Category: English

In the third year of hiding my identity and marrying Alpha Lucas, he still hadn’t made our relationship public. His excuse was that he worried I’d be hunted down by his enemies. But I overheard him chatting casually with friends: “Sophie is just a useless Omega. She’s not even as pretty as Isabella.” “But if I divorce her now, she’ll take half my assets. The loss would be too great.” “I’m starting to regret making her my mate. With her status, she’s only good enough to be my mistress at best.” So I handed him divorce papers. When he saw I was walking away with nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then, pretending to be generous, he said: “I’ll give you twenty million as compensation.” I smiled and declined: “I’m still young. I can afford to take risks.” He didn’t know I wasn’t the ordinary Omega he thought I was. I’m the beloved stepsister of the Alpha of North America’s most powerful pack, the Shadow Fang Pack. Lucas’s current status and wealth all came from my stepbrother’s support. Now, I’m going to take it all back. 0

My third year married to Lucas. To get closer to him, I hid my identity and took a job as an administrative assistant at Lucas’s company. I just wanted to see him a little more each day. But on my third day at work, my colleague Chloe sent me a video. The camera focused on a private room where Lucas and his beta Isabella sat side by side. Isabella turned toward him, hooking her finger around Lucas’s tie and pulling him close. “Lucas,” her voice carried a hint of intoxication, “do you have feelings for me or not?” Lucas pressed her hand down, saying in a low voice: “Now’s not the time to talk about this.” “Give me an answer, Lucas.” Her voice rose slightly. She glanced at the others nearby, then looked back at him. “Right now. Tell me, do you love me or not?” Lucas was silent for a few seconds, then raised his hand to rub his temples, his tone weary: “Do you have to do this?” Isabella laughed, released his tie, casually picked up his drink and took a sip, then set down the glass, grabbed her bag, and got up to leave. Lucas immediately stood up and briefly told the group: “Excuse me for a moment,” then hurried after her. The video ended. Chloe’s message came right after: [They left together! Haven’t come back all afternoon! Think something’s going to happen tonight?] I stared at the darkened screen, my fingertips numb. Before I could catch my breath, my phone vibrated again. Lucas’s message popped up: [Working all night tonight, not coming home, don’t wait up.] My heart sank. I called him right away. At first, no one answered. I called several times in a row. The call connected. “Honey, my phone was on silent, didn’t hear it. What’s wrong?” “Honey, are you really not coming home tonight?” I asked through clenched teeth, my nails digging into my palm. “Yeah, it’s a get-together. Everyone’s here. Can’t leave. Hope you understand, honey.” “Are there women at your party?” He paused, then laughed: “No, since when do you check up on me? Want to video chat so I can prove my innocence?” Just then, I heard it. The clear rustling sound of an expensive shirt rubbing against hotel sheets. Then a suppressed, brief groan escaped from deep in his throat. “Mm…” All the blood in my body seemed to freeze instantly. After three years with Lucas, I knew exactly what that sound meant. “No need for video…” I was afraid I might throw up. “You have fun. I’m going to bed.” “Honey,” his voice was terribly hoarse, “we closed a big deal tonight. Starting tomorrow, everyone’s going to be working overtime. I’ll probably be working late, so don’t wait for me for dinner these days.” The call ended. I didn’t sleep all night, already planning to confront Lucas directly tomorrow and hopefully leave him with nothing. But at four in the morning, Lucas came home. “Honey?” He obviously didn’t expect me to still be awake. He froze for a moment, then showed his usual gentle smile. “Why aren’t you asleep? Didn’t I tell you not to wait up?” “Where did you go?” I stared at him, my voice soft. “Didn’t I tell you? At a party?” “Was it a party, or a date with another woman?” “Sophie,” he sighed, his voice full of exhaustion and helplessness, “did someone send you something? I admit, Isabella confessed to me at the party. But I turned her down. We’ve known each other so long—if I liked her, why would I have married you?” “Besides…” He hugged me, his palm rubbing my neck, “wouldn’t you know if I’d cheated on you?” Calming down, I realized he was right. When I was 18, he had already marked me. If one mate cheats, the other suffers unbearably. If Lucas had really cheated, how could I not feel the pain? Maybe I really was overthinking it. 0

“I’m sorry,” I leaned against his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt, “I’m just… so afraid of losing you.” That night he was especially gentle. He heated milk for me, coaxed me to sleep, just like every night for the past three years. I curled up in his arms, telling myself: Trust him. Trust this man I’ve loved for three years. I almost really believed it. The next morning, Lucas specially got up early to make me breakfast. “Come home early today, okay?” I saw him to the door, helping him straighten his tie. “Okay, no overtime today. I’ll come home and keep you company.” He kissed my forehead. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll make it for you.” “I like everything you make.” Watching his retreating figure, I even started to feel guilty: How could I suspect him? He’s so good to me. But there was still some unease in my heart. So I didn’t tell him I was working at his company. After seeing Lucas off, I drove to the company alone. I’d just sat down at my desk when Isabella showed up at the office. She was carrying a lunch box and walked straight through Lucas’s office door. The door wasn’t fully closed. A few minutes later, I picked up an irrelevant document, pretending I needed to deliver something, and walked toward that door. Through the crack, I saw her straddle Lucas’s lap, cup his face in her hands, and give him a long, suffocating kiss. Lucas’s hands immediately gripped her waist tightly, while his other hand expertly explored beneath her skirt. “Did you miss me?” Isabella gasped as they separated, her lips glistening. “What do you think?” Lucas’s voice was low and husky, his hand still moving under her skirt. Lucas chuckled softly, leaned close to her ear and said something. Isabella giggled and playfully hit his chest. In that moment, the vague fear from last night’s phone call transformed into a soul-piercing, undeniable agony. Intense burning pain and nauseating betrayal surged through that invisible bond, crashing violently into my heart and brain. My legs went weak. I had to grab the wall to keep from collapsing, my stomach churning. I could barely stand, yet I still raised my phone and recorded everything. I didn’t actually need to witness it myself. But if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I was afraid I wouldn’t give up. All afternoon, I watched Lucas and Isabella going in and out of the office like an outsider. They occasionally made eye contact, their gazes lingering. When Isabella handed him documents, her fingers “accidentally” brushed his hand. And I shattered a cup from the pain of their contact. During lunch, Isabella entered his office. She didn’t come out until half an hour later, her lipstick reapplied, her hair slightly mussed. The suffocating pain and absurd awareness coming from behind that closed door made me almost vomit. I didn’t even need to look to know what they were doing. Six o’clock in the evening. Closing time. I watched them head to the underground parking garage. Then I got in my car and followed them. I didn’t know what I wanted to see. Perhaps I just wanted an answer. If he’d fallen in love with someone else, why was he still pretending nothing was wrong? Why wouldn’t he divorce me? After Lucas dropped Isabella off at home, he went to a discreet members-only bar. I used the card Nathan gave me to get in and sat in the shadows near their private room. The door was ajar. I could see seven or eight people sitting inside. At first, the group discussed work projects. Later, they started talking about their personal lives. About kids, about wives… and of course, about mistresses. “I saw Isabella post on social media something about lovers finally getting together. What’s up? Did you finally come around and get Isabella into bed?” Someone asked. I couldn’t help but prick up my ears. Lucas said calmly: “You don’t understand the situation that day. I had no choice. Isabella was pressuring me. If I didn’t take her, she’d resign. You know, Isabella’s been with the company so many years, the company can’t do without her. Or rather… I can’t do without her.” “So Isabella’s okay with being a mistress? Lucas, don’t screw yourself over later.” “Right. And can your mate accept Isabella’s existence? Didn’t she notice anything yesterday?” “It’s simple. As long as you keep your distance, even a mate won’t detect these things.” So that was it. Apparently they all had experience with this, and had even figured out the effective range of the mate bond. Lucas set down his glass and spoke: “Sophie is just a useless Omega. She’s not even as pretty as Isabella.” “I’m starting to regret making her my mate. With her status, she’s only good enough to be my mistress at best.” “But divorcing now would mean too great a loss.” So he was worried about the loss. Made sense. Lucas and I were legally married. Divorce would mean splitting his marital assets. Lucas’s Silver Crest Pack was originally just a small pack, and the businesses under it barely made money. It was only after marrying me that he suddenly gained many opportunities to partner with Shadow Fang Pack’s enterprises. And Lucas finally had the standing to build connections with the Alphas of more powerful packs. Because although I’m an Omega, my stepfather and stepbrother are both powerful Alphas, and they dote on me. I got up and left the bar, walked to the curb, and called my stepbrother Nathan. “Sophia, what’s up? How come you’re calling me so late?” Nathan’s voice came through the receiver. I couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down my face. “Soph, what’s wrong? Are you crying?” I was sobbing too hard to speak. Nathan immediately asked where I was. I gave him an address through my tears. Half an hour later, he appeared in front of me. “Where’s Lucas?” “He cheated.” 0

Nathan froze, his jaw clenched tight. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him.” I grabbed Nathan’s hand and shook my head: “No need. That would only dirty your hands.” Nathan stomped his foot hard on the ground in anger. But it still wasn’t enough to calm him down. He asked me: “Divorce?” I nodded without hesitation. “Could it be a misunderstanding?” I showed Nathan all the videos and photos saved on my phone. Even though I said nothing. Nathan had already made his decision. He immediately took out his phone and made several calls. He contacted suppliers connected to Lucas, telling them not to sign contracts that had just been negotiated but not yet signed, not to renew contracts that were expiring, and for contracts not yet expired, to withdraw discounts and charge full market price. After those few calls. Nathan took my hand: “Come on, let’s go home.” I shook my head, tears still hanging at the corners of my eyes: “Before going home, I want to move out first.” Without hesitation, Nathan drove to the place Lucas and I shared. Lucas had arranged the residence. I had nothing worth being attached to. I’d just lived here for three years, never imagining I’d leave this way. “If you want this place, I’ll get you the best lawyer to help you win it.” “No need. Anything touched by Lucas feels pretty dirty to me now.” Moving out of that villa. I wanted to wait for Lucas to contact me first, then confront him. But unfortunately. A week passed. He didn’t even notice I’d moved out. He just sent me his usual daily message: [Working late tonight, don’t wait up.] But in reality? I saw him and Isabella together every day. Each time brought me such clear pain. I’d planned to finish my current work before resigning, but one day I was suddenly notified by HR: immediate termination, leave the company at once. I protested and asked my department supervisor for a reason. The supervisor only said it was Ms. Rodriguez’s decision, that I was “not a good fit for the company culture.” I thought Isabella knew my identity and was deliberately targeting me. But unexpectedly, Chloe came to me and confessed. “Someone overheard me calling Ms. Rodriguez a ‘homewrecker’ that day, and word got out. We’ve been working overtime constantly these days. It wasn’t Mr. Lawson’s arrangement—it was Ms. Rodriguez deliberately targeting us. I was done for, but because you kept working overtime with me, I…” Chloe was crying uncontrollably. “I really need this job. I’m not as pretty as you, not as smart as you, so I went to Ms. Rodriguez and blamed you for calling her a ‘homewrecker.’” “I thought, I thought Ms. Rodriguez would just not let you stay to work here. I didn’t expect her to have security throw you out… I hurt you… I’m sorry…” I laughed. Completely out of anger. Partly angry at my friend’s betrayal. But more angry at Isabella for abusing her power and humiliating people like this. “It’s fine, I forgive you. Stop crying. Thank you for being a good friend to me this time. From now on, I wish you all the best.” With that, I picked up the documents I’d prepared long ago from the desk and started to leave. Chloe grabbed me, her face hopeful: “What about Ms. Rodriguez…” I said calmly: “Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame for this.” Then I raised my head. And shouted loudly across the entire office: “Isabella is a homewrecker. What, can’t even say it out loud!” 0

Instantly. Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing and looked at me in unison. Shock filled everyone’s eyes. And I, holding that “immediate termination notice,” charged straight into the conference room. At that very moment. All the company’s executives and supervisors were in an early meeting. My arrival was clearly very inappropriate. The executives in the conference room frowned one after another, somewhat disgusted with this clueless young woman. That’s right. Three years as Lucas’s mate. Not a single person in his company knew what his wife looked like. Including Isabella. Among those present, only Lucas showed some surprise in his eyes when he saw me. But he didn’t speak. The first to speak was still the meeting host, Isabella. Isabella lifted her chin, her sophisticated, mature face expressing utter disdain and impatience: “What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” I wasn’t polite: “Ms. Rodriguez, did you deliberately fire me because I said you were Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker?” The others present looked at Isabella with slightly surprised expressions. Isabella’s face stiffened, apparently not expecting a small administrative assistant to be so bold. She narrowed her eyes and said: “Since you already know, why bother asking?” There was no point in her denying it. There was plenty of gossip in the company. To silence the masses, you had to make an example. And in her view, I was that chicken to be killed to scare the monkeys. I met Isabella’s eyes and raised my voice: “I’m sorry, Ms. Rodriguez. I shouldn’t have said you were Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker!” Isabella’s expression was somewhat awkward, but she still held firm, crossing her arms and looking down: “Apologizing now is too late!” I looked at Lucas. His face was dark, clearly displeased. But what right did he have to be displeased? He was the one who lost face first. I sneered coldly: “It’s not too late at all. I’ll clear Ms. Rodriguez’s name right now!” I pulled open the door behind me, raising my voice even higher: “Although Ms. Rodriguez knew Lucas had a mate and still slept with him, she’s of course not Mr. Lawson’s homewrecker! After all, she’s about to be promoted to the main position! I, Alpha Lucas’s actual mate, am signing divorce papers right now to fulfill your love!” My announcement made Isabella’s face turn from green to white. The people present also realized my identity. Isabella too. Everyone looked at Lucas. Lucas was already furious. One year of dating, three years as mates… this was the first time I’d seen Lucas angry. “Have you caused enough trouble!” How could it be enough? I wanted to be dignified too. But you wouldn’t let me! “I have no other demands,” I pushed the document in front of Lucas. “Sign it.” Lucas glanced at the document title. “Divorce Agreement.” He froze. Isabella’s composure had already faltered, but seeing the document, she gained some confidence. “You—what do you mean?” I looked at her, then at Lucas: “I mean, I’m done playing games with you two.” Lucas stared at the agreement, then looked up at me: “Sophia, are you serious?” “What else?” I smiled. “I’m not a recycling center. I don’t handle garbage.” Isabella’s eyes flashed with wild joy, but she suppressed it, leaning close to Lucas and whispering: “She’s walking away with nothing. I’ve read the agreement. You can sign it.” Lucas ignored her, only looking at me: “Think carefully. Rejection—” “I’ve thought very carefully,” I interrupted him. “Compared to continuing as your mate, I’d rather walk away with nothing. But today, I’m only signing the divorce agreement. As for rejection… that’s between us, not something to resolve here today. I need time.” I looked at everyone present and raised my voice: “Everyone here is a witness. Today, I, Sophie, want the divorce. I’m the one who doesn’t want him anymore. As for the reason—” The conference room was deathly silent. I put away my phone and looked at Lucas: “Now, can you sign?”

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I was the one who saved Lucas Thornfield, but he believed it was Serena who was his savior. He called me vicious and forced me to donate blood to the pretending-to-be-sick Serena again and again. “Having your blood flow into her body is the greatest honor of your pathetic life.” After three years of torment from constant blood draws, I finally signed the “Deep Sea” memory erasure agreement, willing to risk a 50 percent mortality rate just to completely forget him. But when I was reborn with a completely new identity and stood on the international stage, he knelt before me, begging through tears for my forgiveness. I sneered and pushed him away. “Mr. Thornfield, you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Stella POV “Miss Winters, this is the ‘Deep Sea’ memory erasure and identity reconstruction agreement you applied for. The procedure is irreversible, with a mortality rate as high as thirty percent. Once you sign, in seven days, Stella Winters will cease to exist. Please confirm one final time.” In the sterile white therapy room, the doctor pushed a document toward me. I lowered my eyes and gripped the pen without a moment’s hesitation, signing my name at the bottom. The scratching sound of the pen tearing across paper severed the absurd and pitiful obsession that had consumed the last ten years of my life. Ten years. I’d finally decided to let myself go, and to let Lucas go. The entire city knew I was the woman Lucas couldn’t shake off. To marry him, I’d stopped at nothing, even driving away the woman Lucas loved most, Serena Marlowe, forcing her to leave town. But no one knew that when I was fifteen, it was Lucas who slipped a hand-carved wooden ring onto my finger under a sky full of stars, his face flushed as he said, “Stella, when I grow up, I’ll marry you and make you my one and only Mrs. Thornfield.” At eighteen, during that terrible fire, Lucas shielded me from harm. A burning beam struck his head, leaving him blind and robbing him of all his memories. To save him, I was left with horrifying burn scars covering my back. But when Lucas woke up in the hospital and regained his sight, the first person he saw was Serena in her white dress, looking delicate and pitiful. Serena took credit for saving him. From that moment on, Lucas’s memory held no trace of me. Only the image of Serena, the one who “risked her life to save him.” For the past seven years, I’d exhausted every method trying to awaken his memories, only to be met with escalating disgust and torment. Especially three years ago, when Serena was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder requiring long-term transfusions. And I happened to have the same rare blood type that matched hers perfectly. Lucas married me not out of compromise, but to turn me into Serena’s personal walking blood bank. “Stella, as long as Serena needs it, draining you dry is what you owe her!” Lucas had been saying this for three years. I gathered my thoughts and handed the agreement to the doctor, then stood and left. Walking out of the discreet private clinic, the autumn wind whipped fallen leaves against my face. The cold cut through to my bones. I’d barely gotten into my car when my phone screen lit up. The name “Lucas” flashed on the display. I pressed accept. A voice as cold as ice came through the speaker. “Get to Grace Memorial Hospital within half an hour. Serena fainted from anemia.” No greeting. No pleasantries. Just a cold command. In the past, I would have felt heartbroken, made excuses about not feeling well myself, tried to beg for even the smallest scrap of his pity. But today, I simply replied with one word. “Okay.” Lucas seemed to pause on the other end. After all, every previous time I’d been summoned for a blood draw, I’d cried and made a scene, forcing him to come back to the villa and have dinner with me before I’d agree. “Don’t try any tricks.” Lucas snorted coldly and hung up. Half an hour later, I arrived at the VIP ward on schedule. The hospital room door was half-open. Lucas sat by the bed, carefully peeling an apple for Serena. His usually hard jawline softened impossibly when facing her. “Lucas, I’m fine. Don’t keep making things difficult for Stella. She’s your wife, after all. Constantly drawing her blood makes me feel terrible…” Serena leaned against the pillow, her voice so weak it seemed a breeze could blow it away. “Wife? What kind of wife is she?” Lucas’s voice turned cold instantly, dripping with undisguised sarcasm. “She’s just a woman who’ll do anything to climb the social ladder. Having her blood flow into your body is her honor.” I stood outside the door listening to these words. My heart felt like an invisible hand was squeezing it tight, but in the next second, it went completely numb. I pushed open the door and walked in. “Go ahead and draw it.” I proactively rolled up my sleeve, exposing an arm covered in needle marks, and spoke to the nurse beside me. Lucas looked up, his sharp gaze fixed on me. Today I hadn’t become hysterical, hadn’t questioned him with red-rimmed eyes, hadn’t even glanced at him once. “400cc.” Lucas spoke coldly. The nurse gasped. “Mr. Thornfield, Miss Winters just donated 300cc last week. If we draw another 400cc today, her body won’t be able to handle it. She might go into shock…” “I said 400cc.” Lucas’s tone was freezing, brooking no argument. I didn’t object. I simply watched quietly as the thick needle pierced my vein. Dark red blood flowed through the tube. I felt the warmth draining from my body bit by bit, my vision beginning to darken. But I didn’t cry out in pain. I didn’t even furrow my brow. Seven days. Just seven more days, and I could be completely free. What was this little bit of pain?

Stella POV Blood drained from my body drop by drop. My heartbeat grew slower and slower, my breathing increasingly difficult. When the 400cc blood bag was finally full, I couldn’t hold on any longer. My body went limp and I slid from the chair. Instead of hitting the cold, hard floor I expected, a strong arm suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. Lucas looked down at me from above, his brows knitted together. “Done with your performance?” He roughly released my hand. “Drawing a little blood and you play dead. Stella, your acting is getting more and more pathetic.” I collapsed back into the chair, gasping for air in great gulps. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, stinging the hideous burn scars on my back. I had no strength to argue. I just pressed a cotton swab against the needle mark, braced myself against the wall, and shakily stood up. “Since the draw is finished, may I leave?” Lucas grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up at him directly. “Leave? Did I say you could leave?” Lucas sneered. “Next month’s ‘StarGlow’ International Jewelry Design Competition. Serena is entering. Hand over that ‘Tears of the Deep’ design draft of yours.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Tears of the Deep” was a work I’d poured an entire year of my heart and soul into, created to commemorate my late mother. It was my masterpiece, the work I’d prepared for my comeback on the international stage as a genius jewelry designer. “That’s my work.” I bit my lip, my voice trembling. “Yours?” Lucas acted as if he’d heard the biggest joke in the world. “Stella, have you forgotten? Everything you have now, the Lu family gave you! Serena’s hands were injured saving me. She can’t hold a brush steadily anymore. As the culprit, what’s wrong with drawing a few designs for her?” “I didn’t set that fire! I was the one who saved you!” I’d been repeating this explanation for seven years, but every single time, he crushed it beneath his feet. “Shut up!” Lucas suddenly tightened his grip, his eyes terrifyingly dark. “You still dare bring up what happened back then? If you hadn’t been jealous of Serena and deliberately locked her in the equipment room, how would the fire have started? Serena dragged me out of the flames and suffered severe burns on both hands. She can never complete the designs she loved again. And you? You hid outside without a scratch!” Without a scratch? I closed my eyes in despair. My back still bore the permanent brand that fire had given me. Every time it rained, the pain was unbearable. But he didn’t believe me. He only believed in the insignificant burn on the back of Serena’s hand. “Lucas, don’t push Stella anymore…” Serena in the hospital bed started crying right on cue, tears falling in big drops. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t dream of standing on the design competition stage anymore. I’ll go tell the organizers I’m withdrawing right now…” “Serena, don’t cry.” Lucas immediately released me, turned, and walked to the bedside, gently wiping away Serena’s tears. “I told you, the glory that belongs to you. I’ll definitely help you get it back.” He turned his head to look at me again, his eyes restored to absolute coldness. “Tomorrow morning, I want to see the final draft of ‘Tears of the Deep’ in Serena’s email. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee that cemetery plot your mother has in the south district won’t become a commercial zone tomorrow.” My entire body trembled. I looked at this man I’d loved for ten years in disbelief. He was actually threatening me with my mother’s resting place! My heart felt like it was being sliced back and forth with a dull knife. The pain reached such extremes that it became numb. I looked at Lucas and smiled faintly. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” Lucas froze, about to say something more when my figure had already disappeared from the doorway. I didn’t look back. Even when I heard him mutter under his breath, “Just a vicious woman. How could I possibly care?” I ignored it. After all, this would all be over soon.

Stella POV Three days later, at the “StarGlow” International Jewelry Design Competition awards gala. As Lucas’s wife in name, I was forced to attend. I wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black evening gown that covered me completely. I wore this dress solely to hide the scars on my back and the dense needle marks covering my arms. I sat quietly in a corner, watching Serena shine brilliantly at center stage. Serena wore a haute couture white dress with my heart and soul around her neck. “Tears of the Deep.” It was a necklace with a rare blue diamond as the centerpiece, surrounded by smaller diamonds, like the desperate tears of a mermaid in the deep sea. Breathtakingly beautiful. “The winner of this year’s ‘StarGlow’ Competition Gold Award is… Miss Serena! Her piece ‘Tears of the Deep,’ with its unique emotional expression and stunning cutting technique, has conquered all the judges!” The spotlight fell on Serena. She covered her mouth excitedly, her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at Lucas in the audience. Lucas sat in the front row VIP section, gazing tenderly at the woman on stage, leading the applause. Thunderous applause filled the room. I lifted the wine glass in front of me and drained it in one gulp. The bitter liquid slid down my throat into my stomach, but it couldn’t match even one ten-thousandth of the bitterness in my heart. After the awards ceremony came the media interview segment. Serena held Lucas’s arm, radiant and dazzling, accepting the media’s flashbulb baptism. “Miss Marlowe, we heard that due to your hand injury, you haven’t produced any new work in recent years. This ‘Tears of the Deep’ marks your return to the peak. What was your inspiration?” Serena glanced shyly at Lucas beside her and said softly, “This piece was designed to thank someone who has silently protected me and given me light in my darkest moments. It represents undying love.” The crowd erupted in envious exclamations. Just then, a sharp voice suddenly cut in. “Mrs. Thornfield, we heard you were also a somewhat famous talented designer in the industry. Why haven’t you published a single piece in the three years since you married Mr. Thornfield? Has your talent run out, so you can only coast on the Thornfield family’s influence?” All the cameras instantly turned toward me in the corner. Malicious, mocking, and gleeful gazes pierced me like blades, pinning me in place. I lifted my head and looked at Lucas. I wanted to see what my husband would do at this moment. Lucas’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then he spoke coldly. “Stella indeed has no design talent. The only thing she can do well is hold the empty title of Mrs. Thornfield. Everyone, there’s no need to waste time on a worthless person. Tonight’s star is Serena.” Something in my head seemed to explode completely. A worthless person. My ten years of youth, the talent I took such pride in, the half-life I’d destroyed to save him. In his eyes, it was all dismissed as “worthless.” Suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd. “So she’s just useless. I thought she was something special.” “And she dares occupy the position of Mrs. Thornfield. How shameless. Mr. Thornfield clearly loves Miss Marlowe.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t even feel angry. I simply stood up slowly and, under everyone’s contemptuous gazes, lifted my dress and walked step by step toward the banquet hall exit. My spine remained perfectly straight. Lucas caught my wrist at a hallway corner and slammed me hard against the wall. “Why are you running? Embarrassed?” Lucas ground his teeth as he stared at my face. “Wasn’t I telling the truth? Besides scheming to force me to marry you, what else can you do?” I didn’t struggle. I just quietly looked at this face so close to mine. The face I’d once loved to the bone. “Lucas.” “You’re right. I really am a worthless piece of trash.” Lucas suddenly leaned down, rough and venting his anger through force. “Stella, what kind of playing-hard-to-get game are you trying now?!” The taste of blood spread between our lips and teeth. I didn’t respond. I didn’t resist. Just then, a shocked cry came from the end of the hallway. “Lucas…” Serena stood in the distance, her eyes red, looking at us tangled together as if she might collapse at any moment.

Stella POV Lucas snapped out of it as if waking from a dream and shoved me away violently. The force was so great that my back slammed hard against the solid wall. A dull pain radiated from the old wounds on my spine. I groaned. “Serena, let me explain…” Lucas strode toward Serena, his tone full of panic. Completely different from the roughness he’d just shown me. Serena covered her face, tears falling like broken pearls. “Lucas, I know Stella is your wife and I’m just an outsider… I shouldn’t be disturbing you two. I’ll leave, I’ll leave right now…” She turned to run but “accidentally” crashed into a giant decorative champagne tower nearby. The towering champagne tower collapsed with a crash, countless glass shards flying everywhere. “Ah!” Serena screamed and fell among the broken glass covering the floor. A gash immediately opened on her fair calf. “Serena!” Lucas’s eyes nearly split with rage as he rushed over and carefully gathered Serena into his arms. Serena leaned against him, trembling, but her gaze traveled over Lucas’s shoulder to me. “Stella, I know you hate me for taking your design draft, but why did you push me? My hands are already ruined. Do you want to destroy my legs too?” I stood three meters away from the champagne tower. I watched Serena’s performance without even the energy to sneer. “I didn’t push her.” I stated the fact flatly. “You still dare lie!” Lucas whipped his head around, his eyes blood-red. “Stella, you’re absolutely vicious! If anything happens to Serena, you’ll pay with your life!” He stood up holding Serena. As he passed me, his eyes were as cold as if looking at a corpse. “Get out of my way!” He shoved me aside roughly. I was already weak from the blood draw. His anger-filled shove made me lose my balance completely. I fell straight toward the pile of sharp glass shards on the floor. The sound of a blade cutting through flesh was especially clear in the silent hallway. My right hand pressed down hard on a large, razor-sharp piece of glass. Blood gushed out instantly, staining the floor red. Piercing pain shot from my palm, but I didn’t make a sound. I just bit my lip hard and watched Lucas carry Serena away, disappearing around the corner without looking back once. He didn’t even glance back at me. Didn’t see my right hand covered in blood. I sat collapsed in a pool of blood, looking at my right hand pierced through by glass, and suddenly started laughing softly. I laughed and laughed, and then tears fell. This hand had once drawn countless designs that amazed the world. This hand had once gripped Lucas tightly in the flames, refusing to let go. This hand had once prepared countless meals for him with such hope. Now it was ruined. Good. I didn’t need it anymore anyway. Hospital emergency room. The doctor looked at my mangled right hand, his brow furrowed deeply. “Miss Winters, the glass shard severed the main nerves and tendons in your right hand. Although surgery can stitch it up, your right hand will no longer be able to perform fine motor movements. Which means… you may never be able to hold a brush again.” I leaned against the hospital bed and nodded. “It’s fine. Just stitch it up.” I didn’t need a brush anymore. Four days until the “Deep Sea” agreement took effect. The suturing surgery was done without anesthesia because I’m allergic to standard anesthetics. I just watched as needle and thread passed through my flesh, enduring all the agony. Did it hurt? Compared to the pain in my heart, this was nothing. After bandaging the wound, I refused hospitalization and walked out of the hospital alone. The late-night streets were bitterly cold. I dragged my exhausted, broken body back to that villa called “home.” I pushed open the door. The living room was pitch black. Lucas hadn’t come home. I didn’t turn on the lights. Using the moonlight, I went upstairs to the bedroom. I pulled out a black suitcase and started packing. Actually, I didn’t have much to take. Everything in this villa was stained with Lucas’s presence, suffocating me. I opened a drawer. At the very back sat an old wooden box. I opened it. Inside lay a crudely carved wooden ring. That was from when I was fifteen, when Lucas carved it bit by bit with a pocketknife and placed it on my finger. “Stella, when I grow up, I’ll marry you and make you my one and only Mrs. Thornfield.” The young man’s vow still echoed in my ears, but now it had become the most vicious curse. I picked up the wooden ring with my undamaged left hand, walked to the balcony, and threw it into the trash bin below without hesitation. Along with my ten years of love, humble as dust, I threw it all away.

Stella POV The next morning, Lucas pushed open the villa door carrying a bone-chilling coldness. Serena had only suffered a minor superficial injury, but he’d still watched over her at the hospital all night. As he walked into the living room, he saw a maid carrying a black trash bag toward the exit. “Stop. What are you holding?” Lucas asked coldly. The maid jumped in fright and quickly answered. “Sir, these are things the madam asked me to throw away this morning. They’re all old things…” Lucas’s gaze sharpened, falling on the half-open trash bag. Inside was a pile of cut-up clothes. All the cheap items he’d casually bought me over the years, which I’d treasured and worn for three years. And in the middle of those fabric scraps, a familiar wooden ring appeared in Lucas’s line of sight. Lucas snatched the trash bag, pulling out the wooden ring. The ring had some age to it now. The edges had been worn smooth, and the inside still faintly bore the initials of our surnames. “Where is Stella?!” Lucas looked up sharply, his eyes bloodshot as he roared at the maid. “M-Madam is in the glass greenhouse in the back garden…” The maid trembled all over in fear. Lucas clenched the wooden ring and strode toward the back garden with long, determined steps. On this early autumn morning, a cold drizzle began to fall. The glass greenhouse had no heating. It was as cold as an icebox. I wore thin pajamas, using my left hand to awkwardly pull up withered rose bushes by their roots one by one, throwing them into a nearby trash can. These roses. I’d planted them by hand when I first married Lucas. I’d naively believed that if I tended them with care, they’d bloom brilliantly someday, just as I’d believed that if I loved him enough, he’d look at me eventually. Now the flowers were dead. So was my heart. “What are you doing?!” An angry roar suddenly came from behind me. My movements paused. I didn’t turn around, just said flatly, “Clearing out trash.” “Clearing out trash?” Lucas rushed forward in a few strides, grabbed my shoulder, and forcibly turned me around. “Stella, what kind of madness are you having? What’s the deal with this ring? Where did you steal it from?!” He shoved the wooden ring right in my face, his expression fierce as if he wanted to devour me. I looked at the wooden ring, then at Lucas’s enraged face, and suddenly felt it was unbearably ironic. He’d forgotten me, forgotten everything, yet only this ring triggered a reaction in him. Too bad. Too late. “Stole it?” I laughed softly. “If Mr. Thornfield says I stole it, then I stole it. It’s just a worthless piece of junk anyway. Throwing it away is no big deal.” “You!” Lucas grabbed my throat and pinned me against the cold glass wall. “Stella, do you think playing these tricks will get my attention? I haven’t settled the score with you for pushing Serena last night! Now, go to the hospital immediately and get on your knees to apologize to Serena! Otherwise, I’ll make you wish you were dead!” I was forced to tilt my head back, breathing becoming difficult. My right hand hung limply at my side, the thick bandage already soiled with rainwater and mud, faintly seeping bright red blood. But Lucas didn’t notice at all. “I… won’t… go…” I forced these words through gritted teeth. “Good! Very good!” Lucas was so angry he laughed, suddenly releasing his grip. I lost support and fell sitting in the cold mud, coughing violently. “Since you love staying here so much, then stay here! Without my permission, no one is allowed to let her out! And no one is allowed to bring her food!” Lucas turned and strode away. With a loud “bang,” the greenhouse door was locked tight from the outside. The cold autumn rain pounded against the glass, making suffocating sounds. I curled up in a corner, hugging my shivering body tight. Three days until the “Deep Sea” agreement took effect. Night fell. The autumn rain turned to freezing sleet mixed with ice. The temperature in the glass greenhouse dropped to freezing. I curled up on the muddy ground in the corner, my whole body burning, my consciousness beginning to blur. Excruciating pain came from my right hand wound, accompanied by the bone-deep aching brought on by high fever, as if countless ants were gnawing at my flesh and blood. “Lucas…” I mumbled that name carved into my bones in my feverish delirium. In my haze, I seemed to return to the fire scene when I was eighteen. Scorching flames devoured everything. The moment the beam fell, the young man held me tightly beneath him. “Stella, don’t be afraid… I’ll protect you…” The young man’s voice was gentle and firm, but in the next second, it transformed into Lucas’s ice-cold mockery. “What do you think you are? How dare you compare yourself to Serena?” “Draining you of your blood is what you owe her!” In the interweaving of ice and fire, I fell completely into darkness.

Lucas POV The next morning, I sat in the dining room, looking at the lavish breakfast spread before me without any appetite. I irritably tugged at my tie, unable to stop myself from glancing toward the back garden. A full day and night, and that woman hadn’t uttered a single word begging for mercy. “Sir, she’s been in the greenhouse all night. This morning the temperature dropped below freezing. She might…” The maid approached with coffee, speaking fearfully. “She won’t die!” I cut her off coldly and stood up. “A woman like her who’ll do anything to achieve her goals. Her life force is tough as nails!” Despite my words, my feet moved uncontrollably toward the back garden. The moment the greenhouse door opened, a bone-chilling cold hit me in the face. I immediately saw Stella collapsed on the muddy ground. She wore thin pajamas, covered in mud, lifeless as a discarded rag doll. Most striking was her right hand hanging at her side. The thick bandage had been completely soaked through with blood, turning a shocking dark red. “Stella!” My heart seized violently. An unprecedented panic grabbed hold of me instantly. I rushed over and gathered her into my arms. Where I touched, everything was scalding hot. “Stella! Wake up! Stop playing dead!” My voice trembled. I scooped her up horizontally and ran toward the garage like a madman. Grace Memorial Hospital, outside the emergency room. I slumped against the wall, my hands covered in Stella’s blood. The doctor came out, his expression grave. “Mr. Thornfield, Miss Winters’s high fever has triggered severe pulmonary infection. Additionally, her severed hand nerves weren’t treated promptly. The wound is seriously inflamed. Worse still, she’s chronically depleted from extensive blood loss. Her body is extremely weak. Her life is in danger at any moment.” “What did you say? Severed hand nerves?” I grabbed the doctor’s collar violently. “How could her hand be severed?!” “Miss Winters was brought to emergency the night before last with her right hand severely cut by glass. All the nerves and tendons were completely severed. In the future, she… she’ll never be able to hold a brush again.” I stood thunderstruck, frozen in place. The night before last… glass injury… When the champagne tower collapsed! I’d only cared about picking up the lightly injured Serena, but I’d shoved Stella hard toward that pile of broken glass! She’s a genius designer! Her hands are her life! Yet she hadn’t made a sound, letting me lock her in that freezing greenhouse to die! I released the doctor and staggered back two steps. My heart felt like an invisible hand was violently tearing it apart. The pain made it impossible to breathe. Just then, my phone rang urgently. It was Serena’s attending physician. “Mr. Thornfield, this is bad! Miss Marlowe’s condition has suddenly deteriorated, triggering acute bone marrow failure! We must perform a bone marrow transplant immediately, or she won’t make it through tonight!” My grip on the phone tightened suddenly. “Are there matches in the bone marrow bank?” “No! Currently, the only person who’s a complete match for Miss Marlowe is… is your wife, Stella.” Silence filled the corridor. I turned my head and looked at the tightly shut emergency room doors. Inside lay the wife whose right hand I’d just learned I’d personally destroyed, hovering between life and death. On the other end of the phone was the “lifesaver” I’d sworn to protect with my entire life. What should I do? What on earth should I do?

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Zavier is a famous director who made me work as a stunt double on his film set. He forced me to jump from a thirty-foot platform for his mistress. While I was trapped underwater in the freezing reservoir by the wire rigging, with my lungs running out of oxygen, all I could hear through the earpiece was him flirting and laughing with his mistress. “If Chrissy dies, she dies. You’re the one I love.” My heart turned to ash. Ten years of love had burned to nothing. That same day, I left for Alaska to volunteer at a wildlife sanctuary in the mountains. A year later, he was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and got on his knees to beg for my forgiveness. I stood there with my arm around my new lover, looking down at him coldly. “Zavier, you killed my child with your own hands and destroyed half my life. Playing the devoted lover now with what’s left of yours only makes me sick.” I turned and walked away without looking back. “In this life and every life to come, I pray I never meet you again.”

Chrissy’s POV “Cut! Perfect! That’s a wrap!” With the assistant director’s shout, the tension on set instantly dissipated. I was lowered from the thirty-foot wire rigging. The moment my feet touched the ground, a stabbing pain shot through my left knee. I couldn’t keep my balance and dropped to one knee on the mud-soaked mat. The rough blast suit choked me, making it hard to breathe. My shoulder, where I’d just crashed into the prop wall, was already bleeding through the fabric, burning hot with pain. Gritting my teeth, I was about to push myself up with one hand when rapid footsteps rushed past me, creating a gust of wind. “Lexi! Are you okay? That explosion was so loud. Did it scare you?” It was Zavier’s voice. The man I’d been with for seven years, who was now a hot new director rising in the entertainment industry. I looked up through the crowd to see him rushing anxiously toward the rest area. Sitting there was the female lead of this production, Lexi Summers. She was completely clean, not even a hair out of place, just clutching her chest with slightly reddened eyes, putting on a frightened act. “I’m fine. The blast was just so loud, my heart’s still racing.” Lexi leaned toward Zavier, her voice sweet and delicate, like a startled rabbit. Zavier didn’t hesitate to pat her back gently, his tone softer than I’d heard in ages. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. Your scenes are done for today. Go rest in your trailer.” I froze in place, watching their shameless display. The blood from my shoulder seemed to flow faster, dripping down my arm into the muddy water and spreading into dark red blooms. The crew around me was busy wrapping up. No one noticed me, the stunt double who’d just completed a dangerous high fall for Lexi Summers. I took a deep breath, fighting through the pain in my knee, and limped toward the monitor tent. I wanted to review the footage from that take to make sure there were no flaws in my performance. The tent was empty. The sound engineer had probably gone to the restroom, leaving the headset carelessly tossed on the mixer. I’d just put on the headset and hadn’t even pulled up the playback when a clear conversation suddenly came through. It was Lexi’s wireless mic. She hadn’t turned it off. “Chrissy fell so hard just now. Is she going to be okay? It looked scary.” Lexi’s voice carried a hint of testing the waters. Then came the sound of Zavier lighting a cigarette. The click of the lighter was especially sharp in the quiet headset. “What could possibly happen to her? She’s tough as nails. She survived rolling down a mudslide before. This height is nothing for her. Just routine.” Zavier’s tone was casual, even dismissive. “But… she’s still a woman. Aren’t you being too cold to Chrissy? Won’t she get upset? I heard you two used to…” “Used to is used to.” Zavier cut her off, his voice edged with irritation. “She’s hard as a rock. Doesn’t need anyone worrying about her. You think she’s delicate like you? I keep her on the crew because she’s useful. She knows what shots I need without me having to explain. As for feelings… they’ve just worn down into habit. What I feel for her is more like gratitude and obligation.” “Then… what about me?” Lexi’s voice dropped, tinged with grievance. “You?” Zavier let out a soft laugh, his voice suddenly lower, carrying an intimacy that made hearts race. “You’re nothing like her. She belongs in the mud. You belong in the spotlight.” I yanked off the headset. My stomach churned violently. Gratitude? Obligation? Useful? Tough as nails? This was the evaluation I’d earned after breaking three ribs for his independent film. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold. A chill seeping out from my bones, instantly freezing all my emotions. I pulled out my phone and opened a conversation I’d left untouched for a long time. It was with the captain of the Denali Mountain Wildlife Conservation Station. “Do you still need people for next month’s assignment?” The reply came quickly. “Need them! Desperately! But this time we’re going deep into the wilderness. You’ll be out of contact for at least three years. Conditions are extremely harsh. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” I looked at the monitor showing Zavier helping Lexi into her trailer, my fingers typing steadily. “I’ve thought it through. I’m signing up. I’ll report to the base in five days.”

Chrissy’s POV “What are you spacing out about? Today’s sequence was beautiful. You’re my ace, as always.” A heavy slap landed on my shoulder. I gasped in pain and turned to face Zavier’s triumphant expression. He held two cans of ice-cold beer, casually tossing one to me like he was calling over a buddy. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” He finally noticed something was off. His brow furrowed, but there wasn’t much concern in his eyes. More like he was calculating work schedules. “Did that take not go well? Want to do a safety?” I looked at the cold beer in my hand, then at those eyes that used to see only me. I suddenly found it absurd. His so-called love was treating me like a handy weapon. No maintenance needed, no care required. Just as long as I could clear obstacles for him. “No need. It was fine.” I set the beer on the table. “My shoulder’s a bit strained. I’m heading back.” Zavier paused, apparently not expecting me to refuse his “reward.” A flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it. “Alright then. Ice it when you get back. Tomorrow we’ve got an underwater escape scene. You need to be in top form. Whether this film wins awards depends on these major sequences.” He didn’t even ask if I was badly hurt. Didn’t even glance at my still-bleeding shoulder. It was so obvious. I nodded and turned toward the exit. Just as I reached the set entrance, I ran into Lexi, now changed into casual clothes. She wore an oversized black windbreaker that engulfed her frame, making her look even more delicate and adorable. I recognized that windbreaker. It was a limited edition Zavier had brought back last month when he’d gone location scouting in Scandinavia. At the time, I thought he’d bought it for me, since I often shivered through night shoots. But when I asked, he said it was a gift for an investor. Now that “gift” was wrapped around Lexi Summers. “Chrissy, are you leaving?” Lexi blocked my path, her smile picture-perfect innocence. She deliberately pulled the windbreaker tighter, the collar releasing a faint trace of the fir-scented cologne Zavier always wore. “Zavier said it would be windy tonight and was worried I’d catch cold, so he insisted I wear his jacket. Chrissy, you don’t mind, do you? Zavier said you’re tough and never get cold.” Her words were like soft needles, precisely targeting my vulnerable spots. I looked at that face, written all over with provocation disguised as innocence, and suddenly felt it was all so pointless. “I don’t mind.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just a jacket. If you like it, wear it. After all, I don’t need someone else’s hand-me-downs.” Lexi’s expression froze instantly, a flash of venom in her eyes. I didn’t bother with her anymore and walked straight off the set. I didn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Zavier. Instead, I took a cab to the hospital’s orthopedic department. The doctor looked at my MRI films, his brow knotted tight. “Miss Christie, your left meniscus is severely worn, and your shoulder ligaments show signs of old tears. If you continue doing these high-intensity stunt performances, you’ll likely spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair within six months.” The doctor’s voice echoed in the empty examination room like a death sentence. “I strongly recommend you stop all strenuous activity immediately and prepare for surgery.” I sat in the chair, staring at the blurry shadows on the films, silent for a long time. “Doctor, if I don’t have surgery and only do conservative treatment, will I still be able to walk normally?” “Walking normally, yes. But absolutely no running or jumping, and no heavy lifting.” The doctor sighed. “You’re still so young. Don’t gamble with your body.” I walked out of the hospital holding the medical records. Outside, the sky had gone completely dark. The city’s neon lights flickered, but they couldn’t warm my frozen hands and feet. I tore the medical records into pieces and threw them in a nearby trash can. No need for surgery. Once I got to Denali Mountain, I wouldn’t need to risk my life for anyone else. I’d only need to survive for myself. Four more days.

Chrissy’s POV Today is October twelfth. Seven years ago on this day, Zavier took me deep into an undeveloped mountain range to film a documentary. We were caught in a sudden mudslide. In that cramped cave, we held each other tight, thinking we would die there. That night, he wrapped the only dry piece of clothing he had around me and swore to me with tears in his eyes. “Chrissy, if we make it out alive, my life belongs to you. From now on, every October twelfth will be just for us. Just the two of us.” We survived. For the first five years, he kept his promise. No matter how busy he was, he’d cancel everything on this day to stay home with me, cook a meal together, and watch an old movie. But starting last year, he changed. Last year he said an investor had called an impromptu meeting he couldn’t miss. I waited for him all night, only to see him and Lexi photographed at a bar on the trending topics. He explained it was a crew dinner. I believed him. And this year? I sat in the dark living room, looking at the completely cold dishes on the table. The clock on the wall pointed to eleven at night. Heavy rain fell outside, raindrops hammering the windows with dull thuds. I picked up my phone and called Zavier. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable.” I called three times in a row. All went unanswered. I put down my phone and opened Instagram. The algorithm knew me well. The first post on my feed was one Lexi had posted ten minutes ago. The photo showed an elaborately romantic candlelit dinner table with a bouquet of bright red roses. Across from her sat half of a man’s shoulder. Though his face wasn’t visible, those shirt cuffs were the ones I’d personally gone to the boutique to pick out for him last month. The caption read. “He said some days shouldn’t be for dwelling on past suffering, but for celebrating new beginnings. Thank you for the surprise.” Location tagged: the city’s most exclusive revolving restaurant. Reading those words, my eyes suddenly stung. Past suffering? So our life-and-death memories had become “suffering” that needed to be abandoned in his eyes. And Lexi Summers was his “new beginning.” I didn’t smash things hysterically like some bitter woman in a TV drama. I didn’t screenshot it to confront him. I simply stood up calmly, walked to the kitchen, and dumped all the dishes I’d spent the entire afternoon preparing into the trash bin, plates and all. Then I walked into the bedroom and dragged out that black suitcase. I started packing. I didn’t actually own much. Over the years, I’d poured all my money and energy into Zavier’s films. My closet held nothing but a few dirt-resistant athletic outfits and virtually nothing of value. I took those mementos I’d once treasured. The replica of his first award trophy. The cross necklace we’d brought back from the church where we’d prayed together. Those slips of paper with his promises written on them. I threw them one by one into a black trash bag. Finally, I opened a drawer and pulled out that plain ring. He’d bought it for me with his first paycheck during our first year together. Not expensive, but I’d worn it for seven years. It had left a deep groove on my finger. I slipped the ring off and placed it on the nightstand. No nostalgia. No reluctance. When disappointment accumulates enough, leaving becomes instinct. By the time I finished packing, it was two in the morning. The living room was piled with black trash bags, while my suitcase held only a few changes of clothes and some essential medications. I sat on the sofa, quietly listening to the rain outside the window. Three more days. Zavier, you’re free now. And so am I.

Chrissy’s POV At three-thirty in the morning, the electronic lock at the entrance beeped. Zavier walked in, bringing cold air and the scent of alcohol. The living room’s main lights were off, with only a dim floor lamp glowing. His movement paused as he changed shoes, clearly noticing the several large black trash bags in the middle of the living room and me sitting silently on the sofa. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night making a mess?” He loosened his tie, his tone edged with impatience, and walked straight to the bar to pour himself water. As he approached, a heavy scent of rose perfume mixed with red wine wafted over. That was Lexi’s favorite fragrance. I lifted my eyelids and looked at him quietly. “Cleaning out some useless things.” My voice was hoarse, completely flat. Zavier stopped mid-drink. He turned to examine me in the dim light. Perhaps my excessively calm demeanor unsettled him. He put down his glass, walked over to sit beside me, and reached out to put his arm around my shoulders. “The crew had an important investor meeting today. My phone was on silent. I didn’t hear your calls.” He lied smoothly, not even blinking. “Once we get through this busy period and the film wraps, I’ll spend some quality time with you, okay?” I shifted slightly, avoiding his hand. His hand froze in midair. His expression darkened instantly. “Chrissy, what are you throwing a fit about now?” Zavier’s patience seemed exhausted, his voice rising several octaves. “I already told you it was work! Can’t you be reasonable? You weren’t like this before. The film is at the most critical stage. Do you really have to cause trouble for me right now?” I looked at his face, slightly twisted with anger, and suddenly found it laughable. “Work?” I let out a light laugh, looking straight into his eyes. “Going to a revolving restaurant for candlelit dinner, sending red roses. That’s part of work too?” Zavier’s pupils shrank sharply, panic flashing in his eyes before being replaced by anger. “You’re spying on me? You went through Lexi’s Instagram?” He shot to his feet, pointing down at me accusingly. “Chrissy, when did you become so unreasonable? Lexi was upset today. As her director, what’s wrong with comforting my actress? Why do you have to think the worst of everything?” “Think the worst?” I rolled the phrase around in my mouth, my heart desolate. He’d trampled our seven years underfoot, yet turned around to accuse me of being cynical. “Zavier, do you remember what today is?” I didn’t argue with him. I just asked that question calmly. Zavier froze. The anger on his face solidified instantly, replaced by the awkwardness and guilt of being caught. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but ultimately just grabbed at his hair in frustration. “Chrissy, I’m sorry. I genuinely forgot with how busy I’ve been.” He sat back down, trying to take my hand, his tone softening. “You know how important this film is to me. Once the movie wins awards, we’ll get married. Just bear with me a little longer, okay? We went through life and death together. Surely that means more than some meaningless anniversary?” Marriage. For the past seven years, that word had been my greatest hope. But now, coming from his mouth, it sounded like a cheap bargaining chip to cover his betrayal and neglect. He thought that mentioning our “life-and-death bond” would make me forgive him unconditionally, just like I always had. He thought Chrissy could never leave him. I looked at him and suddenly smiled. “Alright.” I pulled my hand back, stood up, and looked down at him. “I understand. I won’t make a scene. Get some rest. You have a big night shoot tomorrow.” Zavier clearly hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. He stared blankly as I walked back to the bedroom and closed the door. The moment the door shut, I heard him let out a long sigh of relief in the living room. He thought he’d placated me. But he didn’t know that when a woman stops arguing with you, stops demanding explanations, that’s when she’s completely given up on you. Two more days.

Chrissy’s POV The last day. The crew was filming the final major scene at an abandoned reservoir in the suburbs. An underwater escape sequence. In the late autumn reservoir, the water temperature was barely above forty degrees Fahrenheit. White vapor drifted across the surface. Just looking at it sent chills through your bones. Lexi stood on the shore wrapped in a thick down jacket, clutching a thermos, still complaining sweetly about the wind. And I stood in the freezing water wearing only a thin white dress, weighted down with lead blocks and wire rigging, my lips purple with cold. “All departments ready! Chrissy, after you go under, hold your breath for thirty seconds. Once we cut to Lexi’s body double, struggle to the surface. Remember, the movements need to look desperate, realistic!” Zavier sat behind the monitors, directing loudly through his walkie-talkie. His eyes stayed glued to the screens. He didn’t even glance at me once. I took a deep breath, nodded, put in my waterproof earpiece, and plunged into the bone-chilling water. The underwater world was silent and oppressive. The icy current instantly stripped away what little warmth I had. My left knee and shoulder, with their old injuries, exploded with tearing pain under the cold stimulus. I clenched my jaw, fighting through the pain, struggling underwater as directed. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds… Time was up. I kicked hard, trying to swim upward. But suddenly the wire rigging around my waist jammed! Abandoned fishing nets underwater had tangled in the wire’s clasps. A massive force yanked me violently back down. I panicked, frantically pulling at the wires, shouting into the earpiece. “Pull me up! The rigging’s stuck! Pull me up!” But what came through the earpiece was Zavier and Lexi’s laughter. “Zavier, look at that cloud. Doesn’t it look like a puppy?” Lexi’s voice was bright and cheerful. “Mm, as cute as you.” Zavier’s voice was full of indulgence. They weren’t even watching the monitors! They’d even cut my main microphone, leaving only the one-way command channel! The oxygen in my lungs depleted rapidly. Freezing water poured into my nose and mouth. The terror of suffocation engulfed me instantly. I looked up at the faint light filtering down from the surface, and what flashed through my mind was every injury I’d suffered, every drop of blood I’d shed over these seven years for Zavier. What a fool I was. I’d nearly thrown away my life for a man like this. Survival instinct triggered my last reserve of strength. I pulled out the tactical knife strapped to my inner thigh. A self-defense tool a friend had just sent me yesterday. With every ounce of strength left, I cut through the fishing net and wire rope tangled around my waist, stroke by stroke. I broke through the surface, gulping the freezing air, coughing violently and spitting up river water streaked with blood. Only then did the people on shore realize something was wrong. “Chrissy! Why did you surface on your own? Where’s the rigging? Do you realize you just ruined that perfect shot!” Zavier grabbed his walkie-talkie and rushed to the shore, shouting at me furiously. He didn’t see my face. Didn’t see the blood at the corner of my mouth. He only cared about his shot. I dragged my heavy body step by step up the shore. Icy water dripped from my hair onto the muddy ground. I walked up to Zavier, looked at his angry face, and suddenly felt incredibly light. I reached up, pulled the waterproof earpiece from my ear, and smashed it on the ground right in front of him. The earpiece shattered with a sharp crack. “Zavier, I quit.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it reached everyone’s ears clearly. Zavier froze, seemingly unable to process what I’d said. “What are you losing it about? We’re almost done. You’re quitting now?” “Yes. I quit.” I looked at him. “Your movie, your leading lady. You can handle them yourself.” With that, I ignored his stunned expression and the shocked stares around us, turned, and walked straight toward a black SUV parked outside the set. The window rolled down, revealing Captain Jack Morrison’s weathered face. “All settled?” Jack asked. “All settled.” I opened the door and got in. I handed Jack my phone. “Standard protocol. Surrendering communication devices.” Jack took the phone, powered it off, and tossed it in the glove compartment. “Heading out. Next stop: Denali Mountain wilderness sector.” The SUV let out a low rumble, kicking up a cloud of dust, leaving behind the man I’d loved for seven years and that unbearable past, completely behind me.

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I had just picked up medicine for my feverish son from the hospital. The moment I pushed open the front door, I heard sharp, mocking laughter coming from the living room. “Eat this! This is imported dog food, hundreds of dollars per pound—more expensive than the meat you country bumpkins eat for Christmas! Don’t be ungrateful!” My heart sank. Without even changing my shoes, I rushed into the living room. The scene before me made my blood boil. My mind exploded with a deafening buzz. Eleanor—Ethan Sterling’s mother—was curled up on the cold marble floor. She had just undergone heart bypass surgery, and her face was as pale as paper, her entire body trembling. And Melissa Snow, the so-called “premium nanny” Ethan Sterling had hired at great expense, was wearing my silk nightgown, one foot planted on Eleanor’s shoulder, forcing a dog bowl toward her mouth. The bowl was filled with soggy, foul-smelling leftover dog food. “Melissa! What the hell are you doing!” I lunged forward like a madwoman and knocked the dog bowl from her hands. The rancid dog food splattered all over Melissa. She shrieked and jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, jabbing her finger at my nose and cursing. “Are you insane, Grace? How dare you splash me!” Melissa disgustedly brushed at her clothes, then shot a contemptuous glance at Eleanor on the floor. “What am I doing? I’m teaching your broke-ass mom some manners! Ethan said I’m in charge of this house. You country people are covered in germs. I was doing her a favor by making her lick the bowl clean!” I trembled with rage, my nails digging into my palms. She thought Eleanor was my mother.

But this was actually Ethan Sterling’s mother—the billionaire matriarch of the Sterling family! Normally, Ethan wouldn’t dare breathe too loudly around her, and now she was being stepped on and force-fed dog food by a nanny. I was about to explain who she really was when Melissa sneered and kicked Eleanor hard in the chest. “Stop playing dead! You haven’t finished mopping the floor yet!” The kick was vicious. Eleanor let out a muffled groan, clutching her chest. Her face instantly turned from white to purple. Her throat produced wheezing sounds like a broken bellows as she curled into a ball, unable to form a complete sentence. “Eleanor!” I threw myself over and grabbed her tightly. Her heart couldn’t handle this kind of shock—her whole body was convulsing violently. I frantically searched her pockets for her emergency heart medication. Melissa grabbed my hair and yanked me backward. “Stop putting on a sob story for me! You country people are so dramatic. Trying to scam me, aren’t you?” She pulled out her phone and started recording me and Eleanor. “Who can relate? I just encountered the worst today. These are the broke relatives leeching off Mr. Sterling. Not only are they covered in bacteria, but now they’re faking illness to extort money.” Ignoring the searing pain in my scalp, I swung my hand back and slapped Melissa hard across the face. *Slap!* The crisp sound echoed through the living room. “Shut up! If anything happens to her, even Ethan can’t save you!” Melissa clutched her rapidly swelling cheek, her eyes filled with venom. “Oh, so the barren hen dares to hit me! Guards! Throw these two beggars out!” Two burly bodyguards immediately rushed in from outside. Ethan had specifically assigned them to Melissa, claiming it was to protect his “lifesaver.” “Let go of me! Are you blind? Look closely at who she really is!” I struggled desperately, but the bodyguards pinned me to the floor, one on each side. The head guard sneered without even glancing at Eleanor. “Ma’am, Mr. Sterling instructed us that Miss Snow is in charge of all household rules.” They roughly grabbed Eleanor, who was in the midst of a cardiac episode. Her head lolled helplessly, her lips already turning blue-black. “You’ll regret this! When Ethan comes home and sees what you’ve done to her, he’ll make you wish you were dead!” I screamed in despair, tears streaming down my face. Melissa walked over and stepped on the back of my hand with her sharp high heel, grinding down hard. The excruciating pain made me gasp. “Grace, do you really think you’re some kind of high-society wife? Ethan told me you’re just a useless decoration taking up space. Once I’m pregnant with his child, you and your poor excuse for a mother will both get sent back to the countryside to shovel manure.” She kicked my hand away dismissively and waved at the bodyguards. “Drag this old hag to the outdoor pool! Today I’ll teach you people a lesson on Mr. Sterling’s behalf!”

“You lay one finger on her and I’ll fight you to the death!” Like a crazed lioness, I broke free from the bodyguards’ grip and bit down hard on the head guard’s wrist. The metallic taste of blood instantly filled my mouth. The guard cried out in pain and backhanded me across the face, sending me crashing into the coffee table. My lip split against the edge, blood trickling out. “What are you waiting for? Lock them both in the backyard, and don’t let anyone open that door without my permission!” Melissa shrieked, clutching her face in fury. The two bodyguards stopped being gentle. They dragged Eleanor and me out and threw us by the outdoor pool in the backyard. *BANG.* The heavy double glass doors slammed shut and locked. It was December in the New York. Heavy snow was falling outside, and the temperature was approaching negative ten degrees Celsius. The backyard had no shelter from the wind. Eleanor was already dressed in thin clothes, and now she was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf in autumn wind. “Grace… Grace… my chest… it hurts so much…” Eleanor’s withered hand reached out weakly, clutching at my clothes. Her voice was barely audible, her breathing growing more rapid. I quickly stripped off my coat and wrapped it tightly around her. “Eleanor, hang on. I’ll call an ambulance right now!” With trembling hands, I reached for my phone in my pocket. Empty. I jerked my head up. Through the transparent glass door, Melissa was smugly waving my phone at me. The house was heated to a comfortable 26 degrees Celsius. Wearing just a thin silk nightgown, she lounged comfortably on the sofa. “Want your phone? Beg me.” She pressed the intercom button, her mocking voice broadcasting into the backyard. “Grace, where’s that backbone you had when you slapped me? Didn’t you say Ethan would kill me when he got home? I’d like to see who freezes to death tonight.” I rushed to the glass door and pounded on it frantically. “Melissa! I’m begging you, give me my phone! Eleanor really does have a heart condition—she’ll die!” I pounded until my hands were bright red, tears mixing with snow and streaming down my face. Melissa leisurely peeled an imported cherry and popped it into her mouth. “Heart condition? You’re quite the actress. You old country hags are tougher than cockroaches. One night in the cold won’t kill you.” Eleanor’s face had turned from blue-black to deathly pale. Her eyes were rolling back. The hand clutching her chest slowly loosened, and her body slid limply downward. “Eleanor! Eleanor, wake up!” I completely broke down and turned to scream into the intercom. “Melissa! The medicine is in the black bag on the living room sofa! Give me the medicine! I’ll agree to anything you want if you just give me the medicine!” Melissa paused. She walked to the sofa, found the black bag, and pulled out a white medicine bottle. “Oh my, there really is medicine.” She shook the bottle at me through the glass, a malicious smile playing on her lips. “I can give you the medicine. But first, you need to kneel down, slap yourself three times, and shout ‘I’m a country dog’ three times. Then I’ll slide the medicine under the door.” Looking at Eleanor barely clinging to life, I didn’t hesitate. I dropped to my knees on the frozen tiles with a thud. My knees struck the hard ice with piercing pain. But I couldn’t care about that now. I slapped myself three times hard. My face turned red from the blows. “I’m a country dog! I’m a country dog! I’m a country dog!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice especially shrill against the wind and snow. “Now can you give me the medicine?” I stared at the medicine bottle in Melissa’s hand with desperate hope. But Melissa suddenly burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. She laughed so hard she was practically doubled over, tears welling in her eyes. “Grace, you really are an obedient little dog. Too bad—I just changed my mind.” Right in front of me, she unscrewed the cap of the medicine bottle. As I watched in confusion and horror, she dumped the entire bottle of life-saving emergency heart medication into the nearby trash can. “Oops, my hand slipped.” Melissa covered her mouth in mock surprise. “You country people are tough, right? You can survive one night in the cold, can’t you?”

“Ethan, you’re finally home! Grace’s mom brought in some infectious disease, and then she hit me!” The front door suddenly swung open, and Ethan Sterling walked in, bringing a wave of cold air with him. Melissa immediately put on a pitiful expression and threw herself into Ethan’s arms like a frightened rabbit. The despair I’d been drowning in suddenly flickered with a spark of hope when I saw Ethan. I pounded frantically on the glass door, producing dull thuds. “Ethan! Open the door! Save your mother! She’s having a heart attack!” I dragged Eleanor’s unconscious body to the door, trying to make Ethan see her face clearly. But the glass was covered in thick frost. Ethan couldn’t make out who was outside. He didn’t even turn his head. His eyes were full of concern as he cradled Melissa’s hands. “What happened? Who hit you?” Melissa squeezed out a few crocodile tears and pointed with her delicate finger. “It was Grace’s country mom. Her body is so dirty. I kindly told her to take a shower, and she went crazy and scratched me. Look, she broke the skin. It hurts so much.” I stared in disbelief at the barely visible red mark on Melissa’s finger. She’d clearly scratched herself earlier while peeling cherries. Ethan’s expression darkened instantly, his eyes as cold as poisoned blades. He turned toward the backyard, his gaze cutting like ice. “Grace, I usually let you get away with things, but you actually brought your broke-ass mother here to cause trouble? And you dared to hurt Melissa?” I shook my head desperately, my voice already hoarse from screaming. “Ethan, are you blind! That’s not my mother—that’s your mother, Eleanor Sterling! She just had heart surgery, she’s dying, please open the door!” Ethan scoffed as if he’d heard the most ridiculous joke. He pressed the intercom button, his voice dripping with disdain. “Grace, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. My mother is recuperating in Switzerland. How could she possibly show up here looking like a beggar? You’re willing to tell such lies to cover for your poor mother. You disgust me.” He turned to the bodyguards behind him, his tone ice-cold. “Open the door.” I thought he was finally going to let us in. I was about to sigh with relief. But Ethan’s next words plunged me straight into hell. “Throw these two crazy women out into the snow. Don’t let their poverty contaminate my carpet.” The bodyguards immediately opened the door. A blast of bone-chilling wind mixed with snowflakes poured into the living room. They roughly grabbed my arms and dragged Eleanor and me toward the front gate. “No! Ethan, you can’t do this!” I clung desperately to the doorframe, my nails leaving bloody scratches on the wood. “If you throw her out today, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” Ethan stood there holding Melissa, looking down at me with eyes devoid of warmth. “The biggest regret of my life was marrying a vulgar woman like you who can’t even show her face in society. Melissa is my lifesaver. Anyone who dares touch a hair on her head will answer to me.” The bodyguard gave a hard shove and sent me tumbling into the snow. Eleanor was thrown down beside me like a broken rag doll. The iron gate slammed shut in front of us. I crawled over and held Eleanor. Her body was already rigid, her breathing barely perceptible. The snow fell harder and harder, quickly piling thick layers on our bodies. Through the villa’s enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see Ethan carefully putting a bandage on Melissa’s finger. Melissa nestled in his arms and gave me the middle finger. I held Eleanor tightly, my heart feeling like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. “Ethan Sterling, you’re throwing her in the snow today. Tomorrow you’ll be on your knees begging for her to live.”

“Still wailing out there? Throw cold water on them to wake them up!” Ethan’s cold voice came through the yard’s speaker system. Moments later, two bodyguards appeared on the second-floor balcony. A bucket of filthy ice water came crashing down from above, landing precisely on Eleanor and me. *SPLASH.* The ice water instantly washed away what little body heat we had left. Eleanor’s body convulsed violently once, then her head lolled to the side. She went completely still. “Eleanor! Eleanor!” I shook Eleanor frantically, but she kept her eyes closed. Even her faint breathing had disappeared. Her heartbeat had stopped. In that moment, something inside my brain snapped completely. I suddenly stood up, grabbed a decorative brick from the snow, and smashed it against the smart lock beside the gate like a madwoman. Sparks flew. The alarm blared through the night. The bodyguards inside were startled and instinctively opened the door to stop me. I seized the opportunity and rammed headfirst into the guard’s chest, snatching his walkie-talkie and backup phone from his belt. With trembling fingers, I dialed emergency services and screamed out the address. “Someone come quick! The patient has no heartbeat! Hurry!” Ten minutes later, an ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the villa. The paramedic jumped out carrying a defibrillator. “Where’s the patient?” I scrambled toward them and pointed at Eleanor in the snow. “There! Please save her!” The doctor was about to kneel down and check when the villa’s front door opened again. Ethan emerged with Melissa in his arms, his face dark with anger. “Who gave you permission to come in here?” Ethan strode forward and blocked the paramedic. “Doctor, check Melissa’s hand first. She just had a terrible shock, and her finger is bleeding. It needs immediate attention.” The doctor glanced at Melissa’s finger with its cartoon bandage and looked utterly speechless. “Sir, that elderly woman has gone into cardiac arrest. This is a life-or-death situation!” Ethan snorted coldly and glanced dismissively at Eleanor. “She’s just a country old woman. If she dies, she dies. How precious can she be? I’m the CEO of Sterling Corporation. I’m ordering you to examine Melissa immediately!” Just as the doctor stood torn and I prepared to fight Ethan with everything I had— A deafening roar suddenly filled the night sky. Three black helicopters bearing the Sterling family crest tore through the wind and snow, circling above the villa. The powerful downdraft made the surrounding trees sway wildly. Ethan froze, then his face lit up with delight. He assumed this was the premium private medical service he’d booked earlier to impress Melissa. “Melissa, look—the helicopter I called for you is here.” Ethan took Melissa’s hand and walked smugly toward where the helicopters were landing. Melissa was even more excited, her face flushed red. She shot me a haughty glance. “Grace, see that? This is how the elite live. A nobody like you will never experience this in your lifetime.” The helicopter landed smoothly. The door opened. A team of fully armed black-suited bodyguards and top medical experts in white coats filed out. Ethan walked up obsequiously, pointing at Melissa. “Thank you all for coming. The patient is—” He didn’t finish his sentence. From Eleanor’s inner clothing pocket, I pulled out the family signet ring that represented the absolute authority of the Sterling family matriarch. I stood up and faced the helicopter’s blinding searchlight, holding the ring up in front of Ethan’s eyes. “Ethan Sterling, open your damn eyes and look clearly at who you just kicked!”

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After catching my husband, Ethan Hayes, cheating, he knelt before me and swore he’d cut all ties with that yoga instructor. But a month later, I saw a strange text on his phone: [I’m sick and so scared alone in the hospital. Can you come see me?] Watching Ethan rush out the door, I called after him mockingly: “In such a hurry? Want me to grab you a box of condoms on your way out?” Ethan froze, then whirled around, glaring at me furiously: “Charlotte, I’ve already come back to this family. Do you have to be so nasty? She’s sick—can’t I just go check on her?” I didn’t try to stop him anymore. After he left, I made a phone call. What Ethan didn’t know was that the yoga instructor’s fiancé was a mob boss who killed without leaving a trace. “Charlotte, when are you going to stop this?” “I already told you—Vivian doesn’t know anyone in this city. She’s got acute gastroenteritis and is getting an IV at the hospital. What’s wrong with me, as a former colleague, bringing her some medicine?” “Former colleague?” I let out a cold laugh. “Need me to refresh your memory about how many sex positions you two unlocked on that yoga mat last month?” Ethan’s face instantly flushed crimson. He jabbed his finger toward my face, his voice dropping to a furious hiss. “I already admitted I was wrong! I even slapped myself in front of your parents!” “This entire month, I’ve come straight home after work every day. I’ve handed over all my bank cards. What more do you want from me?” “Do you have to act like some bitter housewife and turn this home into a hellhole before you’re satisfied?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I felt nothing but nausea churning in my stomach. A month ago, I’d thrown photos in his face—pictures taken by a private investigator. In those photos, he and that yoga instructor named Vivian were tangled together on a hotel bed. Back then, he’d knelt on the floor, crying and begging, swearing he’d just had a momentary lapse in judgment, pleading for one more chance. In front of both sets of parents, he’d slapped himself three sharp, ringing times across the face. He changed all his bank card passwords to my birthday. He even voluntarily canceled his membership at the gym where Vivian worked. I thought he’d truly realized his mistake. I was naive enough to think that if I just swallowed this bitter pill, our marriage could be patched up and continue. But I was wrong. A dog returns to its vomit, and a cheating man never learns loyalty. I watched him rage coldly, then turned and walked to the sofa, pulling a tablet from beneath a throw pillow. “Ethan, you put on quite the performance.” “Coming home on time every day, even letting me check your phone whenever I want—what a reformed man you are.” I lit up the screen and hurled the tablet into his arms. “So explain this to me.” Ethan fumbled to catch the tablet, glancing down at the screen. Just one look, and all the color drained from his face.

The screen displayed the synced backend data from that latest-model smartwatch on his wrist. He’d bought that watch last month, claiming it was to monitor his sleep quality. But this afternoon, I’d discovered that the watch’s health app was secretly linked to another person’s account. The account’s profile picture was a selfie of Vivian in tight yoga clothes. “Every night at eleven o’clock, your heart rate spikes to 120 beats per minute.” I stared into his evasive eyes, tearing away his mask. “Ethan, you’ve been carrying on with her this whole time!” Ethan’s lips trembled. He instinctively hid his hand behind his back, trying to conceal the watch. “You’re making things up! I go running at eleven at night!” I cut him off: “Stop lying! You even logged her menstrual cycle!” I held his tablet in front of him. After a brief silence, the panic in his eyes rapidly transformed into humiliated rage. “You’ve been spying on me?” He violently threw the tablet onto the sofa, glaring at me through clenched teeth. “Charlotte, you’re a psycho! Checking my phone every day, checking my watch—are you sick!? You’re disgusting!” I took a deep breath, suppressing the tearing pain in my chest. “If being with me disgusts you so much, then get out right now and go to the hospital to see Vivian.” Ethan grabbed the car keys from the living room and yanked open the door without looking back. “Fine, Charlotte. Don’t regret this!” I replied: “My only regret is being blind enough not to see what garbage you are.” “You think I want to come back to this cold, dead home?” Ethan stood in the doorway, one foot across the threshold, then turned back and looked me up and down with utterly contemptuous eyes. “Charlotte, look at yourself—this hysterical mess you’ve become. Your hair’s a wreck, you don’t even wear makeup, all you do is obsess over every little thing I do.” “Now look at Vivian—even when she’s sick, she’s gentler and more beautiful than you!” So he finally said what he really thought. I stood quietly in the center of the living room, watching this man I’d loved for seven years, feeling the blood in my veins turn to ice. So in his eyes, the exhaustion I’d suffered staying up late caring for this household had become his reason to despise me. I didn’t speak. Instead, I turned and walked to the TV cabinet, pulling open the bottom drawer. I took out a crumpled hospital payment receipt and a printout of an insurance policy. I walked to the door and threw both documents directly in his face. “Ethan, if you think she’s so wonderful, why did you marry me in the first place?” “You keep saying how pitiful she is—then what about this critical illness insurance policy worth three hundred thousand dollars?” Ethan looked down at the papers scattered on the floor, his pupils contracting sharply. That was an insurance policy he’d secretly bought for Vivian three months ago, with her mother listed as the beneficiary. And the premium had been transferred from our joint savings account—money we’d been setting aside for a new house. “You… you went through my study?” he shouted, livid. I looked at him coldly: “Ethan, have you forgotten how I nearly died on the operating table just one year ago?”

This time last year, I’d suffered an ectopic pregnancy and hemorrhaged, rushed to the hospital by ambulance. The doctor needed a family member to sign consent forms. I dialed Ethan’s number over and over again. But the voice on the other end was always: [Sorry, the number you are calling is currently unavailable.] I almost died on that operating table. How did he explain it afterward? He said he’d been playing golf with a very important client, and his phone was in a locker in the changing room where he couldn’t hear it. He held my hand at my hospital bedside, crying harder than I was, swearing he’d make it up to me twice over. I believed him. I dragged my weakened body through those most difficult days. But it wasn’t until last month, when I checked his phone, that I discovered the truth. That day, he hadn’t been with any important client at all. He’d been at a hot spring resort in the next city over, celebrating Vivian’s twenty-fourth birthday. He’d posted something on his social media, visible only to Vivian: [May my girl always smile like a flower.] Meanwhile, his wife had been lying in a pool of her own blood, signing her own critical condition notice. “And now you’re telling me she’s pitiful?” I stepped closer, staring into his eyes. “She bought insurance with my money, booked hotel rooms with my money—where exactly is she pitiful?” “The truly pitiful one was my child who never even formed before dying!” “The truly pitiful one is me—the fool you’ve been playing for a fool!” Ethan backed up a step under my advance. But there wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face—only extreme irritation at being exposed. “Charlotte, can you stop bringing up old history!” He yanked at his tie in frustration, his tone dripping with cold rationality. “The doctor said the ectopic pregnancy was because of your poor health—it was a matter of probability!” “You insist on blaming Vivian for this. Do you think that’s fair?” “Besides, I didn’t know you were in trouble. If I’d known, wouldn’t I have come back?” My breath caught. Poor health. A matter of probability. With one casual sentence, he’d erased all his cold-bloodedness and betrayal. He’d even shifted the blame onto me. I looked at his face, twisted with anger, and suddenly felt he was a complete stranger. Was this the same boy who, back in college, would run two kilometers through the snow just to buy me a cup of hot milk tea? No. He wasn’t. The moment he climbed into Vivian’s bed, that Ethan had died. The thing standing before me now was just a selfish monster who’d lost every last shred of humanity. “Ethan, you make me sick.” I spat out each word, looking at him like he was trash. My gaze stung him. He raised his hand as if to strike me, but ultimately stopped mid-air. “Fine, Charlotte. You’re so noble, so great.” He ground his teeth, pointing at me viciously. “Since you can’t tolerate her, I’m going to the hospital right now to bring her back here.” “Let’s see what you’re actually going to do to me!” Just then, his phone in his pocket suddenly buzzed frantically. The custom ringtone sounded particularly grating in the dead silence of the hallway. Ethan pulled out his phone, glanced at the screen, and his previously violent expression instantly softened. He answered the call, deliberately gentling his voice. “Hey, Vivian, don’t be scared. I’ll be right there…” From the other end came a saccharine, obviously tearful female voice. “Ethan, don’t worry about me. I don’t care if I die of pain in this hospital.” “Go back and make things right with Charlotte. Please don’t let me damage your marriage…” I let out a cold laugh. “Playing innocent? I’ve seen how wild you get on top of my husband!” “Charlotte! Watch your mouth!” Ethan reacted like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, covering the phone’s microphone and roaring at me. I completely ignored his impotent rage, stepped forward, and before he could react, snatched his phone away. Too fast for him to stop. I hit the speakerphone button and turned the volume to maximum. Vivian’s sobbing echoed clearly through the living room. “Charlotte… is that really you?” Her voice was so fragile it seemed a breeze could knock her over, with just the right amount of grievance and panic. “Please don’t be angry at Ethan. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have bothered him after work hours.” “But I’m alone at the hospital getting an IV, and the needle infiltrated—my hand is so swollen. I’m really scared…” “I just wanted someone to talk to. I really didn’t mean anything else. Please believe me, okay?” Listen to that! How clever! Every sentence an apology, every sentence a declaration of war against me. She was telling me: See? Your husband’s heart is with me. I just crook my finger and he abandons you to come running. Ethan hopped around anxiously beside me, reaching to grab the phone back. “Charlotte, give me back my phone! Didn’t you hear her hand is swollen!” I dodged his hand and spoke coldly into the microphone. “If your hand’s swollen, call a nurse. Why are you looking for my husband? Can he remove your IV or suck out the swelling?” “Didn’t you keep saying you don’t want to wreck my family?” “So why are you sending ambiguous texts in the middle of the night? Are your fingers not controlled by your brain, or do you just naturally enjoy digging through other people’s garbage for your meals?” The crying on the other end suddenly stopped. Vivian clearly hadn’t expected me to tear off the facade so directly. In the past, to preserve Ethan’s dignity, I’d always tried to maintain appearances. But now? I didn’t want this man anymore. Why should I save face for her? “Charlotte, how can you say that about me…” Vivian’s voice carried obvious embarrassment and anger. “Ethan and I just have a spiritual connection. We never meant to hurt you.” “Love doesn’t follow a first-come-first-served rule. The one who isn’t loved is the real third party. Why can’t you understand that?” I almost laughed at her twisted logic. “Spiritual connection? Was that on the hotel bed or on the yoga mat?” “Vivian, do you think being a homewrecker is something to be proud of?” “Believe me or not, tomorrow I’ll post videos of all your ‘connections’ to your yoga studio’s client group and let everyone see how pure you really are.”

“Don’t you dare!” Ethan finally exploded completely. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip. The force was enough to nearly break my bones. “Charlotte, have you lost your mind! Do you have to destroy everything before you’re happy!” His eyes were bloodshot, glaring at me while his other hand pried at my fingers, trying to wrestle the phone away. Pain shot through my wrist, but I refused to let go of the phone. “I’m destroying everything?” I gritted my teeth, meeting his murderous gaze, fighting back word by word. “Ethan, you two are the ones who’ve gone too far!” “If you dare walk out that door to see her today, I’ll make sure you both end up destroyed and disgraced!” Vivian’s terrified scream came through the phone. “Ethan! Don’t hit her! Come back, I’m scared…” She was still pouring fuel on the fire. Hearing Vivian’s crying, Ethan’s last thread of rationality snapped. With a violent yank, he ripped the phone from my hand. The momentum threw me backward. I stumbled and my lower back slammed hard into the edge of the marble table. A dull thud. Searing pain exploded from my back and spread through my entire body. My vision went black and cold sweat instantly soaked my clothes. I slid down along the coffee table onto the floor, the pain so intense I couldn’t speak. Ethan clutched the phone, looking down at me from above. There wasn’t a trace of concern in his eyes—only extreme coldness and disgust. “Charlotte, you’re an unreasonable lunatic.” He straightened his disheveled collar, his tone as cold as if he were looking at a corpse. “If you want to throw a fit, do it by yourself. I don’t have time to waste on you.” With that, he murmured soothingly into the phone, “Vivian, don’t be scared, I’ll be right there,” then turned and walked out without hesitation. “Bang!” The security door slammed shut with such force that the calendar on the wall fell to the floor. The living room fell completely silent. Only the clock on the wall continued its relentless ticking. I curled up on the cold floor, clutching my aching back, tears finally streaming down uncontrollably. This was the man I’d loved with everything I had for seven years. For a lying mistress, he’d actually laid hands on me. I closed my eyes, countless images flashing through my mind. There was his silhouette cooking noodles for me in our rental apartment when we first married. There was his laughing face as he spun me around when I got promoted. But in the end, all those images froze on his cold, disgusted eyes from just moments ago. I wiped the tears from my eyes and slowly stood up, using the coffee table for support. The pain in my back kept reminding me of what had just happened. But the fire in my heart had completely extinguished. In its place was endless ice and resolve. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and watched that familiar black sedan speed away below, disappearing into the night. Ethan, did you think you won? Did you think you could enjoy my devotion while playing around on the side? I picked up my phone from the sofa and dialed a number hidden at the very bottom of my contacts. “Hello, is this Drake?” A rough, irritable male voice came through. “Who the hell is this? Calling in the middle of the night—you got a death wish?” I looked out at the pitch-black night sky, a cold smile curving my lips. “I’m Ethan Hayes’s wife. Drake, your fiancée Vivian is sick and needs someone to take care of her.” “If you don’t get there soon, she’s going to die in my husband’s bed.”

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I was scavenging for leftovers in a dumpster when my wife, who’d been dead for three years, appeared. She stepped out of a Rolls-Royce and looked down at me. “Marcus Brown, you’ve passed my test after all.” I stared at her blankly, clutching a piece of moldy bread. Turns out, three years ago at a class reunion, her ex-boyfriend—the one she’d dated before me—had proposed a test: “I want to see if what you two have is true love. “Fake your death right now. Cut off all his cards. Take back the house too. “If he’s still single for you three years later, you pass. Do you dare?” She’d laughed then: “Why wouldn’t I dare? “Marcus loves me to death. Forget three years—even thirty years, he’d stay faithful to me.” Now, she turned back to smirk at her first love in the passenger seat: “What did I tell you?” The bread crumbled in my grip. Vivian White looked at me. “Alright, I’m here to take you and my son Oliver home. “Where’s Oliver?” “Dead.” I raised my eyes. “Three years ago, when none of the cards worked, there was no money for his surgery. He died.”

Vivian froze. She started looking around the dump. Nothing but endless stench and me, clutching moldy bread. She knew I loved our son to the bone. I’d take Oliver everywhere, no matter what I was doing. But now, Oliver wasn’t by my side. “You’re joking.” There was a flash of panic when Vivian spoke. “I’m serious. I’m here to take you both home.” “Home?” I looked up with red eyes. “Three years ago when you faked your death, they said you owed a huge debt and mortgaged our house. “Oliver and I became homeless. We’ve been wandering for so long. What home is there?” She hesitated for a long moment before speaking: “That… that was just to test you. Don’t worry, the house has always been in my hands. Come on~ Tell Oliver to stop playing hide and seek. Let him come out, I’ll apologize to him.” “Then go!” I threw the death certificate at her. “Go down there and apologize to Oliver!” When the certificate landed in her hands, her hand trembled. “Oliver…” She stared at the conclusion of “acute cardiac death,” her eyes instantly reddening: “I was only gone three years. How could Oliver be gone! “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Vivian grabbed my shoulders. “I know I was wrong. Don’t put on this act to punish me. Bring Oliver out!” I just looked at her. Contempt curled at my lips. The hand gripping me trembled. Vivian looked at me, tears falling. “Vivian, can’t you see such an obvious scam?” Ryan Hayes picked up the death certificate: “Look, isn’t this just like the fake one I made for you three years ago?” He pointed to the stamp: “It’s not even as good as the one I forged for you. “Here, hospitals don’t stamp it this way.” He sneered at me. “Mr. Brown, we’ve both been through this once before. You think we’ll believe you with something like this?” Only then did Vivian snap back to reality. Ryan continued pointing things out to her: “Look, the signature section—can’t you see how stiff it is? And this certificate, it’s obviously been artificially aged. “Don’t you remember the process from three years ago? Mr. Brown is quite experienced, actually. He even predicted you’d come back for him today and waited for you in the garbage dump dressed all shabby.” “You’re lying!” My eyes reddened. Vivian just frowned. After examining the death certificate several times, she looked at me with contempt. “I almost fell for it.” The death certificate hit my body as she said coldly: “Looks like Ryan was right. You’re much more calculating than you appear.” “You!” “Get Oliver back home by the end of today. He’s only six. He can’t learn bad habits from a father like you.” She turned to leave. I quickly stood up, trying to stop her. But Ryan positioned himself between us. “Mr. Brown…” He spoke in a voice only we could hear, venomously: “I know Oliver died a long time ago.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “Know why Vivian doesn’t know?” He chuckled softly. “Because I blocked all information about Oliver from reaching her.” My fists clenched tight. “Speaking of which, Oliver was really pitiful. “His mother had just died, and then he was diagnosed with congenital heart disease. “There was a matching heart for him, but his father couldn’t come up with a single penny. Working four jobs a day, going without sleep—still couldn’t gather enough for the surgery. “Made little Oliver miss his chance for a heart transplant.” My eyes instantly reddened. “But don’t worry.” Ryan adjusted his custom-tailored cuffs. “He didn’t die in vain. His bone marrow, kidneys, corneas…” My breathing hitched. He laughed softly: “Ah… such a pity you didn’t see it. When the child was forced to sign the donor consent form, he kept crying for daddy. “And you, his father, were still out there delivering food… Ahh!!” “You goddamn bastard!!” I gripped his throat tightly. “Give me back my son!!” “Enough!” A slap struck my face hard. I hadn’t eaten in three days. The blow sent me sprawling into the garbage heap. Vivian shielded Ryan protectively behind her. Ryan said pitifully: “I just asked where Oliver was hiding. Mr. Brown, you can stand living in a dump, but the child can’t bear this suffering! “Just because I wanted to take Oliver away, you tried to kill me?!” “You’re lying! You clearly…” “Enough!” Vivian clenched her teeth. “If you have any conscience as a father, bring Oliver back yourself. “Otherwise, we’re getting divorced!” She let Ryan into the passenger seat. Divorce? I laughed. Fine. But before that, I had one more thing to do. The next day, a whistleblower letter landed on Vivian’s boss’s desk. At the same time, a banner appeared at the company entrance: [Tech Rising Star Vivian White Caused Son’s Death for Ex-Boyfriend] in large letters attracted many onlookers. And I knelt at her company entrance, holding Oliver’s photo. Not saying a word. I had printed what she and Ryan did into pamphlets and distributed them on site. Some people actually teared up reading them: “Is that a child in the photo? Still so small. How could Ms. White just abandon this father and son and fake her death for three years!” “Faking death is one thing, but why go to such extremes! Not only cutting off all the money, but also pretending to mortgage the house. Was this really to test her husband, or did she want to drive him to death so her ex could take his place!” “The company must give an explanation! If this is true, does such a person deserve that position!” Soon, the company leadership personally came downstairs to bring me up. Vivian stood at her office door, her expression unreadable as she watched me. The door closed, and the leader personally poured me tea: “Mr. Brown, please forgive Vivian and Ryan.” My hand gripping the cup stiffened. “They did this and you want me to forgive them?” “Yes, I know Vivian went a bit too far, and Ryan was foolish. “But Vivian is the company’s pillar. So many projects only recognize her name. “You should consider the company’s position too, right?” I couldn’t speak. The leader smiled at me. “How about this—I’ll give Vivian and Ryan an official warning. And for you, I can provide compensation. “I’m sorry about the child, but you and Vivian can have another one. You’re husband and wife, after all. “With Vivian’s successful career, you’ll only benefit more.” I laughed bitterly in anger. “Fine, protect her. But why do you need to protect Ryan Hayes too!” The leader was silent for a moment: “Don’t you know? Ryan was recommended by her with a personal guarantee.”

For a moment, I nearly dropped my cup. This tech company—I’d submitted my resume three times. But each time it sank without a trace for unknown reasons. I’d begged Vivian to help me get an interview with the leadership. Not to get me directly into the company, just an interview. I knew that with her weight, she could give me this opportunity without even asking the leadership. But she said she needed to avoid conflicts of interest. Didn’t want to make things difficult for herself. So I needed to avoid conflicts of interest. But Ryan could be directly recommended for a position. My knuckles turned white gripping the cup as I stared at her: “What if I don’t accept?” The leader smiled too. “I still advise Mr. Brown not to fight the company.” Not long after leaving the company, many discussions about me appeared online. [Mentally Disturbed Husband Uses Son’s Death to Extort Wife] [Tech Rising Star Vivian White’s Family Misfortune] [Husband Suspects Wife of Affair with Male Colleague? Is Son’s Death the Husband’s Tool for Revenge Against Wife?] In an instant, the public who had pitied me turned their guns around. The comment sections were full of praise for Vivian and Ryan. [Had the fortune to work with Ms. White. She’s truly wonderful, her professional ability is impeccable, and she maintains appropriate boundaries with male colleagues] [I don’t know what there is to complain about being Ms. White’s husband.] [Did Marcus Brown himself have someone on the side?] [I met Mr. Hayes offline once. He’s really great, very respectful to women. Excellent people really do attract jealous haters] With such high engagement, I knew Vivian was behind the manipulation. I returned to the home I hadn’t been to in three years. Smiling bitterly as I stroked the photo on Oliver’s urn. “I’m sorry. Daddy failed to protect you.” A divorce agreement landed on the table. Just as I was about to take Oliver and leave, the door was kicked open. Vivian led Ryan, whose head was bandaged, striding in: “Where’s Oliver?” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “What are you doing?” “What am I doing?” Vivian sneered. “Ryan was injured, and you had Oliver do it, didn’t you!” “Vivian!” I clenched my fists. “What are you talking about!” Ryan gritted his teeth: “Mr. Brown, why hide it? When that child hit me with a hammer, I saw clearly it was him. “He even said he wanted revenge for you. “If Vivian hadn’t arrived in time, caught off guard like that, I might have really been killed by that child!” I gritted my teeth. Vivian looked at me coldly: “I knew Oliver would learn to lie with a father like you! “If I’d known it would be like this, I should have taken Oliver with me three years ago! “Where is he! I’m taking him to raise myself! Ryan and I will teach this child together! Better than you ruining him for life!” “Fine!” I brought out the urn, looking at them with burning eyes: “Then you’d better go down there and teach him properly!”

Looking at the portrait on the urn, Vivian stared at me in disbelief. My hands trembled slightly as I clenched my fists. A year ago, when Oliver died, I’d used all my savings to make this final little home for him. But the next second, this little home was shattered. I roared and lunged forward: “Oliver!” “Have you made enough of a scene!” Vivian grabbed my collar. “How many times are you going to play this trick?” She grabbed the ashes. “Bamboo charcoal powder mixed with bone models—you really think I can’t tell! I played this trick three years ago! “Do you enjoy cursing Oliver this much?” “Mmph!” The ashes were forcibly shoved into my mouth. I retched violently. “Eat it! Aren’t these your own props? Why are you disgusted!” Vivian’s eyes were red as she firmly blocked my mouth. Until my face flushed red and I pushed her away. Kneeling on the ground, I coughed continuously. My trembling hands gathered the ashes bit by bit from the floor. Tears mixed with the blood from my throat, soiling Oliver’s remains. I collapsed on the scattered ashes, crying breathlessly. Vivian looked down from above. “Think about it—when Oliver grows up and remembers you faked his death and his ashes just to compete for jealousy… “What will he think? “He’ll hate you to death.” I was too wretched to speak. She half-knelt down. “So, where’s Oliver? If you have any conscience as a father, temporarily let me educate him.” My eyes reddened. I smiled at her. “Alright, I’ll take you to find him.” Ryan froze. Vivian also paused slightly, reaching out to grip my hand. “I knew you’d come around.” The car drove to a cliff’s edge. Vivian saw the small figure on the cliff. Her face lit up. “Oliver!” Just as she got out of the car, Ryan’s trembling voice came from behind: “Vivian…” She turned back. My knife was already at Ryan’s throat. … Police forces quickly gathered at the cliff’s edge. I held the knife to Ryan’s throat, standing at the cliff’s edge with Oliver. Cold sweat dripped from Vivian’s temples. “Marcus, I won’t take Oliver anymore. I won’t fight you for him. “Let Ryan go. Do you want Oliver’s father to become a murderer? Can you bear to let Oliver watch you kill someone!” All the live stream cameras focused on me. The police negotiator was also persuading me along with Vivian. I felt Ryan trembling in my arm. I looked down. Glanced at Oliver wearing a hat. He also looked up and met my eyes. Ryan’s body trembled even more violently. I smiled: “No, Oliver will become my best successor.” Then, ignoring Vivian’s pale face, I gave the order directly: “Oliver! Push this man down with Daddy!” “Marcus Brown!!” “Ma’am!” The police cried out. Vivian actually snatched the gun from the police. Aimed it straight at me. “Bang!” The bullet exploded into a blood flower on my chest. I swayed. Released my grip on Ryan. Before falling off the cliff, I turned back and showed Vivian a smile. Then fell straight down. Vivian stood frozen in place. In front of the live cameras, Oliver removed the hat. It was a girl. “Congratulations, Ms. White. Now you’ve killed your husband with your own hands too.” The police frowned at Vivian: “What this child said—what’s going on?”

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After my four-year-old son died from illness, Ethan Ford, who had been on a business trip to Europe, finally came home. At the funeral, he tried to console me: “Don’t worry, I won’t blame you. If you want a child, I’ll bring one home tomorrow.” My whole body stiffened. I looked up at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” He said nonchalantly: “I have a child with another woman. He’s only six months younger than Tommy. If you don’t mind, we can bring him home and you can raise him as your own.” “Besides, the kid’s mom is too young—she’s like a child herself, always playing around. I’d feel better if you took care of him.” My nails dug deep into my palms, my voice trembling: “Who is this woman?” He smiled. “She’s a nurse from the maternity ward. When I took you to the hospital to give birth, she fell for me at first sight. We slept together in the room next to the operating room. I know I wronged you, but she was young and sexy. She came onto me first, and I couldn’t resist.” “Slap—” Before I knew what I was doing, a bright red handprint appeared on his face. Ethan covered his swollen cheek and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Is that really necessary? I only told you this because I thought you were too upset. If slapping me once makes you feel better, go ahead.” With that, he turned his head, offering me his other cheek. “Go on, hit me. Why’d you stop?” All my anger evaporated in that moment, leaving only helplessness to drown me. My voice was hoarse as I stared at him, tears streaming down my face. He sighed impatiently and said: “Men cheating is pretty normal, isn’t it? How many men spend their whole lives devoted to one woman?” “Besides, I didn’t even bring her home. You’ve lived comfortably as a rich man’s wife all these years. Isn’t that enough?” As soon as he finished speaking, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke in my face. I suppressed my emotions and asked in a trembling voice: “Then why are you telling me now? Why tell me the truth right after my son just died! You’ve been lying to me for five years—why couldn’t you just keep lying forever!” Tears pooled in my eyes. I tilted my head back slightly, refusing to show weakness. Ethan raised an eyebrow and suddenly laughed mockingly. “Like I said, she’s too young to take care of a kid. Now that the child’s older, he needs education and parental guidance.” “Besides, your son just died. You can’t handle this blow. If I bring a child home to keep you company, it’ll help you move past your grief.” He crossed his arms over his chest and added carelessly: “Two birds with one stone. Don’t you think?” Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression instantly softened. He patiently typed out a reply. Perhaps now that the truth was out, he didn’t bother hiding anymore. I glanced sideways and saw the chat name: “My Only Treasure.” I stared at that profile picture for a long time. The same picture existed in my own chat list. During my third trimester checkup, a nurse named Melody Smith said I reminded her of her sister. Her sister had died from complications during childbirth, and Melody had lost her last family member. Out of sympathy, I added her on SnapChat.

She said I could message her anytime if I felt unwell. But I was afraid of bothering her, so I never sent a single message. All the details connected in this moment. My seven-year marriage was a joke. In my ears, I could hear Melody’s sweet, flirtatious laughter: “You’re so mean! Don’t call me dumb. If I hadn’t been trying to cook for you, I wouldn’t have burned my hand. Instead of feeling sorry for me, you’re going to ‘punish’ me by not letting me use my hands tonight? If you keep this up, I’m going to get mad!” Ethan wanted to smile, but when he caught sight of me still standing nearby, his expression quickly turned cold. “I have some things to handle at the office. I’m leaving. Deal with your son’s funeral yourself and go home when you’re done.” The guests had long since noticed the tension between us and were now waiting to watch the drama unfold. Ignoring my own dignity, I shouted at his retreating back: “If you walk out that door, we’re getting divorced!” Ethan stopped in his tracks. Seeing everyone’s eyes on him, his face darkened. “Shut up!” “If you’re not embarrassed, I am!” “If you have something to say, say it at home. Don’t make a scene here!” I laughed like a madwoman, grabbing his collar and pointing at our son’s portrait. “Our son just died, and you can’t wait to run off to your mistress and your bastard child. You’re embarrassed? What right do you have to be embarrassed!” “For seven years, you said you were busy with work, that you needed to develop business overseas. I handled everything at home alone—I was both father and mother. I could only sleep four hours a night.” “When our son had his accident, I was doing housework. I looked away for one second and he ran outside and got hit by a car. Where were you then? Talk at home? When have you ever been home!” Tears I could no longer hold back poured down my face. But Ethan just frowned. “Are you done? I’m leaving.” He turned and walked away with long strides, never looking back. The guests swarmed around me, offering hollow comfort: “That’s enough. Men are all like this. Every family has problems. Mr. Ford has such a big business—it’s inevitable women throw themselves at him. Just be patient and it’ll pass.” “Exactly. My husband doesn’t even have money and he still chats with women. Now I just turn a blind eye. Life goes on.” They spoke words of comfort, but each one was a needle stabbing into my heart. I wasn’t made of wood—of course I’d felt Ethan’s change. In our seven-year marriage, I’d imagined countless times how our relationship might end. But I never imagined it would cost me my son’s life. I didn’t want to be laughed at anymore. I hastily ended the funeral and went home. As soon as I walked through the door, I collapsed on the floor, drained of all strength. With trembling hands, I opened Melody’s social media feed. Only now did I realize every post had a hidden meaning. During my last prenatal checkup, she’d posted a photo of a positive pregnancy test. Caption: “He says this is a surprise from heaven. The baby and I are the most important people in his life.” When I was in postpartum confinement, Ethan said he had to go on a business trip. And during that month, Melody updated her feed almost daily. “He says I’m more important. He doesn’t know that to me, he’s the most important person in the world.” “When true love comes, heaven gives you a sign. This time, I heard it.” “Thank you for leaving everything behind to be with me. I hope you’ll be with me for the rest of my life.” … I tortured myself by reading through them one by one. Many photos included Ethan’s silhouette in the background. Back then, I never paid attention—I just assumed Melody was dating some secret boyfriend. Looking at them now, I realized how ridiculous I’d been.

The day our son died in a car accident, Melody was at a five-star hotel hot spring. In the photo, she wore a sexy bikini that barely covered her body. In the corner of the photo was a man’s hand holding a wine glass. Caption: “Thanks to my CEO for personally serving me. I’ll definitely reward him well tonight!” The blood drained from my face. Like a madwoman, I bombarded Melody with messages. “Where are you? I need to see you.” She replied instantly: “What’s wrong, Evelyn? Why the sudden need to see me? My husband’s all over me right now, so I can’t get away.” She sent a candid photo. Ethan had his head buried in her chest, surrounded by countless red marks. My heart went ice cold. After a long moment, I typed out a message. “This coffee shop. I’ll wait for you until you show up.” I stared at the coffee in front of me, the ice long melted, for three hours. Melody finally appeared. Wearing a sexy slip dress that deliberately exposed the marks covering her neck and chest. As soon as she sat down, she greeted me with a coquettish laugh. “Sorry I’m late, Evelyn.” “Oh my, I was in such a rush leaving the house, I forgot to cover these up. But you’re married too, so you understand, right?” I forced myself to smile. “Looks like things are good between you and your husband? Still so sweet after marriage—that’s rare.” Her cheeks flushed to her ears, but her voice rose several notches. “My husband’s been obsessed with me for five years and still isn’t tired of me. Honestly, he’s getting annoying. I only managed to slip out by saying I needed to buy something. I don’t have much time, so just say what you need to say.” Rage slowly consumed my rationality. I picked up my coffee and threw it directly in her face. Melody screamed and jumped to her feet. “Evelyn Wright, are you insane! Why’d you throw that at me!” “You slept with my husband and destroyed my family, and you have the nerve to show your face in front of me? Throwing coffee is getting off easy!” I shouted with every ounce of strength I had. Everyone in the coffee shop turned to stare at Melody, pointing and whispering. Her expression of anger froze on her face. In an instant, it transformed into a pitiful look. “Evelyn, what are you saying? My husband is married?” “I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. If I’d known he was married, I never would have gotten together with him! I was deceived too!” “I even had his child… How could this happen? My whole life is ruined!” With that, she covered her face and ran out crying. Before I could react, the crowd’s judgment rained down on me. The same people who’d sympathized with me moments ago quickly changed their tune. “The poor girl didn’t even know your husband was running around. Why are you being so aggressive?” “Exactly. She even had his child. Her whole life is ruined. The girl’s a victim too.” “Can’t control your own man, so you come here to bully a young girl. No wonder your husband doesn’t like you!” I wanted to explain that wasn’t how it happened. But no one believed me. Security threw me out on the spot. Someone had filmed my confrontation with Melody and posted it online. The video went viral. The comments were filled with insults. I, the actual victim, became the target of everyone’s hatred. I wandered the streets like a lost soul, not knowing where to go or what to do. I thought today’s meeting would make Melody back off, would make Ethan return to his family.

But I was wrong. Terribly wrong. A woman willing to be a mistress would never be that simple. After walking for who knows how long, a black Maybach suddenly stopped in front of me. Ethan rushed out of the car and slapped me without a word. “You have the nerve to be out shopping? Do you know you almost killed Melody!” My face pale, I looked up at him in confusion. His chest heaved violently with anger. “Because you went to see Melody this afternoon, people called her a homewrecker and she went to a bar to drink. She ended up getting raped!” “She smashed a bottle and tried to kill herself by cutting her wrists. She just got out of surgery and isn’t out of danger yet!” “Evelyn Wright, when did you become so vicious? The affair was my doing. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Why hurt Melody? She’s innocent!” Tears blurred my vision. The man standing before me, calling me vicious, could no longer overlap with the young man who once knelt to propose, swearing he’d protect me forever. I bit through my lip, eyes red as I screamed: “She’s innocent? What about my child? Wasn’t he innocent?” “You cheated and left me to care for our child alone. My son was only five years old. Why should he pay the price for your affair!” My heartfelt words only earned me another, harder slap. I lost my balance and fell down the steps. My ankle swelled immediately, the bone likely broken. Ethan gave the bodyguards a cold order, not even sparing me a glance: “Take Mrs. Ford to the hospital and make her kneel. When Melody is out of danger, she can get up!” In the hospital corridor, two bodyguards forced me to my knees. Both sides of my face were swollen, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. Five hours passed before Melody finally opened her eyes. Ethan walked past me and comforted her with gentle concern. In seven years of marriage, I’d never seen him like this. My heart ached to numbness, as if being twisted by a dull knife. The two talked about something, and Melody covered her face, crying uncontrollably. Ethan took her phone, looked at it, and became so angry he smashed it on the spot. The screen shattered into pieces. He strode toward me, grabbed my collar, and dragged me in front of Melody. “Evelyn Wright, did you release that video? Did you hire those trolls?” “Won’t you be satisfied until Melody’s dead! She just woke up and even agreed to let you raise her child, but you still won’t leave her alone!” The phone with its spider-webbed screen was playing a video. In the footage, Melody lay unconscious from alcohol while several men stood over her, violently tearing at her clothes. At the critical moment, the camera was covered by someone’s clothing. But sickening sounds could be heard. Melody’s face went white. She broke down crying: “Don’t stop me. Just let me die!” “Everyone online is saying I deserved it for breaking up someone’s family. This is my punishment!” “Give the child to Evelyn to raise. Don’t let him know what kind of shameful person his mother is!” With that, Melody yanked out her IV needle and raised her hand to stab it into her neck. Ethan reacted quickly, reaching out to block it. The needle pierced straight through his hand. His cold gaze locked onto me like a demon from hell. “Evelyn Wright, are you satisfied now?” “Someone take Mrs. Ford out of here!” I struggled desperately: “Let me go! Where are you taking me? It wasn’t me—I didn’t do anything!”

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In the third month after I married Sebastian, I slit my wrists. When my soul floated in the air, I thought I would see him weeping bitterly, holding my corpse and kneeling before my grave day and night in repentance. But none of that happened. Sebastian looked at my body and said, “Disgusting.” He had no regrets, no sadness. Instead, my death gave his non-blood-related adopted sister Melissa a position—she leapt to become Mrs. Whitmore. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn, back to the day of my suicide. Why should I kill myself? The one who deserved to die was never me. I dropped the knife and walked out of the room. Before Sebastian moved Melissa into our marital bedroom, I signed my name on the divorce papers. When I felt the pain, I realized I had been reborn. The memories before my death kept flashing through my mind. I had tried to kill myself entirely because half an hour earlier, I had received a message from Melissa. A photo—her on top, Sebastian below, in an extremely intimate position, and in the car no less, that narrow and quiet space. I was furious. I frantically called Sebastian. He didn’t answer. When I called several more times in succession, he hung up directly. Everyone in the capital knew that I loved Sebastian like my life depended on it, that I couldn’t live without him. I even earned the nickname “yandere beauty Charlotte.” At that moment, the thought of Sebastian doing those things with another woman drove me truly insane. I quickly created a SnapChat group, pulled in all our mutual friends, and declared I was going to kill myself. Everyone in the group urged me to calm down. Only Sebastian sent a cold message: “Whatever.” I desperately wanted to extract even a tiny bit of love from Sebastian, so I actually live-streamed slitting my wrists. In the video, all our friends were shocked. Sebastian finally reacted. He cursed me under his breath, calling me a psycho, and rushed back. He finally came back from that other woman’s side. How wonderful. He could only be mine and mine alone. But I had cut too deep. I really died. Floating in the air, I was desperate to see Sebastian awaken to his love for me, to see if he would hold my corpse in agony. But he did nothing and had me cremated. A month later, he even married Melissa, who seized my position as the rightful Mrs. Whitmore. This suicide made me understand: loving myself is better than loving a man. Sebastian, I’m done loving you. The text message from Melissa was still on my phone. I wasn’t polite in my reply. “Sebastian likes passive, delicate girls. He doesn’t like slutty ones like you.” She went silent. I walked out of the bathroom and threw everything I had prepared for suicide into the trash. Following Sebastian around for ten years, constantly begging him for that tiny bit of love, only to trap myself for the rest of my life—it really wasn’t worth it. I sent Sebastian a text message. “The divorce papers only need your signature.”

Sebastian came back quickly. His first words were: “Not dead yet? Changed tactics—now you want a divorce?” Two sarcastic jabs, but he was stating facts. In my previous life, I was able to marry Sebastian entirely because of a business partnership between our families. At the time, the Whitmore family was on the verge of bankruptcy, their business set back decades. After I married in, it was essentially using the Sterling family’s blood to fill the Whitmore family’s bottomless pit. So whenever I brought up divorce, Sebastian would compromise. Back then, I thought his compromise was love, the only love he had for me. Now I understand—it wasn’t love, it was profit. Sebastian was compromising for the Whitmore family’s development. I adjusted my emotions and saw Melissa standing behind Sebastian. Melissa was two years younger than me. The Whitmore family had adopted her from an orphanage years ago. She had grown up with Sebastian since childhood—childhood sweethearts. And I was just a willful, selfish, spoiled girl in his eyes. I handed him the divorce papers. “Sign them.” Sebastian laughed mockingly and casually tore up the divorce agreement, not caring what I thought at all. “Melissa is moving in. Give her your master bedroom. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” A problem? How would I dare have a problem? In my previous life, it was the same. Melissa insisted on living in the master bedroom that Sebastian and I shared. I refused, so she had to sleep in the side room. Then she fell out the window. She claimed the bed in the side room was next to the floor-to-ceiling window, so she accidentally fell. It was quite an accident indeed. What normal person sleeps without closing the floor-to-ceiling window? Sebastian blamed me for that incident. He said to teach me a lesson and locked me in a dark room without food or water. By the time he remembered me, I was barely alive. My best friend defended me: “Get divorced, Charlotte. If you keep tormenting yourself like this, that scumbag Sebastian will be the death of you.” But back then, my brain was broken, and I actually argued back. “Why does he only treat me badly and not others?” “Why does he only want my life and not others’?” “He loves me. He loves me to death.” Hearing these words, my friends gradually distanced themselves from me and stopped contacting me. Thinking back on those words now, I was such a fool. Since Melissa loved stealing nests so much, I’d give her this bird’s nest. “Fine.” I calmly agreed. A flash of surprise crossed Melissa’s eyes. All the schemes she had prepared were now useless. She looked me up and down repeatedly, then tugged on Sebastian’s arm. “About that thing…” Melissa trailed off suggestively. Sebastian pushed up his gold-framed glasses—the movement refined and elegant. I used to love this gentleman-scoundrel act of his. Now I realize, even if a dog did this, I would have loved it. Pure sickness. Sebastian spoke: “Melissa’s health isn’t good, and she needs to prepare for pregnancy. Take care of her for the next two weeks. I remember you studied nursing, right?” Yes, I studied nursing. For him. Back then, Sebastian was constantly drinking at business dinners for the nearly bankrupt Whitmore family, which damaged his stomach. He lay in the hospital for over ten days. He couldn’t afford a nurse, so I taught myself for a few days and took care of him around the clock for two weeks. I didn’t even blink. When he raised his hand, I handed him water. When he turned over, I gave him a massage. I was more diligent than a servant. I thought he would remember my kindness, but he only remembered me as a free nanny. I readily agreed again, but I took back what should have been mine. “Sebastian, give me back the three Sterling family seals I gave you, and I’ll agree.” Those three seals were the great heroes that helped the Whitmore company rise from the dead. Originally, my parents didn’t agree to my marriage to Sebastian. But I insisted on choosing him. So my parents gave me three seals representing our entire family enterprise. As long as I held these three seals, many companies would be willing to cooperate with the Whitmore family in the future. Mom also told me that whenever I took back these three seals, they would come get me even if they were on the other side of the world. When I gave Sebastian these three seals, I told him they would help his career. In my previous life, I also brought this up with him. Instead, he pointed at my nose and cursed. “Charlotte, what the hell is your Sterling family? What are these three seals? You really think you’re something special? Without your Sterling family, the Whitmore family can still rise again.” That’s when I learned: you can’t warm up an ungrateful wolf. You can’t warm up a heart made of stone either. What he doesn’t want, if I gave it to a dog, at least the dog would wag its tail at me. Sebastian disdainfully pulled one out from his pocket and gave it to me. “The other two—I’ll give you one every two weeks.” I knew what he meant. He wanted me to take good care of Melissa during this half-month period. After giving them all, I would leave. By then, my parents would naturally handle the divorce procedures for me. I withdrew all my admiration for Sebastian. I desperately wanted to see—when he was no longer the Whitmore family’s young master, when he was begging with a mountain of debt on his back, would Melissa still love only him?

For the remaining days, Melissa moved in. Her pregnancy preparations in my previous life had made me so angry I was hospitalized. I even developed anxiety disorder and nearly went insane. Because the pregnancy Melissa was preparing for was Sebastian’s child. Melissa said she had her own beliefs. Since the Whitmore family adopted her, she had to repay them. Sebastian had already married me, and I hadn’t had children for three years. She couldn’t bear to see the Whitmore family line end, so she was willing to sacrifice herself to bear an heir for the Whitmore family. She proposed IVF with Sebastian. It sounded nice calling it IVF, but behind the scenes, they had clearly had sex many times. Melissa sent me those photos and videos one by one. I was so stimulated I vomited blood. I was disheveled, sallow-faced, and utterly wretched when I found Sebastian at his company. He was in an international conference at the time. I burst right in, ruining his project, crawling on the floor and hugging his legs, begging him to love me, begging him to have a child with me. I even said: “I guarantee the child I give birth to will be smarter and more blessed than Melissa’s.” My outburst damaged Sebastian’s image. He had someone lock me up. Unable to stand my tantrums, he sent me to a psychiatric hospital. Only after I was tortured into submission did he bring me back. Even now, thinking about it makes my heart ache. Why did I debase myself like that? As for Melissa, she didn’t know that the reason Sebastian and I hadn’t had children in three years was because my parents had investigated. The Whitmore family carried genetic disease genes. Any children born would either be disabled or have cerebral palsy. So, to get back the Sterling family’s three seals, I was more nervous about Melissa’s belly than a maternity nurse would be. At eight in the morning, I had the kitchen prepare soup and sent it to Melissa. Melissa took a sip and threw it on me. “What garbage is this? Be careful or I’ll tell Sebastian.” I endured it. At noon during her rest, I found professionals to apply body oil to her skin to help keep it refined. Melissa specifically demanded I do it myself. “Charlotte, are your precious hands okay with serving me?” I endured again. At ten at night, Sebastian came home and entered the bedroom with Melissa. Sebastian pretended to be troubled. “Charlotte, this is all for me. You love me so much, you’ll understand, right?” I stood by the door, listening to the sounds of lovemaking inside, when I received a call from my parents. “Charlotte, your mother and I received the seals.” “Are you planning to come home?” One more left. Once I took the last one, all the projects under Whitmore Enterprises would come to a complete halt. Because over these three years, all the projects were stamped with my Sterling family seal. All the partners only recognized the Sterling family. I stood at the door, peeking through the crack at the two people pressed together inside, and smiled. “Mom, Dad, remember to pick me up in a week.” During the two weeks of caring for Melissa, I barely slept or ate. I lost a significant amount of weight. Sebastian’s evaluation of me, however, kept getting better. He often stared at me in a daze, occasionally spitting out a few decent words from his dog mouth. “Charlotte, if you were always this obedient and didn’t make a fuss, how nice that would be.” I pressed my lips together and smiled without speaking. I won’t make a fuss anymore. I just don’t know if he’ll make a fuss when Whitmore goes bankrupt. Sebastian placed the last seal in my hand. Afraid he would regret it, I put the divorce papers on the table again and reminded him. “Remember to sign tonight when you come back.” Sebastian’s eyes filled with more mockery. “What, now that Melissa’s pregnant, you’re going to pull that live suicide stunt again?” “Charlotte, if you die, I’ll collect your corpse.” I lowered my head without speaking, knowing he meant what he said. So I won’t be as foolish as in my previous life. I originally wanted to pack some things to take with me, but realized there was nothing worth packing. Sebastian left through the front door, and I got in my car through the back. I turned off my phone, threw away the SIM card. From now on, mountains high and roads far. Sebastian, I’ll be waiting in New York to watch you fall.

I blocked all his messages, but forgot about the SnapChat group I’d created when I threatened suicide. On my first day away, the first person to tag me in the group was our mutual friend Mason. He was also the one who called me a simp most viciously, because his family had always cooperated with Sebastian, so whatever Sebastian did, Mason was enthusiastic about covering for him. Thinking back now, on the day I attempted suicide, he was also the one shouting the loudest in the group. “Charlotte, just die already. I’ve never seen a female ghost with such an obsessive love brain. Besides, what do you have that’s better than Melissa?” At this moment, Mason was shouting even louder than that day. “Charlotte, besides playing suicide, can you also play missing? If you crawl back now to apologize to Sebastian, I can still put in a good word for you and have Sebastian give you the free gift when he buys jewelry for Melissa.” Put in a good word? Can a dog even speak human language? I clicked on the video Mason posted. It was from the afternoon of the day I left. He was accompanying Melissa at the mall buying the most expensive jewelry. The two were lovey-dovey—if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were actually husband and wife. How was I so blind in my previous life? From the video, Sebastian had reserved the entire mall for her and was buying extremely luxurious and expensive items. Mason was right. The jewelry Sebastian used to give me were all free gifts from what he bought for Melissa—worthless, and I had to beg him for them. But I was a bit puzzled. Does Sebastian have money to buy jewelry now? I contacted a friend in the capital and got the complete video. In the continuation of the video, the two spent a long time selecting items. During this, Sebastian first received a text message. [Dear Mr. Whitmore, your bank account has been debited xxxxxx. Remaining balance: zero dollars.] Seeing this message, he thought it was a scam and paid no attention. “Charge the card.” The clerk took the black card, but returned in less than a minute. “Mr. Whitmore, I’m very sorry, could you use a different card? This one won’t go through.” That simple sentence left Sebastian confused. He then tried many other cards, but none would go through. Sebastian suddenly remembered the text message and quickly called the company’s finance department. “Lisa, where’s the money in my account?” Finance: “Mr. Whitmore, because we breached our contracts, all the money in the company accounts has been paid out in compensation.” Breach of contract? All the money paid out in compensation? Melissa heard these words and let out a shriek. “Sebastian, it’s Charlotte. It must be her.” Sebastian took a sharp breath and immediately called me, but my phone was unreachable. He left me messages. “Charlotte, what game are you playing? Where’s the company’s money?” “Charlotte, answer me.” Unable to contact me, Sebastian felt helpless because his phone was going crazy receiving text messages. Half were from the company demanding the seals. Half were from partners demanding payment. And another half were astronomical breach-of-contract fees. I could clearly see Sebastian’s fingertips trembling, just like how my heart trembled when I saw him with Melissa. You see. A person can live without love, but absolutely cannot live without money. The video ended there. I clicked my tongue lightly. It seemed Sebastian’s good brothers still didn’t know about Sebastian and the company’s situation. I saved the messages he sent me, planning to let this group of people see later who was shamelessly begging whom. I collected myself. I was about to meet with partners—companies that had previously cooperated with Sebastian. They intended to withdraw their projects from the capital and come to New York to work with me. Then I received crazy tags in the SnapChat group again. It was actually Melissa. That haughty tone and the attitude of giving charity to a pitiful wretch made me nauseous. “Charlotte, Sebastian said as long as you come crawling back and appear before him, he’ll forgive you.” “A woman can’t be too difficult. Men don’t have much patience, especially men at the top of the pyramid like Sebastian.”

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After I turned thirty, my mom nagged me daily about going on blind dates. After twenty-nine failed attempts, she introduced me to a man named Marcus Hayes. To my surprise, this guy seemed pretty decent. He personally prepared candlelit dinners for me and designed a birthday bracelet just for me. Until I stumbled upon a post on Instagram: “Bros, I’ve hooked a rich girl. Both parents are state government officials, family owns three mansions. She’s average-looking but super easy to fool. We’ve met three times now, should be able to get her in bed next time.” When I saw the photos attached, my blood ran cold. The pictures showed the dinner he’d made for me and the bracelet I was wearing. Someone asked how he planned to get me into bed. He replied smugly in the comments: “Easy! Just slip her some aphrodisiacs! That’s how I got the last girl.” Right then, my phone buzzed with a message from Marcus: “Evelyn, free tomorrow night? Let me take you to dinner?” I read the post several times, unable to believe that Marcus — who seemed so proper in person — could be this disgusting online. But the photos were right there. That was my dress, my hand. How could I not recognize myself? The evidence was irrefutable. Cold sweat broke out all over my body. I took a deep breath and texted back: “Sure, see you tomorrow night.” The next day at the restaurant, I found Marcus already there with all the dishes ordered. Seeing me enter, he quickly stood up with a smile and pulled out my chair: “Evelyn, you look beautiful today.” The perfect gentleman. I’d barely touched my food when he said: “Evelyn, we’ve met several times now. We should make things official. My mom says she wants to arrange our engagement next week.” Including today, we’d only met four times. We hadn’t even confirmed our relationship, and he wanted to get engaged? I swallowed the curse on my tongue. “Marcus, I don’t think we’re compatible.” Marcus’s smile froze. “What are you saying, Evelyn?” “I’m saying I don’t think we’re right for each other. You can’t force a relationship. Let’s not contact each other anymore.” Marcus’s face immediately darkened. “Evelyn, what’s your problem? Are you playing games with me?” “Why go on blind dates if you don’t want a relationship?” I listened silently without responding. Marcus sneered and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, slapping it on the table. “Fine, you want to break up? Let’s settle the bill first.” I looked down to see an itemized dating expense list! A long, dense column of numbers with a clear total at the bottom: $12,047. I was shocked and looked up at him. His expression was completely matter-of-fact. “Not a penny less.” “But I also treated you. It’s not like you paid for everything.” I’d spent about as much on our dates as he had. “That was your choice. I didn’t force you.” I laughed in disbelief. “You’re charging me for gas money to drive here?” The list showed $120 for gas, but his drive was only twenty minutes. “Would I make the trip if not to see you? Who else should pay for it?” I pointed at the $280 haircut entry. “What does your haircut have to do with me?” “Wouldn’t have gotten a haircut if not to see you,” Marcus said righteously. I nearly choked with anger. “Then show me the receipts, the order screenshots. Let’s go through this line by line. Empty claims won’t do.” Marcus slammed his hand on the table. “What receipts? You ate and drank on my dime — don’t you have any sense of how much you spent?” “Never satisfied with freeloading, are you?” This aggressive display finally matched the sleazy man I’d seen online. Instead, I calmed down. “How about this — post this list on your Facebook, get two hundred likes, and I’ll transfer the money immediately. Not a penny less.” Marcus’s face stiffened. His eyes darted around, then he immediately switched to a nice-guy face. “I was just joking around, Evelyn. I like you and don’t want to break up. I was just teasing. Don’t take it to heart.” He pushed the orange juice on the table toward me. “Here, have some juice and cool down.” I stared at the glass of juice for a moment, then reached out and picked it up.

Seeing me pick up the orange juice, Marcus’s eyes lit up. Probably thinking I was about to fall for his trap, he started sweet-talking again. “Evelyn, I was too impatient just now. You’re right — relationships can’t be forced.” “If we’re not compatible, that’s fine. We can part on good terms and stay friends.” My hand trembled, and the entire glass of orange juice spilled onto the table. Marcus’s face immediately turned green, staring speechlessly at the puddle of juice. I set down the empty glass and picked up where he left off. “You’re right, let’s part on good terms.” Right in front of him, I pulled out my phone and called the matchmaker, Mrs. Wilson. “Evelyn, are you setting a date? I knew Marcus was reliable! Your mom picked the right person!” “Mrs. Wilson, this match won’t work. Marcus and I aren’t compatible.” Mrs. Wilson immediately turned hostile. “Not compatible? Evelyn, you’re thirty years old — what are you being picky about?! At this rate, you’ll never get married. No one will want you –” I hung up before she could finish. Marcus watched this entire smooth operation, completely dumbfounded. He wanted to lose his temper but couldn’t — after all, he’d just said we should part on good terms. He glared at me hatefully, stood up, and slammed the door on his way out. He clearly wouldn’t let this go. Sure enough, two days later at work, a colleague rushed over with news: “Evelyn, you need to get downstairs! Someone’s causing a scene at the company entrance, calling you out by name!” I went downstairs to find Marcus, his mother, and Mrs. Wilson blocking the company’s main entrance, surrounded by a crowd. Marcus’s mother sat on the ground, slapping her thighs and wailing: “Everyone come judge this for yourselves!” “Evelyn dated my son for half a month, scammed him for meals, drinks, and jewelry — conned my son out of over ten thousand dollars, then just walked away!” “We’re poor! His father died young, and I raised him alone as a widow. How are we supposed to survive?” My colleagues whispered among themselves: “Wow, I never would’ve guessed. Evelyn seems so honest and proper, but she’s actually a gold digger?” “Over ten thousand? That’s way too much. She ate and ran?” “So shameless. Don’t let her ruin our company’s reputation!” Mrs. Wilson yanked me out of the crowd, playing the mediator: “Evelyn, let me be fair here. Even if you don’t want to date him anymore, Marcus spent so much money on you — you should pay him back, right?” “Marcus’s family isn’t well-off. He spent so much on you, and it’s all documented! Clear as day!” She seriously pulled out that same itemized list and shoved it into my arms. “Just take pity on Mrs. Hayes. Pay her back. She raised Marcus all by herself — how hard that must have been. Can you bear to watch her kneel here?” Marcus walked over with a lovelorn expression: “Evelyn, don’t blame my mom. She’s just heartbroken for me…” “I genuinely like you. Can you give me another chance? I promise, all the money I earn will be yours to spend.” The onlookers gave me even more judgmental looks, shaking their heads. The commotion grew too loud. Our director, Mr. Davis, walked over with a dark expression: “Evelyn, I don’t want to get involved in personal matters, but bringing this to the company is too disruptive. They’ve even brought an itemized list. Just pay them back quickly, or else the company can’t keep you.” After the director spoke, I didn’t panic at all. Instead, I smiled.

“I won’t give you a single cent.” I said calmly, “Not only won’t I pay you, I’m going to collect what you owe me.” Hearing this, Marcus’s mother collapsed back to the ground, wailing: “Help! This girl is trying to kill us!” “My son works so hard for his money, up early and late every day, barely saved any money and she scammed it all!” “And now she’s turning the tables on us! She’s heartless!” My colleagues also criticized me: “Evelyn, you’re going too far. How can you demand money from them? Playing the victim!” “Exactly! Debts must be repaid — it’s only right. Have some shame!” The director had lost his patience. “Evelyn, pay up now. Stop embarrassing yourself!” I ignored them and held up the itemized list for everyone to see. “Everyone, look carefully. This is what he wants me to repay.” “Marcus and I ate four meals together. He paid for two, I paid for two. I have payment receipts.” “Why is he charging me for all four meals?” The murmuring stopped as everyone crowded over to look. I pointed at the list and continued: “He drove to the restaurant — twenty minutes according to GPS. But he charges $120 for gas each time, four times totaling $480.” Marcus’s mother stopped crying and jumped up, shouting: “So what if he made a mistake! Everyone makes mistakes with their accounting!” “You’re nitpicking these tiny errors just to avoid paying!” “My son spent so much money on you, and you have the nerve to find fault? You have no conscience!” But my colleagues’ expressions had already changed: “Four hundred dollars off is a small error? This is clearly inflated!” “The gas doesn’t add up either. A twenty-minute drive doesn’t cost $120. This is fraud.” “I don’t think this is as simple as it seems.” Seeing things turn against them, Marcus’s mother lunged to grab the list, but several colleagues who wanted to see more drama held her back. I simply read aloud: “Pre-date chewing gum, $20. Haircut, $280. Car wash, $180. Phone bill, $80…” “Marcus, you took me to a movie, I bought you bubble tea. I never took advantage of you.” “But why should I pay for the chewing gum you chewed before our date, your haircut, your car wash?” The crowd erupted: “What the hell? He’s charging her for his haircut? And car wash fees? Is this dating or a business transaction?” “The prices are wrong too! Twenty dollars for chewing gum? One-eighty for a car wash? Think we’re idiots?” “This is ridiculous! He’s clearly trying to scam her!” The onlookers turned against them. Marcus’s face alternated between red and white as he shouted desperately: “Don’t let her mislead you! These expenses are real!” “I gave her a gold bracelet worth $6,888! That’s real gold!” I laughed coldly and pulled the bracelet from my pocket, holding it up for everyone to see: “This bracelet isn’t gold at all!” A colleague who knew jewelry took it and looked it over, immediately laughing: “It’s fake. Same one’s online for $9.99 with free shipping.” Now the crowd was truly furious, pointing and cursing at them: “You gave her a fake gift and have the nerve to cause a scene at her company? What shameless liars!” “This guy’s just a scammer! Call the police!” I looked at Marcus, my tone ice-cold: “You gave me a $9.99 knockoff, but I gave you a genuine watch worth $7,000.” “Seven thousand dollars. Pay me back now.” The crowd also demanded he return the money, with some saying they’d call the police. Marcus’s face turned ashen as he pulled out his phone and made the transfer. Marcus’s mother tried to stop him, but Marcus pulled her aside and whispered something. She went quiet. After Marcus paid, he dragged his mother away. As she left, she shot me a venomous glare and hissed through clenched teeth: “This isn’t over! You’ll see!”

That weekend, I was resting at home when someone pounded frantically on the door. My mom opened it to find our neighbor Mrs. Peterson looking anxious: “Dr. Brooks, you need to go see! Several people are livestreaming at our community entrance, saying your family scammed them for money and emotions!” I thought, finally, it’s happening. I immediately opened a livestreaming app, searched nearby locations, and quickly found it. Marcus had gotten a major influencer account with hundreds of thousands of followers. The host was speaking passionately: “Folks, today I’m seeking justice for this heartbroken young man who was scammed out of his wedding money!” In the video, Marcus looked haggard as he complained: “Evelyn and I dated for six months. Our relationship was great — we were even discussing marriage.” “Her parents demanded $200,000 for the wedding money. We scraped together every penny, but after she took the money, she turned on me and blocked me…” Marcus’s mother knelt on the ground, kowtowing and crying heart-wrenchingly: “I’m a widow… that $200,000 came from selling our family home and borrowing from relatives!” “Now his fiancée has run off, the house is gone, the debts remain, and we don’t even have a place to live!” “We can’t go on!” Mrs. Wilson also spoke righteously: “I’ve been a matchmaker my whole life, and I’ve never seen such a black-hearted family!” “I personally watched Marcus hand $200,000 in cash to Evelyn’s mother. Her mother was grinning from ear to ear when she took the money!” The livestream flooded with hundreds of thousands of viewers, comments overwhelmingly cursing us: [Marriage fraud! Scammer!] [Expose her! Destroy her reputation!] [Someone like this is a teacher?] My parents and I had just reached the community entrance when the livestream camera shoved into our faces. Marcus’s mother pointed at me and shrieked: “That’s her! Everyone help me make her pay back the money!” She pointed at my parents and cursed viciously: “Hiding behind the facade of educators, doing such immoral things!” Instantly, the neighbors present and online viewers all cursed our family: “Scammer! Pay them back!” My parents were bewildered. My mom’s legs went weak with fear as she frantically waved her hands: “We never took any wedding money! My daughter never even dated him!” The viewers didn’t believe it. The comments grew even more vicious: [The scammer’s still trying to lie!] [Playing innocent! The evidence is right here!] Mrs. Wilson walked over smugly and said to my mom: “Old friend, so many people are watching. Just pay them back. Otherwise, your Evelyn will never find anyone to marry her!” I quickly supported my mother, reassuring them, “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. Let me handle this.” The host approached me: “This is the person in question, Evelyn.” “They say you took $200,000 and then blocked them. What do you have to say? When will you pay them back?” I looked into the camera, calm and composed: “Marcus and his family are spreading lies. They have no evidence. I refuse to acknowledge this.” Marcus was prepared: “We gave cash! Mrs. Wilson is our witness!” I laughed coldly. “If you have evidence, if you were scammed out of $200,000, why didn’t you report it to the police?” I pulled out my phone, found that post, held it up to the livestream camera, and said word by word: “They have no evidence, but I do!”

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My fiancé claimed he had forgotten me. He said he had fallen in love with another woman. He refused to try and remember our past. Like a madman, he fought to break our engagement so he could marry his new love. He even wanted to elope with her, abandoning his parents and the family business. Fighting back tears, I asked him, “This engagement happened after you got down on one knee. You spent three years planning your proposal to me. Later, when you remember, will you regret this?” The response I got was his cold, disgusted: “Never.” In that moment, I swallowed my tears and gave him his freedom. 1 Everyone in our circle said Arthur Sterling was truly in love with that woman. He brought her into his social circle, bought her cars and a house, treating her with extreme favoritism and romance. That woman even added me on Instagram, flaunting every moment of their lives together on her story every day. Occasionally, in the dead of night, she would send me long, dramatic texts. “Sloane, Arthur and I are truly in love. I beg you, give him back to me.” “He doesn’t even love you. Why must you keep harassing him?!” “Seeing him in so much pain every day because of you… it really breaks my heart! If you truly loved him, you should let him go, not stubbornly hold onto a wedding contract!” “He’s at the bar drinking again. His parents still won’t allow you two to break the engagement. Sloane, can a marriage bound by a family alliance really bring happiness?” A marriage bound by a family alliance? She probably didn’t know that my engagement with Arthur Sterling was something he had plotted for a very long time. Our families were close friends. We were childhood sweethearts who secretly harbored feelings for each other. It was beautiful, wasn’t it? I used to think Arthur and I would walk down the path of a happy, perfect life together. Just like his vows—loving each other until our hair turned white. Perhaps this life was too happy, so God decided to play a huge joke on us. Three months ago, on his way to pick up my dress for a gala, Arthur got into a car accident. He hit his head and lost his memory. He forgot everything, including the fact that he loved me. 2 At 11:00 PM, Arthur still wasn’t home. I picked up my phone and dialed his number. I had to call three times before he impatiently picked up on the other end. “Sloane Vance, aren’t you annoying?” The deafening music in the background wasn’t as piercing as his cold reprimand. I gripped the phone tighter, only softly reminding him: “It’s almost midnight. Don’t forget our agreement.” Yes, Arthur and I were living together. Actually, we had been living together ever since we got engaged. But later, he forgot me and fell in love with someone else, refusing to move back in here no matter what. Eventually, I signed an agreement with him. I said, give me three months. For these three months, we live together just like before. After three months, if he still hadn’t remembered the past, or hadn’t fallen back in love with me, then I was willing to break the engagement. Breaking the engagement was highly tempting to Arthur. So, suppressing his disgust, he reluctantly agreed. Our agreement had two rules. He couldn’t break them; if he did, the agreement was void, and the engagement would proceed as planned. First: He must be home by midnight every night. Second: During this period, he was not allowed to have any intimate physical contact with the opposite sex. “Sloane, you’re not my wife, and I don’t acknowledge you as my fiancée. What right do you have to control me?” Arthur sneered on the other end. “Besides, isn’t there still an hour until midnight?” “I don’t want to go home that early, facing your bland, boring face makes me sick.” Vile words poured from his mouth relentlessly. I tried hard to keep my facial muscles rigid so I wouldn’t lose my composure. I heard a woman’s playful voice on the other end, acting coy. “Arthur, if you get distracted by her call again, I’m going to be mad. If you don’t finish these three shots, I won’t forgive you!” It was Mia Hayes, the woman he was keeping. Immediately after, Arthur’s doting laughter came through the receiver: “You little troublemaker.” Saying that, he was about to hang up the phone directly. I spoke up again: “Arthur Sterling, I’ll give you two choices. Either come home right now, or give me the address and I’ll come pick you up.” “Otherwise, the engagement stands.” After a long pause, Arthur cursed: “Sloane Vance, are you asking for it?” 3 Half an hour later, I arrived at a nightclub called ‘Eclipse’ and found Arthur. Young trust-fund kids were gathered together, all well-known playboys. Previously, Arthur never associated with this crowd. After losing his memory, he actually hung out with them more. “Well, well, if it isn’t Young Master Sterling’s fiancée?” Someone sharp-eyed spotted me and joked, “What, Miss Vance, are you afraid Arthur won’t come home tonight, so you specifically came to pick him up?” A group of people burst into unrestrained laughter. Only Mia Hayes, beside Arthur, wasn’t laughing. Naturally, given my relationship with her, neither of us could laugh. The way she looked at me was always filled with contempt and guardedness. Arthur sat in the dim light, set down the drink in his hand, tugged at his lower lip, and spat out one word. “Buzzkill.” I tried hard to ignore the disgust in his eyes and said softly: “Arthur, let’s go home.” “Arthur…” Mia immediately pouted her red lips and acted cute, unwilling to let him leave. She was a pretty, young woman, full of youthful vibrancy, her bright eyes filled with reluctance and attachment. Arthur’s heart ached for her, and he coaxed her gently. The two of them tangled together, reluctant to part. And I was the villain trying to break them apart. The trust-fund kids around them couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Someone spoke up: “Miss Vance, I put this group together tonight. If you want to take Arthur away, fine. Drink this bottle of liquor, and I’ll let you take him.” He was holding a bottle of high-proof vodka. I frowned, then looked at Arthur. However, Arthur only raised an eyebrow, looking amused: “My family does business with his family. I’m here tonight to negotiate a partnership. If he won’t let me go, I really can’t go.” He shrugged, maliciously tossing the problem to me. My relationship with him was at a stalemate now, but Arthur’s parents treated me extremely well. Naturally, I couldn’t do anything detrimental to their company. Moreover, the situation was clear now. That person wanted me to drink this bottle of vodka before he would continue doing business with the Sterling family. Deliberate sabotage. I almost subconsciously raised my hand to press against my stomach. I had a bad stomach. I had ended up in the hospital several times because of the pain. Back then, Arthur was heartbroken. Not only did he personally cook nutritious meals for me every day, but he also insisted on watching me finish eating before he was satisfied. Once, he even solemnly promised me, saying that since he was taking such delicate care of me, if I ever let my stomach act up and feel bad again, I should punish him by not letting him eat for three days. I laughed at him back then, saying who makes promises like that. He, however, looked incredibly serious and distressed, saying if it were possible, he wished he could suffer in my place. With so many memories flooding back, for a moment, I couldn’t distinguish whether the Arthur in front of me was the person in my memory or the cold, ruthless man he was now. I smiled bitterly. Under the mocking gazes of the crowd, I spoke up: “Fine, I’ll drink.” 4 Downing a whole bottle of vodka was no joke. I had only drunk half the bottle when I broke out in a cold sweat, my face as pale as paper. Seeing this, the group was afraid of causing real trouble and waved their hands, telling me to stop drinking. Arthur stood up, looking bored: “In that case, I’ll be leaving first today. Chad, we’ll discuss the partnership tomorrow.” Mia was still pulling at him, refusing to let him go, almost crying. Fighting through the dizziness, I walked over, grabbed Arthur’s sleeve, and dragged him out of the club. As soon as I hit the cold air outside, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I ran to a trash can and started vomiting profusely. My stomach was burning with pain. The fiery alcohol was tearing through my body, making my internal organs ache terribly. Unable to bear it, I slumped onto the ground, looking utterly pathetic. Arthur just stood aside, watching coldly, like a stranger. I didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or if the night was just too cold. Meeting his icy gaze, I suddenly felt wronged and tears fell. I said, “Arthur, my stomach hurts…” But by my side, there was no longer anyone to gently and nervously hold me. … 5 Perhaps I had the friendship between the Sterling and Vance families to thank for Arthur not just abandoning me at the club and leaving. I barely managed to get home, grabbed my medication, and swallowed it. I also handed Arthur two hangover pills. He always got headaches the day after drinking. Every time he came home from a dinner party, I would prepare them for him in advance. Tonight, he seemed to have drunk quite a bit. The designated driver had asked him the route several times before he rubbed his temples and gave a brief response. Seeing me hand him the pills, Arthur instinctively reached out to take them, but then frowned fiercely, standing frozen in disbelief. It was as if he was shocked by his own subconscious action. “What is this?” He asked me, a silent frustration surging in his eyes. Fighting the churning in my stomach, I forced myself to explain to him: “Hangover pills. If you don’t take them, your head will hurt tomorrow.” He pursed his lower lip upon hearing this, unwilling to accept my medication. Finally, I just placed the pills on the table and went back to my room first. I couldn’t hold on much longer. My stomach ache hadn’t flared up like this in years. Stimulated by the vodka, the pain made me break out in cold sweats. I originally thought that having just taken my medicine, I would feel better after resting for a bit, but I still underestimated the pain. I curled up on the bed, trembling all over from the pain. I didn’t have the energy to go to the hospital, and my phone was dead, so I couldn’t contact anyone. In the huge penthouse apartment, there was only Arthur next door. I figured I could only bother him to call a car for me, and I would go to the hospital myself. But before I could even get up, the bedroom door was kicked open from the outside. “Sloane, what the hell kind of medicine was that!” Outside the door stood Arthur, his breathing erratic, his eyes bloodshot with anger. 6 Arthur seemed to have ingested something he shouldn’t have. He couldn’t control himself, pinning me viciously to the bed. Tearing at my clothes. He said there was a problem with the hangover pills I just gave him. He called me a slut for using such dirty, underhanded tactics. Through my tears, I said I didn’t, but he wouldn’t listen. His movements were rough and ruthless. “Sloane, since you dared to do something like this, then bear the consequences!” Ignoring my pale face, he bit down hard on my shoulder. The intense pain sent shivers through my body. Arthur didn’t hold back. I could even feel the moment my skin was pierced. It hurt. There was blood everywhere. That night, I cried for a long time. I pushed him like a madwoman. I said I didn’t do it. I said it hurt, it really hurt. I cried until my voice went hoarse, heart-wrenching, but it didn’t awaken any pity in the man. The moonlight outside the window was shattered. For the first time, I felt that the person in front of me was a complete stranger. “Don’t…” “It hurts… Arthur, it really hurts…” “Arthur… when are you finally coming back…” Arthur, I really… can’t hold on much longer… 7 I had a dream about the past. A few years ago, right after Arthur and I officially started dating, I loved watching those cheesy soap operas. Whenever there was a plot about a mistress or amnesia, I would always complain about it to him. And after complaining, I’d worry unnecessarily, afraid those dramatic tropes would happen to us. At those times, the way Arthur looked at me was both exasperated and tender. He said, “Sloane, I promise, in this life, I won’t fall in love with anyone else.” “So there will never be a mistress.” Hearing this made me feel sweet, but I was still relentless: “Then, what if we both lose our memories? What if one side forgets the other?” Maybe I asked too earnestly, because he actually thought about it seriously for a moment. Then he said, “If you lose your memory, I will do everything in my power to win you back.” “What if you’re the one who loses your memory…?” “Sloane, don’t give up on me. Give me three months to find the version of myself who loves you the most.” 8 When I woke up the next day, Arthur was already gone. I endured the pain that felt like I had been crushed all over to sit up. Looking at the bruises and marks covering my body, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. His attitude last night was truly like he was treating an enemy. He choked me, over and over, calling me a slut, calling me dirty. Memories flooded my mind, bringing a sense of suffocation. I closed my eyes, unwilling to think about it anymore. While washing my body, I thought over and over again, My Arthur, when are you finally coming back? Mia Hayes ran downstairs to my company that afternoon. I had just gotten ready to go across the street to buy coffee when she rushed out. Staring at the marks on my neck, her jealousy was intense: “You two did it last night, didn’t you?” “So, Arthur acted like that last night because of something you did?” I answered with a question, waiting for her reply. But Mia was very smart. She didn’t answer directly. Instead, she stared at me with dissatisfaction and resentment. Then she sneered: “Miss Vance, I know the Vance family has been going downhill lately. So you’re clinging to Mr. Sterling, trying to grasp this lifeline to turn your family’s fortunes around. But it’s a pity, he only loves me now. He completely despises you, do you understand?” Ah, so Mia came to show off today. What happened between Arthur and me last night made her feel uncomfortable, like a fishbone stuck in her throat. So, she came to make me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to listen to this nonsense anymore. I lifted my foot to leave, but she suddenly acted out of character, tears falling abruptly. Her former arrogance and jealousy turned into a pitiful stubbornness. “Sloane, I know you don’t like me. But there was no need to invite me here just to show off your… marks…” She said, tears rolling down, looking heartbroken. Then, as if compromising, she took a step back: “Fine. Since you two are together, and you can’t stand seeing me, I’ll just leave…” My heart skipped a beat, and I turned to look. Sure enough, Arthur was standing behind us at some point. And Mia’s words just now were deliberately said for him to hear. At this moment, Mia looked as if she had just noticed him. Her face froze, and she softly called out, “Arthur.” Then, she turned and ran away in absolute agony. Arthur immediately chased after her with a dark expression: “Sloane Vance, you really are something. Were you that desperate to drive Mia away?” He misunderstood. He thought I deliberately showed off last night’s marks to Mia to break her down and drive a wedge between them. My relationship with Arthur was already deteriorating. I didn’t want to create these misunderstandings out of nowhere for him to misjudge me. So I quickly followed: “Arthur, that’s not what happened. She came to find me…” I grabbed his sleeve, wanting to explain to him as quickly as possible. But as the three of us tangled together, Mia feigned grievance and suddenly pushed me and Arthur away while crying. Arthur was a large, muscular man. Mia couldn’t move him at all. But wearing high heels, I was caught off guard and lost control, falling backward toward the street. Almost immediately, the ear-piercing sound of screeching brakes accompanied Mia’s scream simultaneously. In the next instant, I suddenly lurched forward, and everything in my vision flipped, becoming blurry. The only thing clearly visible was Arthur’s suddenly pale face… 9 I got into a car accident. But luckily, the car behind me braked in time, so it didn’t cause me any massive physical harm. The only harm… Was that the three-month-old baby in my womb miscarried. When I heard this news, I felt completely numb and empty. Staring at the snow-white ceiling, tears rolled down, and I didn’t say a word. Outside the hospital room, there were the sounds of my parents scolding Arthur. Arthur’s parents had also arrived, looking angry and helpless. After my mom finished scolding him, she wiped her tears and came in. Seeing me awake, she hurriedly came over, holding my hand and asking if I felt unwell anywhere. The people outside also heard the commotion, and one by one, they all rushed in. “My sweet girl, do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Dad will call the doctor for you!” “Sloane, it’s our Sterling family that has let you down!” “Don’t worry, I promise you, that brat Arthur Sterling will absolutely not let you down! Even if he doesn’t remember you, I’ll make him marry you and make you the young madam of the Sterling family!” Everyone was talking over each other. Only Arthur’s voice apologizing sounded at the very end, so soft it was almost inaudible. With my mom’s help, I slowly sat up. My gaze passed over the crowd and looked directly into Arthur’s obscure eyes. After a long moment, I spoke: “I want to talk to him alone.” The parents looked at each other. My parents had always respected my opinions. Even if they were worried, they could only leave for the time being. Before Arthur’s parents left, they kicked him hard, warning him that if he dared to bully me again, they would make him pay. Arthur took the hit without dodging. Soon, the room fell silent, leaving only him and me. The quiet air, the atmosphere of unbridled silence, was suffocating. He looked up at me, his expression dim and apologetic: “I’m sorry, Mia didn’t mean to…” His very first sentence was actually defending Mia. I suddenly felt like laughing, and I did laugh out loud. I said: “What if I said, she did it on purpose?” Arthur immediately furrowed his brow. Clearly, he actually thought I was framing Mia. Regarding this point, I didn’t want to argue with him. The police would naturally pull the surveillance footage to verify the truth. I stared at him closely and suddenly changed the subject. “Arthur, the baby was conceived three months ago. I knew early on. Unfortunately, before I had time to share this good news with you, you got into a car accident.” He lowered his head, half of his face hidden in the darkness, making it impossible to read his expression. “I’ve been waiting for you. Waiting for you to recover your memory, become the real you again, and then tell you about the baby. I thought, the you at that time would have been very happy.” “Sloane Vance…” Arthur suddenly interrupted me. I said: “Go ahead.” “This baby… it’s good that it’s gone.” Perhaps out of guilt, he didn’t dare look me in the eye. His jaw was clenched tight. My hand gripping the quilt tightened until my knuckles turned white. Suddenly, I closed my eyes, and tears slid down. “Arthur, leave.” 10 That day, Arthur left without hesitation. Only before leaving, he cast a complicated look at me and said “Sorry” once more. Then, he left without hesitation. His Mia was living in fear. She needed him, so he had to rush back to her side immediately. But… My Arthur, when will you finally return to my side? 11 Mia was detained. Intentional assault. I pressed charges. The police pulled the surveillance footage. Although it was from a distance, it was clear that she pushed me into the street. This alone was enough to get her a few years in prison. When I saw Arthur again, he was furious, practically kicking the door of my hospital room open. “Sloane Vance, what exactly are you trying to do!” He brought a chilling aura with him. Regardless of the fact that I was still receiving an IV drip, he yanked me up from the hospital bed. The IV needle on the back of my hand shifted from the force, causing blood to flow backward. I frowned in pain. “Miss Vance!” The nurse standing by gasped in shock and wanted to rush forward to help me, but she was intimidated by Arthur’s demeanor, hesitating anxiously. I furrowed my brow, pulled the needle out myself, and signaled the nurse to relax and wait outside the door for a bit. The smell of disinfectant in the room was strong, but it still couldn’t mask the sweet perfume on Arthur. He must have been by Mia’s side when the police took her away. “Drop the case!” Arthur commanded coldly. I paused, arguing fiercely with him: “Arthur, if the driver hadn’t hit the brakes in time that day, what you’d be looking at today might have been a gravestone.” Mia’s actions definitely constituted attempted murder. As for whether she did it intentionally or unintentionally, probably only she knew in her heart. But it didn’t matter. The power to decide how this incident developed lay with me. Arthur frowned in disgust: “Sloane, I didn’t think you were so vicious! I told you, Mia’s action was an unintentional mistake! If you’re still angry, just tell me what you want, and I’ll compensate you!” “Compensate?” Hearing this word, I was stunned for a long time. I clearly didn’t want to, but tears still welled up in my eyes. When I found out Arthur lost his memory, I didn’t break down. When I found out he fell in love with another woman, I could still endure it. But in this moment, these two words were like a sharp knife, piercing through all my forbearance and effort. I suddenly raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “Sloane…” Arthur looked incredibly shocked, looking as if he was going to explode in anger the next second. But upon meeting my eyes, he suddenly stopped. I thought, in that moment, I must have looked like a madwoman. Hysterical. “Then how will you compensate me for the child I had with him?!” “Arthur, you lost your memory. You’re not him. You’re not sad. But do you think everyone is indifferent to the loss of this child?!” “You say ‘compensate’ so casually. Can you give him back to me? Can you give our child back to me?!” Like a madwoman, I grabbed whatever I could reach and threw it all at him. Arthur had never seen me like this. His cold face revealed a hint of confusion and helplessness. He frowned, opened his mouth as if to say something, but was left speechless. After a long while, he turned to leave: “Calm down first. I’ll come back tomorrow to negotiate with you.” But I suddenly spoke up, calling him back. “Arthur.” “The case against Mia is impossible to drop. Even if you have sky-high capabilities, the witnesses and physical evidence are all there. You can’t change it.” Hearing the hidden meaning in my words, he pursed his lower lip, his eyes extremely cold. “What do you want?” I wiped a tear, forced a very ugly smile, and said: “Early next month, let’s get married.” I admit, I was being despicable. 12 The day Arthur left, his expression was extremely cold and ugly. He repeatedly called me a slut, his eyes tinged with a bloody red. If possible, he seemed to want to rush over and strangle me. But the nurse had promptly notified my parents to rush over, so Arthur didn’t get the chance. My dad almost got into a physical fight with him. My mom cried and wiped the tear tracks from my face, asking me why I bothered. I understood what my parents meant. Arthur was no longer the Arthur of the past. He disliked me, even hated me. My parents didn’t understand why I was still holding on. But Mom… We used to be so in love. I didn’t want my Arthur to come back only to find out we had drifted apart…

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