugged me. “Anne…” She buried her face in my shoulder, her body trembling. “If it’s too hard over there, just come home. Mom will always be here.” I patted her back. “Mom, wait for me.” “Wait for what?” “Wait for me to come back and take everything that belongs to you.” I whispered it in her ear. She froze, her eyes going blank for a second. Then she nodded. “Okay… Mom will wait.” When I looked back, my father still had his arm around her. They looked like a loving old couple, seeing their daughter off on her great adventure. Only I knew that in his office drawer, there was a photo of Serena with their two children at Disneyland, their smiles more genuine than any in our family portraits. Only I knew that this tender moment wouldn’t stop him from leaving his entire fortune to his children on the side decades later. I walked into the VIP lounge. Serena Vance was waiting for me on a plush sofa. She wore a camel-colored trench coat, her makeup was flawless, her lipstick a cool shade of rose. Her Chanel earrings sparkled. It was clear my father had been generous. She stood up and extended a hand with a smile. “Anne, it’s so good to see you again. Your father has told me so much more about you.” I didn’t take her hand. I just nodded. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.” She wasn’t offended. She smoothly retracted her hand and picked up her tote bag. “It’s no trouble at all. From now on, just think of me as family in America. If you need anything, just ask.” I smiled. She thought I didn’t know who she was. In my last life, I lived in her house for four years. I knew which drawer held the children’s vaccination records, which passport was hidden in the safe, how many nannies she’d gone through, and what time of night she liked to call Edward. She thought I remembered nothing. She didn’t know I was back to settle the accounts. Serena led me onto a private jet. The seats were spacious, a flight attendant bowed as she offered me water. It was all like a fairy tale. I didn’t say a word after I sat down. I just inserted a new SIM card into my phone, enabled location services, network access, and voice recording, and linked my financial accounts to the new number for text verification. I knew that this departure marked the final farewell to my identity as the eldest daughter of the Sterling family. They could now raise their illegitimate children in peace. But they would soon find out that I wasn’t a daughter being sent away. I was a creditor coming to collect.

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My brother was drugged, and I was the one he turned to. In the haze of his fevered need, I undid the buttons of my blouse. When I found out I was pregnant, my parents revealed a lifelong secret—we weren’t biological siblings—and told him to marry me. The day he agreed, he went out street racing and crashed his car. I didn’t care that he was paralyzed from the waist down. I was determined to be his bride. I thought he would be moved, that we would grow old together. On our wedding night, I woke to the acrid sting of smoke. Our villa was on fire. My first thought was to get him out. Instead, he smashed a vase over my head. As my consciousness faded, I heard his voice, as cold as ice. “You and our parents destroyed my love for Sophie. I’ve already signed over the entire family fortune to her as compensation.” “You all ruined my life. Now, you can die with me.” … I was jolted awake by Caleb’s ragged, pained breathing. I opened my eyes. I was in my own familiar bedroom. There were no festive red decorations, no thick, choking smoke. I was reborn. The shock and joy made my head spin. “Kate, get me a glass of water.” Caleb’s hoarse voice came from the next room, sending a chill down my spine. I glanced at the watch on my wrist. A thin layer of sweat instantly broke out on my back. I had been reborn to the night he was drugged. The sticky warmth of blood blinding me, the searing pain of the fire… it all came rushing back. My first instinct was to run, to get as far away from Caleb as possible. But before I could even find my shoes, he was standing in my doorway. “Kate, I’ve already called Sophie. I need you to drive and pick her up now.” Even through the haze of whatever drug was coursing through him, the suspicion and disgust in his eyes were unmistakable. A bold thought sparked in my mind. He was reborn, too. I nodded numbly, grabbing my car keys. I squeezed past him, my body turned away, and hurried out the door. As I stepped out of the villa, I could still feel the prickling discomfort of his gaze burning into my back. The address he gave me was for an apartment near his office. So, Caleb and Sophie had been living together this early on. He had said I destroyed his love for her. He wasn’t lying. The moment Sophie saw my car, she wrenched open the passenger door and slid in. “How is he now?” She looked anxious, but maybe it was just me, but I could see a flicker of triumphant joy in her eyes. “You’ll see when we get there.” I didn’t want to talk to her. It wasn’t jealousy. It was because neither my mother nor I had ever liked her. Sophie was a scholarship student our family sponsored. At first, my parents adored her. She was hardworking, ambitious, and an incredible student—the valedictorian of her entire city. My parents had personally driven to her hometown to bring her to New York for college. My mother was thrilled. Sophie was a year ahead of me, and with her academic prowess, she could tutor me through my senior year of high school. She was diligent, reporting my progress to my father every week, even after I told her my mother was the one who managed my studies. I always felt there was a shrewd, calculating look in her eyes, but I told myself I was just being paranoid. That changed the night she was harassed by a drunk man. She called my father, crying. When he rushed over, she threw herself into his arms. My father, completely startled, shot his hands up in the air, his face turning pale. My mother, who had just parked the car, saw the whole thing. Through her tears, Sophie explained she saw my father as a paternal figure and was just terrified. My parents comforted her, but after that, she was never invited to our home again, and my father ceased to be involved in her affairs. After graduating, she wanted to study abroad. She came to our house with a basket of fruit, looking pitiable as she asked my parents to lend her money. My mother, never one to be stingy, had her secretary wire her fifty thousand dollars. The day before she was supposed to leave, she came to say goodbye and ran into Caleb, who had just returned home after finishing his master’s degree overseas. The next day, Sophie returned the money to my mother. She said she’d had a change of heart and decided to be more practical, to work and earn the money for her education herself. Caleb, who was on his way out, saw her standing there—dressed simply, her face set with determination—and his eyes filled with admiration. A month later, Sophie was hired at our family’s company as Caleb’s personal secretary. I told Caleb that Sophie wasn’t as pure as she seemed, that she had ulterior motives for getting close to him. “Kate,” he’d said dismissively, “not everyone is as obsessed with romance as you are.” Less than a year later, he had moved her into his private apartment. I pushed the accelerator, the car flying down the road. Sophie gripped the handle, her knuckles white. “Kate, I get that you’re upset, but you’re going to get us killed!” 2 I watched as Sophie rushed into the villa. I didn’t follow. I just sat in the car, my mind a blank slate. I knew exactly what was about to happen between Caleb and Sophie. This wasn’t jealousy. My horrific death in my past life—and the fact that I had dragged my parents down with me—had forced me to see the truth. My love for Caleb was poison to him. Sophie’s words just now had only confirmed it. “Kate, he’s your brother,” she had sneered in the car. “Your twisted feelings for him drove him to study halfway across the world. Now he has me. You need to give up.” So, Caleb had known I loved him all along. He went abroad not for his education, but to escape me. If I had known that sooner, I never would have seen his suffering that night and offered myself to him. Just before she got out of the car, Sophie had added one last thing. “You’re a grown woman now. It’s time you found someone suitable to date and marry.” She was afraid I’d keep clinging to Caleb. She didn’t need to worry. I had no feelings left for him whatsoever. I sat in the car all night. As dawn broke, I finally got out and went inside. Caleb was walking down the stairs, dressed in a silk pajama robe. “Where were you last night?” he asked. His neck was dotted with fresh, pink love bites, and his voice was a husky, lazy drawl. “I was with Mia,” I said. Mia was my best friend; Caleb had met her before. The fact that he even thought to ask where I’d been gave me a flicker of hope. Maybe he had let go of the past, too. Maybe now we could finally go back to being normal siblings. “I know you look down on Sophie’s background, that you think she’s poor,” he said, his tone hardening. “But let me tell you, she is the woman I am going to marry. From now on, you will treat her with respect.” When had I ever looked down on her background? A confused expression must have crossed my face. “Don’t give me that arrogant look,” he snapped. “She sacrificed herself to clean up the mess you made.” I was even more confused. “What are you talking about?” Caleb’s patience wore thin. “Are you going to deny that you were the one who drugged me last night? Sophie is such an innocent girl. She wanted to save herself for our wedding night, and you ruined it.” “I didn’t,” I retorted, my voice rising. I had loved Caleb for years, but I would never resort to such a cheap, disgusting trick. “I had dinner with Sophie and came straight home. The only thing I had after that was the glass of milk you always leave on my nightstand. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” In my past life, I had always wondered why he never investigated who drugged him. I just assumed it happened while he was out and he was too embarrassed to talk about it. I never knew he thought it was me. No wonder he hated me so much. Hated me enough to want to burn our parents alive just to make me suffer. Hated me enough that he couldn’t even bear the thought of my child—his child, growing inside me for six months—taking its first breath. A bitter taste filled my mouth, and my eyes stung. “Believe what you want. But it wasn’t me.” Just then, the door to Caleb’s room opened. Sophie peeked out, wearing one of his button-down shirts, looking like a startled little rabbit. “Caleb… is Kate mad at me?” 3 Caleb’s eyes shot me a warning look. “Kate wouldn’t do that,” he said, his voice softening as he looked at Sophie. “She’ll only wish us the best.” “He’s right, sister-in-law,” I said, forcing a smile. “You rescued my brother. I’ll speak to Mom and Dad for you, I’ll get them to agree to the wedding.” A flash of glee crossed Sophie’s face. Caleb’s eyes narrowed, filled with suspicion and doubt. What was there to doubt? He was willing to die for her. Even if she was a manipulative monster, I wouldn’t risk my parents’ safety for anything. “Don’t make things difficult for your aunt and uncle,” Sophie said, her voice soft and demure. “I know I’m not good enough for Caleb. I just want to be by his side.” So, that’s the type he likes. The green-tea bitch type. No wonder he never loved me. Caleb wrapped a protective arm around her. When he wasn’t looking, Sophie shot me a triumphant smirk. “Kate,” she cooed, “your brother… he ripped my clothes. Could I borrow something of yours?” “What about that dress I bought you last month?” Caleb said, not looking at me. “I’ve never seen you wear it. If you don’t like it, just give it to Sophie.” That was his birthday present to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it; he knew perfectly well I cherished it too much to wear it. He wanted to take back a gift he’d given me. My heart gave a painful little flutter, but the feeling quickly subsided. Sophie put on my dress and twirled around beautifully. Ignoring me completely, she threw her arms around Caleb, pouting and asking if she looked pretty. It didn’t bother me. This time, all I wanted was for my parents and me to live. My parents were on vacation for two weeks. The day they returned, Caleb immediately announced his intention to marry Sophie. When I got home, the floor was littered with the shards of a shattered teacup. My mother was grim-faced, rubbing my father’s back soothingly. Caleb sat opposite them, his expression unreadable. “Mom! Dad!” I ran over and threw myself into their arms, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. Their faces instantly softened. “Look at you, still such a child,” Dad said, ruffling my hair. Mom pulled me onto the sofa beside them. “Your brother wants to marry his secretary. What do you think, Kate?” my father asked. He doted on me the most. Caleb’s gaze, cold and distant, shifted to me as well. “I think it’s wonderful. Sophie and Caleb are a perfect match.” My mother’s brow furrowed. “Do you really think so?” “Mom, Caleb is twenty-six. He has the right to choose his own happiness. We should support him.” What good would it do to object? We couldn’t stop him anyway. Seeing my parents were still hesitant, I continued. “It doesn’t matter if you like Sophie or not. Caleb likes her. After they’re married, we can live separately. I’ll stay with you and Dad forever.” My words seemed to ease their tension. I quickly shot Caleb a meaningful look. It was a silent signal we’d had since childhood. Whenever he wanted something our parents disapproved of, I was the one who would smooth things over before he made his case. “Mom, Dad, after Sophie and I are married, we’ll take good care of you. Please, give us your blessing.” Seeing Caleb kneel solemnly on the floor, I added my own pleas. With no room left for negotiation, my parents finally, reluctantly, agreed. Caleb got his wish. He would marry Sophie. The tragedy of my past life shouldn’t repeat itself now. My clenched fists slowly relaxed. After my parents went to their room to rest, I returned to mine. I had just opened my journal to write when the door was suddenly thrown open. I looked up. It was Caleb. His eyes fell on my open journal, and his face instantly darkened. I had barely stood up before his hand was clamped around my neck. “Kate, are you still writing down those filthy thoughts you have about me?” His hand was large, his grip tightening. I couldn’t breathe. “What… are you… saying?” I choked out. Caleb snatched the journal. “Isn’t this the same kind of diary you used as a teenager to document your incestuous feelings for me?” He had read my diary. He had dared to read my private thoughts. Rage and humiliation burned through me. I clawed at his hand, wrenching it free. I grabbed the journal and threw it at his chest. “What is wrong with you? Isn’t it enough that I’m letting you have her?” I screamed. “It was my mistake to love you! I don’t love you anymore! What more do you want?” I rarely got angry with him. He seemed stunned. “You love reading my diary so much? Then read it!” I sobbed. “I am writing about a man in there. It’s just not you.” With that, I shoved him aside and ran out of the room. 4 “You really agreed to date my brother? You’re really going to be my sister-in-law?” Mia’s shriek in the middle of the coffee shop turned several heads. I quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. “I ran into him the other day,” I mumbled, my face flushing. “We just… hit it off.” Mia rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Spill. You turned my brother down last time he asked you out. How did you two get together?” Mia’s brother, Leo Harrison, had indeed confessed his feelings for me six months ago. Back then, my world revolved around Caleb, and I had rejected him. This time, after I was reborn, I was determined to correct my past mistakes. But at home, Caleb and Sophie were a constant presence, their sickeningly sweet displays a daily torture. Sophie never missed an opportunity to flaunt her ownership of him. Even though I retreated again and again, assuring her I had no designs on Caleb, it was useless. I had no choice but to escape. One night, feeling miserable, I went to a bar. I had a few too many drinks and was cornered by some creep outside the restroom. Just as tears of panic started to well in my eyes, Leo appeared out of nowhere and laid the guy out with a single punch. When he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my tears, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Leo, you’re like a character out of an old movie. Who even carries a handkerchief anymore?” He just shook the plaid cloth in his hand. “Do you have any idea how expensive this piece of fabric is?” “It’s not as convenient as a tissue,” I teased. He sighed and nodded in agreement, then tossed the priceless handkerchief into the trash. “Whatever Kate says, goes.” Mia used to complain that her brother wasn’t as cool and refined as mine, that he was more like a reckless playboy. But that “playboy” had taken over the Harrison family business and, in just three years, nearly doubled the company’s market value, earning him a fearsome reputation in Chicago’s business world. That little handkerchief brought us closer. Whenever I was in a bad mood, I would text him, and he always managed to say something strange and unexpected that would make me laugh. In this new life, the most relaxed I ever felt was when I was talking to Leo. “I thought CEOs were supposed to be busy. How do you have time to chat with me all day?” I texted him once. He replied almost instantly. “Because it’s you on the other end. I don’t want to make you wait a second longer than you have to. I’ve basically been holding my phone 24/7 these past few days.” Was this what it felt like to be loved? It was a feeling Caleb had never given me. This time, I wanted to know what it was like. I agreed to give things a try with Leo. I’ve kept a diary since I was a child. The man in my recent entries was him. I don’t know if Caleb read it or not. When I returned home, the diary was sitting neatly on my desk. Caleb was gone for several days. I took the opportunity to tell my parents about my relationship with the heir to the Harrison fortune. I made them promise to come live with me after I was married. They nodded indulgently, as if humoring a child, but I didn’t care. They had agreed. They had to stay by my side. That night, Caleb brought Sophie home for dinner. Dressed in designer clothes, she almost managed to look elegant. The mood at the table was tense, but thankfully, there were no major blow-ups. After dinner, we were all sitting in the living room. “Caleb, Sophie,” my father began, “we won’t object to your marriage, but there are some things we need to make clear beforehand.” Caleb’s gaze kept drifting to me, making me deeply uncomfortable. Sophie sat up straight, her eyes gleaming as she looked at my father. “Caleb is getting married, and Kate has a boyfriend now. To avoid any future conflicts, I’m telling you both now: the Vance family assets will be split equally between the two of you.” Before Caleb could say anything, Sophie blurted out, “That’s not fair! Kate is a daughter, after all. She’ll be marrying into another family. That’s basically just handing over our family’s wealth to outsiders!” My mother, who had barely looked at Sophie all evening, spoke up, her voice dripping with ice. “You’re not even married into this family yet, and you’re already trying to call the shots. Isn’t it a bit early for that?” I looked at Caleb. He was looking at me, a strange smile playing on his lips. “Maybe Kate’s boyfriend is only with her for our family’s money.” He pulled Sophie closer. “I agree. A 50/50 split isn’t fair.” Sophie snuggled against him. “Kate is the adopted one. I don’t mind supporting her for the rest of her life. She can marry whoever she wants and continue to live here.” My parents’ faces turned terrifyingly grim. I saw my father’s shoulders begin to tremble slightly. “Who told you Kate was adopted?” my father’s voice was dangerously low. “The one who was adopted… was you.”

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1 Only after the System reactivated did I learn that my seemingly simple wife was, in fact, a master of disguise with a hidden empire. The mob boss who had kidnapped me and scarred my face for life? That was her. The wealthiest person in the country, the one who orchestrated my family’s bankruptcy? Also her. And the brilliant surgeon my mother begged for until her dying day, the one who refused to operate? Still her. I was just a pawn in the twisted game she played with the family’s true heir. Before I left this world, I made one final request of the System: “Release all of Amelia Bennett’s secret identities and criminal evidence to the public.” I wanted her to know what it felt like to be played for a fool. I clutched the cold, heavy urn, my heart a numb, hollow space. Soft arms wrapped around my waist from behind. “Nathan,” Amelia whispered, her voice a gentle caress, the perfect imitation of a caring, devoted wife. “If you need to cry, I’m here for you.” How ironic. She was also the one who had promised to perform the life-saving brain surgery on my mother, only to back out the day before, leaving her to die. My mother’s killer. I silently placed the urn on the ground. To my left stood my father’s headstone. After the Chen Corporation’s finances began to crumble, it was Amelia, in her guise as the nation’s richest tycoon, who had delivered the final, fatal blow. My father, overwhelmed by grief and stress, died of a cerebral hemorrhage. “Host,” the System’s voice echoed in my mind, “Amelia’s affection meter is almost full. Are you sure you want to exit this world?” The thought was laughable. When I first entered this world, the System went dormant. I was an adopted son, but I had lived with the Chen family for over twenty years. They were my true parents in every way that mattered. Amelia knew this. She knew how much I loved them, yet she destroyed them without a second thought. How could she possibly love me? “Confirm,” I replied without hesitation. The System sounded regretful. “Exit sequence initiated. T-minus three days.” The sharp sound of clapping cut through the somber air. A man in a garish floral shirt and shorts swaggered over, his hair slicked back. “Good riddance,” he sneered. “A truly wonderful day for a celebration.” Rage ignited within me. “What the hell are you doing, wearing that to my mother’s funeral?” The man, Nicky, let out a derisive snort and ripped the surgical mask from my face. My reflection stared back at him from his sunglasses—a hideous tapestry of crisscrossing scars. “An ugly freak like you shouldn’t be here, shaming her memory. She probably can’t even rest in peace.” The phantom pain of a blade slicing through my flesh returned, a chilling memory. My hands began to tremble. I clenched them into tight fists, refusing to show any weakness. Amelia rose onto her tiptoes and cupped my scarred face in her hands. “Nathan,” she murmured, her eyes soft and full of a gentle light. “In my eyes, you’ll always be the most handsome man in the world.” Her gaze was so tender. A stark contrast to the cold, cruel eyes of the woman who had held the knife to my face. I shoved her away with a guttural roar. “Don’t touch me!” She froze, her hands hovering in the air. Nicky’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a thief who stole my place. You have no shame. Getting your face ruined was exactly what you deserved.” I bit down hard on my lip. Nicky’s disappearance as a child had been a tragic accident. My adoptive parents had never stopped looking for him. They had taken me in out of pity, a moment of compassion for an abandoned child. When they finally found him, they had tried to give him everything, to make up for all the lost years. I had moved out of the family home voluntarily, not wanting to make things difficult for them. But Nicky was relentless. The Chen Corporation fell because he had whispered in Amelia’s ear, “Amelia, I hate the Chens. Destroy them for me.” My mother died without her surgery because he had said, “Amelia, that old woman is the reason I suffered for so long. You’re not allowed to save her.” Even Amelia’s kidnapping of me had been at his command. A small, soft hand covered my clenched fist. Amelia’s eyes were gentle. “Nathan, no matter what happens, I will always love you. Let’s go home, okay?” My lips pressed into a thin line. I remembered the System telling me that Nicky had originally wanted to break my arms and legs, to cripple me completely. It was Amelia who had intervened. She had suggested disfiguring my face instead. Was that love? “Amelia, I need to talk to you. Come with me.” With just one sentence from Nicky, she let go of my hand. “Nathan, you go home first. I’ll just be a minute.” 2 Their figures quickly disappeared from view. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and lowered my gaze. “System, make me invisible. I’m following them.” The gates of the estate, wrought from solid gold, were an ostentatious display of wealth that shocked even me, someone who was no stranger to the lavish lifestyles of the rich. “Host,” the System informed me, “this estate was Amelia’s birthday gift to Nicky last year. It’s valued at six hundred million.” I felt a pang of something I couldn’t name. In the high-society circles, everyone knew that the long-lost daughter the Bennetts had found was a beautiful but vapid country girl. If it weren’t for a debt of gratitude my family owed hers, I never would have married her. By a strange twist of fate, she turned out to be my target. On my birthday last year, she had shyly handed me a bouquet of flowers. “Nathan, I bought these with the money I earned from a month of working part-time. I hope you don’t mind.” The flowers, worth maybe three hundred dollars, were nothing compared to the other extravagant gifts I received. But not wanting to hurt her feelings, I, a grown man, held onto that bouquet for the entire party. Now, looking at the exotic plants in this garden, each one worth tens of thousands, that simple bouquet felt like a cruel joke. I walked into the villa, my face a stoic mask. Nicky had Amelia pinned against the sofa, kissing her hungrily. He held the back of her head, his breathing ragged. “Amelia, divorce him. Marry me.” The System clicked its tongue. “Host, do you think she’ll agree?” I smirked. The answer was obvious. They had grown up together in an orphanage. Over the years, Amelia had professed her love for him ninety-nine times. Now that her devotion was finally being returned, how could she possibly refuse? But to my surprise, Amelia hesitated. Her face was still flushed from his kisses. “Nicky, just wait a little longer. Nathan has just lost everything. I’m afraid this would be too much for him.” My heart stopped for a beat. Nicky leaned in, their noses touching. “Amelia, I’m only giving you one chance. If you don’t agree, I’m leaving your company. And I’m marrying Scarlett.” I had almost forgotten. Amelia had started an entire talent agency just for Nicky, paving his way to the top of the entertainment industry. As for Scarlett, she was the CEO of a rival company and one of Nicky’s most ardent admirers. Amelia immediately threw her arms around his neck and kissed him without a second thought. “I won’t let you marry another woman!” He nibbled on her lip. “Then call Nathan right now. Tell him you’re divorcing him tomorrow.” She reluctantly got up and dialed my number. I silently switched my phone to silent mode. Hearing the unanswered ringtone, Amelia frowned. She tapped a few things on her phone, then shot to her feet. “Oh no! Nathan is in this villa!” I frowned. Could she see me? Nicky frowned too. “Amelia, how do you know where he is?” Her expression was grave. “I installed a tracking program on his phone to monitor him.” The System scanned my phone and, sure enough, found a suspicious program. Installation date: our wedding day. “Host, I forgot to mention, Amelia is also a world-class hacker. I’ve already removed the program.” A cold wind seemed to blow through the hollow space in my chest. “What? The signal is gone!” Amelia’s face was a mask of a panic I had never seen before. “Nicky, I have to go home and check on him!” She rushed out, nearly tripping in her high heels. Nicky shouted after her, “Amelia! Don’t forget you promised to divorce him!” I took a deep breath. “System, take me home.” After the Chen family’s bankruptcy, “home” was a tiny apartment, less than five hundred square feet. “Nathan!” Amelia burst through the door, her face frantic. When she saw me sitting quietly on the sofa, she let out a sigh of relief. She turned on the light. 3 “Why are you sitting in the dark? I thought you weren’t here. You didn’t answer your phone. I was so worried.” I managed a faint smile. “We’re bankrupt now. Trying to save on electricity. My phone… I dropped it down a storm drain on the way back from the cemetery. It’s probably broken.” The tension in her body finally dissipated. She sat down next to me, leaning into my arms. “It’s okay. We’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” I changed the subject. “You called me. Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Her body tensed again. “Nathan… let’s get a divorce tomorrow.” “Okay.” She sat up straight, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her voice was strained. “You’re not going to ask why?” I suddenly wanted to hear what kind of lie she would spin this time. “Why?” I asked, playing along. She hesitated, then stammered, “You know… Mom always felt she owed Nicky… Before she passed, she made me promise to make a home with him.” It was probably the worst acting performance of her life. Her eyes darted around, and a sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead. But I didn’t call her out on it. “I see.” She opened her mouth to say more, but I couldn’t stand the scent of Nicky’s cloying cologne on her any longer. I couldn’t understand what she saw in that greasy, effeminate man. “Is there anything else?” She chewed on her lip for a moment, then lowered her head. “I have to go. I won’t be staying with you tonight.” I wasn’t surprised. Since my family’s downfall, she had been spending every night with him. I was used to the cold, empty nights. The next day, the divorce was finalized quickly. As we walked out of the city hall, Amelia’s eyes were filled with guilt. “Nathan, I’m sorry. If you ever need anything, you can always call me.” I gave a noncommittal nod. “Amelia, let’s go get our license,” Nicky said, draping his arm possessively around her. She instinctively glanced at my face. I smiled. “Don’t forget to take off our wedding rings.” She froze. Nicky smirked, pulled the ring from her finger, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “You’re right. Garbage should be thrown out as soon as possible.” I ignored his taunt and walked away. On the way home, the System warned me, “Host, Nicky is angry that you ignored him. He’s told Amelia to kidnap and ‘teach you a lesson’ again.” I laughed softly. I had nothing left to lose. A familiar, dull pain exploded at the back of my head. I woke up in the cemetery. My body was weak, probably from being drugged again. Behind me, I felt a familiar, cold presence, like a snake coiling in the dark. “Mr. Chen. We meet again.” She wore a mask and used a voice changer, but I knew. It was Amelia. Who would have thought that the gentle, fragile woman was also the city’s most feared and ruthless mob boss? A cold blade pressed against my neck. This time, my heart didn’t pound with fear. I let out a cold laugh. “Last time it was my face. What is it this time? Are you going to kill me?” My lack of fear seemed to surprise her. After a moment, she chuckled. “Mr. Chen, you’ve angered the wrong person. I brought you here to watch a little show.” She dragged me to my mother’s grave. I watched as she picked up the urn, and my pupils constricted. “What are you doing?” “Nothing much. Just scattering your parents’ ashes.” It was like being struck by lightning. I fought with all my might, but my limbs were useless. I didn’t care about her and Nicky. My heart was already dead to her. But my family… they were the last soft spot in my heart. “Do whatever you want to me!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Just don’t touch their ashes!” She paused, but then she opened the urn.

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1 The darling of New York’s elite social circles developed psychosomatic mutism after being dumped by a scholarship student. Her mother, the matriarch of the Reeves family, made an announcement: anyone who could get her daughter to speak again would receive a million dollars. I pushed past a crowd of suitors all trying to coax her with gentle words. “This is a far cry from last night, isn’t it?” I drawled. “When you were screaming ‘Daddy’ in my bed.” “I did not!” The words flew out of Isabelle Reeves’s mouth before she could stop them. Her mother instantly wired a million dollars to my account. I was over the moon. I started following Isabelle around every day, teasing her, raking in a fortune. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t hit me, and in her frustration, she found another way to shut me up—with her own mouth. Overnight, my job title went from “Princess’s Companion” to “Heiress’s Official Boyfriend.” Every time I’d drop a risqué comment, she’d demand a physical rebuttal until I didn’t dare say another word. Then, just before our wedding, her first love—the one who’d been beaten down by the real world—came back. That night, Isabelle didn’t come home. I took the half-empty box of Durex and the savings I’d amassed over ten years, and I walked out of our penthouse. The condoms, I had delivered to them. The savings, I used to buy a one-way ticket back home. … Isabelle Reeves had never met a man with grit. Jimmy Croft, who had worked his way through an elite university abroad on a scholarship, never bowed to the rich and powerful. For Isabelle, a woman who had everything, that kind of defiance was devastatingly attractive. I considered trying to win her over myself, to make her fall for me instead. But Isabelle had seen too many silver-spoon princes. There was no substitute for the rugged, resilient scholarship student. I was poor too, but my unabashed love for money was a turn-off for her. As the princess’s official companion, my high-paying job was on the line now that she had retreated into silence on the other side of the world. So, I took the initiative and sought out Jimmy, hoping to befriend him. As the only two “have-nots” in a sea of “haves” at our university, he was warmer to me than to the trust-fund kids. But the moment I asked, “Could you go see Isabelle?” he threw a glass of wine in my face. “I can’t believe you’re one of her lapdogs too! Leo, have you no integrity? Can’t you see that wealth can’t corrupt the virtuous, and poverty can’t shake the determined? Will you die if you don’t grovel at that princess’s feet?” I wiped my face, unfazed. He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t have his backbone. My entire reason for getting close to him was the money. I’d endured far worse than a splash of wine in my pursuit of a paycheck. But Jimmy refused to see me again. That was a problem. Isabelle had no interest in the wealthy princes trying to “heal her with love.” And she had even less interest in a money-grubber like me. But her mother’s offer only said she’d pay a million to anyone who could make her talk. It didn’t specify the method. So I dropped my bombshell in public. “This is a far cry from last night, isn’t it? When you were screaming ‘Daddy’ in my bed.” “You’re lying!” Everyone froze. Isabelle stared, her face flushing crimson as she lowered her head in shame. But I had it all on video. Her mother called me immediately. “Leo, I knew I wasn’t wrong about you. Sending you to America with her was the right call. Keep it up. For every additional word she says, I’ll give you another million. If you can cure her completely, I’ll give you a hundred million.” My eyes lit up. I hugged my phone, kissing the screen as I stared at the new million-dollar balance in my account. My unorthodox methods made me famous in our circles. Families with children suffering from depression or anxiety started seeking me out. My shock-jock approach was surprisingly effective. The moment I’d drop a risqué line, even the most withdrawn heiress would flush and snap, “I did not!” And so, under the stunned gazes of onlookers, the blushing faces of parents, and the mortified expressions of the young ladies, I would graciously accept my payment. None of them paid as well as Isabelle’s mother, though. After that public humiliation, however, Isabelle clammed up again. I followed her around with my phone, replaying the video, teasing her from every angle, but she wouldn’t say another word. Her eyes would turn red with frustration, but her lips remained sealed. I sighed dramatically. “You really don’t want me to earn a single cent, do you? Good thing I have other clients…” I answered a call from a new prospect. She stopped in her tracks. This new client was in a hurry and offered me a twenty percent bonus. With no sign of Isabelle speaking anytime soon, I turned to leave. A voice came from behind me. I spun around. “What did you say?” She bit her lip, her eyes red as she glared at me. But no matter how much I prodded, she stayed silent. Just as I was about to turn off the recording, she spoke again. It was a whisper, but perfectly clear. “Don’t go…” I immediately sent the video to her mother with a two-word message: “Pay up.” Isabelle turned to walk away. I pressed my advantage, rushing after her. “What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite hear you. Could you say it again? Just like you did last night, when you were choking me and begging me to say it…” Passersby stared in shock. Isabelle picked up her pace. “Sweetheart, don’t walk so fast! Or I won’t let you cry in my arms tonight!” She nearly stumbled. The princess had never been subjected to such public scrutiny. Seeing me still recording, still spouting nonsense, she desperately came up with a solution— She shut me up with her mouth. 2 This time, I was the one left speechless. Even after she pulled away, I was dumbstruck. But she was talking. Her words were still a bit shaky. “Do you… do you say those… things to… to them, too?” I slowly raised my phone. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” “Stop filming!” She slapped my phone down. “How… how much are they paying you?” I hesitated, unsure if I should reveal my trade secrets. She shoved a black card into my hand. “I… I have money.” She hadn’t spoken in so long that her words came out slower than they used to. But her mother was ecstatic. A ten-million-dollar wire transfer hit my account instantly. “Keep it up, Leo. Get her back to her old debate-team form, and I’ll add a bonus.” I was thrilled. But Isabelle quickly threw a bucket of cold water on my plans. After giving me the black card, she stopped speaking again. Her final instruction to me was, “You… you’re only allowed to say those things… to me.” So, she’d bought exclusive rights to my dirty jokes. It seemed I wouldn’t be earning that hundred million after all. But, on the bright side, Isabelle’s black card had no limit. And after her mother saw the video of her kissing me, my monthly “allowance” of five hundred thousand dollars was raised to a million. Long-term, it wasn’t a bad deal. 3 On graduation day, I ran into Jimmy again. He was wandering through job fairs, résumé in hand. The other princes and princesses from our elite university had family businesses waiting for them. Only he had to pound the pavement, hustling for a high-paying job. He glanced at the luxury shopping bags in my hands and sneered. “I hear you’ve stooped to serving that little princess.” I didn’t bother answering and turned to leave. “Leo!” he called out, his voice laced with a strange, bitter anger. “Do you really think a girl from a family like that sees you as a person? To put it nicely, you’re her ‘boyfriend.’ To put it bluntly, you went from being the princess’s companion to being her boy toy!” I turned back. “I know.” “You—!” “Are you looking for a job?” I asked brightly. “Want me to put in a good word for you? Great pay, easy work, three-day weekends, full benefits~” “I don’t need your help!” he spat, shooting me a look of utter disappointment. “I’m not like you, content to debase myself! I’ll find my own way!” He stormed off, leaving me standing there. I touched my own face. Where else was I going to find a job that paid a million dollars a month to sleep with a stunningly beautiful woman with killer curves and a passionate nature? I wanted to earn a respectable living too. But not everyone gets to be respectable. All the talk about being cheap or a social climber meant nothing compared to the simple comfort of knowing where my next meal was coming from. If Isabelle ever got tired of me, at least I’d have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. In a way, wasn’t that its own kind of success? I just never expected her to “play” with me all the way to the altar. When the engagement ring slipped onto her finger, I thought I was dreaming. Isabelle still didn’t talk much. The doctors said her stress-induced speech trauma might be permanent. The few sentences I’d managed to squeeze out of her were already a miracle. It turned out she had channeled all her unspoken words into an insatiable desire in the bedroom every night. It turned out she had been confessing her love through her actions for ten years. I held the bouquet of roses. I thought, Maybe I’ve stumbled into the real thing. A blind squirrel finding a nut. But at a party after our engagement, I saw Jimmy for the first time in years. 4 The seams on Jimmy’s suit were frayed, making him stick out like a sore thumb among the expensive couture of the city’s elite. I’d heard the company he’d finally landed a job at was on the verge of bankruptcy. He’d had a few girlfriends over the past decade, but they all ended for the same reason: money. He had pulled a lot of strings just to get an invitation to this business summit with the Reeves Corporation. His eyes twitched when he saw the engagement ring on my finger. “You and Isabelle?” I nodded. His companion nudged him. “You know him?” “Know him?” Jimmy smirked, uncorking a bottle of wine. “He’s the one who stole my girlfriend.” A cascade of cold wine drenched me, sending a shiver through my body. His friends were shocked. “Jimmy! What the hell is going on?” Jimmy lifted his chin. “My girlfriend was Isabelle Reeves.” “What?!” He savored my humiliation. “Leo, you’re cheaper than a ten-dollar whore.” I wiped my face. And picked up a bottle of wine. Unopened. I smashed it over his head. Glass shards and red wine rained down from his hair. He clutched his bleeding head and screamed, “Are you insane?!” I looked down on him. “That day you threw wine on me, I didn’t retaliate, because that was between us. But now, Isabelle is my fiancée. You’re spreading rumors about the man she’s going to marry. I’m not going to be so nice this time.” His face went pale. The memory of that first wine-throwing incident had given him an unearned confidence, making him walk around like he owned me for the rest of our university days. “You think you can do whatever you want now that you’ve latched onto my ex-girlfriend?” Jimmy gritted out. “If I hadn’t left her, do you think you would have had a chance? A boy toy, played with by a rich girl for ten years. You really think you’re some kind of tycoon now?” His face was a mask of pure mockery. The guests had stopped to watch. Isabelle’s mysterious boyfriend had always been a hot topic of gossip. But she never revealed any information about me. Some speculated I was the scion of a mysterious foreign dynasty; others guessed I was the long-lost heir of a powerful family. Jimmy’s single word—”boy toy”—shattered all their illusions. Just as the humiliation was becoming unbearable, Isabelle appeared. She took my hand, the matching diamond on her ring finger glittering brightly. With that one gesture, everyone knew whose side she was on. Jimmy’s face went white. At this crucial moment, just as everyone was about to dig into my background, Isabelle, who cherished every word, spoke. “He… is my… fiancé.” Her speech was slightly halting, but her tone was firm. The crowd immediately turned their disdainful gazes on Jimmy. “I know him. He’s some low-level manager at a small firm. Couldn’t keep a girlfriend to save his life. I think he’s the one who wants to be Ms. Reeves’s boy toy.” “Hah. Her fiancé of ten years is just a ‘boy toy’ in his eyes? The nerve of some people.” Jimmy wanted to argue, but his face just turned a deeper shade of red. Isabelle took me home. To reward her, I cooked a feast. But Isabelle didn’t touch her food. She was glued to her phone. When I urged her to eat, she showed me an urgent company document and left. She didn’t know her laptop was still open. And on the screen, I saw that she had just accepted Jimmy’s friend request.

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My mother, Eleanor, dropped a bomb in the family group chat: she was bringing home a foster daughter. This girl, Isabelle, claimed to be a brilliant, underprivileged student recommended by a prestigious charity foundation. What she didn’t know was that my entire family could now hear my innermost thoughts. So, as Isabelle tried everything she could to win over my father, I stood by, thinking to myself: If Dad knew she was actually Mom’s illegitimate daughter with her secret lover, he’d probably have a heart attack. 1 In my past life, after Isabelle came to live with us, my family showered her with affection. Me? I was assaulted by thugs she hired and left to die in a corporate parking garage. Only in my final moments did the truth dawn on me: she was the daughter of my mother and her long-time lover. My mother, Eleanor, would never have married my father if he hadn’t been a self-made man who founded the Sterling Group from nothing. After their wedding, her single-minded obsession became seizing the family fortune and leaving my father with nothing. Everything was going according to her plan. But then, I was reborn. I woke up on the exact day my mother brought Isabelle home. “From now on, Isabelle is your little sister. You need to take good care of her, alright?” Mom said, a warm smile plastered on her face. Isabelle hid behind her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, the very picture of pitiable innocence. It was this same damsel-in-distress act that had wrapped my entire family around her little finger in my last life. My father’s face softened into a kind smile as he saw her, and he reached out to draw her closer. I sneered internally. Heh. My mother’s daughter with her secret lover. If Dad knew, I wonder if he’d just have a heart attack on the spot? My father’s hand froze in mid-air. He glanced around the living room, as if searching for the source of the voice. The house staff were all in the kitchen preparing dinner. It was just the four of us. Finally, his gaze landed on me. “Claire? Was that you who just spoke?” Seeing my blank, confused expression, he started to reach for Isabelle again. I thought silently, If he knew the truth, he would flip this house upside down. He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned. In my previous life, my father had doted on Isabelle. He never imagined that his affection would be the very thing that destroyed our entire family. Seeing my father retract his hand, Isabelle’s face immediately crumpled into a mask of hurt. Tears welled in her eyes as she tugged on my mother’s sleeve. “Aunt Eleanor,” she whispered, “does… does Uncle not like me?” My mother stroked her hair, her voice dripping with sympathy. “Don’t be silly. Now that you’re here, you’re my own daughter. You’re part of this family. Don’t you worry.” With that, she ordered the housekeeper to prepare a guest room. “Aunt Eleanor, that room is so beautiful,” Isabelle said, pointing toward the second floor. She was pointing at my suite—the entire floor was mine, complete with a terrace filled with my favorite roses. In the May air, they were in full, glorious bloom, their fragrance filling the house. My mother nodded, then turned to me. “Isabelle grew up in an orphanage. You’re the older sister, Claire. You should let her have it.” I didn’t say a word, but I couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought from bubbling up. So that’s why Mom’s been ignoring me lately. She was too busy taking care of my new “sister.” My mother couldn’t hear my thoughts, but my father heard every single word. His face darkened. He stopped the housekeeper, who was already heading upstairs. “That is Claire’s suite. Who gave you permission to make decisions for her?” “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling! I just thought the room was beautiful, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” Isabelle was quick on her feet, immediately playing the part of the contrite victim. Before I could even speak, she had launched into a one-woman drama. This was her signature move. In my past life, it made my father pity her, while I was chastised for being selfish for not wanting to give up my own room. Isabelle sobbed. “Please don’t be angry, Uncle. It’s my fault. I grew up in an orphanage, I’ve just… I’ve never seen such a beautiful room before…” Watching her, a wave of familiar frustration washed over me. Here we go again. Dad’s going to get angry with me. I guess I should just give it to her. But… he’s the one who designed that room just for me. My father looked at me, a flicker of pain in his eyes. He remembered. The room was his gift for my thirteenth birthday, a custom design he’d commissioned himself. Back then, the company was just starting out, and he was drowning in stress, his brow constantly furrowed with worry. I had learned to bake a cake just to surprise him and see him smile. He was remembering that. 2 “Who are you, a stranger, to claim my daughter’s suite? That room belongs to Claire,” my father said, his voice ice. He then instructed the butler to clear out the storage room in the basement for her. Isabelle was stunned, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She bit her lip, fresh tears welling up instantly. Grew up in an orphanage? I scoffed internally. The moment my mother got her hands on the first investment return from my father’s startup, she bought Isabelle an entire wardrobe of luxury goods. Her old flame was in some kind of trouble, which is the only reason Mom brought her here—to push us all out. She had told my father I was too introverted and needed a sister for company. In reality, it was all a meticulously crafted plan to drive my family out and seize control of the Sterling Group. My father was a workaholic, obsessed with growing the company. He was completely blind to it. But this time, I was here to ruin her perfect plan. My mother grew anxious and grabbed my father’s arm. “Darling, Isabelle has had no one to care for her. It’s only natural she’d want a nice place to live. Why are you so upset?” Just then, he heard my voice in his head again. Mom’s old flame has a lot of connections in the city. It wouldn’t be smart to have a full-blown confrontation right now. My father visibly suppressed his anger, turning to take my hand and lead me away. Mom started to say something but stopped herself. Dad was rarely home, so this was her prime opportunity to have Isabelle charm him. But my father’s patience was gone, his mind now a storm of suspicion. My mother and Isabelle exchanged a look, probably wondering how my straightforward, unsuspecting father had suddenly become so sharp. Inside his study, my father pulled me close, his expression serious. “Claire, what’s wrong?” “Huh?” I feigned ignorance, but my mind was racing. Don’t tell me he’s starting to believe them? Well, he fell for their act completely in the last life. It led to the ruin of our entire family. His expression grew even darker, a hint of fury now coloring his features. He stood up, ready to confront my mother, but I quickly grabbed his hand. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Instead, my thoughts did the talking. No, I can’t let him confront her now. If they get desperate, who knows what they’ll do? I need him to find hard evidence on her old flame first. Something concrete. My father paused. He looked at me for a long moment, then patted my shoulder and left the room. Just like in my last life, Isabelle acted impeccably behaved and diligent after moving in. She practically tripped over herself to do chores, quickly winning over the household staff. She stood respectfully by my mother’s side, looking at me with a face full of envy as she spoke to my father. “Claire is so lucky. Unlike me… I only know how to do simple things like serve coffee.” The cup in my hand trembled, and I pulled back as if shocked, lowering my head. It’s all my fault. But if I started doing the butler’s job, what would we be paying him for? I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. It’s my fault. I… I won’t drink this coffee.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father glaring at Isabelle, his face a mask of stone. Isabelle, however, thought my father was impressed with her humility and lowered her head shyly. I hid a cold smile. She sidled up to my father. “Uncle, please don’t blame Claire. She’s had people waiting on her since she was a little girl…” “That’s enough!” My father finally snapped. He slammed his coffee cup down on the table, making Isabelle jump. “Un-Uncle… please don’t be angry. Claire just…” Even now, she had no idea why he was furious, still thinking he was about to defend her. On the surface, she was putting on a show, but inside, she was probably thrilled. My father shot her a glacial look. “I don’t care what games you’re playing, but now that you’re here, you will behave yourself. Stop the theatrics.” He threw a glare at my mother, then turned and stormed out. Isabelle’s eyes were wide with bewilderment. Once my father was gone, my mother anxiously pulled Isabelle aside, whispering urgently. “What happened? You told me he was an oblivious workaholic who wouldn’t suspect a thing!” My mother was just as confused. My father had always been gentle and easygoing with her, at least until Isabelle arrived. She racked her brain and concluded that he must be having trouble at the office. “It’s fine. As long as you’re in this house, you’ll have your chances. The most important thing now is to deal with Claire. The Sterlings have arranged a marriage for her with the Crestwood family—they’re the wealthiest family in the city. All we need to do is ruin her reputation.” “Then you can take her place. The Sterling Group will be ours.” Crestwood Industries was the pinnacle of high society. Becoming the young mistress of the Crestwood family meant unlimited wealth and status. As my mother spoke, a greedy light shone in her eyes. Isabelle’s mouth hung open, her gaze distant, as if she could already see herself as Mrs. Crestwood. She nodded vigorously. In my past life, I was so sheltered that I never suspected my sudden “sister.” I not only deferred to her in everything but also covered for her mistakes. Under my mother’s constant persuasion, I truly came to see her as my own flesh and blood. But they were vipers. They destroyed my family, killed the man I loved, and ultimately consumed the entire Sterling Group. Watching her lost in her fantasy, my nails dug unconsciously into my palms. Did she really think this life would be just as easy? 3 My 24th birthday was in a few days. My father had booked the penthouse suite at the city’s most luxurious five-star hotel for a lavish party, inviting a host of business tycoons and socialites. Isabelle had been remarkably quiet lately, no longer trying to get my father’s attention. She had clearly sensed his coldness and decided to stop wasting her time. David Crestwood was my childhood friend. We grew up together, and we were in love. He founded his own company right after graduation, promising to give me the world. But in my past life, Isabelle drugged my drink at this very party, causing me to be dishonored. The scandal ultimately led David to die of a broken heart. Seeing him again now, I could barely hold back the tears. Before I could pull myself together, Isabelle had already pushed her way to his side. Her eyes raked over him with an aggressive gleam. “You must be Mr. Crestwood. I’ve heard so much about your success. It’s an honor to finally meet such a prodigy.” This was how she’d approached him last time, too. David, like me, was young and innocent, unversed in the world’s darker games. While he had been dismissive of her in our past life, he never truly saw her as a threat. But Isabelle was relentless, and her unrequited love eventually twisted into a vengeful hatred that destroyed him. I remained silent, but my thoughts were a frantic storm: Oh no, she’s starting already. David is so guileless. What if he falls for her tricks? I could feel David’s gaze fixed on me. He frowned slightly, a hint of confusion in his eyes. Isabelle has been targeting me from the start. Mom treats her like her real daughter and ignores me completely. What am I supposed to do? If only David knew she was the reason we both died in our past life. He would lose his mind. David’s expression turned to ice. Isabelle, completely oblivious, prattled on. “Mr. Crestwood, I read your company’s project proposal. It’s absolutely brilliant. I love studying financial projects. I’ve heard, however, that Claire isn’t very interested in such things…” Before she could finish, David roughly shoved her away. “Get lost!” This was a side of David I had never seen. He was always so gentle and polite. This was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. He had pushed her so hard that she stumbled and fell to the floor. Isabelle’s face flushed a deep crimson, but she didn’t dare say a word. She scrambled back to her feet, tears in her eyes, a perfect picture of wounded grace. “I don’t know what Claire might have said to you, Mr. Crestwood, for you to treat me this way.” Her words drew the attention of the surrounding guests. “Isn’t that the foster daughter the Sterlings took in from an orphanage?” “Yes, I heard it was a very small, poor one. The poor girl.” “Right? And the Sterling heiress seems so petty.” Isabelle listened to the murmurs with satisfaction, hoping David would see her in a new, more favorable light. No wonder everyone hates me. I should just leave. I lowered my head, about to turn away. David quickly stepped forward and grabbed my hand. Then, he turned to Isabelle, his voice stern. “Stay away from me. And for the record, I don’t recall Claire having a sister. Don’t go around claiming relationships that don’t exist.” Seeing her plan about to implode, Isabelle’s eyes darted around frantically, finally landing on the gift box in David’s hand. “Mr. Crestwood, is that for Claire? It looks so expensive. Claire’s jewelry box is filled with pieces I’ve never even seen before. If only I could have something so beautiful.” I had to admit, Isabelle’s acting was Oscar-worthy. Her ability to play the victim was second to none. No wonder she insisted on dressing so plainly today, not wearing a single piece of the clothing or jewelry my mother had bought her. She had even told my father, “Today is Claire’s birthday party. I shouldn’t steal her thunder.” It was so convincing it made my father question if he was hearing things correctly. Hah. So that was her plan. Dressing like that was just to make everyone think she was being mistreated. I let out a silent, cold laugh and began my inner monologue. Is she complaining that we treat her poorly? The moment she arrived, Mom took her on a shopping spree at the international plaza. She bought her five complete designer outfits, each worth six figures. I’ve never gotten that kind of treatment. Mom is just so good to her. Isabelle was still weaving her sob story. “In the dead of winter, I used to scavenge for bread people threw away outside the orphanage. I had only one set of clothes for the whole year. Sometimes, when I was hungry, I had to drink tap water to fill my stomach.” Too bad she couldn’t see it. My father’s face was now as black as the bottom of a pot.

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1 I’d always taken advantage of Tom, my childhood sweetheart—borrowing money, running errands. He spoiled me endlessly. Until our engagement party, when we both “awakened.” Turns out I was cannon fodder in a novel, and he was the male lead destined for the true heroine. I tried to back out, but he dragged me to the courthouse, snarling, “No script matters. I choose you.” We married, built an empire, and the novel’s plot faded… until Julia, a real estate heiress, joined our company. During an office fire, she knocked over a shelf. I shoved Tom out of the way—taking the crushing blow. Blood pooled around me as Julia screamed, “Tom, help me!” He sprinted past my dying body toward her. Of course. The heroine’s name was Julia. Tom’s panicked cries echoed in my ears, each syllable a blade twisting in my heart. Blood was streaming down my face, but I couldn’t feel the pain. My eyes were locked on him. I watched as he wrapped his arms tightly around Julia, his face a mask of terror. “Did you hurt your leg? Julia, don’t be scared, just hang on, I’m getting you to a hospital right now!” The blood kept flowing. My breathing grew ragged. I fought through the agony, my voice a barely-there whisper. “Tom… help… help me…” But the man who was only feet away didn’t seem to see me. He scooped Julia into his arms and scrambled for the stairs. “Someone’s hurt! Call an ambulance!” It wasn’t until he was gone that the cold finally seeped in, a chill so deep it felt like an arrow piercing my soul. In a moment of crisis, my husband had abandoned the wife who had just saved his life, and run off with the woman he truly cared about. People screamed and fled around me, too consumed by their own fear to notice my plight. I was left crumpled in a corner, helpless. The pain in my head intensified. My eyelids grew heavy. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, desperately telling myself to stay awake. Faye, you can’t sleep. You have to hold on… I swallowed the metallic tang rising in my throat and used every last bit of strength to cry out. “Help… help me…” It felt like a gut-wrenching scream, but in reality, it was a faint whimper. My vision blurred. As I teetered on the edge of consciousness, my mind, for some reason, drifted back to our wedding day. In front of all our friends and family, Tom had dropped to one knee, his voice thick with devotion as he pledged his love. He’d held me tight, promising, “I don’t believe in fate. I only know that you are the love of my life.” The memories of our love were so vivid, yet now, he had abandoned me for another woman without a second thought. I didn’t understand. Was ‘fate’ truly this inescapable? Was he being driven by some unseen force to fall hopelessly in love with Julia? My whole body throbbed, and I couldn’t tell if it was my heart or my head that hurt more. Then, the world went black. When I came to, I was in a hospital bed. The familiar voice of my best friend, Olivia, cut through the haze. “Doctor, doctor! She’s awake!” She turned to me, her eyes red-rimmed. “You idiot, how did you get so hurt? You have a giant hole in your head, do you know that?” I was too weak to answer. Just then, our assistant, Leo, rushed in with a young doctor. The doctor had the earnest, clueless look of a fresh-faced intern, his ID badge proclaiming his status in big, bold letters. Olivia was aghast. “An intern? Where’s Dr. Chen?” Leo looked deeply uncomfortable. “Mr. Tyler had the hospital director assemble all the senior doctors for a consultation for Ms. Vance. I tried calling the other attending physicians, but they all said they were busy.” “What?” Olivia was dumbfounded. “Did you tell him Faye was critically injured and needed immediate treatment?” “I did.” Leo’s voice was heavy with apology. “Mr. Tyler said… Ms. Vance took a fall. She’s delicate, and he’s worried about long-term damage, so he wants the specialists to give her a thorough examination.” Leo couldn’t bear to look me in the eye. I felt exposed, a cold dread washing over me. Tom and I were famous in our circle for being the perfect, loving couple, comrades in arms who had conquered the business world side-by-side. Everyone knew he would do anything for me. Once, I was kidnapped. He went alone to the rendezvous point and offered himself in my place. He was beaten bloody, but he shielded me with his own body without hesitation. No one could understand it. The man who would have died for me was now acting as if I didn’t exist. Worse, knowing I was grievously injured, he had deliberately diverted every senior doctor away from me. Only I knew why. Because Tom was in love with Julia. Just like the book foretold, the male lead would always prioritize the heroine’s needs above all else. My heart felt like it was being torn in two. My breath hitched, and the heart monitor began to shriek, its lines spiking erratically. “Her condition is critical,” the young doctor said, his voice sharp with anxiety. “We can’t wait any longer. We have to operate. Now!” I was rushed into the operating room. The sting of antiseptic on my open wound was a searing, white-hot fire. A pained groan escaped my lips. It hurt so much. As he stitched, the young doctor’s voice was a gentle murmur. “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon. You’re going to be okay.” The surgery lasted ten hours. Nurses and doctors moved in and out in a blur. They issued critical condition warnings again and again. I was unconscious through it all. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in a private room. Olivia’s face was etched with worry. “You’re finally awake. How do you feel?” Every inch of me ached. My mouth was dry as dust. My first instinct was to ask if Tom had come to see me, but I stopped myself. There was no point in seeking out more pain. But Olivia saw the question in my eyes. Her voice was laced with fury. “That bastard has been by Julia’s bedside for a day and a night. He hasn’t come to see you once. He’s not human!” Olivia caught herself, her voice softening. “The soundproofing in these VIP rooms is really good. Maybe… maybe he’s hard of hearing and didn’t hear what Leo said. I’ll go find him and get this straightened out!” I spoke, my voice frail. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter if he comes or not.” My friend looked at me, her heart breaking. “But, Faye, you were so badly hurt. Your head… it was full of blood. The doctor said if they had operated any later, you might have ended up in a vegetative state…” I lowered my gaze. “Yes. I was lucky.” What happened that day had made one thing crystal clear: Tom and I were over. That shelf didn’t just smash my head; it smashed the rose-tinted glasses I’d been wearing. My love was a bloody, mangled mess on the floor. That afternoon, I was resting in bed with my eyes closed when I overheard two junior assistants whispering outside my door. “I’m so jealous of Ms. Vance. The boss is so handsome, and he’s so in love with her!” “I know, right? She just got a tiny little scrape, and the whole hospital’s best doctors are tending to her. Talk about a fuss!” “That’s not all. This morning, she was craving pastries from that famous downtown bakery, and Mr. Tyler drove over there himself to get them. You know how hard it is to get anything from that place.” “Sigh. Faye’s life is tough. If she weren’t so lucky, she would’ve died in that fire. Mr. Tyler always seemed to adore her, but the second there was trouble, he completely forgot about his own wife. Poor Faye.” Their voices faded as they walked away. I let out a bitter laugh. I had been waiting for Tom to see me. To hear him say, in his own words, that he loved someone else. To hear him ask for a divorce. Or at least, to offer an explanation. An explanation for when the man who had promised me the world had started to stray, and how he had gotten involved with Julia. But I never imagined this. He hadn’t just strayed. He had completely forgotten my existence while running off to buy pastries for his damsel in distress. If that was the case, then I would be the one to let go. I summoned Leo. “Draft a detailed divorce agreement. Tell Tom I want a divorce.” Leo looked stunned, but he nodded. “Right away.” Not long after, I got a call from Tom’s assistant. He greeted me respectfully before relaying Tom’s message. “Ms. Morgan, Mr. Tyler asked me to tell you that Ms. Vance is the daughter of a major client. He was entrusted with her care, and he must prioritize the company’s interests. He hopes you won’t throw a tantrum over him saving someone and to please stop talking about divorce.” “He wanted to explain everything to you in person yesterday, but you weren’t in your office, so he went to handle other business.” “Today, he has to follow up on another partnership, so he needs you to manage things at the company for now. He said that once this is all over, he will apologize to you personally.” I hung up the phone and laughed until tears streamed down my face. He didn’t even know I was injured. He had no idea I’d been critically wounded, that I’d been fighting for my life in this very hospital. And on top of it all, he thought I was playing some childish, jealous game by asking for a divorce. It was so absurd, so utterly ridiculous it was comical. But I couldn’t stop the pain in my chest, or the tears that fell like rain. This time, my heart, which had held on to hope for Tom, finally turned to ash. The doctor said I needed to rest properly, or I’d suffer permanent health problems that could affect my lifespan. And I very much wanted to live a few more years. Fortunately, I had a piece of healing jade, a special stone that was said to promote recovery. But before I could even feel a flicker of relief, Tom’s assistant was back. This time, he was after my jade. “Ms. Morgan, this is difficult for me, but Mr. Tyler’s instructions were clear. Whatever Ms. Vance wants, she gets.” “She’s not well, and she wants that jade to help with her recovery…” So that’s how important Julia was to him. I had nearly died, and I desperately needed this stone to help my body heal. And he, without a moment’s hesitation, was trying to snatch it away from me to give to Julia as a plaything. With his wealth, he could have anything in the world. Why was he so fixated on taking what was mine? My face hardened. “I need this jade to recover,” I said, my voice sharp. “If he wants it, tell him to come and get it himself.” The assistant nodded and left. A few moments later, my door swung open and Julia walked in. She was wearing an oversized hospital gown, which made her look fragile and pitiable. Her words, however, were anything but. “Faye. Tom sent me. Give me the jade. I need it to get better.” I stared at her. “It’s my property. Why should I give it to you?” “Because I’m the one Tom can’t stop thinking about.” She looked at me, her tone dripping with mockery. “I went to a lot of trouble to start that fire. It’s a shame you’re so hard to kill.” A chill went down my spine. The fire… she had set it deliberately. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the police?” Julia was unfazed. “Do you have any proof?” “Let me put it this way,” she continued, “The moment I saw Tom, I knew he was the one I’d been waiting for. And he knows it too. He knows I’m the heroine of his life story. He can’t be without me. And with his protection, I can do whatever I want.” I knew she was right, and the words died in my throat. Tom was completely bewitched by her, as if under a spell. For her, he could abandon his colleagues in a fire. For her, he would drive across town just to see her smile. And for her, he would give me up. She glanced at the diamond wedding ring on my finger, a dismissive sneer on her face. “Tom gave you this, didn’t he? What a pity. The main diamond is gone.” “A broken ring for a broken marriage. You and Tom are about finished, aren’t you? I’d advise you to be smart and leave him on your own.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach. “Besides, I’m pregnant. It’s Tom’s.” “You’ve been married to him for so long with no baby. I guess your married life isn’t that… harmonious. But that’s normal. After so many years, even the best meal gets boring. No wonder Tom said that holding your hand feels like his left hand holding his right.” She covered her mouth and giggled. I was stunned. They had slept together? She was carrying his child? A thousand tiny needles pricked at my chest. I stared at the triumphant woman before me and said, enunciating every word, “Is being a mistress something to be proud of?” “Everyone in this city knows that I, Faye Morgan, am Tom Tyler’s wife. If I were to let it slip that you’re the homewrecker who destroyed my marriage, what do you think would happen? Don’t you think you and your precious Tom would become social pariahs?” The smile froze on Julia’s face. She glared at me, her bravado faltering. “You wouldn’t dare! Aren’t you afraid of making Tom angry?” I smiled sweetly. “Why don’t you try me?” Julia shot me a hateful look and stormed out. Just as she exited, she ran right into Tom, who was on his way back. Her face crumpled, and she burst into tears. “Tom, I’m so upset! The doctor said that jade would be good for my health. I was just curious, I just wanted to see if it was really that magical, but that person… she wouldn’t even let me look at it! She just yelled at me and threw me out! Waaah! If she didn’t want to show me, that’s fine, but why did she have to yell at me?” Tom’s face darkened instantly. “Who would dare bully you like that? I’ll deal with them!” He took Julia by the arm and stormed toward my room. “How much is the jade worth? Name a price, I’ll pay you double! But you,” his voice boomed through the closed door, “you will apologize to my woman!” “I’d like to see just who is arrogant enough to mess with someone of mine!” He pushed the door open, his arm still around Julia. He took in the sight of me on the bed, the nurse cleaning my wound, and froze—

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On our tenth anniversary, my fiancée was on a business trip overseas with her junior assistant. I called her a dozen times. No answer. Almost at that exact moment, the assistant’s social media account lit up with a new post. It was a video. In the background, I could see my fiancée, her back to the camera, slipping off her bra. The smooth, tense lines of her shoulders and back were stark under the dim, moody lighting. The caption he wrote: “Seeing the world with the top lawyer. She teaches me business by day, and… life lessons by night.” I didn’t rage. I didn’t panic. I simply liked the post and left a comment: “Keep up the hard work! Maybe you’ll get a ‘promotion’ out of it.” 1 The phone, silent for so long, finally rang with an incoming call from her. The shrill ring cut through the silence, and then came Babara’s voice, tight with a fury she couldn’t contain. “Robert, what the hell is with the passive-aggressive crap?” “You’ve really pissed Paul off!” “Seriously? The kid was just making a joke, a meme!” “You were young once, too. Why can’t you take a fucking joke?” The accusations came like a volley of gunfire, one after another. She didn’t once stop to wonder why I, who had long stopped chasing after her, would have called over a dozen times in a single hour. I held the phone away from my ear, my own voice unnervingly calm. “Let’s break up.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then, her tone shifted, becoming cool and measured. “Over a joke video?” “Yes.” “Robert, this is the third time you’ve tried to break up with me in less than six months. Aren’t you afraid I’ll actually say yes one of these days?” Babara sighed, a sound heavy with exasperation. “I know you’re insecure. You’re not a kid anymore, and you’re always worried some younger guy is going to steal me away.” “But you need to get this straight. First, he’s not interested in me like that. And second, do you really think I’m that kind of irresponsible person?” “So, tell me. What is it you want this time?” “Fine. When I get back, I’ll propose to you publicly. We’ll get married over the holidays. Will that make you happy?” Without another word, I hung up. We had been together for ten years, from nineteen to twenty-nine. We fell in love in the prime of our youth and clawed our way through the hard times hand-in-hand. Now, she was a success, a partner at a top-tier law firm. Everyone said I was lucky, that I’d picked a winner, a “rising star.” And Babara was absolutely certain that every time I mentioned breaking up, it was just a strategic retreat—a way to get something more from her. I had already tried to end things twice before, each time because she let Paul cross the line. And each time, after a period of cold silence, it was Babara who backed down and made peace. The first time, she took a ten-day vacation to go with me to my hometown and visit my parents. The second time, she bought me a Ferrari and a villa she called our “future marital home.” This time, she thought I was pressuring her into marriage. She had no idea that every single time, I had genuinely wanted to walk away. But this time, I wouldn’t be turning back. The breakup was just the final step. I had already laid the groundwork for a new chapter in my life. A new job, a new city—they were all waiting for me. I was only waiting for her to return because a decade is a long time. Even an ending deserves a proper, resounding close. 2 Babara walked through the door looking utterly exhausted. She dropped her suitcase in the entryway and collapsed onto the sofa, her voice raspy. “Robert, did you make the soothing tea?” “My throat’s been killing me for the last two weeks overseas. It’s been absolute misery.” She suffered from chronic pharyngitis. Over the years, I had experimented endlessly to create a custom herbal blend that worked better for her than any medicine. In the past, I would have been fussing over her, bringing her the freshly brewed tea and watching her drink it down. But now, my eyes didn’t leave my computer screen. I didn’t move a muscle. Babara looked surprised. She pulled a small jewelry box from her pocket, opened it, and held it out to me. “Robert, your tenth-anniversary gift. What do you think? Do you like it?” When I didn’t react, she took the ring out. “Try it on. It’s beautiful!” It wasn’t a wedding band, as I might have once imagined, but a small, delicate, decorative pinky ring. I glanced at it, then went back to clicking my mouse. Babara’s patience wore thin. She tossed the ring onto the table. “Are you still pissed off about that video?” “I took him on the trip for work. It’s not like I forgot our anniversary. I bought you a gift. What more do you want?” I looked at her, my expression calm. “Did you pick it out?” A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes, but her voice rose in defiance. “Paul picked it out. He said a proper engagement ring needs to be custom-made ahead of time, and that for a simple gift, a trendy pinky ring was more stylish.” “I don’t know anything about men’s accessories. The sales associate said it was the latest design from a luxury brand. Is there something wrong with that?” I held out my right hand. “Is that so? Then put it on me.” Babara picked up the ring. The moment she tried to slide it onto my little finger, her face changed. Against my pale, slender hand, the knuckle of my little finger was grotesquely twisted. The ring stopped right there, a mockery. She froze, her lips parting silently. I let out a cold laugh and pulled my hand back. She had forgotten. Babara had forgotten that my pinky finger was permanently damaged because an injury had gone untreated. She’d forgotten I couldn’t wear a pinky ring at all. She forgot so quickly. Even though I got that injury saving her. When the car hit, I had thrown myself into her, shoving her out of the way. My little finger was crushed in the process. We were dirt poor back then, six months behind on rent, on the verge of being thrown out onto the street. I took the eight thousand dollars from the settlement with the driver, paid a year’s rent, and used the rest to buy her a decent suit for her job interviews. It wasn’t until I started crying out in pain at night that Babara realized I’d only had it set in a cheap clinic, a shoddy plaster cast instead of proper medical treatment. That night, we clung to each other and cried in that cramped basement apartment. She told me she would love me, cherish me, for the rest of her life. Turns out, her “forever” didn’t even last a decade. 3 The sound of the keypad lock at the entryway beeped, and the door opened softly. Paul tiptoed inside. He froze when he saw the two of us. “Oh, Robert… you’re home,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He looked instantly uncomfortable, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his entrance was. “Babara left her laptop in the car. I thought she’d be sleeping off her jet lag, so I didn’t want to knock and wake her…” I stared at the boy, who looked on the verge of tears, and my voice was ice. “You seem to know that passcode pretty well. I’m guessing this isn’t the first time you’ve let yourself in?” Paul’s voice trembled, but his face was set in a stubborn, unyielding expression. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Robert. I’ve only been here a few times. Babara gave me the code so I could grab some work files for her.” “I know you don’t like me, but there’s nothing going on between Babara and me. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. I’m her assistant. It’s my job to run errands for her.” I couldn’t help but laugh, a harsh, bitter sound. “Her ‘job’? The ‘assistant’ who brings her ginger tea for her cramps at midnight? The one who plays hero when there’s a cockroach in the apartment? The one who ‘coincidentally’ shows up wherever we are on a date? You’re a damn dedicated assistant, I’ll give you that!” “And you have the nerve to talk to me about being ‘ashamed’? You take videos of your boss undressing and then follow her home the second she lands? You’re a real piece of work.” Paul’s eyes welled up with tears, as if he were the victim of some great injustice. He looked pleadingly at Babara. When she remained silent, he finally turned away, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. “Robert, that’s enough,” Babara said. She walked over to Paul, gently patting his back as she frowned at me. “Was it really necessary to be so nasty? He was just being thoughtful and dropping off my laptop. I’ll tell him to be more careful in the future.” She turned to Paul, her voice a soft reprimand. “You, too. Why are you so reckless? Go on, apologize to Robert.” “I did nothing wrong,” Paul sobbed. “I was just worried about you. You’ve been working so hard these past two weeks. I was just afraid of waking you.” I’d had enough. I pulled out my phone. “You entered a private residence without permission, and you think you did nothing wrong? Since your lawyer boss clearly hasn’t taught you the law, maybe the police can.” “Stop it!” Babara strode over and snatched the phone from my hand. “Don’t take it too far, Robert. You’re acting like some irrational brute. If anyone here doesn’t understand the law, it’s you. This house is in my name. He can come if I say so.” The room fell so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Paul straightened his back, shooting me a triumphant look. I stared at Babara, unblinking. We went to the same law school, the same program. The whole reason she started chasing me was that she could never beat me in a debate. And now, in her eyes, I was an “irrational brute who doesn’t understand the law”? Suddenly, the face I had looked at for ten years became foreign, blurry. Meeting my gaze, a flash of panic crossed Babara’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a cool composure. “Robert, all I meant was, let’s not make a big deal out of nothing.” I grabbed my bag and laughed softly. “You’re right. This is your house. I’m the one who should be leaving.” Paul blocked my way. “Robert, don’t be like this. I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” “If you storm out like this, she’s just going to have to chase after you.” “Babara is exhausted. I’ll leave right now. Just… stop fighting. Please, just let her get some rest, okay?” He gripped my arm, his nails digging sharply into my skin. I wrenched my arm free and threw a punch. There was a dull thud as he staggered backward and fell. “Robert!” Behind me, Babara took two steps toward me before Paul’s cry of pain pulled her back. I slammed the door behind me and didn’t look back. 4 In the garage, Babara’s Cullinan was parked next to my Ferrari. The passenger seat of the Cullinan was littered with cartoon accessories. There was even a custom-made plaque stuck to the dash: “Assistant Paul’s Special Seat.” Babara had just made partner when she bought this car. She was on top of the world that day, insisting on putting the car in my name and excitedly taking me for a drive out of the city. My back was acting up, and I’d wanted to put a lumbar pillow in the passenger seat. She’d looked at the cutesy cartoon pillow and laughed helplessly. “Robert, having something like that in here will make clients question my professionalism.” When had her “professionalism” made room for an entire collection of cartoon junk? Principles, it seemed, were made to be broken. An old love is no match for a new flame. I turned and got into the Ferrari. As I pulled onto the street, it hit me that in this entire sprawling city, I had nowhere to go. My hometown was a thousand miles away, a small town nestled in the mountains. For years, my entire life had revolved around the law firm, around Babara. Outside of my colleagues and her, I didn’t have a single close friend to confide in. I had broken my parents’ hearts when I refused to come home after graduation, insisting on staying in the city to help Babara build her dream. Three years ago, an unexpected pregnancy. It was a critical time for the firm; we simply didn’t have the means to get married and have a child. We made the painful decision to terminate. My mom traveled a thousand miles to take care of her during her recovery. Seeing how pale and frail Babara was, my mom had cried. “Robert,” she’d said, “one day, you’re going to regret this.” The miscarriage took a huge toll on her. Her health faltered, and she couldn’t handle the intense demands of both our home and the firm. I quit my job to take care of her full-time and never went back. After leaving the firm, I lost touch with my old colleagues, too. I drove until I was out of the city, pulling over on a deserted roadside, my mind a blank. Should I have regrets? Regret for holding a hand at nineteen and refusing to let go, even as we bled for it? I unconsciously rubbed my deformed little finger, unable to find an answer. A message from Babara popped up on my phone. “I sent Paul home. And I changed the passcode. It won’t happen again.” “I would never cheat on you. And he’s not that kind of person. You’re overreacting. He cried for a long time. He feels terrible.” A notification followed: a bank transfer of $52,000. “You’ve been in a bad mood lately. Go take a trip, clear your head. As soon as I’m past this busy period, we’ll set a wedding date. Now, can you finally relax?” Her arrogance practically leaped off the screen. When did marriage become a gift she was bestowing upon me? A bitter smile touched my lips. I remembered a party not long ago. Coming back from the restroom, I overheard a mutual friend ask her: “Babara, I heard you bought a lakeside villa for your marital home. I’m so jealous. Career, success, and you’ve got your handsome man.” Someone else chimed in, a little flippantly, “Seriously though, with Babara’s status now, she could probably date a movie star. It’s just because she’s so devoted that she’s sticking with the same guy!” Babara’s low laugh. “It’s been ten years. Robert suffered so much with me. If I didn’t marry him, I’d be a monster.” Ten years. Marrying me had become her duty. I was no longer the love of her life, just a heavy burden. I stared at the phone, not accepting the money, not replying. Then, a message came from another number: “Junior, you told me a few days ago you were coming to Australia to help me out. You weren’t just messing with me, were you?” “Babara was just in our old alumni group chat asking about wedding planners. You two are getting married? Are you sure you can handle a long-distance relationship?” I smiled softly and typed back: “We broke up. And besides, when have I ever gone back on my word? My visa is already approved. Get ready to conquer the world.” 5 The next few days were a blur of preparations for my move. Babara sent me only one message during that time: “Come back when you’ve cooled off.” Paul, on the other hand, was living his best life online. His feed was a constant stream of updates, and Babara was in almost every single one. “The top lawyer treated me to a Michelin-star dinner. Fine, I forgive her. ~” “So thoughtful, driving me all the way home in the Cullinan on a rainy day. I really want to just take her home with me, but alas, my cat can’t do backflips!” “The look in her eyes tells me that if she cast everything aside and followed her heart, I would be her one and only choice.” … He was trying to provoke me, but he had no idea that I simply didn’t care anymore. The day before I was due to leave the country, Paul called. His voice was cold, defiant. “Babara was in a car accident. She’s asking for you. I’ve sent you the address. Whether you come or not is up to you.” After a moment’s thought, I decided to go. I pushed open the door to the hospital room and came face-to-face with Paul, who was just walking out of the bathroom, flicking water from his hands. A malicious smile spread across his face as his eyes darted to the floor. Following his gaze, I noticed several used, crumpled tissues tossed on the ground. The air in the room was thick with a cloying, musky scent. Paul shook his wrist and let out a soft “Oops.” From behind the curtain, I heard Babara’s familiar, post-coital rasp. “What’s wrong, Paul?” “Nothing,” Paul replied, his eyes locking with mine, his smile bright and triumphant. “Honey,” he cooed, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. “Wasn’t I amazing? So much better than your fiancé, right?” “Yes…” came the muffled reply. He just stood there, tilting his head slightly in a gesture of pure, taunting defiance. I cracked a small smile and turned to leave. Another second in that room would have felt dirty. Some people don’t deserve a clean break.

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One text message was all it took for me to divorce my wife. It was six in the morning when Gwen came home from another all-nighter at the office. Weighed down by exhaustion, she still remembered to bring me a bouquet of flowers. She placed the roses on my nightstand and leaned in, as she always did, to kiss my forehead. But this time, I gently pushed her away. And I asked for a divorce. Gwen stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief. “What? Why? Because I worked too late again?” I shook my head. “No,” I said. “It’s because of the text you sent me at five a.m.” 1. The message was short. Just three words. I love you, honey. The time stamp was 5:07 a.m. The location tag was her office building. When I first saw it, a stupid, happy grin spread across my face. I was about to type back when a line I’d seen online somewhere flashed through my mind. When someone comes home from a cat café, they feel guilty, so they bring their own cat a can of tuna. A cheater does the same thing. After a secret rendezvous, they’ll send an ‘I love you’ to the one at home. I wanted to believe Gwen would never cheat. She loved me. She loved me so much that she’d throw her own body in front of me to shield me from harm. She was a workaholic, so buried in her job she’d forget to eat or drink. A woman like that wouldn’t cheat. She didn’t have the time. That’s what I told myself. But my hand had a mind of its own, already scrolling through her social media. Her private messages, her work chat, even her online shopping history. Everything was normal. Until, at six a.m., I noticed a new follow. A new intern at her company. Evan. Gwen had mentioned him a few times, always complaining. Said he was clumsy and dumb, couldn’t do anything right. At 5:00 a.m., Evan had posted a new picture to his feed. The caption read: Nothing more romantic than watching the sunrise with the one you love after a… vigorous workout. The early morning light fell across his handsome, youthful face. A pale, delicate hand was wrapped around his waist. If that hand hadn’t been wearing the wedding ring I gave Gwen, I might have even found myself thinking, to be young and in love. In that moment, I already had my answer. But eight years of history screamed at me to deny it, to look away. I kept digging, desperate to find some clue, some small detail that would prove this was all a misunderstanding. They say a lover scorned is the best detective. I used the GPS data from her car, the activity logs on her fitness app, even her fuel consumption records. I pieced together her entire night. At 7:00 p.m., Gwen told me she was working late, driving to meet a client. At 8:00 p.m., the meeting went south. She drove back to the office to rework the proposal. At 3:00 a.m., Gwen took Evan to a five-star hotel near her office. At 5:00 a.m., they were finished. A satisfied Evan posted his philosophical musings to the world. And a guilty Gwen sent me that text. Just like the saying went. The owner, back from the cat café, felt bad for her own little cat and opened a can of tuna. Gwen, back from her tryst, felt a pang of guilt and sent me an “I love you.” The bouquet of roses on my nightstand was my can of tuna. 2. When the truth settled in, it was a storm of pain, rage, and denial. I thought about just pretending I hadn’t seen it. About continuing our life together as if nothing had happened. After all, we’d been together for eight years. We had two beautiful children. But the moment Gwen walked through that door, the moment I smelled the sharp, foreign scent of men’s cologne clinging to her clothes, I knew. I couldn’t swallow this lie. And I couldn’t live with a woman who could betray me at any moment. So the word “divorce” tumbled out of my mouth, stripped of all sentiment. Gwen, oblivious, just frowned at me. She rubbed her temples and collapsed onto the sofa, completely unconcerned. “Leo, can you not be so dramatic? I’ve been working all day. I’m exhausted.” Normally, I would have been there to rub her shoulders, to bring her breakfast. Instead, I calmly opened Evan’s social media profile and held the phone out for her to see. His feed was a shrine to her. Dozens of posts. A silhouette of them walking hand-in-hand on a beach at sunset. A photo of their fingers intertwined in a hot spring. There were no faces, but after all these years, I knew her hands, her posture, her every line. I knew it was Gwen. And then there were the gifts. Countless flowers and luxury goods. The most recent post was from just ten minutes ago. Evan, grinning in a field of flowers, holding up a peace sign. A limited-edition Richard Mille watch glittered on his wrist. The caption: Who says guys can’t get flowers? My boss-girlfriend spoils me rotten. That’s when I snapped. I grabbed the bouquet she’d brought me, the one already starting to wilt, and hurled it at her face. “Did you think I’d be grateful for your hand-me-downs? For the flowers he didn’t want?” I screamed, my voice raw. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you just because you hid your face? I’m not a fool, Gwen! And I don’t want your garbage!” A thorn scraped a thin, red line across her cheek. The sting on her face and the fear in her heart ignited into fury. She stared at me for a long moment, then lunged, grabbing my wrist. She ripped the watch—my watch—from my arm and shoved it in my face. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me!” she spat. “Look around you! Everything you eat, everything you wear, every single thing you own was bought with my money! Do you think you could afford a watch like this without me?” Her voice dripped with contempt. “My job is stressful. I need to blow off steam sometimes. So what? I came home, didn’t I? If you have so much damn integrity, then get the hell out of my house with nothing but the clothes on your back!” The sharp edge of the watch case dug into my skin. Bright red drops of blood pattered onto the carpet. I looked at her, at the scene, and a bitter, hysterical laugh escaped me. This watch was her wedding gift to me. I remembered that day so clearly. She had kissed the back of my hand, her voice thick with emotion. “Leo,” she’d said, “thank you for being with me on this journey. I promised I’d give you the world one day. And now, I finally can.” Back then, I thought I was the luckiest man alive. Now I knew the truth. I was just the little cat in the story. Eating someone else’s leftovers, wearing a watch someone else didn’t want, and purring, thinking I was loved. The rage brought tears to my eyes, but what little pride I had left wouldn’t let me back down. I shoved her toward the door. “You have no right to throw me out!” I roared. “This house is mine! It was my property before we ever got married. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you! Without me, you wouldn’t have any of this! You think you can kick me out to make room for your boy toy? Dream on!” In the struggle, her blouse ripped open. The angry red marks blooming across her collarbone were an axe, splitting our lives in two. She saw the guilt in my eyes and frantically tried to pull her shirt closed. She opened her mouth to explain, then stopped. Her gaze fell on the family photo on the wall. A picture of the four of us. She pushed me away, a cold, cruel smile twisting her lips. “Who are you to ask for a divorce?” she sneered. “In this entire world, who else would want a broken thing like you? A man who killed his own son?” The words sucked the air from my lungs. That wound, the one I never spoke of, the one that never healed, was ripped open once more. Raw and bleeding. I stood there, frozen, the pain so immense I couldn’t even speak. A look of pure satisfaction crossed Gwen’s face. She muttered “pathetic,” and slammed the door behind her. And I finally broke. I collapsed amidst the wreckage of our life and sobbed. A small, timid voice cut through my grief. 3. My daughter, Maddie, stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit, her eyes wide with fear. “Daddy? Did you and Mommy have a fight?” she whispered. “Are you going to split up? Is Mommy coming home?” Seeing the terror in her eyes was like a knife twisting in my gut. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Daddy scared you.” My voice was thick. “Go back to bed. I’ll take you to school in a little bit.” Maddie shook her head, her gaze fixed on my phone, still lying on the floor. After a long hesitation, she tugged on my sleeve. “Daddy… I’ve seen that man before.” Her voice was barely audible. “A long, long time ago. On the day Owen died…” “What did you say?” The world stopped. My eyes widened. “Maddie, what do you know? Tell Daddy. What happened that day?” She shrank back, pure terror in her young eyes. Then she burst into tears and threw herself into my arms, her small body wracked with sobs. “That day… Mommy brought that man home,” she stammered between gasps. “She said they were going to play a game, and Owen and I weren’t allowed to bother them. The man gave us chocolate… with stuff inside… and locked us in the bedroom.” “Owen ate his and then he started saying his tummy hurt… and then he just… he fell down and didn’t move.” “I was so scared, Daddy! I banged on the door and screamed for Mommy, but she was playing her game with the man and she wouldn’t… she wouldn’t come out!” “And then… and then Owen was gone. Mommy said it was our secret. She said I could never tell anyone. If I told, she said she wouldn’t want me anymore…” Her voice dissolved into heartbreaking sobs. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m not a bad girl for lying. I was just so scared…” I was frozen. I didn’t know how to react. It felt like a blade was churning inside me, shredding my organs. Owen’s death was the great, defining tragedy of our lives. Two years ago, a client had demanded a last-minute meeting. It was a crucial contract for the company. I had no choice but to leave Owen and Maddie with a babysitter and go. When I came back, the babysitter was gone. The apartment was silent, except for Maddie’s hysterical crying. Owen was on the floor, his body already stiff. The doctors said he’d had a severe allergic reaction to the alcohol in a liqueur chocolate. If he’d been brought in just ten minutes earlier, he could have been saved. The shock of it killed my mother; she had a massive heart attack and died a week later. My mother-in-law directed all her grief and fury at me. She’d cornered me at the funeral, her hands around my neck, slapping me over and over. She screamed “murderer” at me. “You worthless bastard! How could you leave two small children alone? Are you even human?” “You knew Owen was allergic to alcohol! Why would you buy those chocolates? Did you do it on purpose? Did you want to kill my grandson?” “You’re a murderer! A monster! I want you to pay for my grandson’s life!” Her relatives had joined in, kicking and punching me. In that moment of chaos, Gwen had arrived. She threw herself in front of me without hesitation, a lioness protecting her mate. “Owen’s death was an accident!” she’d roared at them all. “It wasn’t Leo’s fault. And as long as I’m here, you will not touch him.” That day, Gwen was my hero. My shield against the world. Afterward, she took me to therapy. She held my hand as I clawed my way out of the darkness of Owen’s death. But the trauma left its mark. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t function. I had nightmares every night. I was terrified something would happen to Maddie. Gwen suggested I quit my job and stay home to take care of our daughter. After much thought, I gave up the career I had fought for and became a stay-at-home dad. Maddie was a sweet, wonderful child. And Gwen, despite her long hours, treated me with respect and love. For years, despite the lingering sorrow, I had felt a quiet gratitude. I had found a partner I could trust, a family that was, for the most part, happy. I never, ever imagined she would one day use Owen’s death as a weapon against me. And I never imagined that her affair had been the thing that killed him. She had pushed all the blame onto me. She had built my prison out of guilt, locking me away at home while she lived her life. She had destroyed my family. She had destroyed my life. The wave of pain receded, leaving numbness in its wake. I closed my eyes, my despair a bottomless pit. I gently stroked Maddie’s back. “It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t be afraid.” I told her I would never, ever blame her. And I told myself, with a terrifying clarity: I will make Gwen and Evan pay.

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I refused to give up my reserved hospital parking spot for my husband’s ex, Ava. She’d call on rainy days, claiming she was too frail to walk from the public garage. “It’s just a few extra steps,” I’d say. “Why obsess over my spot?” When Leonard found out, he raged: “She got soaked and nearly lost the baby! Couldn’t you be decent for once?” I scoffed. “She chooses to walk in the rain instead of driving. How is that my fault?” He apologized, playing the perfect husband for months—until my water broke. For three hours, he drove in circles, deliberately missing the delivery window. On the hospital monitor, he smirked at the camera, holding Ava: “First come, first served, right? Let’s see how long you’ll wait in line for your life.” 1 A tearing agony ripped through my abdomen. I grabbed Leonard’s arm, my knuckles white. “Get me to the hospital! Now!” He shoved my hand away, a sneer twisting his lips. “What’s the rush? When Ava was burning up with a fever in the rain, she was in a hundred times more pain than you are now.” The car lurched to a halt. I peered through the window, my heart sinking. This wasn’t the hospital. It was a desolate, subterranean parking garage. “Leonard, are you insane? The baby is coming!” He didn’t answer. Instead, he switched on the car’s dashboard screen. It wasn’t the navigation system. It was a live feed from the hospital’s CCTV. There, in the private birthing suite I had booked and paid for, lay Ava, nestled comfortably in bed, attended to by a team of nurses. Through the screen, Ava looked directly into the camera, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “Rebecca, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I went into labor early, so I had to take your suite. The doctors say my condition is critical, that I need to be admitted immediately.” The floor fell out from under me. “This was your plan all along.” Leonard lit a cigarette, taking a long, leisurely drag. “First come, first served. Your words. So now, you can wait right here.” The contractions were coming faster, harder. A cold sweat beaded on my forehead. “Then take me to another hospital!” “Another hospital?” Leonard laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “You’re the one who said I didn’t have to pay for anything. Why should I help you?” He cranked the air conditioning, aiming the vents directly at me. An arctic blast hit my body. I began to shiver violently, the cold making the searing pain in my belly even more unbearable. “Leonard, this is your child I’m carrying!” “Is it?” His eyes were chips of ice. “Ava told me she saw you. Wrapped in another man’s arms. We don’t know whose child that is, do we?” I stared at him, aghast. “You’re delusional! When have I ever—” “Enough!” He spun around, his face a mask of disgust. “Ava’s been fragile her whole life. You, the pampered princess, couldn’t just let her have a damn parking spot. You had to let her get sick. Now, it’s your turn to understand what real pain feels like.” The car doors clicked shut, locking me in. Leonard got out, leaving me alone in the suffocating, freezing space. Then, I felt a warm gush. My water had broken. The fluid soaked through my dress, staining the expensive leather of the seat. On the screen, Ava’s pathetic mask dropped, replaced by a triumphant smile. She gave a little wave to the camera. A moment later, the car door was wrenched open. Leonard stood there, flanked by five imposing men in dark suits. “It’s too warm in here,” Leonard said, his voice dripping with condescension. “How could you possibly appreciate the misery Ava felt in that cold rain?” My eyes widened in terror. “Leonard, the baby is coming! Get me to a hospital!” “Coming?” He scoffed. “Did you give a damn when Ava went into premature labor?” Two of the men moved forward, grabbing my arms and hauling me out of the car. A mixture of amniotic fluid and blood dripped onto the grimy concrete. The pain was so intense I could barely stand. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” Leonard ignored my pleas, simply pointing towards a car wash bay in the corner of the garage. The men dragged me towards it. I fought with everything I had, but a fresh wave of agony, like a blade twisting in my gut, stole my strength. “Leonard! I’m serious, the baby is coming out!” He picked up the nozzle of a pressure washer, aiming it directly at me. “Rebecca, you’ve been coddled your whole life. You have no idea what real suffering is.” A brutal, high-pressure blast of water slammed into my body. “Aaargh!” The water was ice-cold. The force of it knocked me to the ground. The bloody fluid around me was blasted across the concrete floor. I curled into a ball, but two of the enforcers pinned me down, their grips like iron. From the screen of a tablet one of them held, I could hear Ava’s cloying voice. “Leonard, maybe that’s enough. She’s pregnant, after all…” “You’re still defending her?!” Leonard’s rage intensified. He cranked the pressure washer to its maximum setting. “She’s the reason you went into labor early! The reason our son is now fighting for his life in an incubator! This is nothing compared to what she did!” The icy jet hit me again, and I thought I would drown in the pain. Soaked, my hair plastered to my face, I was a pathetic, broken thing on the floor. “Enough… please… the baby’s coming…” I begged, my voice a ragged whisper. Leonard’s eyes were merciless. “Cut her clothes off.” “No! You can’t!” I screamed, my voice raw with terror. One of the men produced a pair of shears. With a sharp rip, my maternity dress was torn open. “Leonard! You’re a monster!” He looked down at me, a god passing judgment. “When Ava was drenched and feverish, she felt just as helpless. Now it’s your turn.” The shears continued their work, shredding what was left of my clothes. The profound sense of shame was sharper than any contraction. A violent spasm seized my womb, and I instinctively reached for my pocket. It was still there. The micro-locator. My last hope. I covertly pressed the button. As the signal went out, a wave of relief washed over me. My parents would get the alert. They would come for me. I just had to hold on until they arrived— “Rebecca. What are you doing?” Leonard’s voice cut through the air. He snatched the device from my hand and, with a vicious stomp, crushed it under his heel. “Calling for help? You’re always full of tricks, aren’t you?” The electronic components scattered across the wet concrete. I collapsed, defeated, as the contractions intensified, one crashing into the next. I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t. I’d taken emergency first aid and physiology courses in college. I had to rely on myself now. I regulated my breathing, trying to relax my muscles, to work with the rhythm of my body. Through the haze of pain, I could feel the baby moving down. I could feel the head crowning. “Leonard, I’m giving birth! Right now!” I gritted out. Maybe, just maybe, I could deliver this baby myself. Seeing this, Leonard’s face darkened into a thunderous scowl. From the tablet, Ava’s panicked voice shrieked, “Leonard! I nearly bled to death during my delivery! How can it be this easy for her?” Her voice was thick with jealousy and disbelief. Leonard nodded, then turned and beckoned to someone behind him. “Doctor, come here.” Only then did I notice he’d brought his own private physician. A middle-aged man in a white coat approached, a syringe in his hand. “She’s having it too easy,” Leonard commanded, his voice devoid of all emotion. “Give her the contraction suppressant.” What?! My eyes flew wide with horror. “Leonard, you can’t! That will kill me! It will kill the baby!” The doctor didn’t hesitate. He knelt, and I felt the sharp prick of the needle in my arm. “No—!” The drug hit my bloodstream like liquid ice and fire. My lower abdomen seized as if caught in a giant, crushing vise. The baby, which had been moments from birth, was violently halted, forced back. The tearing sensation that followed blacked out my vision. Blood began to pour from me, pooling on the ground, a crimson tide. I was suffocating, my body convulsing uncontrollably. “Ava lost more blood than this,” Leonard stated, looking down at me in the spreading pool of my own blood, his tone terrifyingly calm. As the drug’s effects began to wane, I summoned every last ounce of strength I had. With a final, desperate push, the baby slid out of my body. Lying in the bloody mess, I trembled as I looked down at the infant in my arms. His skin was a terrifying shade of blue. His tiny mouth was closed. There was no cry. “My baby! My baby!” I clutched him to my chest, my shaking hands stroking his cold, still face. The private doctor rushed over, preparing to perform emergency resuscitation. “Get out of the way!” Leonard shoved the doctor aside and snatched the baby from my arms. “I’ll do it! Ava taught me how!” I could only watch in horror as he took my son. Following the “special technique” Ava had supposedly taught him, Leonard began to perform forceful chest compressions on the newborn. CRACK! The sickening snap of a tiny bone echoed through the parking garage. My son’s ribs were broken. He stopped breathing altogether. “NO!!!” A raw, animalistic howl tore from my throat as I scrambled toward Leonard. “Leonard! You killed our son! You monster!” I snatched my baby back, holding his lifeless body tight. He was so small, so fragile, like a perfect porcelain doll. A doll whose eyes would never open. Leonard stood frozen for a second, then his shock morphed into rage. “It’s your fault! This is all your fault!” he roared, kicking out at me. “If you hadn’t been so selfish about that parking spot, Ava wouldn’t have gone into premature labor! She would have been calm, and she would have taught me the right way!” “You’re lying! Ava did this on purpose!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face, dripping onto my son’s cold cheek. “She wanted our baby dead!” “Shut up!” Leonard gestured to his men. “Tie her up!” Rough hands dragged me away from my child. The ropes bit into my flesh, but I felt nothing. All I could feel was the gaping void where my heart used to be. From the tablet, Ava’s voice cooed, “Leonard, my love, Rebecca is just too cruel. She needs to learn what true despair feels like.” Leonard nodded, then turned to his enforcers, a group of men who looked like they’d just been released from prison. “You lot,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Show her what a hard life really is.” The men’s faces split into leering, predatory grins. I closed my eyes. It was for the best. My child was gone. What reason did I have to live? Just as a filthy hand was about to touch me— BOOM! The garage’s rolling steel door was torn from its moorings. A convoy of sleek black sedans screeched to a halt inside. Men in tactical gear swarmed out, neutralizing Leonard’s thugs with brutal efficiency. Screams of pain replaced the leering grins. The man leading the charge rushed to my side, shrugging off his expensive suit jacket and wrapping it around my shivering body. “Ma’am! I’m sorry I’m late!” I leaned weakly into his embrace, my eyes fixed on Leonard’s stunned face. “Rebecca… who… who are you?” Leonard stammered, his voice trembling. “Ma’am?” From the tablet, Ava’s voice rose in a panic. “Leonard, run! They look like the mob!” I stared at Leonard, my voice weak but crystal clear. “Him. And the woman on that screen. I want them to wish they had never been born.” Leonard stumbled backward, his face ashen. “Impossible! You’re just a regular office worker! How could you…” My head of security, Jackson, let out a cold laugh, his eyes dripping with contempt for the man before him. “Mr. Anderson, every penny you’ve ever spent, every luxury you’ve ever enjoyed, was a gift from Ms. Gilbert.” “The fact that your company, Anderson Corp, was pulled back from the brink of bankruptcy… you thought that was your business acumen?” Jackson sneered. “That was Ms. Gilbert pulling strings from the shadows.” The blood drained from Leonard’s face. “No… that’s not possible…” “The mansion you live in, the sports car you drive, every single contract your company has landed—” Jackson enunciated each word like a hammer blow. “Which one of those wasn’t arranged by her?” On the screen, Ava’s voice grew shrill. “That’s impossible! Rebecca doesn’t have that kind of background! She’s a nobody, a—” “Silence,” I cut her off. “A nobody from the wrong side of the tracks dares to speak in my presence?” Leonard was shaking from head to toe. “Rebecca… our three years together… our marriage…” “Marriage?” I laughed, but the sound was hollow and sharp with mockery. “You murdered my son, and you have the audacity to speak of our marriage?” The pool of blood on the floor had begun to congeal around the tiny, still form of my dead child. “Jackson, take them,” I commanded, closing my eyes. “And remember my instructions. Make them wish they were dead.” “Yes, ma’am!” Jackson gestured, and his men seized Leonard. “Rebecca! You can’t do this!” Leonard struggled. “We can start over! I can fix this!” Start over? I opened my eyes, and the sheer coldness in them made him flinch. “Do you know what I hate more than anything in this world, Leonard?” He stared, bewildered. “Betrayal,” I said, each word a shard of ice. “Especially from someone I truly gave my heart to.” A medical team rushed in, carefully lifting me onto a stretcher. As they carried me away, I gave Leonard one last look.

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When the seventh goldfish floated belly-up, I sobbed and told my husband I was getting an abortion. After becoming pregnant, my mother-in-law suggested our five-year-old adopted daughter Holly stay with me. The day she arrived, my five-year-old goldfish died. For seven days straight, one fish died each day. Now I wanted Holly gone and was frantically grabbing my purse to flee to the clinic. “They’re just fish!” my mother-in-law shouted. “Holly saved your life! Why this scene?” My husband Jason fell to his knees. “We tried so long for this baby! You’ll abort it over fish? Are you insane?” But my voice trembled. “Seven fish are dead. The baby has to go!” Jason’s eyes turned bloodshot. “I won’t allow it! If you abort, I’ll have a child with another woman!” “Fine!” I cried. “I’ll even help raise it. But I must abort this child. The seventh fish is dead.” 1. The seventh goldfish was dead. The glass slipped from my numb fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. Jason rushed out of the bedroom. He saw me staring, transfixed, at the fish tank, and his eyes landed on the latest floating corpse. His brow furrowed in a familiar pattern. “Another one?” His voice was a thin veil over a deep well of exhaustion and impatience. “Honey, stop looking. I’ll buy you some new ones tomorrow.” I twisted my head, my gaze locking onto our seven-year-old adopted daughter in the corner of the sofa. Holly. Three months ago, my mother-in-law and Jason had brought her home from a rural orphanage. A poor, pitiful thing. Right now, she was curled up in the plush cushions, her small body nearly swallowed by the sofa, her head bowed so low all I could see was the crown of her dark hair. A wave of profound unease washed over me. I snatched my phone, my fingers flying as I dialed the number for the city hospital’s OB-GYN clinic. “City Hospital? I need to schedule an abortion. As soon as possible. Today! Right now!” Jason lunged, trying to rip the phone from my hand. “Susan! What are you talking about, an abortion? Are you out of your mind?!” His voice was a cocktail of disbelief, rage, and raw panic. “That’s our baby! The baby we’ve been praying for for years!” “Not only am I getting rid of this baby,” I interrupted, my voice sharp and brittle despite my dazed expression, “but her, that adopted girl, has to get out of my house! Right now! Immediately!” Jason froze, staring at me as if for the first time. “Susan, you were the one who said you couldn’t conceive, the one who desperately wanted to adopt! You and Mom went to the orphanage yourselves and hand-picked her from dozens of children!” He took a breath, trying to calm himself. “I get it, you’re pregnant, your hormones are all over the place. I’ll go along with whatever you want. But now you want to send a helpless five-year-old girl back, and you want to personally destroy the child we fought so hard for? What the hell is wrong with you? Does pregnancy make you crazy?” My husband was a good man. From the day we met through our marriage and five agonizing years of trying for a baby, he had treated me like a queen. Anything I wanted, he would move heaven and earth to get. But this time, staring at that line of tiny, cold bodies in the tank, a monstrous fear had its claws clamped around my heart. I couldn’t compromise. I didn’t dare. “Look at them! Seven of my fish, the ones I’ve had for five years, are dead! The seventh one today! One a day, for seven days!” My voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “If I don’t get rid of this baby today, if I don’t get that curse out of my house, it will be too late… It will be too late!” The last few words were a sob-choked scream. Jason was utterly baffled, his face a mixture of absurdity and confusion. “You want an abortion and you want to abandon a child… all because seven goldfish died? Susan, get a grip!” He tried to approach me, his tone pleading. “Yes, it’s sad that fish you had for five years died. But we can buy more! We can buy ten, a hundred, whatever you want! Just don’t do something this impulsive!” “Enough!” My mother-in-law burst out of the kitchen, planting herself in front of Holly. She pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down her face. “Susan, do you hear yourself?! They’re just fish! Animals! They die! How can you compare them to a person?!” “This child has had such a hard life! No parents, growing up in an orphanage, God only knows what she’s been through! You were the one who insisted we adopt her! After we brought her home, after we all grew to love her—she’s so well-behaved, so sweet—what has she ever done to you? How can you be so heartless?” I stared past my mother-in-law at Holly, and a chill shot up from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. Every hair on my body stood on end. My mother-in-law grew more agitated, her voice thick with emotion. “When you were spotting and unstable, if it wasn’t for Holly being so quick-witted and running to the neighbors to call 911… there’s no telling if you would have even kept this baby!” “She’s your savior! She’s your baby’s savior! And now, because of a few dead fish, you’re going to do this to your own benefactor and your own flesh and blood? You’re committing a sin, Susan! You’ll be damned for this!” Jason immediately jumped in. “Mom’s right, Sue, think about it! That day you fainted in the living room, it was just you and Holly at home. If she hadn’t run and banged on the neighbor’s door for help… I can’t even imagine what would have happened! She cares about you so much, she loves this family, she’s trying so hard to fit in… She’s just a five-year-old kid. What could she have possibly done wrong? The fish died, maybe the water quality was bad, or the weather changed, or maybe it was just their time. It has nothing to do with our baby or with Holly, okay?” Listening to them, their words felt like a mockery of my terror. I used to adore Holly. Of all the children at the orphanage, my eyes landed on her first. So quiet, so gentle, with big eyes that held a hint of careful, heartbreaking eagerness to please. I was the one who brought her home, who raised her as my own. It was only after I got pregnant and we moved back to the city for my check-ups that she came to stay for her summer break. And the moment she arrived, my fish started dying. One after another, a gruesome, daily ritual. A precise, macabre countdown. Including today’s, a full seven. I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t afford to. No one in this house believed me. Desperation and a frantic, encroaching madness swallowed the last of my reason. I spun around and bolted for the kitchen. Without a second of hesitation, I snatched the butcher knife from the block and pointed it at Holly on the sofa. “Get out! Now! Get out of my house!” “Susan! What are you doing?!” Jason’s face went white with terror as he lunged to grab the knife. I twisted my wrist, the razor-sharp tip now aimed directly at him. “Don’t make me, Jason! Her, and this thing in my belly! Neither of them can stay! They can’t! I’m going to the hospital now, and nobody is going to stop me!” “Susan! Put the knife down!” Jason’s face was a mask of horror. He threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist and arms with all his strength, desperately trying to wrestle the weapon from my grip. My mother-in-law shrieked and fumbled for her phone. “She’s crazy! She’s completely lost her mind! I’m calling your parents! I’m calling the relatives! Let everyone come and see this! See what kind of mother you are, trying to kill our Holly, trying to kill your own child, over a few stupid fish! This is a sin! Somebody help!” 2. Under the dim, yellow light, the living room was in chaos. My parents and a few relatives who lived nearby arrived quickly. They walked in to a scene of pure madness: me, hair wild, held in a desperate bear hug from behind by my husband, a gleaming butcher knife still clutched in my hand. Amid the shocked stares, Holly acted as if nothing was wrong. She slipped away from my mother-in-law’s protection, expertly grabbed a stack of paper cups, and carefully filled a few with warm water. “Grandpa… Grandma, have some water.” That display—so thoughtful, so pitiful, so bravely composed after such a scare—instantly won the heart of every person in the room. My mother’s face hardened. “Susan! What is this? How many times have I told you, if you can’t have a child, you focus on your health. And if you adopt, you take that responsibility seriously! Holly is a wonderful, sweet girl. What more could you want from a five-year-old? And now you’re waving a knife around and threatening to get rid of the grandchild we’ve waited so long for… Have you completely lost your mind?” My father was pale with rage, his finger trembling as he pointed at me. “This is nonsense! Absolute nonsense! We are not letting you get away with this! Put the knife down now and apologize to Holly!” I looked at my parents’ faces and saw the same expression as on my husband’s and mother-in-law’s—the unshakeable conviction that I was being completely irrational. A tidal wave of despair and helplessness crashed over me. I stopped struggling, my voice turning to a wretched plea. “Please, you have to believe me. We’re running out of time. This is the seventh dead fish. The seventh! If I don’t go today, if we don’t send her away, it will be too late! It will be too late! Mom, Dad, please believe me! Just this once!” “Oh, Susan, what are you even saying?” an aunt muttered, her eyes full of pity for Holly. “Look at that poor, sweet child. You’re lucky to have her! Why can’t you appreciate that? Fish die, you buy new ones. Is it really worth all this drama?” “Susan.” An uncle who rarely spoke now chimed in, his face grim. “Listen to me. If you want to give up this child, that’s one thing. But you are not getting rid of a child of this family! And Jason would never stay with a woman who doesn’t even love her own baby!” His voice hardened. “Our family can’t handle that kind of scandal!” I snapped my head up, staring at him blankly. “What… what do you mean?” My uncle snorted, his voice firm. “It means if you insist on this abortion, we’ll have Jason divorce you! This family doesn’t want a cruel, heartless woman like you as a daughter-in-law!” “Divorce?” The word was a spark in the darkness of my despair. Yes! A divorce! If we divorced, the adoption would be void. Holly would no longer be my daughter! If she wouldn’t leave, I could! And the baby… once I was no longer Jason’s legal wife, I could make the decision myself! It was my only way out. The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them. “Fine! I agree to a divorce!” The living room fell dead silent. All the shouting, the crying, the accusations—it all stopped as if someone had hit a pause button. Jason stared at me, his face a canvas of pure disbelief. “Susan, what did you just say?” “I said, I agree to a divorce.” I met his shattered gaze, my voice clear and steady. “We get a divorce. Right now. I’ll walk away with nothing, as long as it doesn’t stop me from getting the abortion.” “ARE YOU INSANE?!” Jason roared, the sound ripped from his chest, thick with an unbelievable pain. He stumbled forward, reaching for me, but I shrank away. “We’ve been married for seven years! Seven! We’ve been through so much! To have this child, how many hospitals did we visit, how much did we suffer, how many people did we beg?! After all that, after finally getting our miracle, you’re telling me you have to get rid of it? That you’re willing to end our marriage to destroy the symbol of our love? Tell me why! I might be able to understand, but don’t you dare tell me it’s because of a few dead fish!” I froze.

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