Category: English

1 The day I entered the palace, my dowry—a hundred chests—was displayed at the gates. Strange words flashed before my eyes: [Run! That’s Consort Clara—skinned alive by Emperor Cyrus and fed to his python!] [The emperor hates curvy women! Her parents sent her to die for their adopted daughter!] [Switch places with the adopted girl now!] In my past life, I believed those words and refused to enter the palace. My parents sent their adopted daughter in my place, with my dowry. I married the poor scholar she rejected—his cruel mother, sharp-tongued sister, and five stepchildren broke me. When I fled home, my adopted sister whipped me out: “A wife’s duty is to serve her husband! Running back shames all women!” My parents, who once adored me, coldly sent me back: “You belong to his family now. Live or die there.” I starved, froze, and died in my third winter. Only then did I learn the floating words were her trickery. Now, my adopted sister Theodora clutched my sleeve, greed dripping from her eyes. The words swirled madly. I picked up my wedding gown, staring her down: “You want to be Consort?” “You’re not worthy.” The imperial sedan, sent to escort me into the palace, waited outside the gate. Theodora, my cousin-sister, stared at the red wedding gown in my hands, her eyes practically overflowing with jealousy and malice. “Cousin Clara, I hear His Majesty has fangs and a green face, and kills people as casually as chopping vegetables. Your figure, naturally plump as it is, which man would ever favor it? How will you possibly fare in the palace?” Ever since the imperial decree naming me Consort Clara arrived, she had been whispering malicious rumors about the Emperor, off and on. I had always thought she was concerned for me, worried about my well-being, and thus sought out information. Only later did I realize she was clearly coveting my dowry and my position as Consort. I slammed my teacup to the ground, the porcelain shattering. “Insolence! Speaking ill of His Majesty, Cousin, do you wish for our entire family to be punished by imperial decree?” Theodora, startled by my sudden severity, shrank back. Countless floating words instantly erupted before my eyes. [Heroine, don’t be a fool! Only your cousin tells you the truth!] [Exactly! Only your cousin wants to save you, heroine! Quick, tell her to swap places with you! As long as you don’t enter the palace, you’ll be saved!] Theodora’s tears flowed instantly, just as easily as they had in my past life. “I am merely concerned for you, Cousin, fearing you will not fare well.” She cried with such genuine emotion, as if she truly worried for me. If not for the bitter lessons of my past life, I might truly have believed I misunderstood her. I ignored her completely, turning my back and, in front of her, began to put on my wedding gown. “My apologies, Cousin, but with a hundred chests of dowry and the position of Consort, how could I not fare well?” “If I recall correctly, Cousin, you are also marrying today, aren’t you? Why haven’t you changed into your dress yet?” “Unless… you wish to enter the palace with me? As a concubine?” Seeing the maids and matchmakers all looking at her, Theodora’s face turned from green to purple. “Cousin, how could you think such a thing of me?” “If not, then Cousin, please return to your room to get ready. It would be improper to miss the auspicious hour.” Theodora froze, stubbornly unwilling to leave. She wouldn’t give up today without achieving her goal! I waved my hand, and several maids immediately surrounded her. “Young Miss Theodora, allow us to escort you to get ready.” “Young Miss, the groom is waiting impatiently.” The floating words suddenly reappeared, overwhelming me! [No way?! Is the heroine actually going to feed the python?! Oh my god, she’s actually refusing this perfect chance to swap places!] [Though the scholar is poor, he truly dotes on his wife! The heroine will surely not suffer if she marries him.] [Good advice is wasted on the doomed!] I scoffed. Since this was the perfect husband Theodora herself had chosen, let her experience him firsthand. I put on my phoenix crown, and Mother placed the red veil over my face, escorting me out the door. The wedding sedan swayed, and a wave of overwhelming drowsiness suddenly washed over me. Something was wrong! The floating words appeared again. [Just sleep. Everything will be fine when you wake up.] [Don’t struggle! Even a strong man couldn’t withstand this knockout drug! You won’t be able to stay awake.] Theodora had actually drugged me with a knockout potion! I desperately pinched my palms and thighs, but my vision grew increasingly blurry. In a split second, I pulled out the golden hairpin from my hair and stabbed it hard into my thigh! Blood gushed! The pain instantly cleared my head. Peeking through the sedan curtain, I saw it—this was definitely not the way to the palace! I immediately ordered the sedan bearers to stop. “Stop! I am His Majesty’s Consort Clara! Where are you taking me?” A cold scoff came from outside the sedan. “What daydream are you having? This is clearly Scholar Wyatt’s sedan for his new bride.” Theodora swapped my sedan? But how was that possible? Mother herself had helped me into this sedan. No time to think. I immediately slipped off a golden bangle from my wrist and handed it to the sedan bearers. “Turn around, head for the Imperial Palace. These are all yours.” The sedan absolutely could not reach the Wyatt family’s home, or everything would be too late. They took the golden bangle, bit it to test its authenticity, exchanged glances, and then pocketed it. Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the next second, he spat at me directly. “Old Man Cloud and Old Lady Cloud already told us their daughter had hysterics. Send you to the palace? Dream on.” Floating words danced before my eyes. [You’ll be at the Wyatt home soon, why are you still resisting? Just be a good wife to Scholar Wyatt.] [Though Scholar Wyatt has five children, all five will become powerful officials in the future, very promising! How can you bear to see them without a mother?] [Accept your fate, accept your fate.] The sedan bearers directly blocked the sedan door. The suffering of my past life flashed before my eyes like a galloping horse. No, I absolutely would not yield. I grabbed the hairpin and stabbed it fiercely into their backs. The sedan bearers screamed and released the sedan poles. I seized the opportunity and bolted out. This place was not far from the capital. If I ran fast enough, perhaps I could still make it. However, the moment I stepped out of the sedan, Scholar Wyatt emerged from nowhere. His teeth yellowed, he grabbed a handful of my hair. “You stinking hag, the Cloud family has already sold you to me. Where do you think you’re going?” [Don’t let his looks deceive you, he’s truly a good man who dotes on his wife.] [Little Sister, you’ve really hit the jackpot by marrying him.] [Quick, go and perform the marriage rites with him.] I kicked him hard in the stomach. “The one marrying you is Theodora White, not me! You’ve been tricked! I am Consort Clara, personally bestowed by the Emperor! Can you bear the consequences of offending a Consort?” He cried out in pain from my kick, and slapped me directly across the face. “You stinking woman! I don’t care what Consort or not Consort you are! The Cloud family sent you here, so you’re my wife now!” “Now hurry up and come home with me for the marriage rites! My clothes are waiting for you to wash!” I was dizzy from his slap, my eyes seeing stars, and I spat out a mouthful of blood. The floating words gloated: [You should have just gone along with the marriage rites, why did you dare to hit your husband? You deserve to be beaten to death, you deserve it.] [Men are heaven, he is your heaven, how can you resist him?] [Once you enter the Wyatt family’s door, be a good wife and mother.] The entrance to the Wyatt family home was just ahead. I stopped, giving up the struggle entirely. Scholar Wyatt, noticing my sudden cessation of resistance, paused in surprise. In that very instant, I pulled out the sachet of scented powder from my bosom and flung it into his eyes. “You wretched woman!” Scholar Wyatt cursed angrily, rubbing his eyes. But his eyes were completely coated in powder. He chased for two steps, then stumbled and fell to the ground. I summoned every ounce of strength, running frantically. I finally caught up to Theodora’s phoenix sedan just before it entered the palace. I threw myself onto the sedan. “I am the real Clara Frost! I am the Consort appointed by the Emperor! The person inside is an impostor!” “An impostor?” The guards looked at me, uncertain. Young Miss Cloud rarely left the residence; they had never seen me before. I frantically searched my body for a token to prove my identity. My cousin-sister, Theodora, tearfully peeked out from the phoenix sedan. “Cousin, you eat my family’s food, live in my family’s house. Your usual jealousy is bad enough, but now you even want to snatch my chance at becoming a Consort?” “It’s not that I’m unwilling to yield, but Cousin, your figure is so plump. If His Majesty sees you, it might even implicate our entire Cloud family.” Passersby gathered, two by two. “Stealing your own cousin’s marriage? That’s utterly shameless.” “With her appearance, she doesn’t even look like a noble lady. And she wants to impersonate Young Miss Cloud to marry into the palace and become a concubine? She must have eaten a leopard’s heart!” “Precisely! Precisely!” I had run so hard, my wedding gown was torn and stained with blood, my hair a complete mess. Meanwhile, Theodora in the sedan wore a phoenix crown and robes, her clothes spotless. To anyone looking, she would appear to be the true Young Miss Cloud. The floating words reappeared to sow discord. [Don’t bother explaining, no one will believe you. If Emperor Cyrus sees you like this, he might even execute your entire clan.] [Your parents were so good to you, do you want to implicate them too?!] [Quick, say you’re jealous of your cousin, say it!] I gritted my teeth, gripping the phoenix sedan with all my might. A guard kicked me in the lower back, pointing his saber at me. Just then, I saw my parents rushing over, and a wave of overwhelming joy washed over me. “Father, Mother, Theodora swapped my sedan! Quick, tell them I’m the real Clara Frost!” No one could prove my identity better than my parents. Father rushed over, but before I could speak, he slapped me. “My own daughter, how could I not recognize her? You dare to come here and cause trouble!” “Our Cloud family fed you, clothed you, and yet you still want to steal my daughter’s marriage?” “The one in the phoenix sedan is my daughter, Clara Frost! Our Cloud family only recognizes this one daughter!” Mother hid behind Father, wiping away tears. “Theodora, please, stop causing trouble. Your husband’s family is waiting for you.” “Just go back and be a good wife and mother.” It turned out my parents had already sided with Theodora. The surrounding commoners began to spit at me. “How can there be such a shameless person in this world?” “She must have gone mad with hysterics.” Outside the crowd, Scholar Wyatt caught up. He grabbed my arm, twisting it, and pulled me up. “Excuse me, everyone, I accidentally let my crazy wife escape.” “Now hurry up and come home with me for the marriage rites!” With that, he dragged me by the arm, pulling me out of the crowd. The crowd automatically parted for him. Was I destined to be unable to change my fate, even in this new life? The floating words flashed by rapidly, one by one, filled with mockery. [I told you already, accept your fate, struggling is useless.] [Even your own parents don’t recognize you. You’ll never be able to turn your life around.] [Being a stepmother to five children, a housemaid for the Wyatt family, that is your final destiny, ha ha ha.] I was powerless to resist, completely trapped by Scholar Wyatt. Tears of helplessness streamed down my face. However, at that moment, a shrill voice suddenly boomed through the air. “Everyone, stop! His Majesty has arrived!” A yellow imperial carriage halted before me. The Emperor, his lips slightly curved, rested his pale, slender hand on the carriage. His dark gold dragon robes billowed in the wind, his knuckles lightly tapping. “How dare you insult My Consort?” Everyone by the roadside knelt in terror.

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1 I’m dying. A lonely soul in life, a wandering ghost in death. I’m a fairly considerate person, so I worry my body might stay in the house too long after I’m gone. Rotting, decomposing, festering, swarming with maggots. It wouldn’t just mess up my own place, which is bad enough, but if it affected the feng shui and property value of the entire apartment complex, or ruined my neighbors’ moods and appetites, that would be truly awful. So, I called my ex-boyfriend, the one I broke up with seven years ago. “When I die, could you do me a favor and take care of my body?” A few minutes of silence stretched between us. “Sure,” he finally said, his voice flat. “Perfect for feeding the dogs.” I hung up the phone, a wave of disappointment washing over me. Online, you can find food delivery, errand runners, even designated drivers, but not a single service for posthumous body disposal. I’m dying. The kind of dying where there’s no cure. After the initial shock, fear, rage, and utter breakdown, I’ve quietly accepted this reality. After all, I have no family, no one to rely on. Dying will just mean being alone in a different place. But my biggest worry is that if I die at home, with no one ever visiting, my body might linger for a long time. Decomposing, putrefying, festering, oozing, crawling with maggots, emitting a truly horrifying stench… Maybe it wouldn’t be discovered until the entire building suffered from a full-blown biohazard attack? By then, it would be too late. I’m quite vain, and I certainly don’t want my body to be an eyesore when it’s finally discovered. And I do have a sense of civic duty. I don’t want my apartment to become a ‘death house,’ affecting my neighbors’ peace of mind and appetites. And I definitely don’t want to drag down the property values in the neighborhood. With the real estate market in a slump, homeowners are already living miserable lives, and I don’t want to pile more misery on them. Of course, I could choose to die in a hospital, smiling my last in a sterile bed. But I despise the smell of disinfectant. So, I absolutely need someone to take care of my body. To turn me into ash as quickly as possible—clean, eco-friendly, and hygienic. After much thought, my ex-boyfriend was the only one I could possibly ask. I unblocked his number and tried calling, silently praying he hadn’t changed it. It connected. I could hear his low breathing on the other end, but neither of us spoke. “Liam… Liam Hayes?” “I… it’s Elara Vance…” I wasn’t sure if he’d deleted my contact information, so I identified myself. Beep! Beep! The call disconnected. It had to be Liam. If it were anyone else, they’d at least say, “Wrong number.” Shamelessly, I redialed. This time, the busy signal rang for a dozen beats before he finally picked up. Fearing he’d hang up again, I rushed out my request, rattling it off as quickly as rattling off a grocery list. “Don’t hang up! I know you hate me! But I’m dying! Can you take care of my body after? Watching me die in front of you would be pretty satisfying, wouldn’t it?” I finished in one breath. This time, he didn’t hang up. After seven long years, his familiar yet estranged voice finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dying?” he scoffed. “As far as I’m concerned, you died in my heart ages ago!” He was mocking me, twisting the knife. But I’m a woman who isn’t even afraid of death anymore, so what did a little sarcasm matter? “Your wish for me to die is a lovely sentiment, but it’s just wishful thinking. This time, though, I really won’t make it past three months. You should cherish this chance to personally send me off. Miss this, and you’ll never buy an experience like it again, no matter how much money you throw at it.” I pleaded, like a seasoned salesperson pitching her wares. “Hahahahaha!” Liam suddenly burst into boisterous laughter. “Elara, you really will go to any lengths to get close to me, won’t you?” His voice dripped with schadenfreude. “Even though you haven’t contacted me in years, I’ve been keeping tabs on you.” “I know your life has gone to hell. Your family went bankrupt, your dad killed himself, your mom ran off, and you even got divorced, abandoned by Julian Thorne. Now you’re all alone, abandoned by everyone, probably looking pretty pathetic, aren’t you?” “I genuinely suspect you’re a jinx! Because everyone who gets close to you ends up miserable! But those who leave you? They thrive!” “Just like me now—successful, accomplished, a true self-made man!” Even over the phone, I could vividly imagine the grimacing, vengeful expression on Liam’s face. “So, are you at your wit’s end, coming to beg me now?” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “Trying to play dead and pathetic to gain my sympathy? Do you really think I still have any lingering feelings for a fickle gold-digger like you?” “No! Playing the victim won’t work on me! Because if you really died in front of me, I’d take your corpse and feed it to the dogs!” I thought about it seriously. My corpse being fed to dogs might be a bit gruesome, but it would definitely be better than rotting and stinking, covered in maggots, wouldn’t it? Besides, I quite like dogs. “Could you feed me to a Border Collie? I really don’t like Huskies.” I offered the suggestion earnestly. “You…” Liam was choked by my bluntness. He must have thought I was deliberately provoking him, and he hung up again. I didn’t call a third time. I didn’t want to invite further humiliation. I started searching for funeral homes and crematoriums in the city on my phone, wondering if I could reserve a spot in advance. But Liam was already at my doorstep. He knew my current address. 2 “Thirty years the river flows east, thirty years it flows west. Never underestimate the underdog!” Liam had told me that saying back in college. He loved reading fantasy novels and said that line came from some cheesy fantasy book. He even praised my beauty, saying I was “a ten-out-of-ten bombshell.” Reality is even more fantastical than fiction. It didn’t take thirty years; just seven years were enough for Liam’s life and mine to completely invert. Seven years ago, he was a struggling college student, dependent on student loans to finish his degree. I was a privileged heiress with a hefty fortune. He loved me to death, humble and devoted. But I dumped him, played him, and cast him aside. “Liam, we’re not a good match. We don’t belong in the same world.” “I was just toying with you, but I’m done playing now.” “You didn’t actually think I’d marry you, did you?” “Hahahaha! I couldn’t bring myself to be seen with someone like you!” “Get lost! A pauper like you doesn’t deserve to talk about love!” I watched Liam weep bitterly before me. The fire in his eyes slowly extinguished. I was certain that I had, with my own hands, crushed his innocence and his capacity for love. Seven years later. He was now a successful young entrepreneur. While others his age were still relying on trust funds, he had built his own empire, becoming a self-made millionaire, even making it onto the Forbes list. He exuded maturity, confidence, and sheer dominance. And I was utterly ruined. The halo of my privileged heiress status had shattered, and now I was living in a cramped, old apartment less than 500 square feet. Unemployed, without family, without friends. And, most importantly, I was dying. I was asking him to take care of my body after I was gone. My story with him felt like a cruel, twisted joke from hell. “You don’t look so good, and you seem exhausted,” Liam said, one hand in his pocket, the other leaning casually against the wall. He’d always been handsome, but with money, his aura was even more striking. His Armani suit and Vacheron Constantin watch screamed success. Not like when we first dated, when his faded high school uniform stretched well into his sophomore year. I used to force him to buy new clothes, but he always complained they were too expensive. “Did you get thin because your family went bankrupt and you can’t handle a hard life?” He was laughing at my misfortune again, taking in my cramped home with an amused glance. “The apartment is small, but it’s clean. Though, honestly, I’d rather see someone like you living on the streets.” I looked around the small apartment with a touch of wistfulness. It was just a studio. This was the third home I’d lived in during my twenty-five years. The smallest, the most humble, the shabbiest. It couldn’t compare to the mansion I grew up in, much less Julian’s family estate. Yet, it was where I felt safest, warmest. I’d bought it with every penny of my own savings, earned through hard work. Dying here felt like a quiet contentment. That’s why I particularly didn’t want to leave it dirty or cursed after I was gone. “Thank you for coming.” I opened a drawer and took out the title deeds and a handwritten agreement. “I don’t have much savings left; this apartment is my only asset. After I die, please sell the apartment for me. The money should be enough to buy a burial plot and handle my funeral arrangements. There should be a hundred thousand or so left over after that. Please donate it. I don’t have any family or friends to leave it to, and you wouldn’t care for such a small sum anyway.” I calmly laid out my last wishes, but Liam suddenly erupted in fury! He lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me hard against the wall! He leaned in, our faces inches apart, his eyes blazing, his breath hot against my skin. “I don’t know whether to commend your acting or condemn your shamelessness!” he growled, his teeth clenched. “A wicked woman like you won’t die that easily. And even if you did, you would donate money? Haven’t you always taken pleasure in toying with the dignity of the poor?” His facial muscles twitched with a grim, vengeful pleasure. “So, now you’re truly poor! That’s karma!” “I’m almost afraid you will die! Death would be an escape, wouldn’t it? No! You should live and suffer a lifetime of punishment and torment!” His grip hurt me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t acting, that I truly was dying, and I even pulled out my medical records. But he dismissed them as props I’d bought online. Finally, I grew impatient. My life is my own; why should I have to prove to you that I’m dying? I suddenly thought of Old Man Peterson, the kind-hearted recycling collector who often came to our complex. Maybe I should entrust him with this? After I die, he could have all the furniture and items in my apartment, and I’d ask him to take care of me too. “You’re hurting me!” I struggled to break free. “If you don’t want to, then fine. Pretend I never asked. You can go.” But Liam wouldn’t leave. He was like a hunter toying with his prey, a cold glint in his eyes. “Since you love playing games so much, I’ll play along!” he sneered. “I’m taking care of your corpse, no matter what! You said you’d die in three months, didn’t you?” He stared at me, his voice sharp with accusation. “What if you don’t die by then?” “I’m genuinely looking forward to seeing your pathetic, shameless face then!” “If you had any shame at all, you’d just kill yourself and apologize!” Liam laughed after delivering his taunts, seemingly certain he had me cornered. I smiled too. You are just one person. The Grim Reaper and I are on the same team. Trying to spite me? You’re bound to lose! 3 In my plan, Liam would simply come collect my body after I died. I’d made an agreement with him: we’d contact each other every three days to confirm I was still alive. If more than three days passed without me reaching out, it meant something had happened. He already had my house key, so he would have to come and handle the arrangements. It was getting hot; there was no time to waste. But Liam found this arrangement too dull. The very next day, he appeared at my apartment again. “Get dressed and come with me.” “Where are we going?” “To buy you a burial plot!” He grinned, a strange, twisted smile. “Saying I’d feed you to the dogs was just talk, you know. Dogs are man’s best friends; they can’t eat garbage.” “So, where we bury you, I’ll at least respect your opinion.” I could guess Liam’s intention. He was convinced I was putting on an act, that my talk of dying was just a pathetic ploy to evoke his sympathy. So, he was using the act of buying a burial plot to try and disgust me. Of course, I wasn’t disgusted. I believed that once a person dies, they’re just gone; it doesn’t really matter where you’re buried. But I didn’t want to spoil Liam’s fun, so I got into his Porsche, and we toured several large cemeteries on the outskirts of the city. At each location, Liam would deliberately announce loudly to the cemetery salesperson, “We’re buying this to bury her!” I would always respond politely, smiling at the salesperson, “Sorry for the trouble.” It made the salespeople visibly uncomfortable. They’d be mid-pitch, waxing poetic about the wonderful conditions and auspicious feng shui of the plot, only to stammer awkwardly because of my premature appearance as the future occupant. “It’s fine, please continue,” I’d reassure them. “I think the conditions here are quite good.” The burial plot was chosen. On the drive down the mountain, Liam, seeing my composure, couldn’t help but ask, “You really don’t mind?” “You’ve made very thorough arrangements,” I said, looking at the lush, green surroundings of the cemetery. “I definitely won’t have trouble sleeping once I’m lying here.” Liam had intended to upset me, but instead, I had thoroughly rattled him. He stomped his foot. “Fine! You don’t care, huh? We’ll keep looking! You’ve got a plot, but no funeral attire yet, right? No urn? No memorial portrait?” “I’ll arrange it all for you!” he declared. “And we need to book the professional mourners in advance too!” Liam was a man of his word. He actually took me to handle all these things. We bought seven sets of funeral attire—long and short, for all four seasons. The urn was sculpted from jade, intricately carved with dragons and phoenixes. There was a minor mix-up when we took the memorial portrait; the photographer initially thought we were a couple taking engagement photos. When he learned it was for a memorial, he was clearly displeased. “I’m sorry, I don’t take these kinds of jobs. You two need to leave—” He tried to usher us out. Liam simply held up three fingers. “Three thousand dollars to take the pictures?” “Right away, sir! Just tell me what kind of effect you’re looking for!” the photographer immediately chirped, now beaming. “Whether it’s defiant acceptance or longing for life, anything goes!” “I want her to look like she deserved it,” Liam said dryly. The professional mourners were a local performing troupe, each member a master of theatrical grief. Their schedule was packed, and their performance fee was steep—a cool two hundred thousand dollars. I hadn’t objected to any of Liam’s previous arrangements, but now I finally couldn’t hold back. He was spending too much! He had completely lost his previous frugal habits. The cemetery plot, urn, and memorial portrait already totaled over four hundred thousand. Adding the mourners, six hundred thousand wouldn’t even be enough. My apartment might sell for five hundred thousand if I was lucky, and that would be a high price. I didn’t want to die saddled with debt. “Let’s skip the troupe,” I said. “I don’t have the budget for that. Don’t you play the harmonica? Just play ‘So Long, Farewell’ for me.” “It’s fine,” Liam said, a spooky smile on his face. “I’ll cover the extra. I’ll sponsor it. Elara, as long as you’re willing to die, I’m willing to bury you!” With everything arranged, the burden in my heart lifted, and I just wanted to go home and wait to die. But Liam wouldn’t let me be. He insisted on taking me to a party. If I refused, he’d tear up our agreement. So, I had no choice but to attend, becoming the unfortunate spectacle of the evening. “Is that the former Miss Vance?” “Tsk, tsk! She looks so much more haggard than before.” “Why wouldn’t she be haggard? Arthur Vance married his daughter to Julian Thorne, intending to swallow up the Thorne family’s assets, but the Thornes turned the tables on him. The Vance family went bankrupt, Arthur killed himself, and Mrs. Vance ran off with her secret stash of cash and some young gigolo. And Miss Vance herself was kicked out by the Thornes. She was too clever by half, losing her daughter and everything else.” “Serves her right! That’s karma for her twisted heart!” “But why is Elara with Mr. Hayes?” “Didn’t you hear? Elara and Liam Hayes used to be an item! But Elara was a gold-digger and dumped Liam because he was poor.” “Now Liam is richer than Julian Thorne. She must be regretting it bitterly, right?” “Definitely regretting it! Otherwise, why would she be clinging to Mr. Hayes so shamelessly?” These people weren’t just gossiping; women who clearly had designs on Liam frequently approached me, spewing veiled insults. I had ALS. These past few days, I’d noticed not only my limbs stiffening but my tongue becoming less nimble. I could only remain silent, letting those women barrage me with their chatter. Liam, glass of red wine in hand, watched the spectacle with relish. Emboldened, the women became even more cruel. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t move. Until a large hand grabbed me. “Come with me!” It was my ex-husband, Julian Thorne. His grip was strong, and I stumbled along, nearly falling. “Let her go!” Liam blocked our path. “Get out of the way!” “You get out of the way!” Julian retorted. “She’s my ex-wife!” “She’s with me!” The two men were at daggers drawn, and soon their words escalated into blows. The scene descended into chaos. So much so that many people didn’t notice me collapse to the ground. I was even stepped over without a reaction. Finally, someone realized something was terribly wrong with me. “Stop fighting!” “Elara… Elara might actually be dead!”

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1 Bradley’s slap tore open my gunshot wound, sending me back into surgery. When I woke, my family stood outside my room, whispering. Clara’s swollen belly stretched her dress—seven, maybe eight months along. No wonder they’d sounded tense when the consulate called about my injury. They probably wished I’d died overseas. Mom finally entered, avoiding my gaze. “Evie… it’s been about six months…” I laughed bitterly. “Twelve months in a year, and she’s nearly due. Six months?” She burst into tears. “Let her have Bradley! She’s depressed, not as strong as you!” My blood ran cold. “Mom, you swore he was just after our money—that you’d never let him near us.” 2 My parents had adopted Clara, a fact Bradley learned the very first time he came to our house. Mom, right in front of the whole family, had thrown every single gift he’d brought out the door, declaring that she’d never, ever agree to us being together. That was the first time I ever saw Bradley cry. He sat in his twenty-thousand-dollar beat-up used car, the trunk overflowing with gifts, clutching the steering wheel and sobbing. We never broke up, though. Bradley was highly capable at work, had no bad habits, and was incredibly ambitious. His only flaw was his humble background, but I didn’t see that as an insurmountable obstacle. Mom would poke my head, scolding me for being foolishly devoted. “He’s got the look of an inheritance hunter, that pauper from out of state, barely making enough to cover rent after paying for food. His entire lineage couldn’t scrape together a down payment for a house. What do you even see in him?” “I’m telling you, men like him just want to marry an only child from the big city to change their fate. Just you wait, once he’s got you wrapped around his finger, he’ll drag all his distant relatives over, and you’ll be in for it!” Her words were always harsh, something I’d grown used to. But this time, I defended Bradley, albeit a little helplessly. “He doesn’t mean that, and I’m not an only child. There’s Clara, isn’t there? You’re really overthinking this.” Mom rolled her eyes, then craned her neck to peek at Clara, who was watching TV in the living room. She whispered urgently, “No matter how close, she’s still adopted. When we get old, most of what we own will still be yours. Get that straight!” At the time, I thought her words were a bit much, but a faint warmth still bloomed in my chest. I’d always been touched by how my parents never let Clara’s presence diminish their love for me, which in turn made me dote on Clara even more. I just never imagined that a year after becoming a war correspondent, everything would shatter. 3 Mom had no answer for my questions, only sitting there and weeping. But I felt no sympathy. In my year in the war zone, I’d seen too many displaced refugees. Some had lost their entire families, their only possessions bags of ashes. Others were toddlers, barely three or four, who would go to the cemetery alone every night, sleeping at their mothers’ graves because their longing far outweighed their fear. So Clara’s “pity” held no sway over me. I only wanted to know the reason for the betrayal. “Mom, go get Bradley. I need to talk to him.” “Evie!” Mom looked desperate, trying to dissuade me, but I couldn’t keep my temper in check. “He’s a grown man, he pulled such a shameless stunt, and he doesn’t even have the courage to explain it to his ex-fiancée face-to-face?” I’d already categorized myself as his ex. When Bradley entered, his face was a mask of guilt. “Evie, I’m so sorry. I messed up. Clara’s far along, and she hasn’t been well lately, always throwing up. I know your temper, and I misunderstood… I thought you… That’s why I acted so impulsively and laid hands on you.” I hadn’t even had a chance to say a single word. “Bradley, is that all you have to tell me?” No explanation for betraying me, for getting my own sister pregnant, just an entire conversation framed around protecting Clara, dumping all the blame squarely on my head. It took me a long time to find my voice again, my throat raw. “Do you remember why I became a war correspondent?” Bradley’s face stiffened. 4 Bradley and I were classmates in journalism school, and after earning our master’s degrees, we were lucky enough to join the same network. After a year of working, he spent all his savings on a used car and showed up at my door. After being sent away, he persisted, returning several more times until Mom finally declared that he’d only be worthy of discussing marriage when he bought a house. But this was the Capital City. Bradley could sell himself off and still not afford a bathroom here. Buying a house was a pipe dream. It so happened that the war correspondent previously assigned to The Sands had requested to be recalled due to a family emergency. Eager for the higher pay, Bradley applied to replace him. I actually didn’t want him to go. That was a place where human lives were cheaper than stray dogs. Bradley had barely any field experience; he’d have no idea what dangers he’d face there. “Evie, don’t worry, it’s only for a year. I’ll protect myself. Wait for me to come back and marry you!” Bradley had spoken with such heartfelt emotion, even giving me his ATM card. Unfortunately, he never made it. He tumbled down the stairs while packing his bags and broke his leg. The overseas assignment was left open, and the entire network was frantic, scrambling to find a replacement, but everyone they asked turned them down. When Mom found out, she sat on the sofa, sneering. “I bet he did it on purpose. To win you over, to make you devoted to him. Applying for a war zone, then at the last minute, too scared to go, so he conveniently broke his leg. Only a fool like you would fall for that!” Of course, I didn’t listen. Because this was the second time Bradley had cried. He dumped his savings book and bank cards into my lap, refused to stay in the hospital, cursed himself for being useless, claiming he couldn’t give me a good future, and even suggested we break up. I didn’t agree. After all, there were no substantive, irreconcilable conflicts between us. The overseas assignment couldn’t be left open indefinitely. The leadership, at their wit’s end, finally approached me. I agreed instantly. Bradley went crazy, saying it was too dangerous, that I couldn’t go, that I shouldn’t be impulsive for his sake. But it wasn’t for him. My dream was always to be a frontline journalist. Though The Sands was incredibly dangerous, with lives lost at any moment, I wasn’t afraid. I was prepared for the sacrifice. These were things I’d never told him. To the very end, Bradley believed I did it all for him. 5 The hospital room was deathly quiet. Bradley kept his head bowed, his gaze flickering away from mine, before finally muttering, “I’m sorry.” He looked so guilty, so pitiful. Yet, I almost laughed. I had planned to tell him everything when I got back home and was promoted, but now, there was simply no need. Besides, before I left, he’d sworn to the heavens that if anything happened to me, he wouldn’t live either. Bradley, the liar. “Evie, I’m sorry. I was just so lonely, so exhausted. I’m truly sorry.” Enough. I didn’t want to hear that phrase again. When I was running through hails of bullets and explosions, when I took enormous risks to film firsthand footage from the conflict zone and send it back home, when I huddled alone behind a sand dune, hungry and cold, gritting my teeth to tend to my wounds—all I thought about was Bradley. That year, his occasional texts and video calls were my only comfort. My entire heart, wasted on a scoundrel! I was fighting tooth and nail overseas for our future, while he was carousing with my sister… “How dare you send me those cloying, sickening messages while you were messing around with Clara?” “I was worried about you!” Bradley seemed to latch onto a convenient excuse. “You were out there alone, in such a dangerous place. What if I’d told you we were breaking up, told you about all this, and you’d lost control and something terrible happened?” “Evie, I was doing this for your own good. Besides, we hadn’t seen each other for a year. You were so busy every day, you barely had time for me. And me? I had to help you look after your parents and this house. Do you know how awful I felt every time your parents would tear into me?” So, it was my fault, after all? I bit down hard, so enraged I felt bile rise in my throat. “This is your idea of ‘looking after’?! Bradley, have you no shame?! You ‘looked after’ her straight into my sister’s bed!” My chest tightened with each breath, a sharp, throbbing pain emanating from my healing wound. In the past, Bradley would have rushed to my side, fussing over me. But now, he simply stood up, his posture stiff, his voice cold. “It’s already happened. Clara and I are truly in love. Love isn’t wrong. Evie, let’s just break up.” 6 Bradley left. Furious, I looked up just as my gaze met Clara’s through the window. The moment our eyes connected, she spun around, quickly scurrying away, enveloped by my parents and Bradley. Truly, a guilty conscience written all over them. The hospital room felt hollow. I lay defeated on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face. Five years of a relationship, from school to professional life. At least in love, I had given everything. My phone was still filled with videos and photos of us that my friends had envied. People always talked about “from school days to the altar.” Until this very day, I had naively believed that was the story of Bradley and me. After that shouting match, no one from my family showed up for the rest of the day, not even for dinner. My colleague, Chloe, was the one who brought me food. “I heard about what happened,” Chloe said, holding the food bowl. She thought for a long time, then just sighed. She probably hadn’t encountered such a bizarre situation either. My mood was so foul that I took two bites and put down my chopsticks. Chloe tried to cheer me up, recounting a lot of network gossip, but I couldn’t even crack a smile. The room grew quiet again. After a long while, she gently pressed my hand and hesitantly spoke. “Evie, there’s something I don’t know if I should say. I don’t want you to be in the dark, and I worry you might do something impulsive…” “Is it about Bradley?” Chloe nodded, her expression strained. I closed my eyes. “Tell me. I can handle anything now.”

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1 After graduating from The Elite Grooming Academy, my brother, Liam, swore he would marry into wealth. To orchestrate a ‘chance’ encounter, he took my brand-new car, intending to deliberately rear-end Victoria Thorne, the formidable heiress of the city’s old money. I slammed on the brakes in time, telling him the Thornes weren’t fools, and that car would bankrupt us even if we sold everything. Later, Victoria Thorne held a luxurious wedding that made headlines nationwide. My brother was consumed by insane jealousy. He railed that if I hadn’t stopped him, he would have been the groom. In his bitter resentment, he ran me over with his car, killing me. I opened my eyes again, sitting in the passenger seat. Liam’s lips curved into a confident smirk, his eyes fixated on the luxury car ahead. “Once she sees me, Victoria Thorne will be absolutely smitten.” He adjusted his tie, his gaze lingering on the sleek vehicle. “And when that happens, I won’t be caught dead driving this piece of junk.” This time, I didn’t stop him. He floored the accelerator. Our car slammed violently into the fifty-million-dollar supercar in front of us. Under the fierce impact, the supercar slid a short distance before finally coming to a halt. The colossal crunch echoed through the street, drawing numerous onlookers to a standstill. The supercar was severely damaged; its rear spoiler had crumpled off, and the body itself was deeply dented. My brother, Liam, paid no mind to any of it. He quickly recovered from the jolt, primping his appearance in the rearview mirror. His dark fringe was artfully mussed, his eyes rubbed just enough to glisten with a hint of tears, creating a perfectly subtle, vulnerable gaze. If I hadn’t witnessed his deliberate actions, I too would have believed he was a startled little rabbit. After pulling his gaze from the mirror, Liam darted a glance at me. Seeing my composure, sitting still and unperturbed, he looked visibly surprised. Earlier, he had strategically placed two thick cushions in front of himself for impact absorption and had intentionally accelerated when he thought I wasn’t looking. If I hadn’t been prepared, gripping the grab handle tightly, I would have slammed into the dashboard, nursing a bloody nose and bruised face by now. He’d been like this since childhood, always contriving situations to embarrass or diminish me, just to make his own serene perfection shine brighter. “Victoria Thorne rarely makes public appearances. Just follow my lead, don’t screw this up for me,” he hissed, dipping a finger into some foundation. Without asking, he smeared it over my lips, leaving them a ghastly white. “Once I’m the young master, I’ll have you work as a servant at the Thorne estate. The pay will be much better than what you earn now.” With that, Liam tugged down the collar of his tight knit sweater, revealing more of his chest, and pushed open the car door. In my previous life, Liam believed I had derailed his path to wealth, so he blamed me for every miserable turn his life took thereafter. This time, I was keen to see if his machinations would truly alter his destiny. Liam’s emergence caused a ripple of commotion; several women on the sidewalk raised their phones, snapping pictures. He had always been immensely proud of his physique, and with the tight-fitting top accentuating his chest muscles, he naturally drew plenty of admiring glances. Victoria Thorne didn’t get out of the car. Only a sharply dressed chauffeur circled the supercar once. He walked to the driver’s side window, bent down, and spoke a few words to Victoria. Liam, however, bypassed the driver who was about to approach him, and knocked directly on Victoria’s window. As he spoke, he dabbed at his eyes with a finger, his dark hair ruffled by the wind, giving him a perfectly ‘broken’ appearance. A moment later, Victoria Thorne pushed open her car door and glanced in my direction. Then, her gaze settled on Liam. The legendary Thorne heiress was rumored to be mysterious and low-key; countless male models and aspiring celebrities had tried to get close to her, but opportunities were rare. Liam lowered his head, his exquisitely manicured hands twisting together. Then, as if making a momentous decision, he pulled out his phone, ready to dial the police. I saw Victoria Thorne wave a dismissive hand, signaling Liam to put his phone away. She stepped out, her long legs carrying her towards my car. With the ghastly white foundation Liam had smeared on my lips, and a week of non-stop overtime, I must have looked utterly pale and bloodless. Through the car window, I saw Victoria Thorne up close for the first time. It was August, yet she still wore a silk scarf around her neck. A scar snaked upwards from beneath the scarf, reaching her left cheekbone. Despite meticulous reconstructive work, the skin remained uneven and pitted, a stark testament to the original wound’s depth. Liam hurried over, his voice laced with feigned concern: “My brother suddenly had a terrible stomachache, and I was rushing him to the hospital. I accidentally mixed up the gas and brake pedals, so…” He wrung his hands. “Regardless, it’s all my fault. I promise I’ll compensate you for all damages.” This scenario seemed to touch Victoria Thorne. Her cold expression softened slightly, and she calmly said there was no rush. “Take your brother to the hospital first,” she instructed. “My driver, Mr. Hayes, will handle the rest.” As Victoria Thorne turned to leave, Liam nervously stepped in front of her, offering a business card. “This is my contact information. I won’t shirk responsibility.” Victoria Thorne’s gaze fell to the white card in Liam’s hand. It stated Liam was a partner at a pet clinic and a visiting lecturer at the Southern Coast Hospitality College. She surveyed Liam from head to toe, her gaze unwavering, then pulled out her phone. “No need for all that. Let’s just exchange numbers.” 2 Victoria Thorne departed in a waiting Maybach, while a tow truck hauled away the supercar. My car’s hood was mangled, and one headlight was shattered. “This was my new car, just picked it up yesterday. What are we going to do now that you’ve wrecked it?” I demanded as we drove home. Liam ignored me the entire ride. The moment we walked in, he immediately linked arms with Mom, telling her I was giving him a hard time. My mother, Brenda, dotingly patted Liam and then told me to deal with it myself. “Bickering with your brother over something so trivial? You’re hardly acting like an elder brother.” Liam had insisted on driving this morning. He didn’t even have a license; he’d failed his driving test five times. Brenda, worried about his safety, had practically forced me to go with him. My stepfather, Gary, emerged from the kitchen carrying a fruit platter. There were only three forks on it. They were all happily munching on melon and berries, acting as if I wasn’t even in the room. “Victoria Thorne stared at me, didn’t even blink,” Liam boasted, eyes gleaming. “I thought the Thorne heiress would be so hard to win over. Turns out she’s no different from any other woman.” He finished, then smugly pulled out his phone, displaying Victoria Thorne’s contact. “When Liam marries Victoria Thorne, we’ll be family with the Thornes!” Gary clapped his hands, and Brenda likewise drifted into a daydream. Then Liam’s tone shifted. He picked a piece of durian and offered it to Brenda. “Mom, I still owe 300,000 for my Academy tuition.” Brenda’s brow furrowed slightly; she didn’t immediately agree. Our family relied on the small business downtown. In recent years, urban development had bypassed our street, leaving business dismal. That so-called Elite Grooming Academy charged 500,000 per person, guaranteeing a cross-class marriage into wealth. Liam, three years out of college, had been too busy with cosmetic procedures, photo shoots to cultivate his ‘gentleman’ persona, and hadn’t worked a day. The previous 200,000 tuition fee had already drained Brenda’s savings. “Brenda, Liam joined that Academy for your sake, so you could have a better life,” Gary said bluntly, pushing up the chunky gold chain on his wrist. “If you won’t even fork out this much, don’t expect to bask in Liam’s glory later. Besides, isn’t someone else still working? Family should help each other out.” He was hinting that I should pay. In my past life, because of Liam’s wealthy aspirations, our family accumulated endless debt. Collectors showed up at my office, causing a scene and costing me my job. Furthermore, they seemed utterly oblivious to Victoria Thorne’s supercar, convinced she wouldn’t make Liam pay for the damages. I wouldn’t be like them, pinning my hopes on a flimsy dream of wealth. So, before they could even ask, I preemptively announced I was moving out. “I’ve already found a place, and I’ll transfer my registration out of this address when I move.” Gary scoffed, saying I was jealous, unable to stand Liam becoming a ‘kept man of wealth’. “The most important thing for a man is a handsome face, to marry a rich woman. Ethan, your jealousy won’t change a thing. With your paltry salary, trying to move out? That’s hilarious.” My phone vibrated; a colleague informed me of an urgent meeting. I went back to my room to gather documents, preparing to head back to the office. Liam casually remarked that I was worrying for nothing, earning barely three thousand a month, working myself to death wouldn’t compare to his little finger. Brenda, in an even more condescending tone, added: “Ethan, you need to start buttering up Liam now. If Liam’s happy, he might just gift you an apartment. Then you wouldn’t have to rent.” Liam flashed a magnanimous smile, waiting for me to bow and submit. I tightened my grip on the documents, my gaze sweeping over the three of them one by one. “The Thorne family’s money isn’t Liam’s. And the money I earn will always be mine,” I stated, my voice firm. “Good looks are indeed an advantage, but if you have nothing else, it’s a disaster waiting to happen. You might want to look up what kind of car Victoria Thorne drives first.” 3 The urgent company meeting was about the Clearwater Resort project, a collaboration with the Thorne family. The Thornes were responsible for development and construction, while Ambiance Media handled marketing and promotion. Five years ago, I joined Ambiance Media through campus recruitment. As a global leading media and advertising firm, Ambiance Media’s work was indeed demanding, but the compensation was top-tier. However, what I told my family was that I was just a low-level grunt at Ambiance Media, earning a mere 3,000 a month. Gary and Liam already looked down on me, so they readily believed my 3,000-a-month salary. After introducing the progress, the director stated solemnly: “The Thorne family’s representative for this project has changed to Victoria Thorne. This is the first project she’s personally handled as the Thorne heiress.” He then added that Victoria Thorne was not satisfied with the current proposals. We needed to prepare two alternative proposals for a review meeting with her in two weeks. “The Thorne heiress is very particular about details and has cut down on a significant portion of the budget. Everyone, perk up!” After the meeting adjourned, colleagues gathered in the breakroom, gossiping about the Thorne family. “I heard Victoria Thorne was disfigured as a child, which is why she rarely appears in public.” “Disfigured? Who would dare disfigure her?” “Don’t know. My mom was a journalist back then; she secretly took pictures of her going to the hospital, but her editor made her delete them all.” “There’s no telling what kind of things happen in elite family feuds. Victoria Thorne’s sister’s death was also suspicious. A little girl playing by the ocean in the middle of the night?” “The elder Mr. Thorne had three wives and four daughters. Victoria Thorne is the youngest, yet she’s become the successor. Her methods must be extraordinary.” “Let’s just focus on our own work. Didn’t you hear the director say Victoria Thorne is extremely demanding?” I recalled the face I saw through the car window; even with the scar, she was undeniably striking. But the profound aura emanating from her was like a vortex, impossible to decipher. She was certainly not the easily swayed, infatuated woman Liam claimed her to be. Sipping my coffee, I instinctively opened my social media, only to find Liam had updated with a new set of photos. He was wearing a designer suit, sipping red wine on a hotel balcony, surrounded by lavish bouquets of flowers. Also in the frame were two foreigners with distinctly aristocratic bearing. The caption read: “Another rare vintage from the Italian vineyard has arrived. The aroma fills the palate, coating the entire mouth and nasal cavity with a truly romantic essence. Gents, you really ought to stock up on some high-end wines.” Outside the frame, there were probably a dozen more finely made-up young men waiting. The Elite Grooming Academy provided its students with standard photo props: luxury cars, designer goods, jewelry, ocean-view villas, and so on. The goal was to create an image of a privileged background and refined taste. Wealthy individuals, unaware of the deception, were inevitably drawn in by these images. Furthermore, to avoid being looked down upon, they also pretended to be successful businessmen. Liam’s purported partnership and professorship were merely fabrications concocted by the training agency. The real estate agent had sent me two more listings to choose from. My savings from these past few years were enough for me to buy a two-bedroom apartment near the office. I needed to sever ties with my family as quickly as possible, lest I get dragged into their mess. Three days later, the video of Liam’s car crash had gone viral. Comments beneath hailed him as a once-in-a-millennium natural heartthrob, and simultaneously disparaged current popular idols, claiming that if he entered entertainment, half the young stars would be out of a job. Immediately after, someone pulled out Liam’s social media photos, effusively praising his family background and refined taste. This way, it would be hard for Victoria Thorne not to notice him, and his burgeoning fame was the perfect stepping stone into the elite circles. I had to admit, the Academy’s efficiency was truly impressive. After signing the apartment purchase contract, I returned home to pack my belongings. Gary opened the door, giving me a dismissive glance, and asked which ‘slum’ I’d managed to rent a place in. Brenda didn’t even look at me. She was excitedly hovering around Liam, as if she’d just won the lottery. “It’s Victoria Thorne! Victoria Thorne messaged me first!” Liam exclaimed, eyes wide. “Madame Celeste said, once you get the woman to make the first move, I’m practically there!” Liam closed his eyes, held the phone to his chest, and only after a few seconds did he tap to open it. The three of them stared at the phone, silent for a long time. I put down my suitcase and walked over for a look. Victoria Thorne’s message read: “The car needs to be sent back to Sweden for repairs. The cost is $1,570,000.”

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My in-laws insisted we spend the New Year holidays at their ancestral home. Unable to secure flights, we decided to drive. But then, my wife Chloe’s childhood crush, Ethan Hayes, heard about our plans and declared he simply had to come along. He even audaciously claimed the passenger seat next to me, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “Leo, old man,” he drawled, “I get terrible motion sickness. The front seat is my only option.” Chloe shot me a look of pure contempt. “It’s just one seat, Leo. Why are you being so petty?” She scoffed. “If you could even drive, would this be such a hassle?” My in-laws chimed in, their voices dripping with disapproval. “You’re a grown man. Why are you so narrow-minded?” Outnumbered and out-argued, I found myself squeezed uncomfortably in the back seat with them. Who would have thought that as we passed through a toll plaza, Ethan would spot a stray dog and, in a sudden burst of performative generosity, exclaim: “Oh, that dog looks so pathetic! We simply must take it with us!” I immediately objected. “Our car is full. Adding a dog would make us over capacity, and we won’t be allowed on the road.” No sooner had the words left my lips than Chloe rounded on me, her eyes blazing. “Leo, if that’s the case, then you can give up your seat for the stray! Just take a cab home!” 1 As we drove through the toll plaza, Ethan, who’d insisted on squeezing in with us for the drive to the ancestral home, spotted a stray dog and demanded we take it with us. My protests were utterly ignored by Ethan. He simply turned his pleading gaze to Chloe. “Chloe, look how pitiful this little dog is. If we just leave it here, it’ll surely freeze to death.” His voice softened, taking on a theatrical tremor. “It’s so tiny, it hasn’t even seen the world yet. It shouldn’t die here like this.” With that, he scooped the dog into his arms. Chloe, her heart swelling with an apparent tenderness, pulled my coat from the back seat and wrapped it around the dog, murmuring to it as if no one else were present: “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t abandon you.” Then, turning to Ethan, she gently instructed, “Don’t get your own clothes dirty. Use this coat to keep it warm.” She then turned her displeasure on me, her eyes snapping. “Leo, how can you be so utterly devoid of compassion?” Her voice rose. “While in your eyes it might just be a stray, it’s still a living, breathing creature. How can you be so utterly indifferent, so cold-blooded?” I stared blankly at the two overflowing with self-righteous sentiment. I hadn’t once suggested abandoning the dog, yet they had painted me as some kind of unfeeling monster. And one of them was my wife, with whom I had shared a bed for years. Despite my rising anger, I patiently tried to explain. “If you truly want to save this dog, we could leave some food for it.” I offered a practical solution. “Or we could speak to the convenience store clerk here, leave some money, and ask them to care for it.” I gestured to the crammed interior of the car. “Our car is already full. Taking it along would put us over capacity, and we’d certainly be stopped by the traffic police.” I thought my explanation was clear enough. But no sooner had the words left my lips than Ethan scoffed. “Leo, I know you’re rolling in money, but how can you just leave this poor stray with some random store clerk? How can you be sure they’ll properly care for it?” He cradled the dog closer. “What if they take the money and do nothing? What about Shadow?” In less than five minutes, Ethan had already named the stray dog. “How is a little dog like this supposed to survive the bitter cold of winter?” He widened his eyes, his voice laced with manufactured indignation. “In the eyes of you rich folks, is a dog’s life really so worthless? Is it not a life at all?” He paused dramatically. “How can you be so heartless as to leave it here, all alone? Can’t you see it’s trembling with cold?” I found Ethan’s moral grandstanding quite amusing. “I think you make a good point,” I said, a slow, chilling smile touching my lips. My tone shifted. “So, how about you give up your seat for this little black dog, Shadow?” I watched his face. “After all, you’re the extra one in this car.” 2 Hearing my words, Ethan, who had just been so righteously indignant, froze. “You wouldn’t ask Chloe’s parents to get out of the car for your little dog, would you?” I pressed on. “They’re older, after all.” I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. “Since you’re so concerned for this little dog, how about I take it with me, and you stay behind?” Now it was Ethan’s turn to panic. He nervously glanced at Chloe. Chloe’s brow furrowed, and she shot me an irritated glare. “Leo, that’s going too far.” Her voice was sharp. “Ethan is a guest I invited to come home with us. How can you just abandon him in a place like this? Is that how you treat a guest?” I used to think Chloe was incapable of caring for others. Now I realized she just wasn’t capable of caring for me. When it came to Ethan, she was meticulous, terrified of causing her beloved first love even the slightest inconvenience. I crossed my arms, watching Chloe with a calm, expectant air. “So, what exactly do you propose?” Without a moment’s hesitation, she gently lifted little Shadow into the car. Then, she turned to me, her gaze cold and dismissive. “Leo, you’ll just have to make a small sacrifice. Give your seat to this little dog.” She paused. “You can take a taxi. That way, you won’t be crammed in the back with my parents, and you’ll be more comfortable.” Just then, a cry of surprise came from the back seat, from Chloe’s parents. “Oh, where did this stray dog come from? It’s already cramped enough back here; there’s no room!” Chloe patiently reassured them. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Leo won’t be riding with us, so it won’t be crowded.” With that single sentence, she directly stripped me of my rightful place, and not a single one of my supposed family members objected. “You want me to give up my seat for a stray dog?” I pointed to myself, disbelief hardening my voice, staring at Chloe. She looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Mom and Dad are old. Do you want to leave them stranded at this toll booth? Do you have no sense of responsibility as a son-in-law?” Her voice rose. “As for Ethan, he’s my guest. Have you ever seen a host abandon their guest and leave them alone?” She scoffed. “If anything happens to him, what’s the difference between you and a murderer?” Her face softened, almost condescendingly. “I’m doing this for your own good. Can you stop throwing your tantrums?” She then began to complain. “If you could drive, would this even be an issue?” Her voice rose again, tinged with self-pity. “I’m already exhausted from driving such a long distance, Leo. Can’t you show me a little consideration?” I stared at Chloe in stunned silence. It was true, I didn’t drive. My family had always provided a driver for me since I was a child. Later, my parents died in a car accident, and driving became a profound phobia for me. Chloe wasn’t unaware of the reason; she used to comfort me. “I’ll be your driver from now on, Leo. You just need to sit comfortably in the passenger seat.” Now, she not only gave my passenger seat to Ethan, but my inability to drive had become another excuse for her complaints. My heart felt as if it had been doused with ice water, turning instantly frigid. She worried about her parents’ age, worried about Ethan’s delicate constitution. Even a random stray dog received Chloe’s sympathetic attention. Only for me, was there not a shred of compassion. Yet, she felt perfectly justified in leaving me alone at this desolate toll booth, nowhere near a town. I looked at Chloe, my voice flat. “So, what about me?” Chloe didn’t hesitate for a moment. “You’re a grown man. Don’t you know how to find your way home?” She offered a dismissive wave of her hand. “Even if you are a pampered young master who expects everything handed to him, you can still call a taxi, can’t you?” With that, she calmly ushered Ethan into the passenger seat, closing the door for him with tender care. “It’s cold outside. Just stay warm in the car.” Ethan shot me a triumphant smirk. “Thanks, Leo, old man!” he called out, his voice dripping with false gratitude. “Saving a dog’s life is like building a seven-story pagoda. Little Shadow will be eternally grateful to you.” 3 He spoke of gratitude, but his eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. They sat comfortably in the heated car, while I stood alone outside, enduring the biting wind. A stark contrast indeed. “Chloe Miller,” I called out, my voice laced with venom, “do you even remember who your husband is?!” That single sentence successfully wiped the smile from Chloe’s face. “Even if you are my husband, you can’t be so unreasonable!” she snapped. “I’m not asking you to walk home. It’s just a cab ride, isn’t it? Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” She scowled. “Leo Sterling, when are you going to learn to be more generous?!” With that, she slammed the car door shut, starting the engine. “Instead of bickering with me, you should hurry up and call a taxi,” she yelled through the closed window. “Don’t delay everyone’s New Year’s Eve dinner!” Hearing ‘New Year’s Eve dinner,’ Chloe’s parents didn’t forget to call out their own demands. “Leo, remember to pick up some fresh vegetables when you get back!” her mother chirped. “The eggs at the old house might be expired, don’t forget to buy some new ones.” Her father added, “Oh, and your father-in-law hasn’t been feeling well lately; he can’t eat anything too greasy. Try to make the New Year’s Eve dinner light and healthy!” They seemed to have completely forgotten that I had been kicked out of the car and, at this point, had no idea how I was even supposed to get back. They still shamelessly treated me like a personal servant, barking orders. Even Ethan, watching the drama unfold, casually chimed in, “Leo, you’re impressive! You actually cook?” Chloe nodded in agreement, a faint smirk playing on her lips. Ethan eyed me with a teasing look. “Then I’ll put in a request for braised lion’s head meatballs. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?” With that, he casually rolled up the window. Chloe didn’t spare me another glance, hitting the gas and driving off. The car had barely driven off when Chloe’s call came through. But it wasn’t remorse, nor was it concern for my safety. It was just another assignment. “What are you doing? Why haven’t you hailed a cab yet?” Her voice was laced with impatience. “And listen, Ethan gets car sick, so I can’t drive fast. So, when you get a cab, tell the driver to speed up. Get back first and prepare the New Year’s Eve dinner we just ordered. We’re all tired from the long drive. Hurry up and do what you’re supposed to!” I used to be a pampered young master who didn’t know the first thing about cooking. I only learned to cook after I started dating Chloe. We always had household staff. But Chloe and her parents insisted on eating my cooking, claiming that only my personal efforts could prove my love. I had complained, of course, but Chloe always shut me down. “Mom and Dad have worked hard their whole lives; they just want to enjoy their son-in-law’s blessings. Just indulge them a little.” With one casual remark about ‘outsourcing filial piety,’ she successfully trapped me in a cage of servitude, catering to their every whim for three years. Every year, the New Year’s Eve dinner naturally fell to me. I couldn’t even get Chloe to help with the smallest task. Because my mother-in-law would say, “A man cooking is a sign of love for his woman,” and literally dragged Chloe out of the kitchen. In the eyes of my in-laws, and even Chloe herself, I wasn’t a husband, nor a son-in-law. I was merely their personal servant, handling their every need. Listening to her demands, the last shred of lingering affection I held for Chloe was personally shredded by her. In that moment, a sudden clarity washed over me. Since there was no love left, why would I keep this ungrateful woman for the New Year, inviting bad luck for the year to come? I immediately sent a message to my lawyer, instructing him to prepare all the necessary divorce papers. I looked in the direction they had left, and a chilling smile touched my lips. Then, I dialed 911. “I want to report a crime. My wife intentionally abandoned me on the highway.”

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On last year’s Samhain, my brother, Ronan, accompanied his mentee, Celeste Thorne – a young woman with an inherent sensitivity to spiritual entities – to the secluded woodlands for stargazing, celebrating her birthday. To ensure no lingering malevolence disturbed them, he took with him our family’s ancient relic: the Soul-Quelling Amber. Unbeknownst to him, a vengeful spirit, one he had gravely wounded in the past, seized the opportunity to infiltrate our estate. My pregnant sister-in-law, Seraphina, in a desperate act to shield me, was dragged off by the malevolent entity and cast into our deep well. Both her life and the life of her unborn child were extinguished in an instant. My little niece, Penny, in her courageous effort to cover my escape, had her legs brutally severed. In my despair, I called Ronan, pleading for help. Hearing the news, he was forced to abandon Celeste and rush back home. The vengeful spirit was eventually purified, but from the woodlands came grim tidings: Celeste Thorne had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a blood-stained hair tie. Ronan, his face devoid of emotion, calmly collected the hair tie, then dismissively assured me that everything was fine. Yet, on the very day Seraphina was due to give birth, Ronan pushed me off a cliff. “If you hadn’t called me back, how would Celeste have died?! I demand blood for blood!” His scream still echoed in my memory, a sharp blade piercing my heart. My eyes snapped open once more, the villa’s lights extinguished. Only the low, sinister gurgle of the vengeful spirit’s laughter resonated through the oppressive darkness. 1 Outside the window, a fleeting shadow darted past, causing the doors and windows to creak and rattle. I jolted awake, snatching Seraphina and Penny, pulling them into the ancestral shrine. “Kaelin,” Seraphina’s voice held a note of concern, “Why are you trembling so violently? It’s quite normal for restless spirits to stir things up around Samhain every year, isn’t it?” “Yeah, Aunt Kaelin,” Penny chimed in, her childish voice full of confusion, “We have the Soul-Quelling Amber at home. Those little ghosts wouldn’t dare come in.” The mother and daughter exchanged puzzled glances, then casually tried to soothe me. They didn’t know that Ronan, to accompany Celeste Thorne in the wilderness for her birthday celebration, had long since taken the family’s Soul-Quelling Amber with him. “Seraphina,” my voice quivered, words catching in my throat, “Ronan took the Amber. Now, this house… it’s just an ordinary house.” “More accurately,” I choked out, “it’s the most dangerous place.” Our Luminara family has for generations been dedicated to purifying spiritual entities. In modern times, the number of grudging spirits we’ve subdued is countless, and naturally, we’ve made many enemies. During ordinary Samhain nights, even when the spectral unrest was high, with the Soul-Quelling Amber present, no vengeful spirit dared approach within a ten-mile radius. But now, this villa, left unguarded by the Soul-Quelling Amber, had become a clear target, a beacon in the eyes of all vengeful spirits. Most critically, I was born with a unique constitution, highly sensitive to spirits, yet lacked the ability to purify them. I was just an ordinary person. And at this moment, with a pregnant woman and a child, facing these vengeful spirits, our situation was extremely perilous. My hands trembling, I struggled to move tables, even dragging an old coffin to barricade the doorway. Then I pulled out a thick stack of talismans, affixing them one by one to the doors and windows. After that, I swiftly knelt, banging my head three times against the floor, arranging the ancestral tablets of our first and earliest patriarchs into a Ten Directions Seal, encircling us within its protection. Seraphina, gripping the edge of a table, watched in astonishment. She couldn’t comprehend how, in our Luminara family, where spirit purification and securing safety through ancient arrays had always been paramount, the very family heirloom could have been taken. Even less could she believe that Ronan, as the sole heir to the Luminara legacy of spirit purification, who had always acted with careful deliberation, could have lost his mind and done something so utterly preposterous. But seeing my brazen, almost sacrilegious actions, Seraphina had no choice but to believe. “Then call him! Call your brother back!” she urged, frantic. The words had barely left her lips when the single candle flame within the room ‘poof’ extinguished, and an eerie, skin-crawling laughter echoed through the sudden darkness. Seraphina collapsed to the floor, clutching Penny in a trembling embrace, her face ghastly pale with fright. However, I did not contact Ronan. Reborn, I couldn’t trust that he would come to our rescue immediately. After all, last time he returned, Seraphina was already dead, Penny’s legs crippled, and my own eyes had been gouged out. I unclasped the pristine, frost-white jade pendant from my neck and pressed it into Seraphina’s trembling hand. I was unable to master the Luminara family’s secret arts. My father, to protect me, had collaborated with other clan members to craft this jade. With the jade to protect Seraphina and Penny, my heart felt a fraction lighter. Seraphina, understanding my intention, was unwilling to accept it. As we wrestled over it, the front door crashed open with a resounding ‘BANG’. I instinctively shielded the mother and daughter, my gaze locked on the oppressive void before us. The temperature in the room plummeted. Though nothing was visible, a sudden, chilling sensation crept up my scalp, as if countless needles hung suspended directly above our heads. And since moments ago, my little niece had been fiddling with her wrist communicator, now finally connecting with Ronan. “Daddy, come back quickly! There’s a vengeful spirit in the house!” she cried, her voice laced with fear. Ronan’s voice on the line was impatient: “Alright, Penny, stop being silly. Daddy is busy. Can’t you be more sensible?” Seraphina cried out, “Ronan, this isn’t a joke! A vengeful spirit is in the house! If you don’t come back, the children and I will truly die!” Ronan’s voice turned icy: “Wife, how many times have I told you? Can’t you women suppress your jealous, competitive nature? I’m merely accompanying Celeste for her birthday, and you’re acting like a raving harpy, it’s so disappointing.” “Don’t come at me with excuses about pregnancy hormones or being overly possessive or paranoid. I don’t want to hear a single word of it. Right now, I’m celebrating Celeste’s birthday.” “Oh, and tell Kaelin Luminara, she’s going to be married off sooner or later, so she should stop meddling in our affairs, or she’ll end up suffering the same tragic consequences as last time!” I felt as if plunged into an ice-cold abyss. Ronan… he was reborn too! If that was the case, he knew precisely what would befall the three of us, yet why was he acting with such chilling indifference? Could it be that, in this new life, Ronan cared neither for the life of his own sister nor for the lives of his wife and child? 2 The vengeful spirits began to churn through everything in the room, clattering and groaning with deafening roars. Tonight, the yin energy was potent, and the spirits’ resentment was strong. Ordinary talismans were utterly useless against their assault. Thankfully, the ancestral patriarchs’ tablets provided some suppression, keeping the spirits at bay for now. Composing myself, I dialed the number for Julian Vance, Captain of the Havenwood Bind-Spirit Unit, and also my fiancé. “Julian, you need to bring your team to my house, fast! We’re surrounded by vengeful spirits!” “Hmph, Miss Luminara,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you’ll truly say anything to trick your brother into coming back, won’t you?” “You know perfectly well it’s Samhain tonight, and supernatural incidents are rampant. The unit is swamped, yet you pull a stunt like this. Do you think the lives of Havenwood citizens are worth nothing?” Julian’s snide tone caught me off guard. I was about to explain, but he simply hung up. Undeterred, I called again. After numerous attempts, Julian finally picked up, seemingly annoyed. “Your brother already called me. He said you and your sister-in-law, out of jealousy because he was with Celeste, would definitely claim that vengeful spirits had entered the house.” My voice cracked with urgency, tears welling up: “Julian, don’t believe my brother! There are vengeful spirits! They’re the same ones you and my brother wounded last month in the Blackwood University district!” Julian didn’t believe me. He spoke coldly: “Do you take me for a fool? Your Luminara family’s Soul-Quelling Amber never leaves the estate. Your brother would be insane to take it!” Fuming with exasperation, I urged Julian to check their Bind-Spirit Unit’s Divination Needle; it would detect if the Soul-Quelling Amber was still within Havenwood. Julian utterly dismissed it, instead impatiently snapping, “Kaelin Luminara, can you women not have some limit to your squabbling? Do you really feel accomplished making up such things for attention?!” Tears streamed down my face in sheer desperation: “Please! My sister-in-law is heavily pregnant, and Penny is only four years old! This is all real!” Yet, my frantic pleas failed to convince him. Julian even angrily kicked something over, then threatened ominously: “Kaelin Luminara, if you’ve stooped to such depths, there’s no need for our engagement to continue.” His words struck my heart like a heavy hammer. Julian and I had been betrothed since childhood, growing up as childhood sweethearts, and our bond had always been strong. But ever since Celeste appeared, both he and Ronan had changed. Ronan rarely came home, and when he did, he would constantly compare Seraphina to Celeste, sparking countless arguments. And Julian, he too showed a distinct favoritism towards Celeste, turning to find flaws in me at every turn, even repeatedly approaching my father in private to break off the engagement. These two men, they’d done so many foolish things for Celeste. Our Luminara family upheld an ancient decree: unless a vengeful spirit was utterly irredeemable, it was to be granted a path to redemption. Yet, simply because a spirit had dared to glance at Celeste, Ronan and Julian had led a team to the Blackwood University district to subdue all the spirits in that area. They shattered the balance of yin and yang there, twisting benign spirits into malevolent entities, which in turn brought this retribution upon us. The memory of our tragedy in the previous life sent shivers down my spine. I absolutely could not allow the tragedy of the past to repeat itself! I bit down hard on my lower lip, almost begging: “Julian, I agree to break off our engagement! Just send your team over now, and I’ll stay far away from you forever, I promise I won’t bother you again!” Julian paused for a long moment. He knew how much I loved him, and he’d seen my notebook filled with “Marry Julian Vance.” My devotion to him was akin to life itself; he knew better than anyone that I wouldn’t easily give up on my feelings for him. Yet now, I had uttered such words. His colleague beside him seemed to object: “Captain Vance, maybe you should go take a look? Miss Luminara wouldn’t joke about something like this.” “Besides, this year’s Samhain has been calmer than usual. The guys can handle it themselves. You go on.” Julian let out a heavy sigh, his resolve wavering. I seized the opportunity to record the scene unfolding around me and sent it to him with a single tap. The chaotic scene, Seraphina, heavily pregnant, clutching Penny, who was trembling with fear—Julian finally felt a pang of compassion. “Alright, I’ll bring a team,” he conceded, his voice hesitant. “But things had better be as you say, or you and your sister-in-law will pay the price.” My dimmed eyes gradually brightened, but the very next second, Julian’s communicator received a message. He opened it, and it was unmistakably Ronan’s voice. “Kaelin called you, didn’t she? I knew she would. They were even faking tears just now, and Penny went along with their act, saying they’d be killed by vengeful spirits if I didn’t come back.” “Heh, don’t you think women are scheming? They live here for free, don’t do any work, and then they’re constantly paranoid, playing out their little palace dramas.” “I didn’t fall for it, and you, the esteemed Captain of the Bind-Spirit Unit, shouldn’t be made a fool of either.” Ronan’s words pierced my heart like a dagger. Ronan, for the sake of another woman, had abandoned his own sister whom he’d sworn to cherish for life, and disregarded his wife with whom he’d promised to grow old and die together. But he, too, was reborn! He knew exactly what we would endure! Julian cut the voice message short, his voice grim and low: “From now on, the Bind-Spirit Unit is forbidden from taking calls from Kaelin Luminara. No one is to be dispatched to her location!” “Hmph, Kaelin Luminara,” he sneered, “I would now very much enjoy seeing you and your sister-in-law torn to pieces by vengeful spirits!” As if to validate his words, the moment the call ended, the yin energy in the room surged. The crystal chandelier overhead, under an irresistible force, plummeted to the ground. I lunged forward, shielding Seraphina and Penny. Glass shards pierced my back, and blood droplets stained my white dress. 3 The searing pain brought cold sweat trickling down my face, but I grimly pushed myself up to confirm Seraphina and Penny were unharmed. Seeing they were only shaken, I let out a long, shaky breath. The three of us had been deeply hurt and saddened by Ronan’s words moments before, but the immediate crisis forced us to steel ourselves and face it. Seraphina wiped away her tears, and together we helped Penny to her feet. The three of us stood back-to-back, clasping each other’s hands tightly, scanning our surroundings. The array I had set up was rudimentary, and by now, most of its power had been destroyed. More and more vengeful spirits surged towards us. The sheer oppressive yin energy suffocated us, making every breath a struggle. “Seraphina, I’ll rush out in a moment and draw the spirits away. You take Penny and escape. Go to the Bind-Spirit Unit… no, go find Elias Blackwood!” Father was abroad recuperating and hadn’t returned. Ronan wouldn’t help us, and with Julian there, the Bind-Spirit Unit wouldn’t heed us. Only Elias, who trained under the same master as Father, could possibly deal with these vengeful spirits! Seraphina shook her head, tears streaming: “No, Kaelin, I won’t leave you alone!” “If anyone’s leaving, it’s you first! I’m pregnant, and Penny is so young. We’re a burden, you…” I embraced her tightly, gently patting her trembling body: “Seraphina, listen to me. You’re carrying the first male child our Luminara family has had in generations, and Penny is only three…” “Vengeful spirits love human bodies the most. I’ll just now—” A shrill, piercing voice interrupted me. “Run? You’re too naive! Since we’ve come knocking tonight, we intend to make the most of it! Ronan Luminara injured countless of my kind for one woman, so I’ll make sure to give his women a proper ‘welcome’!” “A pregnant woman… a virgin… and a child! Haha! The taste must be exquisite!” That suffocating, chilling gaze swept over us, inch by agonizing inch. I clutched the few remaining talismans in my pocket, my mind racing to plan a route to draw the spirits away. But before I could act, an invisible force toppled the ancestral patriarch’s tablets. We were flung like rag dolls, slamming into the wall. Seraphina was protected by the frost-white jade; the spirits dared not touch her directly. But Penny was pinned in mid-air, her small limbs forced open. I was arched against the wall in a humiliating posture, my hair ripped away, scalp and all, blood dripping onto the floor. I’d already died once in the previous life. This time, no matter what, I wouldn’t let Seraphina and Penny suffer before my eyes! “A bunch of cowards who wouldn’t dare seek revenge on Ronan Luminara, only daring to prey on helpless women and children!” I spat through trembling teeth, deliberately provoking them. “Cowards in life, cowards in death, always cowards! Hahaha!” Sure enough, the vengeful spirits furiously flung me to the ground. I dared not even breathe, seizing the chance to scramble up and run out. However, Seraphina suddenly shoved Penny into my arms, simultaneously pressing the frost-white jade into my hand. “Kaelin, quickly! Take Penny and go!” Her face was resolute, yet her eyes were filled with an agonizing reluctance to leave her child. I instantly realized what she was about to do. Seraphina was an oracle from an ancient sacred land; she was about to perform a Blood-Oath Sacrifice! Seraphina picked up a shard of glass and sliced open her wrist, blood splattering. I saw the spirits that had been gnawing at her recoil, trembling. Yet, one soul could not withstand a multitude. The overwhelming darkness of spirits poured over her. Seraphina was flung out the window, but she strained with all her might to scream out her last words: “Kaelin, run! Go find Elias Blackwood!” My breath hitched, but the sheer will to survive violently jolted my heart awake. This was Seraphina’s selfless act, a chance for us to escape. I no longer hesitated. Clutching Penny, I bolted. I ran without stopping, charging forward like a madwoman. I placed the frost-white jade around Penny’s neck. The vengeful spirits hot on our heels tore clumps of my hair and scalp, stones relentlessly pelted my back. I fell, then scrambled back up… I heard the tearing sound of my own flesh on my back, smelled the thick coppery scent of blood in the air, but still, I pressed on relentlessly towards Elias’s house. I finally reached Elias’s house, frantically pressing the doorbell, pounding on the front door. “Elias! Help!” “Save my sister-in-law!” Elias, casually sipping a glass of red wine, strolled over to me. Seeing my disheveled and injured state, he merely frowned slightly. But he didn’t rush to help me up as I’d expected. Instead, he looked at me with a disappointed expression. “Kaelin,” he began, his voice flat, “you and your sister-in-law have gone to such lengths, acting like this just to get Ronan home. It’s truly… a spectacle.” “But why involve Penny? To make her suffer for your jealousy?” He spoke, idly sipping from his glass of red wine. I broke down: “Elias, how can you also believe we’re lying?! Can’t you see the injuries on us?!” To my surprise, Elias merely glanced dismissively, then his expression turned to one of ‘I knew it’: “Ronan already informed me that you two would go so far as to injure yourselves to create the illusion of being hurt.” “Julian also called to warn me. It’s all just your petty jealousy, yet you still try to fool an old man like me. Child, as a Luminara, how can you be so disrespectful to your elders?!” With that, he smashed the wine glass on the ground, his eyes burning with anger. I clung to Elias’s leg, desperately trying to explain: “Elias, it’s not like that! The vengeful spirits are relentlessly pursuing us! They’re right behind us!” However, I forgot that Elias’s powerful ward protected this area; the spirits wouldn’t dare enter and had long since retreated. Elias’s anger intensified, and he kicked me away: “Kaelin Luminara, I know my brother cherished you, but you are a woman. You cannot inherit the Luminara family’s legacy!” “Your value lies in being a good wife and mother, in marrying and having children! If you still harbor such absurd ambitions, attempting to contend with Ronan for the family’s inheritance, I will personally attend to this family matter for my brother!” His kick landed with crushing force. I rolled a considerable distance, and combined with my existing injuries, I immediately coughed up several mouthfuls of blood. Yet, I felt the physical agony was but a fraction of the searing pain in my heart. So that’s it… Ronan was convinced I was vying with him for the family fortune. That’s why, even reborn, even knowing it wasn’t a lie, he coldly ignored us. He even cut off our last chance to seek help from others. What a brother! What a fiancé! What an uncle! I wiped the blood from my mouth, struggled to my feet, and stumbled as I picked up the already unconscious Penny. If this was how it was, why should I beg? The world isn’t limited to Luminara purifiers or the Bind-Spirit Unit for dealing with vengeful spirits! It’s not just Ronan Luminara, not just Julian Vance, and certainly not just Elias Blackwood! Couldn’t the Lord of Vengeful Spirits compel all other spirits to bow before him, to submit to his will?

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5. The police insisted my parents come to the station. I shook my head, explaining they were both working out of town and couldn’t make it back. I noticed the looks on Tiffany’s father’s and the principal’s faces shift, clearly to something more calculating. A child whose parents worked elsewhere—wouldn’t she be easy to manipulate? I called my butler, concisely explaining the situation. Then I took off my ruined coat and said to the police, “They’ll have to compensate me for this coat, won’t they?” The officer looked at the bubble tea-soaked coat, nodding. “Absolutely.” “Who spilled the drink on her coat?” the officer asked. Tiffany’s smug expression faltered, her lips trembling. No one spoke up. I simply pointed directly at Tiffany. Tiffany’s father frowned. “It’s just a coat. We’ll pay for it.” He pulled out his wallet, counted a few banknotes, slapped them on the table, and pushed them towards me with an air of condescension. Tiffany mumbled a few times, but didn’t dare speak out. I looked at Tiffany’s father with a faint, amused smile, then pulled out my purchase receipt and handed it to him. His arrogant expression instantly vanished. He stared, eyes wide, at the receipt. “Four… four thousand…” My voice was flat and cold. “Four thousand eight hundred. I bought it last month. No depreciation.” Just then, my butler arrived, accompanied by a solicitor. “If compensation is refused, we will proceed with legal action.” Tiffany’s father, being a local councilman, could certainly afford five thousand. He gritted his teeth. “We’ll pay!” Then he turned and slapped Tiffany hard across the face. I collected the money with a satisfied smile, looking at Tiffany, who was now reeling from the slap. Tiffany dared not speak. She clutched her swollen cheek, all her fury transferring to me. As we walked out of the police station, she pointed at me, her voice trembling with hatred. “You wait!” I met her gaze expressionlessly. Tiffany’s eyes flickered, but she defiantly held my stare. “Alright,” I said. “I’ll wait.” 6. Back at school, the principal called both Tiffany and me into his office. He began with a perfunctory scolding of Tiffany, then spun around to chastise me. “Were you hurt? No, you weren’t! So why didn’t you seek help from the school immediately?” “The school’s teachers would have protected you! Why insist on taking it to the police station? How will others view our school now? What if our enrollment rates are affected next year?” At that moment, the principal’s phone rang. He answered it, his voice immediately becoming obsequious. “Yes, yes, absolutely! You can count on me!” “Don’t worry, sir! I’ll handle everything.” After hanging up, the principal reverted to his stern demeanor. Only this time, he was much gentler with Tiffany and went to great lengths to criticize me. He lectured, “Tiffany merely wanted to have a heart-to-heart with you, a friendly chat. But you insulted her, which made her angry and led her to throw the bubble tea. That’s perfectly natural, completely understandable!” “And you, not only did you show no appreciation, but you verbally abused Tiffany. You even called the police, blowing a small incident out of proportion, causing the school to lose face because of you!” “I’m telling you, you must call your parents here today! And you will apologize to Tiffany in front of the entire school!” I had watched the principal with an impassive face throughout, but at this, I burst into laughter, almost hysterically. That call must have been from Tiffany’s father. Oh, a father in office, who doesn’t have one? I nodded. “Alright, I’ll call my father right now.” I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, called Mr. Sterling-Hayes. My father answered cheerfully at first, asking how I was, telling me Lily was adapting well, and that she hoped I’d come home soon. But his cheerful chatter was abruptly cut short by my tearful voice. I choked out, “Dad, I’ve been bullied.” My father’s garrulous voice fell silent. From childhood, I had always been an undemanding, high-achieving child. Even though a Sterling-Hayes child didn’t need to be. In fact, among my peers in high society, I was always the one leading the pack. My father would never have imagined that I, of all people, would be bullied here. Mr. Sterling-Hayes’s voice was tight with suppressed rage. “Isabelle, it’s alright. Don’t be afraid. We’re coming right away!” “I’ll call the butler first. You just…” Before he finished, I heard an anxious female voice from the other end of the line. It was Lily. Her voice, tear-choked and hoarse, cried, “Dad! Sister must have been bullied by that group too! Please, go save Sister quickly! It’s all my fault for not warning her…” It was then that Mr. Sterling-Hayes realized Lily had also been bullied at this school, and now, the same group was targeting his eldest daughter. The sounds on the other end of the line dissolved into a cacophony. I faintly heard my mother’s voice as well. Not long after, my call ended, and the principal’s phone rang. I watched, bit by bit, as his expression shifted from bewilderment to sheer terror, followed by a torrent of apologies. Tiffany, confused, watched the principal. Only I, dropping the feigned sob, slowly allowed a smile to bloom on my face. 7. Soon after, officials from higher up began to arrive, then even higher authorities… My father, my mother, they all arrived. The principal trembled like a leaf. Tiffany’s father stood beside him, head bowed, offering endless apologies. My father, meanwhile, sat in the main chair, slowly sipping his tea. Only my mother and I knew this was the ominous calm before his storm of fury. My father spoke. “My two daughters, both of them, suffered varying degrees of bullying under your care.” “And you swept it all under the rug. If Isabelle hadn’t called me this time, we would have remained completely in the dark.” The group began to apologize profusely, especially the principal and Tiffany’s father, their heads practically scraping the floor. Tiffany stared at her father, dumbfounded, weeping incessantly. She probably never imagined such a day would come when she bullied her classmates. I watched these people with cold eyes. Tiffany’s father, who abused his power, was now facing a greater authority. The principal, ever the opportunist, was now confronted by a higher power. My father, having served in politics for many years, never abused his power lightly. He was a man of unimpeachable integrity, which is why he had risen to such a prominent position. This time, if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have acted like this. My father was a senior government official, and my mother was the head of a financial conglomerate. That was why I could resolve this situation so easily. But what about ordinary children in a small town? What about Lily before she was found? What recourse did they have? Amidst the chorus of bowing and scraping apologies, I slowly clenched my fists. The matter was resolved swiftly. The principal was dismissed, the local education authority launched a comprehensive review of the school’s conduct, and Tiffany’s father was fired from his post. Tiffany and her entire bullying clique were expelled. As she packed her things to leave the classroom, I, in front of the entire class, delivered a resounding slap across her face. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances, unsure what had happened. Tiffany merely clutched her face, her head bowed, not daring to look at me, let alone retaliate. I withdrew my hand, my voice glacial. “Tiffany, that slap was for Lily.” Tiffany snapped her head up, her eyes wide with shock. She seemed to recall something, shaking her head vigorously. “No! No! Lily… Lily can’t be your sister…” “She was just…” Tiffany trailed off. Just what? Just a poor student whose parents had died? Just a frail girl who had been bullied by you for two years and couldn’t fight back? Tiffany fled in disarray. I watched her retreating back. Tiffany had repeatedly flaunted her power in front of me, saying, “You wait, I’ll find someone to teach you a lesson.” This time, I whispered silently to myself, You wait, Tiffany. Did you think this was the end? Did you think the torment my sister suffered for so long could simply be erased by your escape? Dream on. 8. My parents were busy; they couldn’t stay away from NYC for too long. Before they left, my father asked if I wanted to return with them. I looked at their worried eyes and smiled, shaking my head. “Just one more month,” I said with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. Give my regards to Andy and Lily. Tell them not to worry about me either.” My mother sighed, patting my shoulder. “I know you’re a strong-willed child, and I probably have an idea why you came here.” “Mom trusts you, but if anything happens, you must tell us.” I nodded, smiling as I watched my parents depart in their private car. After a day of rest back at the cottage, I returned to school as usual. The moment I entered the classroom, I was met with a barrage of stares and questions. “Isabelle, how did you do it? You actually got Tiffany expelled! That’s incredible!” “Are you involved with some gang outside of school? Or did they get expelled because you called the police?” “No, that’s not right. Other people called the police before, but since they were minors, nothing much happened…” The incident was, after all, rather unsavory, and with all the various authorities involved, most students didn’t know how it was truly resolved. They only knew that Tiffany and her group had been expelled, and the school suddenly had a new principal. I shook my head, ignoring their chatter. I simply settled into my seat and resumed working on practice problems. Victoria secretly watched me for a long time before finally gathering the courage to ask, “Isabelle, are you alright…?” I paused, then shook my head, speaking softly. “I’m fine.” She nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Mid-term exams are coming soon. You should really focus on studying.” I couldn’t help but smile, telling her, “You too. Work hard.” Victoria’s face flushed visibly. She gave a little cough, as if to compose herself, then bent her head to her own studies. The first mid-term exam was fast approaching. After a few days of practice tests, I began skipping classes frequently. After my parents’ intervention, the new class teacher and principal discreetly turned a blind eye to my absences. I had a reason for skipping classes. The evening self-study session the day before the mid-term exams, a boy suddenly exclaimed. “Oh my God, do you know what happened to Tiffany?” “Huh? Didn’t she get expelled?” “Yeah… After she got expelled, her life went to hell. I heard someone beat her up, and her dad’s gambling everywhere now, can’t pay his debts. He just married her off to some guy.” “Goodness, to think of how arrogant she used to be… it’s quite a fall, isn’t it?” “What’s there to sigh about? Have you forgotten how many people she bullied? Remember Lily Dawson from our class, she was bullied so badly she got depressed and transferred schools!” “You’re right…” I propped my chin on my hand, my eyes lowered, watching the pen twirl between my fingers, listening quietly to their discussion without speaking. I opened my phone and clicked on the contact named “Lily.” I concisely updated her on their current situation. After a long pause, I received her reply. “Thank you, Sister.” 9. I secured the top score in the entire school for the mid-term exams. The entire school erupted in shock. Especially my classmates. Our class was practically at the bottom of the school’s rankings, so for a student from it to suddenly achieve the top score was astonishing. Moreover, I had been frequently skipping classes lately and hadn’t exactly been seen as a diligent student. Students from other classes only knew me as the transfer student who had fought with the school’s delinquents and gotten them all expelled by calling the police. Adding to that, I was in a low-ranking class, and the top students from the advanced classes felt their pride stung. Consequently, rumors that I had cheated to get the top score began to spread like wildfire. Victoria sat beside me, staring at her own report card showing a rank of 236. I could almost see the veins bulging on her forehead. Just as I was about to offer some comfort, Victoria suddenly tore her report card into shreds with a violent rip, then buried her face in her arms on the desk, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone was startled. Several girls who were close to Victoria quickly gathered around her, trying to console her. They offered tissues, fetched water, bustling about for a while until Victoria finally lifted her head, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. She glanced at me, then was led away by her friends to the hallway for a heart-to-heart. It wasn’t until the bell for the next study session rang that Victoria returned, her eyes still puffy. I looked at her and asked, “Would you like me to go over any of the questions you got wrong?” Victoria snapped her head up, staring at me with a strange expression. Her skin was sallow, and her face was dotted with acne. Yet, her desk was spotless, every book neatly categorized and arranged. I could see that she was genuinely striving to achieve something, which is why I offered. But Victoria shook her head, saying it wasn’t necessary. I understood. I wasn’t particularly keen on being overly helpful; if she declined, that was that. My phone vibrated numerous times in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a familiar sequence of numbers: thirteen missed calls. My gaze froze on the caller ID. Andy. My non-biological brother, who had watched over me for seventeen years. From childhood, I never feared my parents, nor anyone in my social circle. Only Andy. It could be said that my academic achievements, my courage, and even my personality had all been shaped under his rigorous guidance. And my move to Oakhaven this time had, naturally, been kept a secret from Andy, who was studying abroad. Now, after a month, my secret was clearly out. I took a deep breath, closed my phone, and pretended not to have seen it. Then, I silently prayed Andy wouldn’t storm the school. 10. On Monday, as the top student in the school, I was to deliver a speech at the assembly. I wore my freshly issued school uniform, my hair tied back in a neat ponytail, looking like any other student who belonged to this school. I walked to the high platform. I delivered a formal, practically foolproof speech. The auditorium was utterly silent. Until I finished my last sentence, just before stepping down, a murmur suddenly rose from the audience. “She cheated to get first place!” This single sentence, like a pebble dropped into still water, instantly ignited a torrent of whispers. “Oh, really? Is that true?” “It must be! I heard she never studies in class, and she skips all the time.” “I also saw her being picked up and dropped off by a fancy car! She must be a sugar baby!” “Yeah! I think I saw that too! And her clothes and bags were so expensive! She could only afford them if some old man was paying for her!” “Maybe she’s connected to the street gangs, that’s why she could get Tiffany and them expelled.” “She probably pulled strings to get into our school, and then cheated to get first place. How shameless…” The murmurs grew louder, the words sharper, more biting. Those spreading rumors, those repeating them, those simply enjoying the spectacle, those stirring the pot… thousands of eyes below fixed on me, all waiting for my reaction. They anticipated seeing me embarrassed, angry, sad, or ashamed. I could even clearly see the widening smiles on the faces of some of the more malicious onlookers. However, I disappointed them. I maintained my perfectly polite, detached smile, devoid of any discernible emotion, and walked off the stage. The teachers quickly moved to restore order, and the murmuring slowly faded. But gossip, once ignited, does not simply vanish because teachers tell students to be quiet. On the contrary, after that speech, the rumors about me intensified. They claimed I cheated, that I was a kept woman, that my designer clothes were fake, and so on. Some students from other classes even came to peer through our classroom window, openly discussing me in loud whispers. I ignored them, merely frowning and closing the window. Perhaps because they had witnessed my confrontation with Tiffany, my own classmates mostly refrained from open discussion. Victoria even helped me by scolding the students from other classes who were gawking through the window. After she finished scolding them, she turned to look at me, her gaze fixed, seemingly searching for some emotion on my face. I guessed she hoped to see gratitude, perhaps even a hint of sorrow, pain, or shame. Unfortunately, I maintained my composed, almost aloof expression. This seemingly stung Victoria. She met my gaze for two seconds, a flicker of dissatisfaction on her face. She couldn’t help but speak. “Isabelle, don’t you have anything to explain?” I propped my chin on my hand, my voice faint. “Explain what? Explain that the people spreading rumors in the audience were the same ‘friends’ who comforted you and chatted with you in the hallway that day?” Victoria’s composure faltered, then she quickly feigned calmness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I… I need to work on my problems.” She avoided my gaze, lowering her head and scribbling aimlessly on her paper. I smiled, a hint of faint mockery in my voice. “Victoria, you look truly pathetic.” This remark seemed to strike a nerve. Victoria’s head snapped up, and she retorted sharply, her voice nearing a shriek, “I am not! If I hadn’t cheated, I worked so much harder than you! Why didn’t I score higher than you?” “You’re just relying on your money! If I had money and was pretty, I’d be much better than you!” “Why do you look down on me?!” Her voice was shrill, almost hoarse. Only when she finished did I speak. “Don’t attribute your misfortunes to me. Did I make you poor? Did I make your grades worse than mine? I’m first, you’re two hundred places behind. Surpass them before you even talk about me.” “I don’t look down on you,” I said with a smile. “I’ve never even truly noticed you.” “You’re not worth it.” Victoria was speechless. She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. This time, no one came to comfort her. Her crying annoyed me. I turned to ponder how to resolve this situation and return home at the appropriate time. Suddenly, two familiar figures appeared at the classroom door. I froze, instinctively standing up, and called out to the person at the doorway. “Brother.” 11. Andy’s face was grim. It had been years since I’d seen him look so utterly furious, and a shiver of apprehension ran down my spine. Thankfully, Lily, standing behind Andy, came forward, her eyes red-rimmed, and grasped my hand, calling me ‘Sister.’ I couldn’t help but offer her a gentle smile, stroking her hair. At this point, the entire class had recognized Lily, and the room erupted into chaos. “Oh my God, what’s going on?!” “Lily Dawson and Isabelle Sterling-Hayes are sisters?! So Isabelle came here specifically to get revenge for Lily?” “My heavens! This is intense!” “No, wait. Lily used to look so poor. How can she be sisters with Isabelle?” “Who knows! Is it just me, or did anyone else notice that boy? He looks like their brother! He’s so handsome!” Andy took my hand, squeezing my palm in a disciplinary gesture. Then, he swept his gaze around the classroom, and towards the many onlookers in the hallway, raising an eyebrow. “Isabelle’s transfer here was indeed for a specific purpose. Now that her business is largely concluded, she’s here today to bid you all farewell.” “We’re taking her back to NYC.” “I’ve heard all the rumors circulating in the school. Perhaps our family’s chauffeur-driven car appears extravagant to you, but wealthy families also have daughters.” “Isabelle’s academic achievements are well-known in NYC. Her grades, painstakingly cultivated over fifteen years with our family’s substantial investment, have now, in your mouths, become ‘cheating.’” “Should anyone continue to spread baseless rumors, we shall meet in court.” With that, Andy pulled us away. Before leaving, I turned my head to glance at Victoria. She sat at her desk, tears streaming down her face, staring blankly at us as we departed. The rest of the class continued their discussions, gasps, and general pandemonium. But all of that no longer concerned us. 12. Upon returning to NYC. Andy gave me a thorough dressing-down, but then, with a softening heart, he took Lily and me out for a lavish meal. Lily clung to me, so I tutored her daily. She insisted we had to get into the same university. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling-Hayes treated all three of us equally, without a hint of favoritism. Lily became increasingly cheerful and vibrant, a stark contrast to the timid, slender girl she once was. In fact, she even became a little bit plump from my constant feeding. A year later, she successfully gained admission to the same university as me. Together, we embarked on our new university life. Before we left, I asked Lily if she still felt troubled by the past. She shook her head, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “Sister, all those people received their due punishment. And I’ve mostly forgotten about it now. It’s time to embrace a new life.” “And, the most, most, most fortunate thing is that fate made you my sister!” I smiled too, taking her hand as we stepped into the university campus.

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In my previous life, my husband, Arthur Vance, was sixty-two when he was diagnosed with late-stage Alzheimer’s. He transformed from a refined, cultured intellectual into a disheveled old man, prone to outbursts, prone to violent rages, yelling vile obscenities at me. At those times, only a photograph of his first love could calm him. So, our daughter, Lillian, brought Arthur’s first love, Serena Reed, home, telling me to care for her. “Dad only recognizes Aunt Serena now. Just think of it as helping him get better. They’re both so old, what could possibly happen between them?” For Arthur’s sake, I agreed. I served them, fetching their meals, cleaning up after them, bustling about like a live-in housekeeper. I endured this life for three long years, only to be told I had terminal liver cancer. I writhed in agony on my sickbed, but Lillian, busy with work, never once came to visit. In my final moments, I dragged myself home. There, I saw my grandson, Benjamin, holding a cake, shouting to Arthur’s first love, “Happy birthday, Grandma Serena!” And in the place of honor, Arthur’s eyes were clear, his gaze on Serena filled with profound adoration. He said, “I’ll marry you once Elara is gone. She’s had me for all these years, I owe her nothing. The rest of my life, I only want to make it up to you.” There was no Alzheimer’s. It was all a cruel deception, and I was merely their unwitting accomplice, their live-in maid. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lillian brought Serena home for a grand welcome dinner. 1 On the spinning lazy Susan, five large crabs lay piled. By the time it reached my spot, they were gone. My husband, Arthur, wore an unnatural smile, his movements clumsy as he meticulously shelled a crab for Serena. My daughter, Lillian, solicitously introduced the restaurant’s signature dishes to Serena, asking if she wished for anything else. From start to finish, no one noticed the empty plate before me. No one asked what I wanted to eat. This feeling of being overlooked, of being treated as invisible, I had experienced it countless times in my previous life. Arthur and I had been married for forty years. When he was sixty-two, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I dedicated myself to caring for him, yet he frequently left me bruised and battered. My eyes were perpetually shadowed, my face swollen, the backs of my hands covered in scratches. Arthur’s hateful words during his fits of rage were like stale garbage, reeking of putrefaction. One of Alzheimer’s symptoms is memory loss. Simply put, Arthur forgot me. It was only by showing him a photograph of his first love that I could avoid his wrath. How ironic. My husband, afflicted with a disease, forgot me, his wife, but remembered another woman. Lillian suggested bringing Arthur’s first love, Serena Reed, home, ostensibly to aid his recovery. So, I found myself caring for the ailing Arthur while also serving the perfectly healthy Serena. During the most grueling period, I wasted away from a hundred and twenty pounds to a mere ninety. If I dared to complain about the hardship, Lillian would point to Arthur, who was eerily calm around Serena, and retort, “Why doesn’t Dad cry or make a fuss when Aunt Serena is around? Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough?” I endured that life for three agonizing years, through over a thousand days and nights. In the end, I withered away from disease, from terminal liver cancer, beyond all medical help. “Mom, what are you spacing out for? Hurry up and bring the dishes!” Lillian’s voice snapped me out of my memories. I looked up. The embarrassed waiter stood beside me, tray in hand, quickly saying there was no need. Lillian, however, waved him off with a dismissive air, grandly pointing at me. “She sits by the door so it’s easy for her to serve the dishes. It’s always been that way.” She then turned her gaze back to me. “Mom, hurry up! The waiter’s arms must be tired.” Suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Their expressions were normal, none of them seemed to find anything wrong with Lillian’s words. I remembered how, in my previous life, when Serena first came to live with us, Lillian’s family had not only thrown a welcome dinner but also arranged a family vacation for Serena. I had spent an entire night packing luggage for everyone. But when it was time to board the train, the tour guide informed us. Lillian had purchased five tickets, and all the activities were for five people. But there were six of us, and it was too late to buy an additional ticket. The group discussed it, and finally, they told me, “Mom, we’re going to the beach this time. It’s not good for your joints. You should stay home.” I, along with my packed luggage, was left standing at the train station entrance. This wasn’t an isolated incident. I was always the one left behind. The waiter placed a soup tureen on the lazy Susan and discreetly withdrew. Lillian, still annoyed by my earlier reaction, pressed on. “Mom, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you serve the dishes when I told you to? You’re sitting by the door precisely for that reason.” Without a word, I filled my small bowl with soup and flung it, with deliberate aim, at Lillian. 2 The scalding soup made Lillian shriek. She sprang to her feet, frantically shaking her clothes. “What are you doing! Are you insane?!” Everyone was stunned by the scene, staring at me in disbelief. I calmly sat back down, watching her hysterical reaction. “I’m educating a disloyal daughter. What’s the matter?” Lillian started to retort, but my son-in-law tugged her arm, making her sit. Serena spoke, her voice laced with disapproval. “Elara, there’s no need for such clear boundaries between family. Why quarrel with a child?” Arthur, who had been eerily quiet, suddenly began to hurl rice at me. It splattered all over me, the soup-soaked grains leaving ugly stains on my clothes. One, two, three times. I abruptly stood up, dumped the remaining rice into the hot soup, and placed the tureen directly in front of Arthur. “You like playing, don’t you? Play with this. It’s even more fun with water.” Arthur’s motion to throw something else visibly froze, his eyes wide with fear. The atmosphere grew silent once more. Serena immediately shielded Arthur. “Elara, that soup is scalding! What if you scalded Arthur?” Lillian pushed me away, clearly terrified I might do something else. “Yes, Mom! You scared Dad!” I looked impassively at Arthur’s feigned dementia. In truth, his acting was terrible. Yet, in my previous life, how had I been fooled for so long? “His condition fluctuates. The medication he’s on must not be effective. I’ll make an appointment with the chief physician at the city’s top hospital to get him re-evaluated.” “I object!” Lillian blurted out without thinking. “Dad’s already so old. Constantly moving him around for different doctors isn’t good for his health.” “I’ve made my decision. No one’s objection will change it.” I looked at my panicked daughter, at the subtly uneasy Serena, and at Arthur, who was still feigning confusion beside her. So, they were afraid. After Arthur was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I had resolved to care for him for the rest of my life. Even when he lashed out with fists and feet, I never flinched. I saw him as my responsibility. But it was only at the last moment of my life that I discovered it had all been a lie. I was the sole prey in their cruel game. My daughter, Lillian, knew everything, yet shamelessly helped them deceive me. Only I remained in the dark, living tirelessly for their benefit, like a mere servant. This time, I’d watch them struggle to keep up their act! The welcome dinner ended in disarray. Back at home, Lillian poured water for Serena, then for Arthur, but none for me. She glanced towards the guest room. “Mom, what’s going on? Didn’t I tell you to clean it earlier? Aunt Serena is moving in today.” I replied, my voice cool. “Whoever invited her cleans it. Lillian, I am not a housekeeper.” Lillian choked on her words. Beside her, Serena offered a serene smile. “Lillian, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t look dirty at all. It’s perfectly habitable.” I patted my knees and stood up, offering Lillian a smirk. “See? It’s perfectly habitable. You’re just making a mountain out of a molehill.” I turned and walked into the master bedroom. This small, eighty-eight-square-meter apartment was assigned to me by the factory where I worked. Arthur’s university had allotted him a much larger apartment, which he had instead given to Serena. Our old apartment had three rooms. Arthur and I each had one, and the third was a guest room. In my previous life, when Serena moved in, Lillian had demanded I clean the master bedroom thoroughly. I had complied. But Serena insisted the bed frame be dismantled and washed piece by piece. The cabinets had to be wiped with a damp cloth, then again with a dry one. The new curtains, the drinking glasses, the bathmat by the bathroom door—if anything wasn’t to her liking, it had to be replaced. I cleaned and cleaned, again and again, yet no one ever asked if I was tired. The next day, I was woken by the sounds of crashing. Arthur, in a “fit,” had thrown pots and pans all over the kitchen. Dark liquid splattered the walls, and the smell of soy sauce permeated the air. The entire living room was almost impassable. Serena, standing in the only clean corner, looked at me, her gaze pleading. “Elara, Arthur is having a fit. I can’t control him… I’ll take him to Lillian’s house later. Can you clean up the apartment?” In my previous life, I would have rushed forward to soothe Arthur and calm his “fit.” But now, I calmly watched Arthur’s performance, making no move. “The cleaning service’s number is on the table. If you’re not too busy, just call them. They’ll be here soon.” I refused without hesitation and went to the bathroom to wash up. When I emerged, Arthur and Serena had already left, leaving behind a chaotic mess. I was unconcerned. I grabbed my bag and left, heading straight for the hospital. In my previous life, during Arthur’s third year of feigned illness, I had collapsed at home from severe back pain. After being rushed to the hospital, I was told I had terminal liver cancer and only a month left to live. Now, reborn, how could I allow my body to deteriorate like that again? After receiving my lab results, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was only mild hepatitis. This time, I would not die such a miserable death as I had in my previous life. 3 Lillian called me over a dozen times. I didn’t answer. After leaving the hospital, I immediately rushed to another location, to find a suitable place for Arthur’s future. As dusk settled, I returned home. The once chaotic living room was spotless, the air filled with a fresh lemon scent. That saying was indeed true: housework is always the job of those who can’t stand the mess. Arthur sat on the sofa, holding Benjamin, watching television. Lillian, peeling peanuts for Serena, laughed and chatted animatedly. A perfect picture of a happy, harmonious family. I averted my gaze and calmly walked towards my bedroom. Lillian called out to me, her tone displeased. “Mom, I called you so many times, why didn’t you answer? You ran out without even cleaning up the house. What old woman is as idle as you?” She then added, “Serena and I took Dad for a check-up today. The report is here. The doctor said all of Dad’s changes are normal; it’s just how the disease is. You just need to have more patience.” I glanced at the medical report. The doctor’s signature at the bottom made it look legitimate. If I hadn’t already known their deception from my previous life, I might not have been able to tell the truth from the lie. I threw the report onto the table. “Ignoring a top-tier hospital, dragging your father around to various clinics—what were you thinking?” Before Lillian could speak, I pushed open my bedroom door and entered. I instinctively glanced at the wardrobe, noticing that it had clearly been disturbed. My heart sank. Something was missing. I stormed out of the room and confronted Arthur. “Give me back what you took!” “Mom, what are you doing? Benny wants to watch TV. Get out of the way!” Lillian frowned, yelling loudly. I ignored her, my gaze fixed on Arthur and Serena. In my previous life, when I was gravely ill and immobile, Serena wore my lost family heirloom, claiming it was her own family treasure. She became an online sensation through it, scamming people out of huge sums of money. I had pointed to the pin, insisting it was mine. But no one believed me. I knew Arthur had taken it; he had given it to Serena. The first thing I did after being reborn was contact a local historical society. Tomorrow was our scheduled meeting. But I never imagined they would act so quickly. I forced myself to remain calm. “Arthur Vance, give me back my property, or I’ll call the police right now.” Arthur clutched his ears, hiding behind Serena, muttering incoherently. “Tiger woman hitting people! Tiger woman hitting people!” Anyone could see he was terrified of me. Serena, her eyes filled with feigned concern, hugged him tightly. Lillian, meanwhile, glared at me, infuriated. “Mom, is this how you usually treat Dad? Look how scared you’ve made him!” “Shut up!” I roared, unable to contain myself. Lillian stared at me, stunned. “Arthur Vance!” I yelled. “I’m not joking with you. If you don’t give it back, I’ll call the police immediately!” Serena’s heavily made-up face visibly paled. “Elara, let’s not involve the police before we understand the situation, alright?” I pulled out my phone and, right in front of them, dialed the emergency number. But before the call connected, a sharp pain shot through my forehead. Blood blurred my phone screen, and the glass I had been holding shattered on the floor. I clutched my head and stumbled to the ground, vaguely seeing Arthur’s motion as he threw the glass. Lillian, clutching Benjamin, hid to the side, shouting from a distance, “Mom, Mom, are you alright?”

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The little granddaughter of the family down Cherry Blossom Lane vanished. The culprits were quickly apprehended. But the masterminds, wielding immense power, not only walked free but also threatened the elderly couple. In desperation, Mr. Martin knocked on the door of The Acacia Bloom. The next day, the police came looking for me. Dominic Blackwood, one of the primary culprits, was reduced to a severed head, casually discarded at the precinct house entrance. 01 When the police knocked on the door of The Acacia Bloom, I was changing the water for the blossoms in my shop. These fresh blooms were delicate; a moment’s neglect could see them completely wilted. Plucking a few withered leaves from a stem, I motioned for the officers to come in. The lead officer, I recognized him. Lucas Hayes, I believe. He was the detective in charge of that notorious case that had dominated the headlines recently. I had to admit, Lucas Hayes was a surprisingly courteous officer. He stood quietly to the side, allowing me to finish my work without a word. “Welcome to The Acacia Bloom, officers. Perhaps a bouquet of golden acacia?” I offered an apologetic smile for the delay in greeting them, holding up the radiant, golden blossoms in my hand. The cheerful, vibrant acacia was in full bloom, yet it inexplicably made Lucas frown. Composing himself, Lucas’s scrutinizing gaze settled on me. “No need to be nervous, ma’am. We’re just conducting a routine inquiry. Do you happen to recall anything about the Martin family down the lane?” A vibrant, lovable little girl surfaced in my mind – so innocent, so full of life. The shop had a large mirror. In its reflection, I watched my lips slowly curve into a smile, then just as gradually, draw into a grim line. I heard my own voice, edged with an unmistakable sharpness. “Didn’t you close the case? Why are you still asking questions?” 02 Months ago, the little granddaughter of the Martin family down Cherry Blossom Lane disappeared. Her name was Lily. Despite their meager circumstances, Lily was incredibly mature for her age, yet she possessed a rare, vibrant spark of childhood joy. Residents of Acacia Lane loved to tease Lily, adults chuckling as they pressed all sorts of candies and treats into the little girl’s hands. Each time, Lily would blush crimson with gratitude, then skip away, bouncing on her toes in a corner she believed no one could see. In this impoverished, grime-ridden lane, where despair and anxiety hung heavy in the air, the little girl was a rare sanctuary, a pure spot in everyone’s hearts. So, when news of Lily’s disappearance spread, everyone searched tirelessly, driven by concern, combing nearly every nook and cranny of the neighborhood. Everything seemed to proceed smoothly. Her teacher confirmed Lily had left school with friends, and even called them in for us. The girls, close friends of Lily’s, cooperated, pinpointing the exact spot where they had last seen her. A small diner nearby had a security camera aimed directly at that area. The footage dutifully revealed: at that very spot, a black car had picked up Lily. The license plate was crystal clear. With the police’s cooperation, every clue unraveled like silk from a cocoon. When enraged neighbors and police officers stormed the grand suburban estate, the scene inside horrified everyone. Drunken trust-fund brats lay sprawled everywhere in the living room, some still muttering incoherently. Their faces were contorted, yet they were dressed impeccably, as if their suppressed bestial natures had just been unleashed. It was sickening. And Lily. She lay on a massive square dining table, her body covered in gruesome purple bruises, vile, unidentifiable fluids oozing from her skin onto the polished surface. Lily was dead. And before her death, she had endured unspeakable torment. Every single person present had tears in their eyes. The police, bound by rules, refrained from administering vigilante justice, but their method of dragging the men from the floor to the patrol cars was anything but gentle. The subsequent events unfolded as everyone hoped. Media reports ignited public outrage. Countless voices condemned these monsters, demanding their deaths. The case was transferred to the Metropolitan Superior Court, where prosecutors initiated proceedings. The chain of evidence was remarkably complete: witnesses, physical evidence, even residual fluids in Lily’s body yielded DNA from at least three individuals. The first-instance verdict: death sentences for all. People mourned, and people cheered. They grieved for the lost life of the little girl, yet rejoiced that justice, though slow, was seemingly inescapable. Lily had been abandoned by her parents as a child, living with her elderly grandparents. After the tragedy, a slick lawyer in a sharp suit approached the Martin couple at the end of the lane, offering them a colossal sum in exchange for a statement of forgiveness. It was indeed a fortune, enough to ensure the elderly couple lived out their days in comfort. But Mr. Martin resolutely refused. Mrs. Martin chased the man from their home with a broom. Someone from the east house ‘accidentally’ spilled a bucket of water. Someone from the west house ‘mistakenly’ dropped an egg. The impeccably dressed lawyer, by the time he left the lane, was a disheveled mess, his expensive suit splattered with grime. Yet, he still snarled threats of retribution. No one paid it any mind. Until, in a single horrifying instant, everything reversed. 03 “You said the security footage… what happened to it?” Mr. Martin, well into his seventies, his hair and beard grizzled, trembled uncontrollably with rage. The diner owner, a middle-aged man, nervously rubbed his greasy hands on his apron, unable to meet the old man’s gaze. Mrs. Martin, trembling, reached out to strike him, but was gently restrained by the apologetic officer. “The cameras… they just happened to be malfunctioning those few days. All the footage… it’s gone…” the diner owner peeked out from behind the officer, stammering. Lucas’s face was etched with disgust. He and his fellow officers equally disdained such people, yet professional duty compelled them to stand as a shield. Without the footage, a crucial link in the evidence chain was missing. And a chilling voice seemed to whisper to them that this was only the beginning. The elderly couple’s faces were ashen. They clutched Lucas’s hands, gripping him with desperate, slightly trembling force, as if seeking an anchor in their storm. “Officer, those animals… they’ll get what’s coming to them, right?” Lucas didn’t know how to respond. He nodded silently, unsure if he was trying to reassure them or himself. But even if Lucas remained silent, someone else would speak for him. The diner owner bit his lip, hesitating before he spoke: “You have no idea what terrifying giants those people are behind the scenes. Let it go. Lily is gone, but you’re still alive. Think of yourselves.” Everyone present could see the owner wasn’t a bad man; he was merely trying to give the couple well-intentioned advice. Yet, they couldn’t help but glare at him. Clearly, the elderly couple had no intention of heeding his advice. They insisted on appealing, determined to fight for justice for Lily even if it cost them their last breath. Things began to spiral downwards. Evidence vanished. Witnesses recanted their statements. The once-clear chain of evidence was systematically blurred, then erased. Security cameras coincidentally malfunctioned or disappeared. The black car that took Lily became a pile of wreckage in the suburbs. The children who walked home with Lily were silenced by their parents, terrified to utter a single word. Her teacher also changed her story, claiming Lily left school alone and was, in fact, a manipulative, deceitful child who craved male attention. Overnight, public opinion turned. The online community, once champions for the Martins, were swayed by this fabricated ‘truth,’ led astray by a colossal army of paid trolls and self-appointed arbiters of truth, spewing venomous insults at the victim. ” ‘Well, well, well. Looks like some ‘little darlings’ just bring trouble, doesn’t it?’ ” ” ‘Told you not to jump to conclusions. Now look, the tables have turned! You all look like fools now, don’t you?’ ” ” ‘Honestly, good riddance. Disgusting.’ ” Many in the lane received stern warnings. Cherry Blossom Lane housed the poor; losing a job was a catastrophe worse than death itself. So, everyone shunned the elderly couple, avoiding them like street beggars or carriers of a virulent disease, their eyes filled with a mix of pity and revulsion. What truly broke the elderly couple was the court’s final ruling. The Metropolitan Superior Court closed the case that day. The appeal ruling: two were given life sentences, three received ten-year prison terms, and the remaining few were acquitted. Among the acquitted were those whose DNA was found in Lily’s body. They, the true masterminds, had brazenly escaped the grasp of the law. Even those who seemingly received sentences could, through ‘good behavior’ and other manipulations, easily return to their glittering, opulent lives once the public outrage subsided. A colossal, unseen hand toyed with the elderly couple, manipulating them at will. When the lawyer had first tried intimidation and bribery, Mr. Martin hadn’t wavered. When the diner owner offered his well-meaning advice, Mr. Martin hadn’t wavered. But now, his friends, one by one, were threatened and harmed, then reluctantly, sympathetically, distanced themselves from him. Mrs. Martin received repeated death threats. A car nearly ran her down, almost crippling her on her way home from the market. She was still in the hospital, unconscious. Their windows were maliciously shattered, red paint was splashed across their doorway, and countless anonymous calls bombarded their phone with harassment and abuse. The police were actively trying to help, but arresting the small-time instigators was futile. It did nothing to shake the powerful families behind the scenes. Mr. Martin was afraid, but he was not resigned. The old man, who had lived a simple, honest life, couldn’t comprehend why evil people weren’t facing their just consequences. “Heaven is blind,” he’d murmured. Yet Dominic Blackwood, the mastermind, merely gazed at him with arrogant disdain, like a colossal beast observing an insignificant ant. ” ‘Just a common little girl. She died. So what? And they still dare to come after me?’ ” ” ‘Not just them. I’ll systematically crush and drive away everyone you hold dear, until you’re on your knees, begging for mercy.’ ” 04 It was so close. Truly, Mr. Martin was almost ready to give up. But then, someone told him: “Go to The Acacia Bloom at the end of the lane. Ask for a bouquet of golden acacia. Someone there will help you.” And so, the grizzled old man stepped into a flower shop for the first time in his life. Not to buy a rose for a loved one. But to demand justice for a victim. I smiled, extending the radiant, golden blossoms. It was like handing over a torch in the longest night, its flame flickering, yet resolute. The next day, a news report sent shockwaves across the city. Dominic Blackwood was dead. The all-powerful Blackwood heir, the Blackwood monster who brutalized men and women alike, the mastermind of the case – he was dead. His head had been severed, wrapped in a black plastic bag, and carelessly tossed at the precinct house entrance. A passing sanitation worker, thinking it was trash, bent to pick it up. The strange shape and chilling weight startled them, sending them sprawling to the ground. The bag fell from their grasp, and the head tumbled out. Dominic Blackwood’s twisted, lifeless eyes stared directly at the precinct house doors. That mouth, which had spouted outrageous lies at press conferences, twisting truth into falsehood, and spewed vile curses and threats at the elderly Martins, was now slightly agape, as if attempting to beg for mercy. As for his body, the police still hadn’t found it. Such a gruesome death instantly screamed ‘vendetta’ to everyone. And his most obvious adversary, everyone knew, was old Mr. Martin down the lane. And I, was the only person Mr. Martin had contacted the day before Dominic Blackwood’s death. That’s why the police came looking for me. But I was just a small flower shop owner. All I did was ask Mr. Martin if he wanted a bouquet of golden acacia when he came to my shop. What could I possibly know? I put on an expression of feigned confusion, giving Lucas a half-smile. “So, Detective Hayes, you suspect me of murder?” Lucas and his partner froze, seemingly taken aback by my bluntness. “No, not at all. We’re simply following procedure, conducting a routine inquiry,” Lucas replied gently. There was no evidence pointing to me, so their demeanor was, relatively speaking, quite friendly. I nodded, openly answering all their questions. The shop had surveillance cameras. They could confirm I was at The Acacia Bloom at the time of Dominic Blackwood’s death. This brief interlude soon ended. Lucas and his team left the flower shop. Before leaving, Lucas seemed to sense something, abruptly turning back. His eyes met my bright smile. After a moment’s hesitation, Lucas spoke. “If you recall anything potentially relevant, please, don’t hesitate to inform us.” I nodded, my smile deepening. “Of course.” 05 Dominic Blackwood’s death sent the Blackwood family into a furious rage. Mrs. Blackwood, dripping with jewels, screamed obscenities in the precinct house, her impeccably maintained face contorted into a monstrous mask of fury. ” ‘Those little nobodies died. So what? Are they comparable to my son? If you don’t find the killer, you can all kiss your jobs goodbye!’ ” No one dared to contradict her. For a colossal power like the Blackwood family, forcing a low-level employee out of a job was effortlessly simple, even within the judicial system. Before such individuals, what was called ‘law,’ what was called ‘rules,’ seemed to be mere empty words, things to be casually bypassed and trampled upon. I saw the young officer in the corner clench his fist. Meanwhile, I gently patted Mr. Martin’s trembling hand, offering quiet reassurance. Unsure if it was excitement over Dominic’s death or anger at the Blackwood family’s recent words, Mr. Martin’s face held a complex expression. After a long moment, he finally sighed. However, compared to the Blackwood family and Mr. Martin, two other individuals reacted even more vehemently to the news. Brendan White and Marcus Shaw – the two remaining masterminds. Ever since Dominic Blackwood’s head was discovered, these two had been on the verge of emotional collapse, even developing mild psychological issues. The two young men cried and begged their families to further pressure the police, leaving Lucas and his team in utter exasperation. Just a few days later, Lucas arrived at The Acacia Bloom, dark circles shadowing his eyes. The handsome man now looked disheveled and worn. Lucas claimed he was just browsing, all while subtly surveying the flower shop. I knew Lucas had never abandoned his suspicions about me. He was like a bloodhound on a scent, feigning nonchalance as he probed his quarry. After a long while, Lucas seemed to deflate. He chatted idly with me, subtly steering the conversation towards the case and the Martins, complaining about the pressure the powerful families were exerting on him. ” ‘We were making breakthroughs in the case, but they kept pressuring us, forcing us to work around the clock. That’s why I look like this.’ ” As Lucas spoke, his eyes subtly darted to me, scrutinizing my face for the slightest flicker of emotion. I saw through Lucas’s game, but chose not to expose him. Instead, I smiled and poured him a cup of floral tea. Petals swirled in the tea, creating gentle ripples with the slightest tremor. “This tea isn’t poisoned, is it?” Lucas suddenly asked, then, without waiting for my reply, took a large, smiling gulp. I shook my head, feigning the timid air of a small shop owner afraid of trouble. “Me? Poison a police officer? What a thought!” Lucas gave me a knowing smile. ” ‘So, you wouldn’t dare touch an officer, but you’d go after those spoiled rich kids, huh?’ ” It sounded like a jest, yet felt like a test. “Detective Hayes, do you know why this place is called Acacia Lane?” I didn’t answer Lucas’s question. Instead, I looked into his slightly fatigued eyes and spoke. Finding no crack in my composure, Lucas’s face registered disappointment, and he lost interest in my question. Just then, his phone rang. Lucas answered, cast me an apologetic glance, and hurried out. I stood at the flower shop door, watching him leave. An unidentifiable emotion welled up inside me. Like admiring a struggling prey, yet also pitying a wailing child.

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My mother’s chemotherapy had failed, and her final wish was for our family to share a last, peaceful dinner together. But on that very evening, Alexander’s new partner, visibly pregnant, brazenly showed up at our doorstep, intent on provocation. The shock sent my mother’s condition spiraling, and she passed away that very night. I called him relentlessly, but my calls went unanswered. It wasn’t until I had already made all the arrangements for my mother’s funeral that his call finally came through. “The girl is young, still naive, you and Mom shouldn’t let her bother you,” he said, his tone annoyingly nonchalant. “She’s emotional right now with the pregnancy, so please don’t go looking for trouble with her.” He paused. “If you can’t accept her, I’ll make sure she doesn’t appear before you again. But she is the mother of my child, and I need to spend time with her. From now on, I’ll be home with you on weekdays, and I’ll be with her on weekends.” His voice held no room for discussion, no hint of compromise. I didn’t argue, didn’t raise my voice. I simply hummed in acknowledgment. The next moment, I was submitting my application to Doctors Without Borders. Since the promises of our youth had withered to dust, it was time to let him go, and in turn, set myself free. 1 As Alexander laid out his arrangements, my eyes quietly scanned the conditions for applying to Doctors Without Borders. Discovering that I met all the requirements, I began filling out the application form without hesitation. Alexander finished what he had to say, then, hearing the faint, erratic tap-tap of keys, his voice tightened with a hint of displeasure. “Anna, did you hear everything I just told you?” I gave a faint ‘mm-hmm,’ a minimalist acknowledgment. He fell silent, seemingly surprised by my easy acquiescence. After a long moment, his voice softened, laced with a sigh. “Anna, if only you had always been this compliant.” His words made me pause, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I was instantly flooded with memories of our countless arguments. In our five years of marriage, countless women had shown up at our doorstep, challenging me. I still vividly remembered the first time someone tried to provoke me. I had collapsed, smashing everything in the house, hysterically demanding to know why he was doing this to me. Back then, his eyes held only weariness, and he pleaded, “I was just playing a part for business; there’s nothing going on between us. How many times do I have to tell you before you’ll believe me?” He was disappointed by my lack of trust, exhausted by my willingness to believe others over him. Afterward, I reflected, wondering if I had truly been overly suspicious. I humbled myself, apologized to him, and sought his forgiveness. But it wasn’t long before gossip about him and a trending celebrity checking into a hotel together went viral. I spiraled again, confronting him, desperate for an explanation. Yet, his eyes were full of disappointment, and he simply shook his head. “Anna, is that how little you trust me? If so, then I’ll give you what you want.” From that day forward, he stopped bothering to hide anything, constantly making headlines with different women. I even witnessed him intimately kissing a woman in his car. When I confronted him, he no longer offered explanations, choosing silence instead. In five years, I’d lost count of how many arguments we’d had. But I felt a deep, profound weariness. I had considered divorcing him, ending this ridiculous and tragic marriage once and for all. However, my mother’s greatest wish was to see me happy. She endured agonizing pain every day, and I couldn’t bear to cause her any more worry or sorrow. So I endured, deliberately avoiding anything to do with Alexander, turning a blind eye to the women who sought to provoke me. I thought that by doing so, I could maintain a façade of happiness. Until the moment my mother passed. Skeletal and frail, she lay on her sickbed, silent tears streaming down her face, murmuring faintly, “My darling girl, your mother has ruined you… all I ever wanted was for you to be happy… if you’re hurting, darling, then set yourself free…” Her dying wish had shifted from a simple family dinner to hoping for my happiness. Thinking of my mother’s last words, my eyes welled up. My voice, when I spoke, trembled with a faint sob. “Alexander, you can no longer give me the happiness I desire, can you?” 2 He didn’t answer my question directly, merely sighing. “Anna, we’re both approaching our thirties. It’s time to be mature. Whether there’s love or not, it’s not that important anymore.” This was his indirect way of telling me he no longer loved me. I understood, and a bitter laugh escaped me, laced with a mournful sob. “Alright, then. I’ll let you go, and I’ll set myself free.” The moment those words left my lips, my heart gave a sharp, sudden tremor. Five years ago, Alexander had said something similar to me. Back then, we were struggling financially, living in a cramped, dimly lit, dilapidated rental apartment. The only ring he could afford was a plain silver band. When he proposed, he spoke with fervent, fierce devotion: “Anna, I promise you, wherever I am, that will be your home. I’ll build you the most perfect sanctuary, so you’ll never suffer again. Your life will be nothing but happiness.” I believed him, and I accepted his proposal. He was like a child who had received a precious gift, beaming, almost skipping with joy. “Anna, from this day forward, you are my wife, Alexander’s wife. This life, this world, we will never be apart. Don’t you ever think I’ll let go of your hand!” But now, he had forgotten those promises. After I spoke those words, he didn’t contradict me. Instead, he said, “Alright, but don’t worry, the position of Mrs. Thorne will always be yours. No one can ever take your place.” When we first got married, hearing the term ‘Mrs. Thorne’ used to fill me with pride and joy. But now, that title had become nothing more than a cruel irony. When he started frequently making headlines with other women, many people in our circle pitied and sympathized with me. Some even dared to openly mock, “Given how fast Mr. Thorne changes women, who knows how long you’ll even be Mrs. Thorne? While you still have a chance, maybe try to have a child. You might be able to secure a better settlement if you divorce later.” “If she could have children, why hasn’t she had a baby bump in five years of marriage? I bet she’s barren; that’s why she can’t hold onto Mr. Thorne’s heart with a child.” They didn’t know that in our first year of marriage, I had carried our child. But that time, Alexander, during a business dinner, had been pressured into excessive drinking and enduring humiliating remarks. To secure the deal, he endured the disrespect, putting on a smile. I happened to be out with colleagues for a team-building event and witnessed the scene, my eyes welling up with a bitter ache. My heart ached for his silent endurance, for him forcing smiles even as his stomach churned from the alcohol. I walked over, wanting to take him away. But those people jeered, saying if I drank a glass of strong liquor, they would not only sign the contract but also arrange for us to be driven home. I knew how much effort Alexander had poured into securing this project. I couldn’t bear to see him disappointed. I mustered all my courage and, right in front of them, downed the strong liquor. That day, he secured the long-awaited contract. And we lost our first child. From then on, no matter how hard we tried, how we nurtured our bodies, I never conceived again. Perhaps, this was heaven’s punishment for my failure to protect our child. Maybe even God believed I didn’t deserve to be a mother. As Alexander’s words hung in the air, tears welled in my eyes and silently slipped down my cheeks, a searing heat against the coolness of my hands. 3 After my mother’s funeral was handled, I returned to the hospital for work as usual. My mentor, who had learned of my application to Doctors Without Borders, came specifically to ask me about it. “Anna, have you really thought this through? The place they’re going is a war-torn country. Once you’re there, you’ll be facing a life under constant fire and falling shells every day…” “Professor, I’ve already made up my mind. I wanted to go before, but I just hadn’t found the right opportunity.” Before, I couldn’t let go of my ailing mother. I couldn’t let go of Alexander. Now, my mother was gone forever, and the Alexander who once loved me was also gone. I no longer had any reason to cling to this place. For me, it didn’t matter where I was. Perhaps I could do something meaningful. Seeing my unwavering resolve, my mentor stopped trying to dissuade me. She gave me a few instructions and then left my office. No sooner had she stepped out than Alexander walked in. He looked at me, a confused frown on his face. “Where did you say you wanted to go just now?” My movements, as I tidied my desk, froze for a moment. I looked up at him, my voice flat. “To travel. I’ve rarely gotten out since I started working.” Back when we were in college, I used to always arrange trips with friends to various places, eager to see new landscapes. He knew this about me. He didn’t seem suspicious, instead expressing his approval. “That’s good then. Getting out more is beneficial for your health. Oh, by the way, Serena needs to come to your hospital for her prenatal check-up. Can you arrange a suitable time for her?” He offered no preamble, directly stating his purpose for coming. He wasn’t even bothering to pretend anymore. A sharp pang pierced my heart. I couldn’t help but think of the child we had lost before they even saw the light of day. Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to demand, loudly, if he, now full of anticipation for their child, ever spared a thought for our lost child. But I opened my mouth, then closed it again, dismissing the notion. The past was the past; there was no need to dredge it up again. Or perhaps, he had already forgotten. Suppressing the turbulent emotions churning within me, I reminded him, “Our doctors here are all very responsible. You can simply register and wait in line.” As my words faded, a familiar figure appeared in the office doorway. Serena, with her visibly prominent baby bump, slowly walked in. She linked her arm through Alexander’s, a wounded pout on her lips. “Alex, honey, is Dr. Thorne unwilling to help us? It’s all my fault for forgetting to make an appointment; otherwise, you wouldn’t be wasting your time here.” Alexander didn’t push her away. He gently squeezed her cheek, his voice soft. “I always have time for you and our baby. It’s alright if she doesn’t want to help; I’ll wait with you.” Noticing she seemed a little tired, he tenderly pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft reassurances into her ear. This tender scene before me was a blinding, agonizing sight. There was a time, not so long ago, when he used to be this tender with me. He would gently comfort me, make silly faces to cheer me up, and spend every last dime he had to buy me a necklace I loved. He had told me that whatever other women had, I would have too. He constantly strived to climb higher, enduring hardship and exhaustion outside, yet always greeting me with a smile when he came home, recounting amusing anecdotes from his day. Even when he was so exhausted his eyes could barely stay open, he would still talk to me, listen to me. He said it gave him a deep sense of contentment. But at some point, gradually, we went from confiding everything to this chilling silence. I averted my gaze, no longer wanting to witness the searing image that clawed at old memories. Alexander, however, suddenly recalled something. He said flatly, “What Serena did last time was wrong. I had someone buy some tonics. I’ll send them to Mom as an apology later.” “No need,” I replied, my voice devoid of emotion. “She won’t be needing them anymore.” 4 The day my mother died, I called him countless times, but no one ever answered. With each repeated, cold, automated female voice, my heart slowly gave way from initial anger to numbness. I had considered going to confront them, demanding they pay for what they had done to my mother. But every time I closed my eyes, I would recall my mother’s dying words. She told me not to blame anyone, not to live with hatred. All she wanted was to see me free, unburdened, and living happily. And I would listen to her. I would live freely, unburdened, and happily. Regarding my words, Alexander thought I was still dwelling on Serena’s earlier outburst. He frowned, displeased. “Anna, you don’t need to keep dwelling on minor incidents. It’s all in the past.” In his eyes, it was in the past. But in my eyes, it could never be in the past. I looked at him with cold, detached eyes and stated blandly, “My mother isn’t here anymore. You won’t find her.” “Anna! Don’t be so absurd! No matter what, she’s still your mother. How can you curse her like that? She’s so ill right now, where else would she be but the hospital?” My mother, during her lifetime, treated him even better than she treated me. Anything good she had, she would save for him. When he first started his business, someone sabotaged him, and he lost everything. It was my mother who took out her life savings to help him pay off his debts, helping him climb out of that mire. Yet, because of him, she found no peace even in her severe illness. Serena chimed in, echoing his sentiments. “Dr. Thorne, I know you and Auntie resent me for my thoughtlessness before. I apologize, okay? Alex is truly worried about Auntie, so please don’t be difficult with him.” “You don’t deserve to even speak her name!” Hearing her mention my mother, the fury I had suppressed erupted. “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I rose abruptly, issuing a clear command for them to leave. Alexander, seemingly afraid I might do something to Serena, quickly shielded her behind him. His gaze turned cold. “Anna, maliciously kicking out a patient – is this your professional medical ethics as a doctor?” He then proceeded to dial a complaint number right in front of me, articulating each word coldly. “I’m reporting Dr. Anna Thorne from the surgery department for unprofessional conduct…” He said he wanted to teach me a lesson, to make me understand what professional ethics were. Watching him unequivocally accuse me, a ripple of disturbance spread through my calm heart. Without waiting for me to say anything, he turned and led Serena away. As they stepped out of the office, Serena looked back, flashing me a triumphant smirk. It seemed to say, “See? Alexander is on my side. You’re a complete and utter failure.” Soon after, I received a warning from the hospital administration. My mentor, having heard what happened, helped me apply for an early leave of absence to prepare for my volunteer mission abroad. After completing the suspension procedures, I returned home. Alexander still hadn’t returned, but his social media feed was constantly updated. One moment he was posting ultrasound photos from Serena, sharing his joy of becoming a father. The next, he was posting pictures of the nursery he had personally decorated, captioned, “Baby, come out soon; Mommy and Daddy can’t wait to see you.” He hadn’t blocked me from seeing his posts. I collected myself and silently ‘liked’ one. When I checked again later, I discovered he had blocked me. I wasn’t angry. I tapped his profile picture and, mirroring his action, blocked him too. From that moment on, we would never cross paths again.

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