Category: English

For the Christmas holidays, my girlfriend, Jessica, booked us on a trip abroad. The moment our plane landed, she coaxed me onto a charter bus. We drove for two days and two nights. As the landscape grew more and more familiar, a tremor ran through my entire body. This was it. The hometown I had escaped from four years ago. Sensing my unease, Jessica finally dropped the act. Her face twisted into a snarl as she told me she was selling me to a remote, illegal compound, one staffed entirely by women. And the “Boss” she kept mentioning? The head of that entire operation. My own sister. I had spent twenty years planning my escape, faking my own death to get away from her. And now, four years later, Jessica had tricked me and brought me right back. … Seeing me tremble, Jessica’s smile was sickeningly sweet. “Leo, you said you loved me, didn’t you? I’m in a lot of gambling debt. You’ll help me, won’t you?” The thought of what my sister would do to her made my voice shake. “Please, just send me back. If you need money, I’ll get it for you. I’ll work my entire life to support you, I swear!” Jessica’s expression soured. “You think I can wait that long?” she spat. “I owe a fortune! If I don’t pay it back in three days, they’ll kill me! I’ve kept you for two years, you useless piece of shit. It’s time you paid me back with interest!” The word “useless” made me shudder violently. Once, one of my sister’s underlings had muttered that I was useless, too afraid to even crush an ant. My sister had him buried in the dirt up to his neck, poured honey over his head, and let the ants do the rest. He was eaten alive. If my sister heard Jessica call me that, what would she do to her? Fear clawed at my heart. I looked at the woman I had loved for two years, and the tears finally broke free. “You said… you said you wanted to build a home with me. You said I was the only family you ever wanted…” Jessica’s hand, once so warm, caressed my face. Her words were ice. “That’s right. And family should help each other out, shouldn’t they? So help me, Leo.” I bit my lip, shaking my head frantically. A flicker of pity crossed her eyes. “You know, you’re most heart-wrenching when you cry, Leo,” she said softly. “You were the handsomest of all my boyfriends. The most innocent, too. If it wasn’t for the money, I really wouldn’t want to sell you.” Suddenly, her gaze turned vicious. “You’re mine. I can’t stand the thought of another woman doing those things to you!” She threw me down onto the floor of the bus and tied my hands behind my back with a rope. Then, she pulled a dagger from her coat and traced its edge along my cheek. “Leo, you don’t want to be defiled by them, do you? Let me help you with that.” A glint of cold steel, then a searing line of pain across my face. “NO!” I cried out in despair. My sister’s favorite thing, her most prized possession, was my face. When I was little, I knocked over a pot of boiling water and scalded my cheek. When she learned it might leave a scar, my sister had the maid’s hands broken and left her for the dogs. She threatened the doctor that if he couldn’t fix my face, she would peel the skin from his own. My sister always said my face was the living image of our dead father. She would never, ever allow it to be harmed. Jessica had just scarred my face. If my sister found out… I couldn’t bear to think about it. Forgetting the pain, I begged her. “Please, you can’t ruin my face!” Jessica laughed. “I already asked Roxy. She said the men at the compound don’t need a face. As long as their bodies work, it’s fine.” Roxy? The new foreman from four years ago? Before I could process it, Jessica slashed the dagger across my face again. The pain was so intense I couldn’t speak. Blood streamed into my eyes, turning the world crimson. “I know Roxy! Just take me to her, please!” If Roxy saw me, she would force Jessica to take me back. She had to. Jessica froze, then the knife cut even deeper. “So you were never really mine. Already trying to climb your way up to Roxy?” “I’ll destroy this face, and we’ll see how you seduce anyone else!” I screamed until I passed out. When I woke up, I’d been thrown out onto the dirt at the compound’s main gate. Standing nearby, talking to Jessica, was Roxy herself. “Roxy!” I rasped, my voice raw. She looked over, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “How does he know my name?” Jessica’s face paled. She lunged forward, grinding her heel onto my mouth. “He must have overheard my call on the bus. Don’t worry, it’s useless for him to know now.” Roxy considered this for a moment, then stuck a cigarette between her lips. “Is that so? You wouldn’t dare pull any tricks. How many is this now?” Jessica ground her heel into my mouth one last time before scrambling over to light Roxy’s cigarette. “This is the seventh. Don’t worry, I know the rules. He’s an orphan, no family, no one to come looking for him. He was even a virgin when I got him.” Roxy crouched down and blew a smoke ring in my face, studying me. A sliver of hope rekindled within me. She knew me. If she recognized me, she would make Jessica take me away. Immediately. After all, if the Boss found out one of her own people had kidnapped me, they would all be dead. “Tsk. What did you do to his face? He’s hideous.” Roxy looked away in disgust. My heart sank. She didn’t recognize me. Had Jessica truly disfigured me so completely? The thought brought a wave of despair so profound I wanted to weep, but my throat was clogged with dust and blood. “He was putting up a fight,” Jessica said quickly. “What if he used his face to seduce someone and escape? I ruined it to be safe. It’s not like the face matters anyway.” She leaned down, her voice a low, triumphant whisper in my ear. “See? Give up on seducing Roxy. She thinks you’re ugly.” With all my strength, I squeezed out two words. “You’ll… die…” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. She kicked Jessica aside and crouched in front of me, a grim smile on her face. “This kid… did he just tell us to go to hell?” Seeing that sinister grin, I shook my head in terror. No! That’s not what I meant! I meant you have to get me out of here, or you will die! “Aaargh!” Roxy pried my mouth open and pressed the glowing ember of her cigarette onto my tongue. The searing pain, the acrid smell of burning flesh, filled the air along with my screams. “Ugly piece of shit, threatening us when you’re about to die!” Roxy spat a thick wad of phlegm onto my face. Jessica grabbed a nearby stick and jabbed it violently into my mouth. “How dare you offend Roxy, you little bastard! I’ll teach you to scream!” Blood and splinters filled my throat. I was suffocating, tears streaming down my face. Was I going to die here? “Alright, that’s enough. He’s no good to us dead,” Roxy said, stopping her. Jessica immediately dropped the bloody stick. “Right. So, do we go sign the contract and get the money now?” Two large men hoisted me up and began dragging me toward the compound. Just then, a black sedan pulled up—my sister’s car. I thrashed wildly, throwing myself with all my might toward the wheels. The car stopped. The back door opened, and my sister stepped out. She looked down at me on the ground, her brow furrowed. Sister, it’s me! It’s your brother! I strained to look up at her, my eyes pleading for help. Roxy grabbed me and slapped me hard across the face. “You damn mutt, trying to run into the Boss’s car!” My vision went black for a second, and I spat out a mouthful of blood. It splattered across my sister’s immaculate high-heeled shoes. Roxy went pale. She dropped to her knees, frantically wiping the shoes. “I’m so sorry, Boss! This new one is a real handful. I’ll get it clean right now!” Jessica, seeing this, also knelt to help. My sister narrowed her eyes, her gaze falling on me. “Oh? A fresh delivery?” “Yes, Boss. This one’s trouble. To avoid any problems, we ruined his face. He even had the nerve to curse us to death just now!” Roxy answered cautiously. My sister seemed intrigued. “Heh. The first one to come here with the guts to talk back. Is he a university student?” “Yes! Just graduated this year. An honors student, too!” Jessica chimed in eagerly. My sister looked thoughtful. She glanced at me again and sighed. “If my Leo were still alive, he’d be about that age… graduating from university…” Hearing her say my name, I began to twist and moan frantically. Sister, it’s me! I am Leo! “Shit, hold still, you bastard!” Roxy kicked me hard in the face. The wounds split open again, blood welling up. My mouth and tongue were so mangled I couldn’t form a single word, only broken, agonized whimpers. “Hm?” My sister paused, then crouched down, studying me closely. My heart pounded with excitement. I tried to open my mouth to call her name, but a tickle in my throat made me cough up another gout of blood. It splashed onto her face. Roxy and Jessica froze in sheer terror. One fumbled for a tissue to wipe away the blood while the other started dragging me away. Spotting a large iron drum filled with filthy water, Roxy hoisted me up. The next second, she plunged my head into it. The foul water flooded my nose and mouth. The feeling of suffocation was immediate, my lungs screaming in agony. Just as I thought I would die, Roxy yanked me out by my hair. “You little shit, how many lives do you think you have to disrespect my Boss!” she roared. “Today, I’ll kill you as an apology to her!” I had only a few seconds to gasp for air before she shoved me back under. After several repetitions, I was too choked to make a sound. Roxy threw me onto the ground and scurried back to my sister, bowing. “Boss, since he offended you, he’s useless alive. What are your orders?” “First, pull out all his fingernails. Then, how about we treat him to a special cocktail?” My blood ran cold. The cocktail. I had seen them use that particular torture on other men. I never thought it would be my turn. So be it. Sister, all the sins you’ve committed… let them be paid for through me. It’s not unjust. The thought calmed me. I closed my eyes, waiting for death. I was going to see Mom and Dad soon. A strange sense of joy washed over me. “Is he… smiling?” my sister’s hesitant voice cut through the haze. “What the fuck, this bastard still has the nerve to smile?!” Roxy, incredulous, grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. The filthy water had washed the blood from my face. My sister stared, a look of shock on her features. “Why are there so many wounds on his face?” In the reflection of her eyes, I saw my own ruined face for the first time. A dense network of crisscrossing scars, like ugly earthworms, covered every inch of my skin. It was terrifying. Disgusting. And I had thought she would recognize me. In this state, even I wouldn’t recognize myself.

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At Northgate High, a string of brutal murders shocked the nation. One by one, the students who bullied me turned up dead. And I became the prime suspect. As the detectives strode toward me, their faces grim, I smiled. I had been waiting for this day for a long, long time. 1. The Confrontation In the interrogation room, I stared at the stark, white walls. Detective Miller, the one who’d brought me in, and a female officer, Detective Chen, sat across from me, their expressions severe. “Hannah Evans, correct?” I tore my eyes from the wall, my voice laced with indifference. “Yes.” Miller’s voice suddenly boomed. “Watch your attitude. You’re in here to answer for what you’ve done.” I let a small smile play on my lips and sat up straighter. “Fine. My first question is, on what grounds am I being held?” Miller’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You really don’t know?” “Was it a surplus of empty rooms at the station? Offering free stays to civic-minded citizens?” “Hannah, if you continue with this attitude, we can charge you with obstruction of justice.” This time, it was Chen who spoke, her voice softer. I gave my cuffed hands a little shake, my apology dripping with sarcasm. “My mistake. I’m a total amateur when it comes to the law. Don’t hold it against me.” The room fell silent for a moment. Miller pulled out his notepad, his gaze fixed on me. “Where were you last night?” “Working.” “That late?” “I have class during the day. No other time.” “You were working the entire night?” “Yes.” “Lies!” Miller slammed his notepad on the table. “You were seen on Boston Road with Laura Peterson at midnight!” I wasn’t fazed. “Oh. So something happened to Laura.” The certainty in my voice made Miller’s gaze sharpen. “How did you know?” I looked him straight in the eye. “Is it that hard to guess? She missed class all morning, and by the afternoon, you’d dragged me in here asking about her.” “Fine. I won’t beat around the bush. Did you kill Laura Peterson?” A normal person would have been terrified. My emotional state, however, remained perfectly stable. “She’s dead? I have an alibi, Detective. That’s called a forced confession.” Chen picked up the thread. “You even know what a forced confession is. You must watch a lot of crime shows.” I smiled. “Just a few TV dramas.” Chen’s tone shifted. “But we never mentioned the time of the incident. How do you know you have an alibi?” I looked at her earnestly. “She was fine when we parted ways. Whatever happened must have been after I left.” “Left?” Miller cut in. “Left where?” I turned back to him. “Left the school. She’s a boarder. I’m a day student.” Miller produced a grainy photograph. “Then why does security footage show you and Laura on Boston Road at midnight?” It was a still from a security camera, showing two blurry figures—me and Laura—at the school gate. I glanced at it and the memory came flooding back. “The school doesn’t allow phones. I’d charged hers the day before and was supposed to sneak it back to her. But security was tight at the gate that day, so I hid it in the bushes. That night, she was afraid I’d tricked her and insisted on coming with me to get it.” Miller scoffed. “So you two were close?” I didn’t want to get into it. “We were okay.” “Is there a single truthful word in your mouth?” Miller’s face darkened. “On March fourth, you filed a police report claiming Laura Peterson was bullying you. While no charges were filed due to your age, the report is on record!” I lifted my gaze, my voice flat. “Then you should also know that her family paid mine fifty thousand dollars to settle the matter.” At that, a flicker of memory made me smile again. “Why would I kill her? If she beat me half to death again, I could just extort another payment from her.” Since Miller had dug into my past, he knew exactly what I meant. Six months ago, I was relentlessly tormented by Laura and her friends. I couldn’t take it anymore and told my parents and the school. Laura’s family had connections at the school. The anonymous complaint I dropped in the tip box one day was in her hands the next. She read my letter aloud in front of me, her voice dripping with mockery. Halfway through, she flew into a rage, rolled the thick stack of paper into a tube, and shoved it violently into my mouth. I gagged, my eyes rolling back. In my struggle, I managed to scratch her. That only made her angrier. She grabbed a broken mop handle from the bathroom and beat me like a rabid dog. I honestly thought I was going to die, but I clenched my teeth and refused to beg. I passed out and was beaten awake, over and over. Thankfully, it was daytime. Laura and her crew locked me in the bathroom and went to lunch. Terrified I would actually die in there, I dragged my broken body out the window. Under the horrified stares of dozens of students, I stumbled to the nearest police station. I was a mess, and there were too many witnesses. The police quickly found Laura, using the DNA under my fingernails to identify her. Laura’s mother, radiating wealth and arrogance, stormed into my hospital room. In front of the police and my parents, she stated her terms bluntly. “My daughter is young. She gets carried away when she’s playing with friends. Young lady, I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars in compensation. How about it?” Even the police advised me that given Laura’s age, a lawsuit would likely go nowhere. My parents were ordinary, timid people. When I’d told them about the bullying before, their only advice was, “Just endure it. They’re powerful people. We can’t afford to make enemies. Once you get to college, it’ll all be over.” Now, faced with Laura’s intimidating mother and the officers’ advice, their resolve crumbled. They pleaded with me. “Let it go. You’re okay now, aren’t you? And if you won’t think about yourself, think about your brother. The family really needs the money.” They practically forced my head down to sign the settlement agreement. Laura’s mother took the signed paper, glanced at my parents greedily counting the cash, and then smiled at me. “You rest up now. Once you’re all healed, maybe you can earn your parents another big payday.” Detective Chen clearly knew this story. Her expression was complicated. “If you took the money, why didn’t you transfer to another school?” A faint smirk touched my lips. “Detective, are you hoping I’ll say it was for revenge?” Chen didn’t answer, just watched me intently. I leaned back against the chair, exhaled, and smiled. “Of course, it was because that money had to be saved for my brother’s education. And his wedding.” Chen was taken aback and said no more. “Then why were your fingerprints all over the crime scene?” “Crime scene?” I thought for a moment. “The sophomore classroom, the school rooftop, the supply closet, or the abandoned toilets on the sports field? I’ve crawled around like a dog in all those places. It wouldn’t be strange to find my fingerprints anywhere.” Miller cut in. “Forget the other places. Tell me what you and Laura were doing at the school before midnight. Day students are allowed to leave at eight.” I almost laughed. “Detective, you should be asking what she was doing to me.” “Fine. Then tell us what she did to you.” “I’d only been back at school for a few days after recovering. Laura couldn’t stand the sight of me. She was always looking for a chance to ‘teach me a lesson.’ That night, before midnight, she was beating me.” The bruises on my face were still visible. I said it lightly, but the others in the room fell silent. “So you killed her?” The two detectives were deliberately illogical, jumping from topic to topic, hoping to catch me off guard with a sudden accusation. I was getting annoyed. “If you have evidence, present it. I have an alibi. There are cameras all the way from the school to my job, and from my job back to the school. Go check them yourselves.” With that, I leaned back in the chair, closed my eyes, and refused to say another word, no matter what they asked. Interrogations are useless without evidence. Right now, they had nothing concrete. As long as I kept my mouth shut, there was nothing they could do. I was held for 24 hours. When they finally let me go, my legs were swollen. I stretched my stiff limbs. Turning back, I offered the two officers at the door a smile. “See you later.” 2. Campus Terror When I returned to school, the news of Laura’s death was still under wraps. Everyone just assumed I’d taken a day off. Walking past the abandoned toilets on the sports field, I saw they were now cordoned off with yellow police tape. I made it back to the classroom just as the break bell rang. The room was buzzing with noise, but the students, as if by some unspoken agreement, all ignored me. I calmly went to my desk, swept the pile of trash they’d left on it into the bin, and cleaned my space just before the next class began. The teacher, entering from the back door as the bell rang, paused when he saw me. A second later, he pretended not to have seen anything, walked to the front, and started his lecture. The thought of Laura being dead sent a thrill through me. My fingertips danced a happy little rhythm on the desk. Time flies when you’re having fun. The bell rang again, signaling the long mid-morning break—twenty minutes of freedom. Students poured out of their seats, heading outside. Suddenly, a loud THUD! The hallway fell silent for a heartbeat. Then, a scream. “Someone jumped!” A chaotic swarm of students rushed to the windows, bodies climbing over each other to get a look. Someone recognized the fallen figure. “Is that Tiffany?” Tiffany, Laura’s twin sister. The second person who had bullied me had just jumped from the roof. She’d jumped from the rooftop, a spot many students used to get some air during the break. There were no cameras up there. Down below, police had already cordoned off the area. A woman was being held back by a group of officers, her cries echoing, wild and grief-stricken. I almost didn’t recognize her as the same immaculately dressed, imperious woman from the hospital. The school’s PA system crackled to life, ordering all students to return to their classrooms and stay put. I thought about it for a moment, then ignored the announcement and headed downstairs. Under the watchful eyes of the police, I walked toward the hysterical woman. An officer, his gaze probing, subtly blocked my path, keeping me from getting too close. I stopped a few feet away and offered my sincere condolences. “Auntie,” I said, my voice clear and carrying, my smile perfectly placed. “You should use your money to piece your daughter back together.” The woman’s sobs choked off. A second later, her hair flying wildly, she lunged at me. “You bitch! It was you! You killed my daughter!” The police scrambled again, this time to shield me. I watched the crazed woman, my expression cold. I met her bloodshot eyes, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. I puckered my lips and made a soft sound. “Pop.” I was back at the police station. Familiar seat. Familiar faces. Miller’s notebook hit the table with a resounding smack. His voice was a furious snarl. “What was the meaning of what you said back at the school?” I looked at him, the picture of innocence. “Detective, didn’t you know? Tiffany landed in pieces. The morticians will have to stitch her back together.” Based on where she fell, she must have jumped from the southeast corner of the roof. It was a known blind spot. A spot where other students had stumbled upon Laura and Tiffany beating me. A spot they now assiduously avoided, not wanting to get involved. Even if someone had seen something, after I had reported the bullying once, the school had held multiple assemblies, strictly forbidding students from discussing school matters with outsiders, especially the police. The students had learned their lesson well. Their mouths were sealed. Just like when they’d seen nothing as my clothes were torn off and I was left in a corner. I was sure that this time, too, Miller and Chen had gotten nothing out of them. So, they were focusing all their energy on me again. The two detectives exchanged a look. Chen spoke first. “You didn’t seem to mention your relationship with Tiffany last time.” I tilted my head. “Did you ask?” “Fine. I’m asking now. What was your relationship with Tiffany Peterson?” “It was okay.” “Hannah!” Miller roared. “Think carefully before you answer.” I lowered my head, my voice quiet. “Detective, as you know, I have the right to remain silent.” Don’t you raise your voice at me. The power to speak, or not, is mine. He must have remembered my previous stonewalling. Miller changed his tactic. “Only by telling us what you know can we clear your name.” This time, I really did laugh. “Innocent until proven guilty. If you can’t find any evidence, my name is already clear. Detective, what do you mean, clear my name?” Tiffany’s death happened during school hours, with too many witnesses. The fallout would be massive. Every person in charge was probably in a full-blown panic. “Besides, didn’t Tiffany jump? What’s the use of arresting me?” “Laura and Tiffany, both dead in a matter of days. You think that’s a coincidence?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t. But you can’t solve a case based on guesswork.” “Fine. You were the person in most recent contact with them. Did you notice anything unusual about them lately?” The irony was thick. The person they bullied the most had somehow become the person closest to them. Unusual? Of course. Unusually vicious. After my incident was “resolved,” the Peterson twins became even more convinced of their parents’ power. Their cruelty escalated. After I reported them and the police reviewed the security footage, they learned how to erase their tracks. Every act of torment took place in a blind spot, where cameras were either nonexistent or conveniently broken. They had sown the wind, and now they were reaping the whirlwind. The police couldn’t even figure out who they had recently crossed. I shook my head again. “No. I spent every day trying to avoid them. Why would I pay attention to them?” “Did they have any other friends they usually hung out with?” What she really wanted to ask was who else participated in the bullying. If the twins’ deaths were related to bullying, identifying other potential victims was a key part of the investigation. I actually didn’t mind talking to Detective Chen. A bit of civic cooperation. “That’s a difficult question for me to answer. After all, a beating victim’s only job is to cover their head. They don’t get the privilege of looking up.” Chen was silent. I saw Miller frown. “But you must know how many people were there.” The people there… I didn’t need to see them. I could hear their voices. I didn’t refuse outright. I looked at Miller and said, with utmost seriousness, “I can. On the condition that they admit to participating in the bullying.”

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To preserve his precious star’s perfect hundred-win record, my husband stole my legal files, ensuring I would suffer a devastating defeat in the most important case of my life. He felt no guilt. He just tossed a credit card at me. “The world only needs one top female lawyer, Charlotte. Abby’s career can’t have a single loss. So, just quit the bar. I’ll take care of you from now on.” On his orders, I was blacklisted from the entire industry. The next time I appeared in court, it was for a divorce. And I was both the plaintiff and my own counsel. Standing in the courtroom again felt surreal, a ghost of a life I once knew. Across the aisle, Abby Monroe stood in a razor-sharp power suit, her expression dripping with contempt. “No lawyer, Charlotte? Still as overconfident as ever. I made you lose once, I can do it again. You’re really going to these lengths just to get Ethan’s attention, aren’t you?” Ethan Bonerz stood beside her, his face a thundercloud. He just stared at me, his jaw tight, saying nothing. Compared to their bustling legal team, my solitary presence felt stark and cold. I arranged my documents, then met her gaze with a calm, deliberate smile. “Abby, do you really want me to remind everyone here how you actually won that case?” Her arrogant smirk froze on her face. I ignored her, closing my eyes to prepare. It was a ritual I’d maintained since my first day in the profession: arrive early, shut my eyes, and mentally walk through the entire trial. Breathing in the familiar scent of polished wood and old paper that clung to the courtroom, a wave of calm washed over me. But my meditation was rudely shattered. Ethan strode across the aisle, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to my feet. He pursed his lips, still affecting that condescending air of his. “Withdraw the petition. Come home with me, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” The warmth of his skin against mine was a lie. Underneath it, I could feel a tremor, a faint, almost imperceptible shaking. I wrenched my hand away. “Defendant, please respect the plaintiff.” He stared into my eyes, rooted to the spot. After a long moment, a bitter, self-mocking smile twisted his lips. “You’ll regret this, Charlotte.” In the business world, he was known for his bold, decisive moves. Here, in the courtroom, he was a man of few words, letting Abby do all the talking. She acted as his sole representative, her questions coming like a volley of arrows. Seeing my silence, she seemed to smell victory, landing her final blow with a sneer. “You haven’t improved at all.” When it was my turn, I wasted no time on speeches. I presented my evidence directly. “The defendant is the at-fault party due to adultery during the marriage. Pursuant to state family law, I request an immediate, final decree of divorce.” A murmur rippled through the gallery. Across the aisle, the defendant’s party lost their composure. Ethan shot to his feet, his voice laced with panic. “Abby and I were just living together so I could take care of her and the child! Nothing happened between us. That’s not proof! I don’t agree to the divorce!” I pointed out, my voice steady and clear, “The defendant has just admitted, on the record, to cohabitating with another woman during our marriage.” … The gavel fell. Divorce granted. Outside the courthouse, Abby blocked my path. In over a decade of practice, this was likely her first loss. She spoke through gritted teeth, “The only case you’ll ever win is your own divorce. After what happened, who in New York would dare hire you?” “I would. I dare.” The voice came before the man. A figure stepped between us, shielding me from Abby’s glare. He was smiling, a picture of easy confidence. Abby recognized him instantly. In the New York legal world, everyone knew Gary Vance, the man who had built a ten-firm empire from the ground up. “Ms. Monroe,” Gary said, his smile widening. “First, my warmest congratulations on your loss. Second, I’ve already extended a formal offer to Charlotte. Starting tomorrow, she will be my firm’s new ace attorney and partner.” Abby stared, incredulous. “Mr. Vance, you… you two…” I didn’t know when Ethan had come to stand behind me, but his voice was a low, almost spectral murmur. “Charlotte, you didn’t have to do all this—the fake divorce, hiring this guy just to make me angry. The case is in the past. You only lost your job, it’s not the end of the world. Why can’t you be magnanimous like Abby? Why can’t you just move on?” Gary started to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Fine,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “I’ll be magnanimous. I’ll move on.” “Here’s how. You issue a public statement, right now. Admit that you stole my materials for the Westgate Construction case, causing my appeal to fail. Admit that your actions led the plaintiff to take his own life, destroying his family. You do that, and I’ll move on.” The color drained from both their faces. A few months ago, I had taken on a monumental wrongful conviction case, one that had captured the city’s attention. Driven by a lawyer’s sense of duty, I stepped in. It was a losing battle. Everyone knew the construction worker was innocent, yet he was saddled with millions in damages and a decades-long prison sentence. The case was the most-watched trial in New York in a decade, for one simple reason: the plaintiff’s counsel was the legal world’s undefeated legend, Abby Monroe. The defendant’s counsel was me, the rising star. This was Abby’s hundredth case. She had publicly boasted that she would make me suffer a humiliating defeat. At the time, Ethan and I were still newlyweds. I was drowning, juggling work and home life, poring over legal texts until my hair fell out in clumps. But I found it—the key piece of evidence that could overturn the whole case. I was ecstatic. I called the victim’s family, worked with them to convince a key witness to testify. Everything was finally turning in our favor. I couldn’t wait to tell Ethan. He was reviewing financial reports, and his hand paused mid-air. He looked up slowly, but there was no joy for me in his eyes. “Charlotte, stop digging. You’re exhausted.” I didn’t catch the hidden meaning in his words. I went to him, taking his hand, my voice full of the warmth of a new bride. “Honey, this is the most important case of my life. No matter how hard it is, I have to clear my client’s name. The trial is tomorrow. You have to wish me luck!” He shot up from his chair, yanking his hand from mine without a word. The next morning, I knew something was wrong. The key evidence was gone. The digital backup had been wiped. A cold sweat broke out on my skin. I couldn’t imagine who could have cracked my password. It was too late to call the police; I had no choice but to go to court and fight with what I had left. What shattered me completely was the witness. On the stand, he recanted his testimony. In that instant, my mind went blank. The judge’s voice upholding the original verdict was a distant drone. I don’t remember how I left the defendant’s table under Abby’s mocking gaze, or how I pushed through the swarm of reporters outside the courthouse. All I remember is snapping back to reality with my client’s wife and daughter collapsed at my feet, their wails tearing through the air as they asked me why. Why? I fled, disoriented and panicked, and stumbled right into Ethan and Abby. She was hooking a finger in his tie, pulling him close, the air thick with intimacy. Her voice was a sultry whisper, a warm breath against his ear. “Ethan, darling. Thank you for destroying the evidence for me. And for giving me the witness’s information. It’s the only way I could have won. I’ll be sure to reward you properly.” Ethan stroked her hair, his voice gentle. “Her winning or losing is nothing compared to your perfect record.” The sight of them, so cozy and triumphant, made my stomach turn. As far as I knew, Abby was ten years our senior, divorced, with a child. A small sound escaped my lips, and they both turned. They saw me standing there, pale as a ghost. “Charlotte…” Ethan started towards me, but Abby held him back. She looked at me, a triumphant smirk on her face, and made a thumbs-down gesture. Then, with a sickeningly sweet smile, she mouthed a single word. “Loser.” Ethan seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. I screamed, my voice raw with hysteria, demanding an explanation. He just waved a dismissive hand, his tone detached, as if he were a mere spectator. “Abby helped me out of a tough spot once. This is just a small thing for you, Charlotte, but for her, it’s her hundred-win reputation. You should know what’s more important.” “A small thing?” A laugh, sharp and brittle, escaped my lips. “The breadwinner of a family is wrongfully imprisoned, and you call that a small thing?” “The hopes of countless other workers are crushed, and you call that a small thing?” “In your eyes, Abby Monroe’s reputation is the only thing that matters?” Perhaps the raw disappointment in my eyes provoked him. His face darkened with irritation. “What else? Let me be clear. To me, Abby is more important than anyone else. She helped my mother escape a gambling-addicted husband. She helped me get away from my deadbeat father. There’s nothing she could do that I wouldn’t forgive.” He continued, his voice hardening, “Just quit being a lawyer, Charlotte. The world only needs one top female attorney, and Abby’s career can’t have a single loss. I will clear every obstacle from her path. From now on, you’ll stay home and take care of me. I’ll provide for you.” He tossed a credit card at my feet, and without a backward glance at the broken woman I had become, he turned and walked away. From the window, I watched him go. I saw Abby run to him, throwing herself into his arms. They looked like lovers. Was this really just about repaying a debt? My heart was a hollow chasm, but I had no time to dwell on it. The damage was done. All I could do now was try to mitigate the fallout and compensate my client’s family as best I could. But before I could even begin to form a plan, I received the news that would haunt me for the rest of my life. My client, seeing no hope, had drowned himself in the river. His wife, unable to bear the grief, had tried to follow him. Their daughter had done the same. The daughter was rescued, and was now fighting for her life in the ICU. The moment I got the call, I rushed to the hospital. The traffic was a nightmare. I abandoned my car and ran. I stumbled and scrambled, and just as I neared the hospital intersection, a small figure darted out and shoved me hard, sending me sprawling into the middle of the road. A car screeched to a halt just a foot from my head. The driver rolled down his window, roaring, “Are you blind? If I weren’t a good driver, you’d be dead!” I stammered my thanks and grabbed the little girl who had pushed me. “What do you think you’re doing?” The girl, seeing she couldn’t escape, let her eyes dart around before plopping down on the pavement and bursting into a theatrical wail. “Homewrecker! You’re a homewrecker! You stole my daddy! Waaah, you’re a bad woman!” Onlookers immediately began to stare and mutter. The driver spat in my direction. “Breaking up families. Would’ve been better if I’d just hit you.” My head was spinning, but I managed to keep some semblance of composure. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “You will be held accountable for every word you just said.” Seeing me call the police, the girl scrambled up and ran into the arms of a woman standing nearby. It was Abby. And standing right beside her, his face a mask of stone, was Ethan. — In the mediation room, the three of them sat across from me. The little girl, Anna, kept making faces and taunting me. Abby did nothing to stop her, instead stroking her head encouragingly. “She’s just a child, Charlotte. Why are you making a big deal out of this?” Ethan’s voice cut in, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. “Ethan, I was almost killed!” “But you weren’t, were you?” Abby shot me a resentful glance. “Why bully a child? I’ll apologize on her behalf, and we can let this go. She’s a minor, you can’t do anything to us anyway.” “No need to apologize,” Ethan said, stopping her. A fresh wave of pain washed over me. I looked at the man before me and suddenly, he was a stranger. I remembered a time when I’d gotten a small papercut, and he had fussed over me, carefully applying a bandage. Now, I had narrowly escaped death, and he didn’t care at all. He was telling me to let the person who tried to kill me walk free. “Go home, Charlotte. Don’t make me say it again.” His cold, dismissive tone was like a plunge into an icy abyss. My heart froze over. “Give me an explanation.” Ethan looked up, startled. Then, as if he understood something, he frowned. “Anna and Abby are on their own. The little girl is young and doesn’t understand. She sees me as a father figure. I happen to like kids, so I’ve been playing along. That’s why she misunderstood our relationship. I’ll explain it to her when she’s older.” I let out a bitter laugh. “You like kids, Ethan, but you never wanted to have one with me, did you?” We were supposed to be in our honeymoon phase, but Ethan was never home. I was shy, but one night I gathered all my courage, my face flushed, and asked him to stay home from work, just for one night. He was surprised, but he agreed. That night, just as passion was building, his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled away and left. Embarrassment, disappointment, shame… a storm of emotions swirled inside me. I sat alone on the bed and cried the entire night. He obviously remembered it too. He stammered, “Anna had a high fever that night.” I walked to the window, looking down at the city lights twinkling below, and laughed coldly. “So what you’re saying is, Anna has a mother, she has grandparents, she has a family. But the one person she can’t live without is a ‘father’ she has no blood relation to? Is that it?” “Enough!” He strode over to me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “When did you become so jealous?” His pupils reflected my face, haggard and worn down by the endless turmoil he and Abby had created. And suddenly, I felt so tired. It was all so meaningless. I broke free from his grasp and walked away. My hand was just about to touch the doorknob when his voice, hard as steel, came from behind me. “Stop being a lawyer. Be a housewife. This is a notification, not a negotiation.” “Besides, Charlotte, you’ve already lost the right to be a lawyer.” “I’ve blocked every single one of your escape routes.”

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At my daughter’s one-month celebration, I caught my best friend in my husband’s arms. “Edward,” she whispered, “your idiot wife still doesn’t know I switched our babies?” “Not a chance,” he chuckled. “She dotes on our daughter daily. Where’s the child she actually bore?” “Got bored after a month,” she shrugged. “Drowned it. You’re not angry?” “Married her for the money,” he scoffed. “Who cares?” I wiped a tear and pretended not to hear. For twenty years, I raised their child as my own. When their daughter returned from abroad, I transferred all my shares and assets to her at a press conference. That’s when they approached with a paternity test. “Hospital mistake,” my best friend declared. “Shelley is ours. Time to return her.” My husband slid divorce papers and a $5,000 debit card toward me. “Sign this so we can be a family.” I smiled coldly. “Alright.” 1 “Honey, I noticed you had a bit of a cough yesterday, so I woke up early to make you some pear soup. Here, drink it while it’s hot.” Edward, my husband, gently placed the bowl in front of me, his eyes overflowing with what looked like pure, unadulterated love. “Dad, you’re so good to Mom,” our daughter, Shelley, chimed in from the breakfast table. Yes. He was good to me. Everyone could see it. He was always the first to notice when I was down, showering me with comfort and surprises. He’d nurse me devotedly when I was sick. In our most intimate moments, he would hold me tight and whisper that marrying me was the greatest blessing of his life. If I hadn’t overheard that conversation all those years ago, I never would have believed this sensitive, caring man was a monster. I took the soup and drank it without a word. Soon, the doorbell rang. “It must be Godmommy!” Shelley squealed, jumping up to answer the door. There stood my best friend, Amelia, laden with shopping bags. Her face lit up when she saw Shelley. “Shelley, darling, it’s getting colder. Godmommy bought you some new winter clothes.” She set the bags down. “And I know how much you love my pastries, so I made some more for you.” Shelley’s eyes curved into crescent moons. “Thank you, Godmommy! You’re the best!” Amelia pulled the girl into a warm embrace. “Of course, I am! You’re my precious little treasure. I’d give you the world if I could.” She led Shelley to the table, then looked at me. “Cassandra, Shelley mentioned her school has a parent-teacher conference today. Do you mind if I go?” Her voice took on a pitiful tone, her eyes flitting between Edward and Shelley. “You know, I’m not as lucky as you. I didn’t marry a wonderful man and have a perfect daughter. A scumbag got me pregnant, and my little… my little one… she drowned in the tub. I’ll never get the chance to go to a parent-teacher conference…” For years, she had used her dead child as an excuse to overstep every boundary. It wasn’t just daily visits. She organized Shelley’s birthday parties every year. She took her out for holidays, attended her school’s family events. On Mother’s Day, she would take Shelley out for the entire day, plastering their photos all over social media. Her excuse was always the same. “My poor baby died so young, and I don’t think I can ever have another. We’re best friends, Cassandra. I just want to love Shelley as if she were my own.” Before I could even respond, Edward jumped in. “Honey, Amelia’s been through so much. It’s a tragedy. Why not let her experience what it’s like? Just this once.” The three of them stared at me with expectant eyes. I managed a small smile. “Of course. I’m busy today, anyway.” Amelia’s face broke into a satisfied grin. Shelley clapped her hands in delight. After breakfast, Amelia eagerly whisked Shelley off to school, with Edward tagging along, saying he’d give them a ride. I watched the three of them leave, a happy little family, and said nothing at all. 2 Perhaps because I was so easy to fool, so oblivious, Amelia grew bolder. At first, she would only meet Edward in secret when I was at the office. Now, she found excuses to come over even when I was home. “Cassandra, I’ve been teaching myself to cook! I came to show off my new skills.” “Cassandra, I just got back from the countryside and brought you some fresh produce.” “Cassandra, my pipes burst! Can I stay with you for a few days?” … I knew she was only here for Edward and Shelley. But I never refused. I welcomed her politely, agreed to every request. Edward reveled in it. His lips would curl into a smile the moment she walked through the door. Sometimes, he’d exchange flirtatious glances with her right in front of me. Even Shelley grew closer to Amelia, buying her a special pair of slippers to keep at our house for her frequent visits. This continued until Shelley’s college entrance exams. The day the scores were released, Amelia was at our house first thing in the morning. When Shelley’s abysmal scores appeared on the screen, Edward feigned outrage. “How could you score so low?” Shelley shrugged. “We’re rich. Why should I work myself to death studying? Mom can just buy me a degree, can’t she?” Edward shot me a look. When I said nothing, he continued his act. “Even if your mother spoils you, she can’t let you be this reckless! It’s not easy for her to run the company alone. You need to step up! How else will you help her? How can she trust you with the company?” Amelia quickly interjected, “Cassandra is Shelley’s mother. Of course, she’ll take care of her.” “Exactly,” Shelley added. “I’m her only daughter. She’s not going to let me starve with all her companies, is she?” Amelia gave Shelley an appreciative glance, then turned to me. “Cassandra, Shelley is a good girl. You can’t let her go to some diploma mill. What if she gets bullied? Why don’t you make her a general manager at your company? Let her learn the ropes.” The truth was, Shelley, spoiled rotten by Amelia and Edward, was lazy, arrogant, and completely incompetent. She wasn’t even qualified for an internship at my company. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said seriously, “General manager isn’t enough. She’s my only child. She deserves to inherit everything.” “I have it all planned out. First, I’ll send her abroad to study. When she returns, I will hand the entire company over to her.” Amelia’s eyes lit up. She laughed heartily. “Yes, yes! A brilliant girl like Shelley deserves to be a CEO, looking down on everyone. I always said she was born for a life of luxury, so much better than that short-lived little brat of mine!” Edward and Shelley nodded enthusiastically, their faces beaming. Watching the three of them laugh, so smug and triumphant, I smiled too. They laughed at my stupidity. I laughed at their naivety. 3 While handling the paperwork for her studies abroad, I brought Shelley to the office every day, patiently teaching her the ins and outs of the business. The day she left, Amelia rushed to the airport, loaded with gifts, fussing over her as if she were her own. The scene was touching, a perfect portrait of a mother’s love. Long after the plane was a tiny speck in the sky, Amelia stood there, tears in her eyes, before reluctantly leaving. With Shelley gone, Amelia’s visits became less frequent. But Edward started going out more. He would come home looking drained, hollowed out. He’d claim he was out with friends, or that he’d joined a gym. When he ran out of excuses, he’d sigh dramatically. “I raised Shelley. She’s never been away from me before. I miss her so much. If I don’t keep busy, I think I’ll fall apart.” I ignored the cloying scent of Amelia’s perfume that clung to him and pretended to comfort him. “She’ll be back soon. Then our family can be together again.” Edward gave a faint, knowing smile. “Yes. Soon, our family of three will finally be reunited.” Three years later, Shelley returned. Amelia, whom I hadn’t seen in ages, was at our house early, ready to go to the airport with us. The moment she saw Shelley, she lost all control, rushing forward to pull her into a tight, tearful embrace. After their emotional reunion, Shelley walked straight up to me. “Mom, I’m back. When are you handing over the company?” Seeing her impatience, I smiled faintly. “Let’s go. I’ve already called a press conference. I’m about to give you everything, in front of everyone.” 4 The press conference was packed. Media, journalists, business tycoons—everyone had gathered to witness the transfer of power at the colossal C&S Group. Under the glare of the spotlights, I announced that my daughter, Shelley, would be succeeding me as CEO. With lawyers and cameras as my witnesses, I signed the share transfer agreements, handing over all my personal assets and company shares to her. The room erupted in thunderous applause. People marveled at our mother-daughter bond, their eyes on Shelley filled with envy. And at that precise moment, Amelia, arm in arm with Edward, made her grand entrance. Under the confused and startled gazes of the crowd, she held up a paternity test report and announced, “Cassandra, Edward and I have been in love for a long time. We had our daughters at the same time. There was a mix-up at the hospital. Shelley is our biological daughter. You’ve had her for long enough. It’s time to give her back.” The room exploded. “Isn’t that Amelia, Cassandra’s best friend? She was sleeping with her husband? And they have a child?” “Wait, Amelia’s baby died after a month! If there was a mix-up, doesn’t that mean… Cassandra’s real daughter is the one who died?” “That’s monstrous! She steals her husband, and lets her real daughter die? What kind of monster is she?” “And she reveals this right after Cassandra gave her daughter all her money? Is she even human?” Amid the outrage, Edward spoke up, his voice ringing with self-righteousness. “For years, I was trapped in a loveless marriage. I tried to be a responsible husband. But I’m a human being! Night after night, I asked myself, is this the life I want? Cassandra has been good to me and Shelley, but Amelia is the one I truly love. All I want is to pursue my true love. Is that so wrong? Marriage is for happiness, and so is divorce. It shouldn’t be a cage. I hope you can all wish us well!” He sounded like a tragic hero, breaking free from the chains of a miserable marriage. I ignored him. I looked straight at Shelley. “What do you think?” Shelley glanced at the share transfer agreement in her hand, then looked at me calmly. “Mom… this is the last time I’ll call you that. You raised me for twenty years, but you’re not my real mother. Blood is thicker than water. Please, don’t stand in the way of our family’s reunion.” Amelia smirked. “Have some dignity, Cassandra. Just because your own daughter died young, don’t cling to someone else’s.” Edward slapped a divorce agreement and a debit card on the table. “Let’s get this over with while everyone’s here. There’s five thousand dollars on the card. A little something for your years of service and the divorce settlement.” The crowd was incensed. “Like father, like daughter, like mistress. What a disgusting family.” “After everything Cassandra did for her? Raised her like a princess, gave her billions, and she just ditches her for her real mom?” “Five thousand dollars? Is he serious? That’s an insult!” “I can’t even watch this! Cassandra, don’t listen to these animals!” “They’ve gone too far!” Everyone was on my side, some even offering legal help to get my assets back. Through it all, Amelia and Edward remained calm, as if they were prepared for anything. But amid the storm of outrage, a dark, knowing smile touched my lips. “Alright.” As the entire room stared in disbelief, I signed the divorce papers. Amelia and Edward looked stunned, not expecting me to agree so easily. They snatched up the documents, checked them carefully, and only then did they relax, their faces breaking into triumphant smiles. As they were basking in their victory, I spoke again. “Since you’ve given me such a big surprise,” I said, my voice carrying across the silent room, “I have a gift for you in return.” 5 Edward looked baffled. “A gift? What gift?” Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Under the intense scrutiny of the crowd, I produced a box made of exquisite golden nanmu wood. I handed it to Edward. “Even though Shelley disowns me as a mother, I raised her for twenty years. In my heart, she will always be my only heir. This is my family’s heirloom. I give it to you. May your family live in harmony forever.” Edward’s eyes widened. He took the box, opened it cautiously, and pulled out an ancient, priceless jade archer’s ring. The crowd was dumbfounded. “Is that really the C&S family heirloom? Is Cassandra insane? Giving it to these scumbags?” “She must have snapped. The shock was too much.” “It’s tragic. The husband and daughter she loved for years… one betrayed her, the other wasn’t even hers and took all her money. And her real daughter is dead. Who could handle that?” “But that’s no reason to enable them! If it were me, I’d want to kill Amelia!” The crowd looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. Amelia started clapping. “Cassandra, I always thought you were just a rich fool. But today, you’ve truly impressed me. You’re not just a fool. You’re a born doormat. The most pathetic, groveling woman I have ever seen.” Shelley wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Thank God you’re not my real mother. I would die of embarrassment.” Edward rolled his eyes. “Being married to you, Cassandra, is the greatest shame of my life. Don’t you ever say you know me again. I can’t afford the humiliation.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Amelia, and the three of them strode out of the press conference. I became an instant headline. The entire event had been live-streamed. The whole country had witnessed what happened. The internet exploded. “Is there something wrong with this woman’s brain?” “Her own daughter is dead, and she’s giving her blessing to this family of vipers? Is that something a human being does?!” “I’m so frustrated I could scream! How can such a spineless, stupid woman exist in this world?” “Can we please stop trending these infuriating stories? It’s bad for my health!” The internet seethed. There was outrage, there was pity. Some well-meaning people even contacted me, offering to help me capitalize on the drama, to do livestreams, play the victim, and earn some money back. I refused them all and went home. When I arrived, Amelia was moving her luggage in. Edward and Shelley were throwing my belongings out like trash. Seeing me, Edward tilted his chin up, his eyes full of loathing. “Cassandra, this house belongs to Shelley now. We’re divorced. Take your junk and get out. Don’t interrupt our family reunion.”

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Chapter 1: The Grand Deception My wife’s business failed, wiping out our life savings. To lessen her burden, I started working three jobs, grinding day and night. As I was dangling from a harness, washing windows on the 30th floor, a birthday party was raging inside. I gazed in with envy, only to see my wife, Eleanor, pushing out a cake shaped like a giant stack of cash toward an elderly woman at the center of the room. Voices drifted through the glass. “A reservation here is nearly impossible to get, but Mrs. Nelson booked the entire floor for her mother-in-law’s birthday!” “Just the cash she was handing out at the door must have been in the millions!” Suspended in mid-air, I froze. No one there knew that Mrs. Nelson’s real mother-in-law had died in a hospital just the day before. When my own mother lay sick in her hospital bed, she gripped my hand, her voice a desperate plea. “Son, stop the treatments. I don’t want to be another burden on you and Nora.” I had frantically called Eleanor, begging her to let me use my own debit card—the one she held—to pay for Mom’s medical bills. In the time it took me to turn away, my mother had thrown herself from the hospital roof. She had folded her jacket neatly, and on top, she’d placed a small, tidy stack of money. I picked it up with trembling hands. It was a mix of crumpled bills and loose change. All told, it was fifty-three dollars. I couldn’t reach Eleanor. After a hasty, bare-bones funeral for my mother, I rushed back to this window-washing job. The pay was three hundred dollars an hour—enough to have fed our family for days, back when we had a family. So seeing Eleanor in this opulent, five-star hotel felt like a surreal nightmare. Was this woman, throwing away millions without a second thought, the same wife who ate plain noodle soup with me yesterday, wearing clothes patched at the elbows? A cold gust of wind whipped around me, and I shuddered. Mechanically, I pulled out my phone and called her again. As always, it went to voicemail. My co-worker saw the phone and gestured frantically, pulling me back up to the roof. The moment my feet hit the solid ground, a hard hat came flying at my face. “Playing on your phone while on the job? You got a death wish? You’re fired!” The helmet grazed my forehead, leaving a stinging, bloody scratch. It hurt. This wasn’t a dream. I stumbled downstairs in a daze, running right into a crowd of jubilant hotel staff. “Mrs. Nelson is handing out cash! Just say a lucky phrase and you get an envelope!” The banquet hall was a sea of glittering decorations and priceless artifacts. People around me were whispering that the decor alone had cost a small fortune. I pulled my face mask up tight and shuffled with the crowd toward the source of the commotion. When it was my turn, I looked at Eleanor, draped in a luxurious silk gown and dripping with jewels, standing next to the old woman. My throat went dry. “Wishing you… a long and happy life. Happy 60th birthday…” If my mother hadn’t died, she would have turned sixty this year, too. Just a few days ago, Eleanor and I had been planning to take her out for a nice birthday dinner. My mom had just smiled, waving her hand dismissively, saying that paying off our debts was the best gift of all. Now, we were worlds apart. Eleanor didn’t recognize my voice. She squinted, handing me a thick red envelope. “Here you go. Take it.” My hand trembled as I took it. It was heavy with cash. A small fortune. The amount of money that could have saved my mother’s life, and here Eleanor was, giving away hundreds of envelopes just like it. Someone in the jostling crowd bumped into me, and in front of everyone, I, in my filthy work clothes, fell to the floor. A sea of judgmental eyes stared down at me. A bitter taste filled my mouth. As I tried to scramble up, a hand reached out to me. “Are you all right?” I looked up. It was the other guest of honor—the old woman’s son. And by a cruel twist of fate, I knew him. It was Adrian, the “good friend” who, according to Eleanor, had led her into the investment that bankrupted us. The man she’d trusted with our entire fortune, only to lose everything. But looking at them now, it was clear that the only ones who had lost everything were my mother and me. A flicker of sly malice crossed his eyes, so fast I almost missed it. I dodged his hand, trying to get up on my own, but a moment later, a foot kicked out from somewhere, and I was sent sprawling onto my back like an overturned beetle, becoming the center of attention. Even Eleanor looked over. As she started walking toward me, her heels clicking on the marble floor, I scrambled to my feet and fled. I couldn’t bear for her to see me like this, so utterly pathetic. As I stepped out of the building, my phone buzzed. A new, unknown number had added me as a contact. I accepted, and a video immediately appeared. I pressed play. It was a grainy clip of Eleanor and Adrian, wrapped in each other’s arms. Chapter 2: The Truth Revealed The man’s deep voice cut through the silence. “How much longer are you going to play this game with that fool?” Eleanor let out a soft, cold laugh, and her words echoed in my ears, again and again. “If you hadn’t dared me, I never would have been able to keep it up this long. Besides, the old hag is sick. If he knew I had money, who knows what he’d do to get it out of me.” I froze. She knew. Eleanor knew my mother was sick. She had seen every single one of my desperate texts begging for money. She had seen them, and she had chosen to ignore them. I stumbled back to our apartment, a cramped basement unit, and laughed a bitter, hollow laugh. Should I praise her for her endurance? She had lived with me in a place like this for three years without complaint. Her act was flawless. Even living under the same roof as my mother, she was always smiling, always doting on her. She claimed her own parents had died, that she hadn’t felt the warmth of a family in years, and that’s why she cherished what we had. When her “business failed,” I sold our house to pay her debts. My mother even sold the jade bracelet her own mother had passed down to her. I’ll never forget the tears of gratitude streaming down Eleanor’s face as she took the money, promising she was done with risky ventures, that she would settle down and build a life with me. Her tear-streaked face was a world away from the woman I saw today, beaming with laughter. Staring at the four walls of our tiny room, I finally broke, sobbing uncontrollably. Before I met Eleanor, I had a life I was proud of. I was the first person from my village to go to college, and once I had a foothold in the city, I brought my mother, my only family, to live with me. I met Eleanor at a company dinner. A senior executive was harassing her. She stood there in a faded, washed-out uniform, too timid to fight back. I used the excuse of a toast to pull the executive away, earning a grateful look from her. Later, my mom came to bring me lunch and saw Eleanor in the breakroom, chewing on a dry bread roll with a cup of cold water. From that day on, my mom always packed an extra meal for me to give to Eleanor. Our relationship bloomed naturally from there. Our wedding was simple, but Eleanor said it was the happiest day of her life. After we were married, she wanted to start her own business. Even when it failed and left us in debt, my mother and I were her staunchest supporters. And it was all a game. A game for the rich, and I was the only one who had played with a real heart. My mother, who loved her like a daughter, paid for it with her life. Before I could wipe my tears, the hospital called. “Mr. Hayes, your mother signed an organ donation agreement before her passing. We’ve found a suitable match. You should come say your final goodbye.” Organ donation? When had my mother signed something like that? I rushed to the hospital, only to see Eleanor and Adrian stepping out of an ambulance at the entrance. She was rushing, her voice laced with panic. “My mother-in-law is type O. She just collapsed. I’ve already put out an alert to every hospital in the city for type O blood. We have to save her, no matter what it takes!” I stood frozen as she brushed past me. If she had only looked up, she would have seen me, a witness to her entire charade. But she didn’t. Even knowing my mother was dying, waiting for the money that could have saved her, Eleanor’s entire world revolved around Adrian’s mother. With heavy steps, I walked to the morgue. The doctor and nurses were waiting. They showed me the donation form my mother had signed. “Mr. Hayes,” the doctor said, patting my shoulder, “your mother was a truly noble woman. She did a wonderful thing. Her organs will save three families.” I traced my mother’s signature, each stroke a testament to her love. My eyes welled up. That little old lady from the countryside couldn’t read or write. It had taken her ages, her hands tracing the characters over and over, just to learn how to write her own name. Now she was gone forever. Her body was so broken from the fall that I couldn’t bear to look at it a second time. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I broke down, crying with everything I had. The doctor’s own eyes grew moist. He didn’t know how to comfort me, so he just squeezed my hand, a silent acknowledgment of my pain. After a long time, I wiped my tears and looked at the medical team. “I’m sorry. I’m holding you all up. Please, don’t waste any more time. I know my mother would be happy, knowing she saved so many people.” They all bowed, a silent, profound gesture of respect for my mother. Just as they were preparing to transport the organs, a man came running up. “Who is the family of the organ donor? Our CEO wants to purchase the donor’s heart as a backup!”

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I’d been grinding it out on a reality talent show for two and a half years. Singing, dancing, rapping, running errands—I did it all, and I still wasn’t getting noticed. The day before our debut showcase, Arthur Pierce, the chairman of Summit Entertainment, summoned me. It turned out that his precious daughter—the one I ran errands for, the one who suppressed me at every turn and stole my resources—was a fake. I was his real daughter. Only later did I realize he was just looking for me to clear his conscience. The one they truly adored was still the impostor. Whatever. I was just in it for a career. A rich, powerful family? Like I give a damn. 1 For two and a half years, I’d been a face in the back row of this brutal talent competition. I sang, I danced, I rapped, I did every odd job imaginable. My screen time was earned by photobombing, my social media buzz was fueled by me retweeting and commenting on my own posts. As a total nobody, I was still the one hustling to bring hot water to the divas in the center spots right before a performance. Sometimes, I even had to pay for my own stage makeup out of pocket because the artists couldn’t be bothered with me. I was used to it. With no one backing me, I knew I’d never make it to the center. I treated it like free training, and the cash I made from side gigs was a nice bonus. My plan was set: after this final showcase, I was packing my bags, taking the escape fund I’d saved up, and switching careers to become a video editor. But I never saw this coming. The day before the final performance, Arthur Pierce, the chairman of Summit Entertainment himself, suddenly asked to see me. My first thought was that I’d been caught sneaking fried chicken backstage and was about to be fired. Instead, his first words were, “You’re my daughter.” I froze, thinking it was a promo for some new, twisted reality show. Seeing my blank expression, he coolly slid a document across the table. “I’ve already had the DNA test done. It was a mix-up at the hospital eighteen years ago.” “Molly isn’t my daughter. You are.” My mind blanked. Molly? Molly Pierce? The girl poised to debut in the center position, the one whose name was always trending, the one the show had branded as its “angelic sweetheart”? The same Molly who, just a few days ago, had me hauling backdrop props for her rehearsal? The one who’d glare at me during filming, silently warning me not to steal her lines? She was the fake? And I was the real heiress? So what were all my years in foster care? Just a cosmic joke? Bad luck? A bitter laugh almost escaped me. “So… are you going to kick her out?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Arthur Pierce’s brow furrowed. “Kick her out? Don’t be ridiculous.” “Molly grew up with us. She is a part of this family. That will never change.” He stared at me, his tone flat, business-like. “We’re acknowledging you now to right a wrong, to find closure. Not to start a media circus.” “As for your identity, we’ll keep it confidential for now. Don’t tell anyone, and don’t disrupt the atmosphere on the show.” He sounded so sincere, like a programmer dispassionately fixing a bug in his life’s code. “I’ll speak with the production team. They’ll treat you fairly. But resources can’t be reallocated recklessly.” “Especially anything that’s Molly’s. She has a massive fanbase and a solid reputation. You should watch her and learn.” “You need to learn how to adapt.” I got it. This so-called family reunion was just an exercise in managing emotions and moral obligations. Finding me, their biological daughter, was just to satisfy their sense of humanitarian duty. No big deal. I didn’t care about any of that anyway. The news barely registered a ripple in my heart. What I cared about was debuting and making money. “So, can I still compete?” I asked. He gave me a look. “Of course. But you should understand that she is the one the company is promoting.” “You, on the other hand, should lay low for a while. After the show ends, the company can find another path for you.” Another path? Her understudy? The B-list backup? Or maybe just pushed behind the scenes for good? I nodded. “I understand.” 2 Molly cried for a full afternoon backstage. The rumor was she’d heard the news about the real heiress returning during a company meeting and had a complete meltdown. I had just finished my own rehearsal and went to the break room for some water. There she was, slumped on a sofa, her eyes puffy and red, surrounded by a court of sympathizers. “Don’t be sad, Molly. You’ll always be Summit’s princess.” “You’re the one who grew up with them, who shared everything. She’s just… genetics.” “Exactly. How could someone who’s been gone for so long be closer to the family than you?” The “family” included my supposed older brother, David, Summit’s top director and the mastermind behind a dozen hit shows, and my second brother, Daniel, the VP in charge of talent and finance, a bona fide business mogul. I glanced over. David was sitting beside her, sighing. “Molly, don’t overthink it. Mom and Dad are torn up about this too. They just feel like they owe her something.” “You’re the only sister we’ve ever known.” “If you choose to give her some of your resources, that’s you being kind. She wouldn’t dare push it.” I was about to turn and leave when Molly’s gaze snagged on me. She called out, her voice a fragile whisper, “Stella…” My feet stopped. I turned to face her. She stood up, her voice choked with emotion but soft as silk. “I had no idea you were the real daughter. I… I just couldn’t process it. It’s not about you.” She took my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “I’ll… I’ll start stepping back. I’ll talk to Mom and Dad, I’ll make them understand.” Her performance was perfectly timed. A cameraman, documenting her emotional turmoil, captured the moment she reached for me, her expression a mask of heartbroken nobility. David nodded at me. “Stella, don’t get the wrong idea. She’s just emotional. She doesn’t hold anything against you.” “For now, just cooperate and film a short video. Clarify that you two are on good terms so the fans don’t speculate.” “Your identity isn’t public yet. Don’t let this create drama for the show.” I looked at the whole pathetic scene. “So what’s my role in this little play?” Daniel spoke up. “The bigger person. Hurt, but reasonable and mature. You’ve had acting lessons.” “If you can’t pull it off, don’t embarrass yourself on stage,” he added coolly. “Dad is giving you a chance. You should be grateful.” Wow. For a guy who’d directed so many flops, he sure knew how to write a script. Molly dabbed her eyes with a tissue, a single, perfect tear clinging to her lashes. She looked so beautifully fragile. “It’s okay if you’re angry with me, Stella. I get it. I’ll… I’ll try to stay out of the spotlight from now on. You’re the real one, after all.” My head was buzzing. How had I never noticed how fake she was? A two-faced, manipulative snake. Was it because I was so insignificant before that I never got close enough to see the real her? Probably. The media machine, as expected, moved at lightning speed. In no time, the headlines were everywhere: #MollyPierceInTearsVowsToStepAsideForTrueHeiress #MollyPierce:SheIsTheRealDaughterIWillNotCompete #HeiressStellaLaneResponds:ThankYouForLettingMeHaveAFamily I… what? I never said that! They were putting words in my mouth! And didn’t they just say to keep my identity secret? Now they were blasting it all over the internet? Underneath the trending topics, Summit Entertainment’s official account had shared a post with a quote from my “mother”: 【We never intended to abandon either of our children. We hope everyone will give Stella time to grow.】 The comments section was a war zone. “Wow, what a spin job. Is Stella Lane really that cold?” “Molly is the one they raised. Stella has no class.” “I heard Stella is a real monster behind the scenes. Stop the act.” I was exhausted. The internet mob was eating it up. I closed the app. I hadn’t been back in the practice room for three minutes when a new message from Daniel popped up: 【Your performance in ‘Wall of Glass’ is canceled. You’ve been moved to the B-team as a backup dancer for ‘First Light.’】 Just brilliant. Molly was performing “First Light.” They wanted me to be her backup dancer. I typed back: “I thought you said all I had to do was cooperate. What is this?” He replied instantly: “Your cooperation wasn’t good enough. You’re not in a position to be demanding resources.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I opened my email and downloaded the demo for a song no one ever picked. “Shattered Bloom.” It was a scrapped project from a previous season. The emotions were too raw, the choreography brutally explosive, the lyrics a tangled mess. It was an eight-minute, non-stop marathon for a single performer. No one dared touch it. No one wanted to. I chose it. I didn’t need their hollow affection. Oh, right. There was no affection. I just needed a stage. After all, my goal was to debut and make some serious money. 3 Everyone knew “Shattered Bloom” was a cursed song. A difficult stage, dense choreography, complex lyrics, and a huge emotional arc. The last group that tried it fell apart, the lead singer’s voice cracked, and the company pulled the plug. It was considered one of the show’s biggest failures. It was left to rot in the digital archives, only mentioned as a cautionary tale. I dusted it off. The moment I submitted my choice, the music library manager tried to talk me out of it. “Stella, are you sure? No one can pull this song off. A whole boy band crashed and burned trying to perform this.” I just smiled. “No harm in trying. Think of it as a warm-up.” The production team approved my request, their faces a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. I expected to be forgotten, but half an hour later, #StellaLanePicksCursedSong was trending. The comments exploded: 【Is she insane? ‘Shattered Bloom’? Is she trying to become a living meme?】 【Molly just announced she’s doing ‘First Light,’ and Stella picks this? Is she trying to lose on purpose to make a statement?】 【Tsk, tsk. So this is the real heiress. All drama, no substance.】 Then came the wave of coordinated comments, clearly paid for: 【Molly steps aside and this is how she repays her? Picking a flop song just to spite her?】 【She has no grace. All she knows is how to stir up trouble.】 I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. It hadn’t even been twelve hours. How did the entire internet already decide I was the villain? Unsurprisingly, a “leaked” voice memo from Molly’s fan group chat surfaced late that night: “Stella’s personality might be a bit… intense, but she’s a really hard worker. I support her choice to perform ‘Shattered Bloom.’ She probably wants this stage more than I do.” One part “she’s a hard worker,” one part “I support her,” and a final, devastating “she wants it more than I do.” Just like that, she was the gracious, magnanimous victim. And I was back on the trending list: #StellaLane:ISnatchYourStageForYourOwnGood #MollyPierceInTears:I’veNeverBlamedHerSheIsTheRealFamily Hilarious. They were so good at writing scripts, I felt I could be a showrunner myself. The next day, my “brother” David showed up. He didn’t call. He stormed right into my rehearsal studio, acting like a concerned older brother checking in. I was in the middle of deconstructing the choreography, tweaking the tempo, and syncing the beats on my laptop. He stood in the doorway, his face a thundercloud. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “I’m rehearsing.” “You’re embarrassing Summit Entertainment.” He killed the music, his voice low and threatening. “‘Shattered Bloom’ is beyond you. Are you using it to attack Molly? To force her out of the industry?” “She already offered to step aside, and you’re still pushing her? Do you have any idea she cried so hard last night we almost took her to the hospital?” I wiped the sweat from my brow, ignoring him as I opened my audio software. “Her crying has nothing to do with me.” David’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea who you are now?” he hissed. “We made your identity public to give you a place, not for you to start a war.” “You’re a public figure now. You represent the company. You represent us.” “Are you trying to make enemies of everyone? To make the entire world hate you?” I stopped what I was doing and looked straight at him, my voice calm. “Then, for now, I don’t represent you.” “If you want to spoil her, go ahead. I won’t fight you for it.” “But I won’t yield, either.” “I don’t need you to acknowledge me, and I refuse to play ‘happy families’ for the cameras.” “I just want to perform on my own stage. Even if I fail, at least it won’t be because I accepted her pity.” David was stunned into silence. He’d dealt with difficult artists before, but never someone like me. Someone who knew her resources were cut, her screen time was limited, and her reputation was being systematically destroyed. And still charged forward. “You keep this up, and you’ll be torn to shreds by the public.” “Fine by me.” I offered a faint smile. “At least I’ll go down with dignity.” He finally turned and left, tossing one last threat over his shoulder. “You’ll regret this.” I sank back to the floor and went back to work on the music. If I wasn’t welcome, I’d carve out my own space. And this time, I was going to make it big. 4 On the day of the “Shattered Bloom” performance, everyone backstage looked at me like they were watching the final seconds before a train wreck. “Are you really going through with this?” the makeup artist whispered for the seventh time. I sat in the wings, my in-ear monitors silent, mentally running through the choreography one last time. No one had come to touch up my makeup; I’d done it myself at 2:30 AM the night before, and my face felt stiff from the absurd amount of setting spray I’d used. All I said was, “How will I know if I don’t try?” The lights went down. The opening notes of “Shattered Bloom” filled the auditorium. The performance began with twenty seconds of absolute stillness, my rhythm dictated only by the rise and fall of my breath. I closed my eyes and sank into the music. The entire venue was silent. Not out of tension, but out of shock. For eight minutes, I transformed the song. I took the original’s jarring emotional shifts and rebuilt them into a layered crescendo of power. Every pause was a breath held, every explosion of movement landed like a punch to the gut. A hair whip, a vocal run, a backbend, a perfectly controlled mic grab, a final, haunting look back. I was rock solid. When I hit my final pose and the lights went dark, a wave of delayed applause erupted, mixed with shouts and screams. “WHO IS THAT?” “IS THAT STELLA LANE?” “THAT WAS INSANE!” As I walked off stage, the contestant next to me was still staring, dumbfounded. “Girl,” she said, “have you been secretly training for this your whole life?” I wiped away the sweat and gave her a small smile, saying nothing. I hadn’t been training secretly. I had been training all along. It’s just that no one was watching. The first thing I did backstage was open Twitter. As expected, #MollyPierceGivesUpAnotherSpot and #AngelicSweetheartStepsBackForSister were trending in the top five. I tapped the screen, looking for a VOD of my performance. “Shattered Bloom” Full Stage: Stella Lane. My entire performance was shown in silhouette, from a distance, or from behind. My face? Not a single shot. Close-ups? Deleted. Even my final, defiant gaze at the camera was gone, replaced with a shot of Molly backstage, silently dabbing a tear. And a new trending topic was pinned: Molly Pierce: I Don’t Blame Her, My Sister Is So Talented. I watched the clip, my expression unreadable. I picked up my phone and logged into my personal account. Ten minutes later, I posted a simple message with a photo of me from behind, scrubbing the floor of the practice room late at night: 【Scrapped song, remixed. Every front-facing shot, deleted. Thanks, production team. It’s fine. I’ll keep dancing until you run out of ways to erase me.】 Within five minutes, the post had ten thousand likes. The comments were flooding in. Twenty minutes later, #StellaLaneFaceDeleted shot to number nine on the trending list. Fifteen different dance critics shared my post. “If you didn’t see the real performance, just wait. I’ll edit it together for you.” #ShatteredBloomRemixIsGodTier #EightMinutesNoBreaks #MySoulLeftMyBodyYouHadToBeThere I turned off my phone, lay down on the cold backstage floor, and closed my eyes. They wanted me to be the counterpoint to their star? Fine. I’ll show them what a counterpoint can do.

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The night before my wedding, I found the pictures on Lawrence’s phone. A girl with a sweet, vibrant smile, captured mostly in candid, stolen shots. I didn’t bottle it up. I didn’t let the poison of doubt fester. I walked straight to him, held out the phone, and demanded an explanation. Lawrence smoked in the living room all night. As dawn broke, he walked into the bedroom and said to me: “I’ll admit it, I have feelings for her. But that’s all.” Ten years. We’d been in love for ten years. Was I really going to throw it all away over a few pictures? The thought was unbearable. So I put on my wedding dress, and I let the ceremony begin. But halfway through, Lawrence’s assistant, Leo, burst through the doors, shouting, “Mr. Shaw! Lily found out about the wedding… she tried to kill herself!” The diamond ring, suspended for a heartbeat, clattered to the cold marble floor. Lawrence bolted for the door like a lightning strike. My eyes burned with tears as I screamed after him, “If you walk out that door, Lawrence, we are done! It’s over!” He paused for a fraction of a second, then vanished without a backward glance. 1. Staring at the endless scroll of photos on the screen, a sharp, cold pain lanced through my heart. There were no intimate selfies, no pictures of them together. Just moments. The glint in her eyes as she focused on her work. The way she pouted, pretending to be mad while eating. The unrestrained joy as she laughed, giddy after getting a bonus. … Most of them were quick, candid snaps. But there were a few where she was looking right at the camera, her face alight with a playful, teasing affection. The old me would have stormed up to Lawrence, smashed the phone against his face, and walked away without a second thought, my pride intact. But now… tomorrow, our ten-year marathon was supposed to reach the finish line. We were supposed to get our happily ever after. We were getting married. We had told all our friends and family, booked the venue, sent the invitations. Happiness was so close I could taste it. And now, at the final hour, I find this. I refused to cry, forcing the tears back, taking a deep, shaky breath. I decided to confront him, to demand the truth. Lawrence is a brilliant man. At such a young age, he had already become the Chief Systems Engineer at a major aerospace firm. Ten years of shared life, of weathering storms together… I thought I knew the man he was. So when I laid the photos out before him, his reaction wasn’t a surprise. He probably never intended to hide it. For eight long hours of darkness, he chain-smoked two packs in the living room while I stared at the stars from our bedroom window. The next morning, just before the makeup artist was due to arrive, he came into the room and confessed. “Her name is Lily Campbell. She’s my assistant.” “And I admit… I’ve developed feelings for her.” The heart I’d been holding in my throat plummeted into the pit of my stomach. But then he continued, his voice earnest. “But Nora, you and I… it hasn’t been easy getting here. I’ll have her transferred out of my team. I promise you, something like this will never happen again.” He looked me in the eye, his promise hanging in the air between us. In ten years, he had never once broken a promise to me. I couldn’t bear to lose him, to sever a love that felt woven into my very bones. So I chose to forgive him. And then, at the wedding, the officiant’s solemn words hung in the air: “Do you, Lawrence, take Nora to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor, and cherish her for the rest of your days?” My heart hammered against my ribs, waiting. Waiting for him to give me—to give us—the perfect ending we deserved. Instead, a single sentence from his assistant was all it took for him to abandon me, leaving the diamond ring to mock me from the cold, hard floor. The entire congregation watched him flee the ceremony. He left me. And just like that, his promise was broken. 2. The venue dissolved into chaos. Our parents, utterly bewildered, rushed to my side. Leo, the assistant, stammered, his eyes darting everywhere but at me. “One of the junior engineers under Mr. Shaw had an emergency… she—she’s got critical project data, and he just had to go check on the situation. I’m sure he’ll be right back.” Leo had worked for Lawrence for eight years. He’d always been respectful, always greeted me with a warm smile and called me “Mrs. Shaw-to-be.” Now, he couldn’t even meet my gaze. I couldn’t begin to imagine how many secrets he’d kept for Lawrence, what role he played in this whole charade with that girl, Lily. A thicket of thorns grew around my heart, the betrayal a physical, piercing pain. My parents held my hands, their voices tight with anger. “This is madness! Who on earth could be more important than his own wedding? To just leave Nora standing at the altar?” Lawrence’s parents were mortified, alternating between frantically calling his phone and trying to soothe me. “Nora, dear, don’t you worry. I’m going to get that boy back here to apologize to you this instant.” The abandoned ring dug into my palm, leaving bloody crescents on my skin. For three hours, every call we made to Lawrence went straight to voicemail. He had run off to be some other girl’s hero, leaving me to burn alone on the pyre of our wedding day, to endure the pitying stares and hushed whispers of our guests. The world tilted, and then it went black. When I woke up, a doctor was speaking to me in a gentle voice. “You need to be careful now. You’re living for two. Try to avoid any emotional distress.” My heart sank as I looked at the ecstatic faces of my parents and Lawrence’s. I managed a bitter, ugly smile as tears finally welled up and spilled over. How was I supposed to tell them that our ten-year love story had just been torn wide open? Not long after, Lawrence arrived. He looked pale, and his eyes were filled with a guilt that felt shallow and distant. My parents left the room, instructing him to apologize properly. The silence in the room was heavy. He took my cold hand, his own grip hesitant. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Nora, in ten years, I’ve never asked you for anything. We’ve always been so good. But this one time… I’m begging you. Please, don’t let this get out. It could ruin Lily’s reputation. Can you do that for me?” My heart seized, twisting into a tight, painful knot. I could barely breathe. He wasn’t here to apologize to me. He was here to ask for a favor. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He hadn’t spared a single thought for my humiliation at the wedding. He wasn’t worried about why I had collapsed and ended up in a hospital. His first words were for Lily. The tears I’d been holding back broke free, a silent, steady stream soaking the corner of the blue hospital blanket. I forced a single word from my throat. “Fine.” He let out a breath, a wave of relief washing over his face. He continued, “Lily… she didn’t take the news of the wedding well. She’s very unstable right now.” His voice became hesitant, almost pleading. “I was thinking… I need to stay at the hospital with her for a few days, just to make sure she’s okay. Maybe… maybe we can postpone things? Just for a little while. Six months. In six months, we can get married. Okay?” Six months. I had waited ten years. What was another six months? I could wait. I really could. But he didn’t need to do this. It was simple, really. He had fallen for someone else. I could handle that. But a suffocating pressure was building in my chest, a fire searing through my insides. And inside me, a tiny life was waiting, depending on me. I thought for a long, long time. My mind was filled with images of that girl’s smile, and the sickeningly fond look on Lawrence’s face as he had gazed at her photos. The tangled mess of grief in my heart suddenly went still. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I gently pulled my hand from his. “Lawrence,” I said softly. “I’m not a genius. But I fell in love with you when I was eighteen, and I’ve been with you for ten years.” “I remember how your hands trembled when you first asked me out. You were so nervous, it was both funny and endearing.” “I remember you cried when I said yes. You held me so tight, and for the first time, I felt a love as real and powerful as my family’s.” “For ten years, you bought me everything I ever wanted. You kept every promise, fulfilled every vow. For ten years, I truly believed you loved me down to your very soul.” I looked up, and the tears came in a torrent. “But today… today I feel like you don’t love me anymore.” That one simple truth shattered my defenses. We had so many beautiful memories. Lawrence’s eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. “But Nora,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “She needs me right now.” She needs me. Those three words struck me like a physical blow, grounding me in a new, cold reality. I was finally, completely awake. I didn’t try to stop him. I just watched him walk out of my hospital room, and out of my life. 3. The next day, as I was being discharged, I saw him in the hallway. He didn’t see me. His entire world was focused on the girl he was gently supporting. She was tall and slender, with a pure, innocent face and large, round eyes. So this was Lily. The girl whose suicide attempt had made the unshakable Lawrence Shaw lose his composure and abandon his own wedding. My gaze must have lingered too long, because she noticed me. Her face went white, and she turned away, clutching Lawrence’s arm nervously. Lawrence saw me then. His brow furrowed in annoyance as he walked toward me. “Nora, Lily’s not well. Whatever this is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene here and embarrass her.” In his arms, Lily looked even paler, as if she were terrified of me. “N-Nora… it’s not what you think. There’s nothing going on between me and Lawrence, I swear.” I clutched the lab report in my hand and offered a small, quiet laugh. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m just here to pay my bill.” Lawrence stared at me, his anger strangely deflating. I walked past them to the payment window without another word. As I was leaving the hospital, a text from him came through. 【Nora, don’t be angry. I was just on edge earlier. I bought you a gift, it’s on its way.】 When the delivery guy knocked, he handed me a cake box. It was the Disney castle cake he always got me when he’d done something to upset me. I was a romantic, and I could be demanding. He thought this was my favorite. The truth was, I’d been sick of it for years. But Lawrence was so busy, so consumed by his work. I loved him, and I didn’t want him to stress over me on top of his all-night research sessions. So every time he sent this cake, I’d put on a show of delight, hoping it would make him happy, too. Now, finally, I didn’t have to pretend anymore. I gave the cake to the neighbor’s kids and texted him back. 【It’s been ten years. Just like with you, even the best cake gets old.】 He must have understood the jab, because he replied immediately. 【I’m sorry. You’re right. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the mall myself and pick out something special for you.】 He didn’t come home that night. It’s not easy to surgically remove a ten-year relationship from your life. I couldn’t sleep. I got up and started packing. As I tossed my things into boxes, memories ambushed me. The year we graduated, Lawrence had just started at the research firm and was constantly buried in work. A year later, he came to me with a ten-year employment contract and a check for a staggering amount of money. He put them both in my hands. “Nora, I told you I’d give you a home. I keep my promises.” The young man in my memory was so earnest, so brave. When he loved me, his passion burned brighter than the sun. I cried and threw my arms around him. We bought this apartment, kissed under the setting sun, and had giddy, endless conversations while picking out furniture at IKEA. The string lights on the balcony, the worn-in rocking chair that held a decade of our whispers, the spot on the living room rug where we’d cuddle with a watermelon and watch cheesy rom-coms… He said he would give me a home. Now, he was forcing me to leave it. 4. It took me three days to clear out everything that was mine. While I was packing the last of the boxes, both sets of parents showed up. I hadn’t had the heart to tell them what Lawrence had done, so to this day, they still didn’t know the real reason we were breaking up. My parents respected my decision, but Lawrence’s mother pleaded with me. “Nora, you’re about to get married! It’s just a little fight. It’s not serious enough to split up over, is it?” I said nothing, just motioned for the movers to continue carrying boxes out. Just as Lawrence’s parents were about to wear themselves out trying to convince me, Lawrence himself walked in. He was holding Lily’s hand. The room fell silent. Everyone stared at them, their faces a mixture of shock and dawning horror. Lawrence’s mother’s voice trembled. “Lawrence… did you… did you do something to hurt Nora?” His father’s eyes widened in fury. “Son! Who is this girl?” Lawrence didn’t answer them. His gaze swept over the half-empty apartment and landed on me. “Where are you moving?” he asked. He was still so calm, so rational. He accepted my departure without a fight. No explanation. No begging me to stay. And he had the audacity to bring her here. “I’m moving back to my real home,” I said, my voice just as level as his. He nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll come find you in a few days.” Then, he pulled Lily forward and introduced her to our families. “This is my assistant from the lab, Lily. She was discharged from the hospital today, so I brought her over for a home-cooked meal.” He said it so casually, so openly, that it made all of our suspicions seem petty and small-minded. Lily linked her arm through Lawrence’s mother’s, her smile cloyingly sweet. “Mrs. Shaw, Lawrence takes such good care of me at work. He even offered to cook for me today to celebrate me getting out of the hospital! But I couldn’t let him go to all that trouble. Since you’re both here, why don’t you let me cook for you? You can try my famous lasagna.” Lawrence’s mother shot me a pained, apologetic look. “Nora, maybe we should all just sit down and talk things through…” I was about to refuse when Lily cut me off, a glint of triumphant provocation in her eyes. “Yes, Nora. Stay for dinner. What do you say?” SMACK. It happened in an instant. My eyes flew open as my mother’s hand connected with Lily’s cheek. “Mom, what are you—?” My mother’s eyes were blazing, her voice shaking with rage as she turned to me. “You are my daughter. Did you really think I wouldn’t know?” “You were eighteen when you got with Lawrence! You’re twenty-eight now! Ten years of your life! You came from a good family, but you learned to cook for him, knit for him, bite your tongue and swallow your pride for him! Do you think I believe you’d be leaving if it wasn’t absolutely unbearable?” Her voice rose, ringing through the room. “I don’t ask for you to marry rich, but today, this boy brings this… thing into your home to slap you in the face? I will not stand for it. If my daughter won’t fight for herself, then her mother will!” Her words hung in the air, sharp and final. Lily clutched her red cheek, stunned into silence. Lawrence looked at her, his face dark with anger as he turned on me. “Nora! How old are you? Still running to your parents to complain—” I didn’t let him finish. A dam of fury broke inside me. I lunged forward, slapping him again and again, the sting of my palm against his cheek a bitter release. Finally spent, I reached under the coffee table, pulled out a folded piece of paper from the drawer, and threw it at his chest. “Do you know what my biggest regret in this life is?” He flinched, then unfolded the paper. As his eyes scanned the page, his pupils shrank to pinpricks. “Nora… you’re… you’re pregnant?”

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The moment my boss led the new CEO into the conference room, my world stopped. “Ms. Lee, this is our team.” The woman was my ex-wife. Three years ago, she had trampled all over my heart and betrayed our love for her first love. Now, she stood there, her brow slightly furrowed, her eyes locked on me. My boss, a seasoned veteran of the corporate world, saw the look on her face and immediately understood we had a history. His gaze instantly shifted to me. “Mr. Miller and I are the project leads,” he announced, his voice a little too loud. “Quinn, now that you’ve tidied up the conference room, you can go.” He shot me a desperate look, practically begging me with his eyes to leave. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension. “This project must be discussed with Mr. Quinn. Mr. Davis, if you change the person in charge, the deal is off.” Everyone froze. “Ms. Lee… this… of course, of course! Quinn, you… you have a good talk with Ms. Lee!” The boss herded everyone out of the room, leaving me alone with her. Her name was Liana. Her eyes were slightly red as she choked out the question. “These past two years, where did you go? Why didn’t you answer my messages?” 1 Memories flooded back, a torrent of pain I had long since buried. But the hysteria of the past was gone. I just looked at her calmly. “Please, have a seat, Ms. Lee. Let’s discuss the project.” My indifference seemed to throw her. She stared at me, lost in thought for a moment, before finally speaking. “As long as you’re in charge of this project, I’ll sign.” I nodded. “That might be difficult.” Liana raised an eyebrow, then called my boss back in. She repeated her condition. My boss’s face lit up with joy, and he agreed immediately. After Liana left, I sat in the chair, my mind blank. For two years, I had told myself not to dwell on the past. It wasn’t worth it. But the more I tried to convince myself, the clearer the images became, a constant torture. I had finally crawled out of that shadow, only to run right back into her. Liana and I were married for five years. We went from high school sweethearts to husband and wife. On our fifth anniversary, she spent a fortune at an auction to acquire a national treasure that had been lost overseas—a jade bi disk carved with a dragon and a phoenix. She then donated it to the national museum in the name of her first love, Julian. During the press interview, she gazed at Julian, who stood beside her, her eyes overflowing with affection. “This jade disk is my birthday gift to Julian,” she’d said. “We discussed it, and he decided to donate it to the museum. We hope all of our nation’s lost treasures can find their way home, back to the ones they love.” The video went viral. Everyone knew about Liana’s undying love for Julian. The internet sang praises of their epic romance. Even her friends sent me smug, passive-aggressive texts. “Hey, Colin. Your wife’s in love.” “Congratulations,” I typed back. Then I looked at the comments on the interview. They were all filled with envy. “This is what a female CEO’s love looks like? I guess trophy husbands really do exist! I love it!” “Childhood sweethearts and first loves, she’s got all the bases covered!” I shook my head, a bitter smile on my face. I ate the dinner I had spent all day preparing, alone. I put away the flowers, peonies that had been flown in that morning, fresh and vibrant. Her favorite. Now, everything in the room seemed to mock me. It was our fifth anniversary. She was the one who had told me to prepare for it. I waited and waited, all for nothing. It was just an excuse to get me out of the way. In the video, her face was soft, her gaze on Julian tender and loving. With me, she always wore a mask of ice. In that moment, I was just… tired. It was like the last breath had finally left my body. The heart that had been hanging in suspense finally fell. I used to think it was just her personality, that she wasn’t a smiley person. Now I knew better. It was just that I wasn’t the one who made her smile. Our love? A self-deception that only I had believed in. I decided it was time to cut the cord, to stop torturing myself. I called her. “Where are you?” I could clearly hear Julian’s laughter in the background, but she didn’t even flinch. Her voice was as cold as ever. “Working late.” She couldn’t even be bothered to come up with a more elaborate lie. The laughter faded as she moved to a quieter place, trying to make the lie more believable. “Liana, I’m tired. Let’s get a divorce.” Hearing the finality in my voice, she was silent for a moment. Then, she exploded. “Colin, are you insane? What is this now? If you’re sick, go see a doctor. Don’t bother me.” “I’ll have the papers sent to you. Just sign them.” I hung up, ignoring the furious tirade that followed. I looked around the room, so familiar yet so foreign. This was where I had cooked and cleaned for her, washed and dried her hair, massaged her feet. Where I had comforted her, soothed her worries countless times. After five years of marriage, I finally understood. No matter how much I did, how good I was, it was all for nothing. I wasn’t the one she loved. Anything he did was right. And I… I was just a placeholder for when he wasn’t around. A way to pass the time. Better than nothing. I packed up everything that belonged to me and left the place I had once considered my home. I moved back into my pre-marital condo. It wasn’t as big as her villa, but it gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. I met with a lawyer and discussed the details of the divorce. He was thorough, offering several strategies to ensure a smooth process. I rested for two days. On the third morning, a call from Liana woke me. “Colin, where did you go? Do you think playing hard to get is interesting?” Her voice was laced with her usual accusatory tone. “Get your ass back here. I already bought you a gift.” The same old pattern. Accusations, blame-shifting, all with an air of absolute entitlement. She never considered my feelings, never tried to see things from my perspective. We were supposed to be a team, but in her eyes, in her heart, I didn’t exist. Once, I collapsed from exhaustion at work. At the same time, a stray cat Julian had taken in threw up a hairball. She was so worried about the cat that she walked right past my unconscious body on the floor and drove over 250 miles to be with him. Even a colleague I didn’t get along with showed more concern, calling an ambulance and taking me to the hospital. When I woke up, the first person I saw was my office rival. Even he was willing to help me, paying my bills and talking to the doctors. My wife? She walked past me without a second glance. Not even a single word of concern. Of course, I was upset. I asked her if I even mattered to her. Her reaction was the same as it was now: furious accusations. “Are you going to make a scene over something so small? Didn’t you get the worker’s comp money? If you don’t want to be married, then let’s get a divorce.” She always used divorce as a threat. I never dared to argue back. I used to love her to the bone. I couldn’t lose her, couldn’t live without her. But the images of her and Julian were burned into my mind. To stop her from divorcing me, I had to lie to myself. Every night, I would tell myself that she was telling the truth, that she and Julian were just good friends, that she loved me. I lived in a fantasy of my own making. She remained on her pedestal, ordering me around, and I was the clueless, lovesick fool. But now, I was done lying to myself. 2 I had plans to have dinner with some colleagues. After work, we all headed to the restaurant. As we stepped out of the elevator, I saw her. Liana. She was standing in the middle of the lobby, bathed in the light of the crystal chandelier. She wore a stunning red dress that made her look both glamorous and cold. Her icy eyes were fixed on me. In the past, I would have been overjoyed. To have such a beautiful wife was a blessing. But now, my heart felt nothing. Instead, I saw something else in her gaze. It was a look of pure indifference, as if I owed her a million dollars. Cold and heartless. I suddenly realized that this was how she had always looked at me. I had just been blinded by love, choosing not to see it. Now, my eyes were open. I quickened my pace, pulling my colleagues along with me. The sound of high heels clicked rapidly behind me. A second later, Liana grabbed my arm. “You have a party tonight,” she said, her voice dripping with arrogance. “You promised me.” I paused. I did seem to remember promising her something. I was about to refuse, but my lawyer’s words echoed in my ears. He had told me that since she was ignoring the divorce papers, the best way to get a smooth separation was not to provoke her. It could lead to unnecessary complications. If I was going to push her buttons, I had to choose the right moment. “Fine.” I got into her car. As the scenery outside flew by, I asked, without thinking, “Why are you wearing this dress?” “It’s Julian’s birthday. He likes red.” The words hung in the air. She fell silent, then glanced at me, only to find me staring out the window. After a moment, she tried to explain. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just thought it was a formal dress, suitable for the occasion.” “Mm.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. She probably didn’t even remember. This red dress… it was a gift from me. She had never worn it for me, never even tried it on in front of me. Her excuse was that it was too revealing, the color too bold for her. But she was the one who had told me she liked red. Now I knew the real reason. Julian liked red. So she had dug this dress out to wear for him on his birthday. She had never cared about me, so she brushed me off with flimsy excuses. She cared about Julian, so she dressed up for him, using my gift to please another man. If she had remembered I gave it to her, she probably would have been too disgusted to wear it. A woman dresses for the one who delights her. The old saying was true. She was a beautiful flower, but she would not bloom for me. The difference between being loved and not being loved was on full display. The car stopped in front of a hotel. A valet led us to a private room. Julian was there, surrounded by a laughing, adoring crowd. The moment he saw Liana holding my arm, I saw a flash of disdain on his face. “You’re finally here! Come, sit,” he said, quickly pulling Liana away from me and seating her next to him. The others quickly filled the seats around them, leaving me standing alone. They all looked at me with smug, mocking expressions. Most of the people here were their friends. They had always believed that Julian and Liana were the perfect match, childhood sweethearts destined to be together. And me? I was just the third wheel who had slipped in after they broke up. I was not worthy of Liana, not in the same league as Julian. In the past, I had been so concerned with Liana’s feelings that I had put up with their taunts and provocations, even trying to win them over. It only resulted in more ridicule. The prejudices in people’s hearts are like mountains; no amount of effort can move them. Now, I chose to ignore them. I found a corner to sit in. What others thought was their business. I wouldn’t let it get to me. “Colin, why are you sitting so far away? You’re already late, aren’t you going to come over and toast the birthday boy and apologize?” I looked up at her, my voice cold. “I don’t want to drink.” I had always been so compliant with her. This small act of defiance, in front of her friends, was a public slap in the face. She was stunned for a moment, then snapped, “What is wrong with you now?” Julian, smiling, gently pulled on her arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. If Colin doesn’t want to drink, it’s fine.” Liana quieted down and immediately turned to chat happily with Julian. They laughed and talked, and everyone looked at them like they were watching a romance unfold. From my corner, I was the odd one out.

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1 I died during a difficult childbirth. When I woke up, I had been reborn fifteen years into the future. On my first day back, I discovered that the precious daughter I had given my life for was being bullied by my husband’s so-called “one that got away,” and her child. And my husband? He had become one of the city’s most enigmatic figures, a recluse cloaked in incense and prayer, detached from the world. So, I grabbed a fistful of his hair, slapped him three times, hard, and asked him coldly, “Is this how you honor my memory?” I forced my eyes open, a dizzying sense of disorientation washing over me. I was standing on the sidewalk next to my old high school. A few pedestrians drifted by, some casting confused glances at my stunned figure. After ten minutes of staring at the sky, I had to accept the impossible truth. Not only had I been reborn, but I had also time-traveled fifteen years into the future. Pulling myself together, I borrowed a phone from a passerby and dialed the number of the man who, before my death, had been my husband: Warren Owen. After a few rings, the call connected. “Hello, who is this?” The familiar male voice, deep and resonant, was the same, yet different. It held a new weight, a magnetic gravity it hadn’t possessed before. A lump formed in my throat. My voice trembled as I spoke, on the verge of tears. “Warren, it’s Sloane. I know this is going to sound insane, but I think I might have… time-traveled? Anyway, I’m at our old high school. Can you just… come get me?” A long, heavy silence stretched from the other end of the line. Just as I was about to say something to break the tension, he let out a short, sharp laugh. It was laced with scorn. “I don’t know how you people got my number, but tell whoever put you up to this to try a more original approach next time. You think mimicking a voice is enough to get my attention? It’s pathetic. Disgusting.” His verbal assault struck me like a physical blow. My fingers went numb, and then a hot rage surged through me. Forgetting where I was, I snapped, my voice sharp and cold. “Warren Owen, have I spoiled you rotten? You can’t even recognize your own wife’s voice? Seems like you’ve wasted the last fifteen years.” The man on the other end choked. I pressed on, my voice dripping with fury. “I don’t care what hole you’ve been hiding in. You have thirty minutes to get your ass over here, or you can go dig your own grave.” I hung up, leaving the phone’s owner staring at me, mouth agape. I managed a weak, apologetic smile and handed it back. She took the phone, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Excuse me… were you talking to… Warren Owen? From Owen Industries? I’m sorry, it was on speaker, and the voice sounded like…” I blinked, then nodded, asking cautiously, “You know him?” She let out a breath of relief and waved a dismissive hand. “Who in this city doesn’t know the prince of the Owen dynasty?” Seeing my curiosity, and assuming I was a friend of his, her inner gossip columnist took over. “After Mrs. Owen died in childbirth, she left him with a daughter. Everyone thought he’d remarry soon, especially after his old flame returned to the country with such a huge splash. But instead, after building Owen Industries into an empire, he just… disappeared. Became a recluse. No one knows where he went, though he sometimes shows up at the annual company gala. But…” “But what?” I prompted. The woman leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, this is just a rumor, but they say he and his old flame are finally getting serious. People are betting he’ll come out of seclusion for her. I mean, she’s Evelyn Croft, the Oscar-winning actress. What man could resist that?” I raised an eyebrow, a cold smile touching my lips. “Looks like I’ve come all this way just in time for a wedding celebration.” Sensing the sudden chill in my demeanor, the woman quickly excused herself and hurried away. Two major shocks in a row. A wave of bitterness and grief washed over me. If Warren and his old flame were truly in love, I wouldn’t stand in their way. I had no right to expect him to mourn me for fifteen years. But my daughter… I hadn’t even met her yet. I had to know if she was okay. Knowing Warren, I had a good idea of where he would have sent her. The best private school in the city—our alma mater. I hailed a cab, and soon, the familiar, imposing gates of the school came into view. 2 Suddenly, a cacophony of jeers and laughter shattered the quiet afternoon. I looked up to see a group of preppy boys, a high-school gang in blazers and loafers, dragging a short-haired girl with a downcast gaze out of the school gates. It was classic bullying. I frowned. This was supposed to be the city’s most elite private academy. How could this be happening here? Something about the girl felt strangely familiar. I found myself following them, an inexplicable pull guiding my steps. The group ducked into a secluded alleyway. At their center stood a pretty, delicate-looking girl with long, flowing hair. But what she did next was anything but delicate. She brutally kicked the short-haired girl in the small of her back. The girl cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground. The long-haired girl sneered. “I heard Uncle Warren got you a huge birthday present. Why don’t you show everyone?” The girl on the ground clutched her backpack tighter, her body trembling. “Not this one!” The leader kicked her again, her pretty face twisted with a viciousness that didn’t belong on someone so young. She spat on the ground next to the girl’s head. “Don’t be a bitch, Sierra Owen.” The name struck my heart like a fist. Sierra. Warren and I had picked it out when I was pregnant. Whether it was a boy or a girl, the name would be Sierra. My gaze snapped to the girl on the ground. Even with her face half-hidden by her hair, I could see her bright, determined eyes. The features, so like my own… it could only be my daughter. Just then, the leader looked down at her cronies. “Grab her bag! And while you’re at it, strip her down. Let’s teach her a lesson about defying me.” My eyes narrowed. The last shred of my reason burned away in a blaze of pure fury. I wanted to tear them all limb from limb. So, Warren, I thought, my blood running cold, this is the life my daughter has been living. I grabbed a heavy wooden plank from a nearby dumpster, stormed into the alley, and shoved my way through the crowd, planting myself in front of Sierra. The long-haired girl jumped back, startled by my appearance. Then, as if triggered, she shrieked, “Who the hell are you? This has nothing to do with you! Get lost before we take you down too!” “Shut up,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “None of you are getting away with this.” A bunch of spoiled brats who hadn’t even been born when I’d single-handedly saved Warren from a team of professional kidnappers. This would be easy. 3 I cracked my knuckles. Luckily, my body still felt like it was in its twenties. Otherwise, this might have been a bit of a workout. A few minutes later, the prep-school thugs were all groaning on the grimy asphalt. I planted my foot on the long-haired girl’s face, grinding it into the pavement. It wasn’t enough. I kicked her hard in the stomach, twice, paying her back for the kicks she’d given my daughter. She coughed up a mouthful of blood and saliva, her body twitching. All her previous arrogance was gone. “My mom…” she sputtered, her words slurred. “My mom won’t let you get away with this! Uncle Warren won’t either!” “Oh? And who’s your mother?” I asked, taking a perverse pleasure in her misery. “Tell me. I’d love to know what kind of bitch raised a little monster like you.” “Her mom… her mom is Evelyn Croft.” Sierra, who had been trembling behind me, finally spoke a full sentence. She tugged timidly at the corner of my jacket. “Miss, you should go. If her mother finds out, you’ll be in danger…” That familiar name again. My heart sank. I was beginning to understand why my daughter’s life had become this. My heart ached. I pulled Sierra into my arms, stroking her soft hair. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered. “Mommy’s here to protect you.” Sierra’s eyes widened. “Mommy…?” she whispered back. “Are you… my mommy?” A bond between a mother and child often needs no explanation. A single look is enough. In that instant, Sierra seemed to believe that this powerful, beautiful woman standing before her was, impossibly, her mother. I helped her up, and we started to walk out of the dark, damp alley. As we emerged into the light, we ran straight into an unwelcome figure. “Dad… what are you doing here?” Sierra asked timidly. Speak of the devil. I looked up. The man in front of me had barely changed. He was broader, more muscular, and carried himself with a quiet, mature confidence, but it was him. It was as if fifteen years had left nothing more than a speck of dust on him. “Warren,” I said coolly. “Long time no see.” The moment he saw me, his eyes went red. He reached out a trembling hand, as if to touch my face, then snatched it back as if burned. “Sloane…” he stammered, completely at a loss. “It’s really you. You came back.” I felt Sierra’s hand on my arm tighten, and my expression grew colder. Warren flinched under my glare, finally taking in the scene around him. The long-haired girl I’d beaten to a pulp saw him and began crawling toward him like he was her savior, weakly pleading for him to save her, to kill the “vicious woman” who had attacked her. Warren frowned down at her, his voice edged with annoyance. “You again?” I cut him off. “What’s the matter? Are you going to kill me to avenge your precious old flame?” His frown deepened. “What old flame? You know perfectly well I don’t have one.” “I don’t care if you do or not. Warren, you’ve disappointed me more than I can say.” I tried to walk around him, pulling Sierra with me. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. His eyes were so red they looked like they might start bleeding. “Don’t you go!” he roared, his voice cracking. “You’re not leaving me again!”

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1 On my wedding day, I waited and waited for my fiancé, Alex, to pick me up, but the wedding car was nowhere in sight. When it finally arrived, I saw that it was draped in black cloth. Inside, the seats were covered in white linen, transforming it into a hearse. Alex’s young assistant, Chloe, sat in the passenger seat, clutching a small urn. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Evelyn,” she sobbed, “please don’t be upset. My little dog, Dot, died yesterday. The fortune teller said today was an auspicious day for a burial, so she could be reincarnated. Alex said we could give Dot a ride on the way. You don’t mind, do you?” I stared at Alex, my voice cold. “For your assistant’s dog, you turned our wedding car into a hearse?” “There’s an old saying,” he said, his voice laced with impatience. “Marriage is the death of love. A wedding car, a hearse… what’s the difference?” I ripped off my veil, threw it to the ground, and made a phone call. “Are you free to get married today?” … The ceremony was in an hour, but Alex wasn’t answering his phone. I pulled up his assistant Chloe’s contact, planning to ask her what was going on. Alex had delegated all the wedding planning to her, telling me, “All you have to do is be a beautiful bride. Let your assistant handle the trivial stuff.” Chloe had insisted on a “unique and modern” approach, forgoing the traditional grand procession. Instead, she suggested the bride and groom drive to the chapel together, hand in hand, for a more “romantic” entrance. Which meant that now, my only option was to wait for Alex to pick me up. I opened my messaging app and saw that Chloe had just posted a new photo. It was a black-and-white shot of her, dressed in mourning, a white camellia tucked into her hair. Her eyes were swollen, a picture of delicate sorrow. She was leaning her head on a man’s shoulder, cradling a small urn. The caption read: “Mommy and Daddy will love you forever.” The man’s shoulder looked familiar, but I quickly closed the app before I could dwell on it. Seeing something like that on my wedding day was just bad luck. A question flickered through my mind—Chloe wasn’t married, was she? Where did the “Daddy” come from? Before I could think any further, Alex called and told me to come downstairs. Clutching my bouquet, I rushed out the door, my heart full of joy. The smile froze on my face. Our wedding car was draped in black. Through the window, I could see the seats were covered in white cloth. It looked exactly like a hearse. Just yesterday, this car had been a vision. It was decorated with my favorite flowers and sparkling crystals, adorned with romantic symbols of love. I had poured my heart into every detail, all for this day. Now, it was all gone. In its place was a somber, lifeless hearse. My blood ran cold. “Alex,” I stammered, “what is this?” From the passenger seat, Chloe rolled down the window, her voice thick with tears. “Evelyn, please don’t be upset. My little dog, Dot, died yesterday. The fortune teller said today was an auspicious day for a burial, so she could be reincarnated. Alex said we could give Dot a ride on the way. You don’t mind, do you?” She sniffled. “I just couldn’t stand all the festive decorations on the car, so I made a few changes with some black fabric. Black and white are very trendy for weddings now, you know. I thought it would work. This way, we don’t have to delay the wedding or Dot’s funeral.” Who in their right mind decorates a wedding car with black drapes and white sheets? The blood rushed to my head. My voice became shrill. “Today is my wedding day, Chloe. Are you doing this just to spite me?” “Alex, we’re getting married today, and you’ve turned our wedding car into a hearse for a dog? Aren’t you worried about the bad omen?” “All our friends and family are waiting at the hotel. Are you seriously going to drive this to the wedding?” Alex’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “It’s just transportation. As long as it gets us to the hotel, what’s the big deal? Can’t you have a little compassion?” 2 “There’s an old saying,” he continued, “marriage is the death of love. A wedding and a funeral, what’s the difference? A hearse is perfectly appropriate.” “Besides,” he added, “Chloe couldn’t even get a taxi while holding Dot’s urn. If we don’t help her, who will? You’re usually so understanding. What’s wrong with you today?” Tears streamed down my face. I lunged forward and started ripping the black fabric off the car. “Who gave you permission to touch my wedding car? What gives you the right?” Chloe rushed over to stop me. “Evelyn, please don’t! Today is Dot’s funeral. Please, let her go in peace.” “Get away from me!” I shoved her. She stumbled back and fell into Alex’s arms. He steadied her, then grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. “Haven’t you had enough? Your wedding dress is white, isn’t it? What’s wrong with white seats? Is this some kind of double standard? Have some decency.” My hand slammed against the pavement. A sharp pain shot through my palm, and blood began to well up. I pointed a trembling finger at the urn in Chloe’s arms. “Alex, do you hear yourself? Have you even for one second considered my feelings?” “A woman gets married once in her life, and you want me to ride in a hearse? Do you even want to marry me?” Alex was about to argue, but Chloe stopped him. “Alex, it’s all my fault. I was just so heartbroken about Dot, I didn’t think about Evelyn’s feelings. The wedding is much more important than Dot. And she was just my pet. I can handle this myself.” Her tears fell onto the small urn. “I don’t have any family in this city. Dot was all I had. She was like family to me. I’m sorry. I just wanted to give her a perfect funeral.” Her voice cracked. “Even if I have to walk, I’ll get to the cemetery.” She opened the passenger door and stumbled out of the car, a fragile, pitiable figure in her black dress. She looked at me, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Evelyn. Please, get in the car.” Alex got out and grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere. I said I’d give Dot a ride, and I will. Don’t you remember? I said I’d be her daddy, didn’t I?” Suddenly, Chloe’s social media post from this morning flashed in my mind. “Mommy and Daddy will love you forever.” She was Mommy, and Alex was Daddy. And that familiar shoulder… it was his. Chloe had joined Alex’s company as a secretary a year ago. He praised her for being meticulous and thoughtful and quickly promoted her to his primary assistant, entrusting her with many important tasks. I’d heard whispers from older colleagues, subtle hints that I should watch out for Alex and Chloe. But this was Alex, the man I had loved for years, the man who loved me deeply. I would have suspected any other man of cheating, but never him. Now, the truth was staring me in the face. Chloe was more than just a secretary, and Alex was no longer the man I knew. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I choked, unable to speak. Today was supposed to be the culmination of our ten-year love story, and this was happening. Alex turned back to me. “Do you have to be like this? Do you know how far the cemetery is? Do you know how long it would take Chloe to walk there? You know no one will give her a ride while she’s carrying an urn. Do you really have to pick a fight with her when she’s at her most vulnerable?” As he got closer, I caught a whiff of camellia perfume. It was Chloe’s scent. I felt a wave of nausea and took a step back, covering my mouth. He opened the car door and helped Chloe back in. “You don’t have to get out. I said I’d take you, and I will.” He got back in the car and looked at me. “Get in. The wedding is about to start, isn’t it? I promised we’d have the ceremony first. You’ll still be a beautiful bride. After the wedding, we’ll go with Chloe to bury Dot.” 3 Rage surged through me. I yanked open the car door. “Chloe, this is my car. Please get out. I do not consent to you taking this car to a cemetery. I can call a taxi for you, or have a friend drive you.” “Alex, call the wedding planner right now and have them restore this car to its original state.” Chloe looked at me, tears streaming down her face. She wiped her eyes fiercely. “Fine. I won’t disrupt your wedding. I wish you both happiness.” She gently pushed Alex’s hand away and looked up at him, her face a mask of tragic beauty. “Go get married. I told you we weren’t heading in the same direction. Why did you have to make Evelyn angry?” “Just let me take Dot myself.” She pressed her face against the urn. “Dot, Mommy will take you.” Alex exploded. He shoved me away, and I stumbled back into a flower bed. The sharp edge of the planter dug into my back. A searing pain shot through me, and my vision went black. The bouquet fell from my hand. “Enough! Are you done? How long are you going to throw a fit over a car? As long as I’m the one marrying you, that should be enough. What more do you want?” “You’re about to be Mrs. Reed. You’ll have everything. Why are you making things so difficult for Chloe? All she had was Dot, and now she’s lost her too. Are you really going to push her to the edge?” “If I had known you would turn into such a cruel, unreasonable person, I never would have agreed to marry you.” His words were a knife, twisting in my heart. Alex and I were college sweethearts. He was on a full scholarship, from a poor family, and had taken out loans to get through school. We fell in love on campus. To protect his pride, I hid my own family’s wealth and started a business with him. After graduation, we struggled together, enduring countless hardships. Finally, things had started to look up. We had our own company. With my father’s secret help, Alex’s business grew, and he became a rising star in the city’s business world. He had proposed, and today was our wedding. I had invited all our friends and family. I was going to reveal my family’s identity to him at the wedding. I believed we could live happily ever after. But now, as I watched him hold his fragile secretary, as I looked at the car I had bought, now transformed into a hearse, I closed my eyes. Maybe things had changed a long time ago. Maybe I just hadn’t been willing to see it. Alex looked at me coldly. “I’m giving you two choices. One, get in the car now, and we’ll go to the hotel for the ceremony.” “Two, if you’re going to keep throwing a tantrum, then you can walk. After all, you’re the one who doesn’t want to ride in a hearse, right?” Through the car window, I could see Chloe still nestled in his arms, her eyes, when she glanced at me, full of triumph and provocation. She “helped” by saying, “Evelyn, don’t be angry. I’ll try to talk to Alex.” Then she turned to him, her voice a coquettish whisper. I could just make out the words: “Evelyn has been dreaming of marrying you. Even if you leave her here, she’ll forgive you. She’ll find a way to the hotel. But can’t you just humor her a little?” “You can’t just assume she’ll marry you no matter what and treat her like this.” “I’ve spoiled her,” Alex said coldly. “That’s why she’s so unreasonable.” I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. He gritted his teeth. “Fine. If you’re not getting in, then walk.” He stomped on the gas. The car sped off, leaving me standing there. My bridal bouquet was crushed under the tires, a mangled, unrecognizable mess. I sank to the ground, covering my face, and sobbed. A text message came through. It was from Alex. Since you’re being so childish, you must not be in a hurry to get married. We’ll postpone the ceremony until tonight. I’m taking Chloe to bury Dot first. You should take this time to reflect on your behavior. The Mrs. Reed I want is obedient, sensible, and understanding. Not a hysterical brat like you.

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