Category: English

For three years, my boyfriend Arthur had repeatedly suggested we live together, and I’d always declined. Now that we were engaged, I asked him if he wanted to move in. But he said: “It’s not really convenient. There’s a woman living at my place.” I froze. “What?” He sighed, a frustrated sound. “You’re not even willing to satisfy my most basic intimate needs. What am I supposed to do?” “I’m not a saint. If you can’t give it to me, I’ll find another woman.” “She’s just a casual arrangement. I pay her daily, and she takes care of my needs.” “You’re completely inexperienced in this area. Maybe you can talk to her; she knows all my preferred positions…” Seeing my silence, he continued: “Learn well, and I’ll see what kind of surprise you can give me on our wedding night.” Faced with such a shameless demand, I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a message to the wedding planner: [Wedding canceled.] I hadn’t told him that I’d bought the spacious condo he’d been eyeing. To surprise him, I’d spent the last year working tirelessly, securing several major clients and crushing two years of company KPIs into a single one. As soon as I received my bonus, I bought the apartment. I’d even secretly spent almost six months renovating it, all without his knowledge. This week, I’d meticulously decorated the bedroom, just waiting for today, when he and I would move in together. It was meant to celebrate our upcoming new chapter in life. I even had the agreement to add his name to the property deed ready, just waiting for us to get married. Thinking back to how I’d just asked to move in together, Arthur put an arm around my waist: “How about you buy a maid outfit? I’d love that!” I subtly shifted my body, avoiding his touch. Arthur didn’t notice at all; instead, he excitedly pulled out his phone: “I also like nurse uniforms. Can you get both?” “Look at Eve’s uniform temptation – isn’t it absolutely divine?” I stared intently as he opened a secret photo album on his phone, an album I’d never seen before. Inside, it was filled with countless photos of that girl named Eve. Maid outfits, nurse uniforms, sailor uniforms… Everything imaginable. Even I, a woman, felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Let alone Arthur, a hot-blooded man. But for some reason, I felt like this woman looked familiar. As if I’d seen her somewhere before. Before I could think it through, Arthur’s gulping sound interrupted my thoughts. To cover his awkwardness, he continued to scroll through their intimate photos. All of them were taken after he’d told me “goodnight.” It was laughable that I used to think it was incredibly self-disciplined for a grown man to go to bed early and wake up early every day. I’d even secretly rejoiced at finding a man who shared my routine. But I never imagined his night life was so rich. So rich that for three years of our relationship, he was cheating with other women every single night. He even kindly explained the bizarre sex toys in the photos that I’d never seen before: “Karen, these are game-changers! When Eve’s on her period, we just switch things up.” “Let me tell you, women, they should be classy during the day, and wild in bed at night.” His phone suddenly vibrated. A payment alert popped up. Only then did I realize that the $10,000 monthly salary he’d told me about was a lie. He nervously swiped away the $32,000 payment notification and rubbed his nose:

“Um, Karen, listen to me. Eve was a virgin when she started with me, $800 a night, a total steal.” “I found her for your own good, too. You have no idea how many diseases you can catch from streetwalkers; you could easily get an STD.” “But Eve is different. She’s a clean girl I carefully selected. She’s not only diligent and eager to learn, but also thoughtful and understanding. When we get married, she’ll move out on her own.” $800 a night, without a single day off. That meant at least $24,000 spent on Eve each month. No wonder he always told me his salary wasn’t enough, and he couldn’t afford a bigger apartment. Turns out, it was all going to other women. After three years of cheating like this, he actually had the audacity to claim he was “clean.” He once swore to my mom: “Don’t worry! I’ll cherish Karen, love and protect her, and work hard to give her the best of everything!” Yet the total amount he spent on me each month was less than a fraction of what he paid Eve. I looked at the familiar face before me, unable to believe this was the man I’d loved for three years. I loved him purely for who he was, for how he treated me, for his self-discipline and clean living, and for respecting my wish to not have sex before marriage. I thought that because he accepted no premarital sex, he would never betray me. But I never imagined that he had been betraying me since the first time I refused sex. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late. To show his apology, Arthur transferred his entire paycheck to me. I almost clicked ‘decline.’ But then he gave me a number. “We’re getting married soon; you should start seriously learning some essential bedroom skills.” “This is Eve’s SnapChat. Add her, and learn from her.” “Once you’ve mastered various sex techniques, I’ll hand over all my salary!” “I’m really looking forward to your surprise!” Before I could refuse, he had already called Eve, suggesting they have dinner together. It wasn’t until we arrived at the restaurant that I truly realized he wanted the three of us to eat together. His objective was for me to learn from Eve how to please him. I immediately exploded: “Arthur, do I look like some cheap tramp to you? If she wants to sell herself, that’s her business, but don’t you dare bring that trash near me!” He, however, became even angrier, frowning in disbelief: “What? I’m giving you money to learn how to please me, and you’re refusing?” “Eve’s even willing to teach you for free. You should be paying for this dinner, and you’re cursing at me?” Eve, with her ‘no-makeup makeup’ and innocent look, quickly reached out to smooth the frown between his eyebrows. She started soothing him in a sweet, soft voice: “Arthur, don’t be so harsh on Karen! It’s normal for her to be a bit reserved at first. You need to be more patient with her, just like you guided me in the beginning…” Those loaded words made Arthur’s face turn crimson. Just as I thought he was about to kiss Eve, he suddenly ushered her out of the private room. A wave of unease washed over me, and I wanted to leave too. But Arthur grabbed my hand: “Karen, I can’t wait any longer. Can we?” Sensing his unusual arousal, I angrily picked up the iced soda from the table and dumped it right over his head. To my surprise, he just chuckled playfully: “Karen, are you shy? Or, are you jealous?”

“And you know what? You’re actually pretty cute when you’re jealous!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I raised my hand and slapped him. “Jealous? Hell no! I must have been out of my mind to ever fall for a disgusting jerk like you! You’re trash! We’re done!” Arthur covered his rapidly reddening, swollen face, but instead of anger, his eyes filled with excitement: “That’s a strong slap. Even better than Eve’s! It really gets me going!” Hearing his vulgar words, my stomach churned. Seeing me keep dry heaving, Arthur stopped joking around and looked at me with concern: “Karen, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell? I’ll take you to the hospital right away!” I pushed him away: “Get lost!” “Don’t touch me!” Only then did he understand that I was repulsed by him. He looked at me with a pained expression, his eyes turning red: “Karen, don’t you love me anymore?” “I’m willing to tell you all my secrets. Why don’t you believe me?” As if remembering something, he immediately booked an appointment at a hospital. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll go get a blood test right now! I guarantee I’m completely clean!” He actually thought that as long as he didn’t have an STD, he was “clean.” How ridiculous! I took a deep breath and told him, word for word: “Arthur, in my eyes, you are absolutely filthy!” He froze, his eyes wide, and swore to the heavens: “Eve is an innocent college girl, clean and obedient. I couldn’t possibly be dirty.” I quickly refunded the $3,200. “Whether you’re dirty or not, it has nothing to do with me anymore! You and I, we’re completely done from now on!” Seeing that I wouldn’t even take the money and was determined to break up with him, a sudden panic gripped him. He grabbed my arm and rushed out of the private room, telling Eve, who was waiting at the door, to come to the hospital with us. All the way there, he and Eve swore oaths together: “Karen, once the blood test results are out, you’ll know I wasn’t lying to you.” At the hospital, he frantically urged Eve to get her blood drawn with him. But unexpectedly, Eve fainted before she even got to the blood draw station. Arthur instinctively caught her in his arms and rushed her to the emergency room. Half an hour later, the doctor came out with the test results and congratulated him: “Sir, your girlfriend is pregnant. Congratulations, you’re going to be a father!” Arthur froze, looking at me with panic: “Karen, listen to me. The doctor must have made a mistake! I always used protection; there’s no way…” The doctor looked at him, then at me, and instantly understood that the story of the three of us wasn’t simple. She gave me a sympathetic glance before coldly addressing Arthur: “Mr. Arthur, a urine test can sometimes be inaccurate, but a blood test won’t lie.” Arthur’s lips trembled as he reached out to grab me. I raised my hand and slapped him across the other side of his face: “Scumbag!” “We’re done!” Arthur took the slap, lowering his head to apologize: “Karen, give me ten minutes. I’ll fix everything right now.” He took a deep breath, looked up, and asked the doctor to schedule an abortion, then walked into the emergency room. Moments later, I heard Eve’s cries from the room: “Arthur, I don’t want your money, no matter how much you give me…” How Arthur chose to deal with that child was no longer my concern. I picked up my bag and headed straight home. But unexpectedly, as soon as I lay down, the doorbell rang. “Karen, I want to keep this baby.” “Please… please don’t force me to have an abortion…”

Hearing Eve’s cries, I simply pretended I couldn’t hear. But she cried even louder, drawing the attention of the neighbors. And when they pressed her for answers, she shamelessly claimed I was her sister, forcing her to get an abortion. The unsuspecting neighbors immediately started banging wildly on my door for her. I was furious. I opened the door, ready to kick them out. Only to find her kneeling on the ground. “Karen, I truly love Arthur. Please don’t break us up, okay?” I pulled out my phone, intending to show the neighbors my photos with Arthur. But Eve, with no shame, directly showed them intimate photos of herself and Arthur. Compared to my tasteful photos with Arthur from various public events, Eve’s intimate shots were clearly more convincing. Most importantly, in the background of her photos, there was Arthur’s family picture. Anyone could see they were living together. The neighbors looked at me with disdain: “Stealing your sister’s man, are you shameless?” “What right do you have to force someone to abort their baby?” “We’re watching you today. Let’s see if you dare to act arrogant!” I couldn’t stand it anymore and called Arthur. He arrived quickly. Seeing Eve kneeling before me, his face immediately darkened. He rushed over, pulled her up, and cradled her in his arms, immediately checking her all over. When he saw her knees were red and swollen, he immediately started yelling at me: “Karen! You’ve gone too far!” “Why are you doing this to Eve?” The neighbors added fuel to the fire, exaggerating how I’d bullied Eve. My vision blurred with rage, but I forcefully held it in and coldly asked Arthur: “Tell everyone, before today, whose boyfriend were you?” Arthur’s gaze swept over the staring neighbors but lingered on my face, full of hesitation. But it didn’t stop him from speaking: “I am Eve’s boyfriend.” “You have no right to force her to abort our child.” At his words, Eve’s tear-filled eyes showed a hint of triumph and provocation. “Arthur, don’t blame her. I know she just loves you too much, and my kneeling wasn’t sincere enough…” Hearing Arthur’s direct admission, an angry neighbor went back inside and grabbed a tray of eggs, forcefully throwing them at me. The eggs shattered on my forehead, face, and clothes, making me feel nauseous from the stench. Eve quickly raised her hand to stop the others who were still condemning me: “Everyone, please don’t make things difficult for my sister. She has her own difficulties.” With that, she tugged on Arthur’s sleeve: “Let’s go inside and talk, Arthur. Don’t make things hard for my sister.” Arthur, without a word, scooped Eve up bridal style and pushed his way into my apartment. The neighbors wanted more drama, but Arthur apologized to the crowd: “It’s a family matter, and we appreciate your discretion!” Arthur discreetly handed some cash to a few of the louder ones, and the crowd quieted, though before leaving, several spat viciously in my direction. I looked up at the security camera overhead, for now swallowing all the bitterness. Inside, I ignored the two clinging to each other and went straight to wash the grime off my face. Then I pulled out my phone to call the police. Before I could speak, Arthur snatched my phone and smashed it on the floor: “Karen! Haven’t you caused enough embarrassment? Are you not ashamed?” “I told you I’d handle everything. Why are you forcing Eve?” I retorted with a sneer: “I’m forcing her?” He immediately pulled out his phone and showed me a screenshot of a message Eve had sent him. “You threatened to expose her dirty secrets, making her lose her college degree. How could you become so malicious?” I looked at the anonymous text and found it laughable. No wonder he arrived so quickly; it was Eve’s setup.

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After Caleb Miller left in the middle of the night again for his former fated mate, I learned one thing: to stop caring. He’d go thirty hours without replying while on night patrol, and I wouldn’t wait anymore. He’d forget my birthday, and I wouldn’t bring it up. When an enemy bit my ankle, I’d grit my teeth, bandage it myself, and continue combat training. Loving someone is hard, but letting go is simple. Joanna Bennett POV Today was the public combat exhibition at the Full Moon Ceremony. The third act involved a high-difficulty combat combo. The moment I landed the ninth move, a searing pain shot through the old wound in my ankle. A crowd gathered at the edge of the training field. “Joanna! Should we stop?” My forehead instantly beaded with cold sweat, and my vision briefly blurred. The ankle wound was from three days ago, a fierce bite from an attacker during a skirmish. The doctor said the wound contained a unique toxin that was hard to remove immediately, and that I should rest, but I hadn’t listened. Gritting my teeth, I waved them off. “It’s the last act.” I don’t remember how I managed to get through eight minutes of solo demonstration. I only remember the loud applause at the end, the bonfire’s light flickering in my blurred vision, and dark red blood seeping through the bandage on my ankle. I smiled and bowed three times. No one saw me shaking all over from the pain as I walked off the stage, almost needing to lean against the wall to stand steady. One A.M., at the pack hospital. I sat alone on a plastic chair in the observation room, applying special herbal medicine. The doctor’s brows furrowed tightly. “The wound toxin wasn’t completely removed, which is why it split open. Why did you wait until now to come?” “I just finished the exhibition,” my voice was a little hoarse. While recording my information, the doctor glanced at my pale face and casually asked, “You’re Caleb Miller’s girlfriend, aren’t you? Many people saw you two together, maybe five days ago?” My eyelashes fluttered. Caleb Miller, son of Frostveil Pack’s Alpha. And my boyfriend. We had indeed been together five days ago; he’d asked me out on a date. But the next day, I waited five hours at the restaurant we’d booked, only to receive a text saying, “Something came up, we’ll reschedule.” That “reschedule” never came. “Do you want me to call him over for you? I saw them finish their patrol,” the doctor kindly offered. “No need,” I said. “Don’t disturb his work.” No sooner had I spoken than footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway. Caleb came downstairs and paused as he passed the observation room. He turned and walked in, his gaze falling on my ankle, and his brows immediately furrowed. “You’re hurt again? Why didn’t you tell me?” He crouched down, his disapproval evident. I pulled my foot back. “It’s just a small injury.” Caleb’s hand froze in mid-air, looking at me in surprise. Before, if I even scraped my skin during training, I’d take a picture and send it to him, whining, “My wound hurts so much, I miss you.” Before every important mission, I’d nervously burrow into his arms, repeatedly asking, “You’ll be by my side, right?” Now, with old wounds tearing open and new ones piling on, there wasn’t a trace of complaint on my face. I wouldn’t even let him touch me. Before he could ask, footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway. “Caleb!” The voice was soft and gentle, with a hint of laughter. Chloe walked over, carrying two hot drinks, and naturally stood beside Caleb. “Your favorite mocha, light on sugar and milk.” She handed him a cup, then her gaze shifted to me, pausing for a beat. “This is… your friend?” Caleb took the hot drink, his voice unconsciously softening by half a degree. “My girlfriend, Joanna Bennett. She hurt her foot.” “Oh my goodness, is it serious?” Chloe immediately crouched down to look at my ankle. “Hi, I’m Chloe Davis. You really can’t do any high-intensity training with this injury, you need to rest.” Her tone was sincere. The fleeting hint of disdain in her eyes was also sincere. Chloe, I knew her too. She had some Alpha blood, making her a strong fighter. She was also Caleb’s ex; they were once fated mates, but Chloe chose to go abroad to a werewolf academy for five years. They had differing opinions, so they held a rejection ceremony. Five years later, she was back, and Caleb still prioritized her. Maybe they truly were the right partners, and they would always find their way back to each other. And I was just an interlude during those five years, nothing significant. “Thanks,” I said. “The doctor already treated it.” As Chloe stood up, her shoulder brushed against Caleb’s arm. “Caleb, you still have patrol tonight, I’ll go with you.” “Okay.” Caleb seemed not to notice her familiarity. He looked at me. “I’ll take you home first.” “No need.” I pushed myself up using the armrest. The herbs had been applied to the wound, removing some of the remaining toxins. But it still wasn’t healed, so I had to use crutches for now. Caleb frowned. “How can you—” But I was already walking away. The crutches tapped against the ground, one steady rhythm after another. Chloe’s voice drifted from behind me, clear even across the entire hallway. “Caleb, did she misunderstand something? Should I go explain it to her?” “She’s not like that,” Caleb’s voice held a hint of helplessness. I didn’t look back. For five years, I never made a fuss, never questioned, never chased after answers. I thought that by being understanding and considerate, I would earn Caleb’s attention, but instead, I got his neglect. I had thought about texting him on the way to the hospital. But when I opened my phone, I saw a message I’d sent three days ago. “Full Moon Exhibition today, I have a solo combat demonstration. Will you come?” He hadn’t replied. I knew it wasn’t that he forgot; he just didn’t want to reply. In his life’s priorities, I ranked after the pack, after his missions, after that hot drink with light sugar and milk. And definitely after Chloe. It had always been that way. Back home, I pulled open the study drawer. The invitation from the Shadow Fang Pack lay quietly inside; I had read it many times. [We sincerely invite you to join the Shadow Fang Pack as a Warrior Trainer.] My thumb traced the gilded totem on the paper. I remembered how easily he took the hot drink Chloe offered at the hospital, how his tone unconsciously softened when he spoke to her, and how he hadn’t even asked if I was hurting when I got injured that day. Five years. I had waited for countless “reschedules,” for countless “something came up” excuses. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I found a piece of letter paper and personally wrote a reply: [Thank you for the invitation, I accept. I will report for duty within seven days. – Joanna Bennett]

Joanna Bennett POV That night, a stinging pain radiated from my ankle wound, throbbing beneath my skin. The painkillers the doctor gave me weren’t doing much. My wolf was growling restlessly, helpless. I didn’t know where those attackers had gotten such a toxin. I didn’t sleep all night. Caleb didn’t come home all night. At seven in the morning, I hobbled into the kitchen on my crutches. As I was chopping vegetables, I suddenly thought of my mom. I rarely saw her either. She was a powerful werewolf warrior, responsible for protecting our Luna, her schedule always packed. Even on her rare days off, she was often called back for urgent tasks. Since childhood, I’d been used to eating alone, sleeping alone, and going to school with my keys hanging around my neck. But every time my mom came home, she would be busy in the kitchen for a long time, preparing meals for the next few days, arranging them in containers in the fridge, with sticky notes on the lids: “Eat this on Tuesday,” “Remember to heat this box for two minutes.” Later, she had an accident during an attack, suffering severe injuries while saving the Luna. From falling down to passing away, it was only eleven hours. At nineteen, I stood before her body, my mind a blank. I don’t remember my reaction then, only that my knees hurt when they hit the floor tiles, and I cried until I couldn’t breathe, feeling like all the strength had been drained from me. Pack members stood around, but no one approached at that moment. Suddenly, someone crouched down in front of me. A warm drink was handed to me, still carrying the warmth of a hand. I looked up and saw a young face with gentle eyes. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice soft. “Your mother was a great warrior, she protected all of us. Even though she’s gone, we’ll all remember her.” Through a veil of tears, I saw his face: Caleb Miller. The Alpha’s son. I didn’t drink that bottle of soda, but I held it in my hands until it was completely cold. From that day on, I remembered him and those gentle eyes. The second time I saw him was two years later. It was my final graduation exam at the training grounds. The sky was already dark when the mission ended, making it hard to see my surroundings, but as I was checking in, I unintentionally glanced towards the assembly point and saw a familiar figure standing in the corner. He stood there quietly, wearing a dark blue uniform, applauding without much enthusiasm, but very earnestly. Afterward, I didn’t change, but ran out of the training grounds clutching a bouquet of pink roses, stopping him at the entrance. “Caleb Miller, can I pursue you?” He looked at me, clearly stunned for a moment. Then he smiled, a gentle smile that held a weariness I didn’t understand at the time. “I just lost my fated mate. I’m… not over it yet.” I knew he was rejecting me. But the warmth of that drink was still in my heart, and those ten minutes of companionship were still in my memory. I so desperately wanted that kind of gentle love, unique, a favoritism meant only for me. Growing up, with my father’s early death and my mother’s passing, I had never been looked at with such focused attention. He appeared at my most helpless moment; even just a bottle of soda and a word of comfort felt like a beacon of light to me. “It’s okay,” I heard myself say. “I can help you get through it, slowly.” I thought that if I was patient and sincere enough, he would eventually turn and see me. In the five years we were together, Caleb was indeed good to me. He would train with me, go on missions with me, and take me to the doctor if I was injured. But that kindness always felt veiled. Gentle, yes, but never passionate. He smiled at me, but also at every pack member. I couldn’t tell if I was special to him or just one among many. I convinced myself it was enough. Being loved by a gentle person was enough. On his birthday, I felt our relationship should move to the next stage. I booked his favorite restaurant, prepared a ring, and decorated with roses. That evening, as I was rehearsing what to say in front of the mirror, my phone rang. Caleb’s voice was urgent: “Chloe Davis is back, and she’s injured. I’m going to the hospital first; wait for me at the restaurant.” The call ended. The ring was in my pocket, and I waited five hours at the restaurant. He didn’t come, nor did he call. From that day on, everything changed. During the time Chloe was back, whenever she called, Caleb would immediately rush over, no matter what he was doing. He started coming home late frequently, becoming absent-minded, and there was something in his eyes when he spoke of Chloe that I had never seen before. I told myself that once Chloe recovered, perhaps everything would return to normal. Until that late night. I got up to retrieve something from the study and accidentally knocked over an old photo album from a corner of the bookshelf. The album fell to the floor, scattering its contents. Every page featured Chloe. Some were candid shots, some were posed together. The backgrounds ranged from training grounds to hospitals, from summer to winter. And on the back of every photo, Caleb’s handwriting. “Day 47.” “Missing you.” “A new recruit shares your birthday today.” I crouched on the floor, turning page after page, my fingers not trembling. The date on the last photo was a week before our fifth anniversary. On the back, it read: “If you hadn’t left then, I would never have let go.” I closed the album and placed it back in the corner of the bookshelf, neatly arranged, exactly as it had been before I took it down.

Joanna Bennett POV I went to the training field despite my injury. My ankle was thickly bandaged; I didn’t participate, only supervised training all day from the sidelines. Someone asked if I wanted to take the day off, but I said no, sitting there was still work. I returned home at 8 PM; the entryway light was off. Only my shoes were on the shoe rack, and there were no messages from him on my phone. Another day and night he hadn’t come home. I was pouring water when I received Alpha Leo’s mind link. “Have you really decided to leave?” he asked me. “Yes. I… I want to go somewhere I can better utilize my abilities.” In the Frostveil Pack, I seemed destined to be just a squad leader. Because the pack’s Beta and Delta held considerable influence, it was difficult for me to surpass their positions. “More than that, we want you to be safe,” Alpha Leo said. “That’s also why we didn’t arrange for you to inherit your mother’s position; we couldn’t let her only daughter continue to face danger.” I was silent for a moment, then genuinely said, “Thank you, Alpha Leo. Even if I leave the pack, I will always love you and Luna Elena.” Alpha Leo sighed. “Alright, gather your documents. Beta Cole will arrange everything for your departure.” Ending the conversation, I walked into the bedroom. I opened the bedside table: identification, bank cards, and some documents related to the squad I managed. And, of course, the investigation into the attackers’ identity… I placed the documents one by one into a folder. Mid-packing, I suddenly paused and scanned the room. Caleb had a slight obsession with cleanliness; he disliked having too many cluttered items at home. When I first moved in, I bought a floor lamp, but he said it didn’t match, so I returned it. Later, I wanted to grow flowers on the balcony, but he said it would attract bugs, so I didn’t. Over five years, I had learned to curb my presence in this home. Only now, as I packed, did I realize how few of my belongings there were, not even enough to fill one suitcase. A few changes of seasonal clothes, a pair of spare combat boots, a jewelry box, identification documents, and some files from when I became a patrol squad leader. That was all. Five years, condensed into half a suitcase. The bedroom door suddenly opened. Caleb walked in, pausing when he saw the scattered documents on the bed. “What are you busy with?” “Organizing some materials,” I said, not looking up. “I thought we could travel together for Christmas, so I’m preparing in advance.” “Christmas?” Caleb glanced at me. “It’s only July—” He was cut off by his phone ringing. Chloe’s name lit up the screen. “Caleb, I’m not very familiar with tonight’s patrol route, can you come help me?” The voice on the other end wasn’t loud, but in the quiet room, it was clearly audible. Caleb hung up and looked at me, his lips moving. He looked guilty, yet he couldn’t put Chloe aside. “Go,” I said, folding a document and slipping it into a bag. “Work is important.” Caleb stood still, his brows furrowed, perhaps sensing something was off. If it had been the old me, I would have frowned and said, “She’s a werewolf warrior too, why can’t she handle such a small thing?” “There are so many warriors in the pack, why does she always call you?” But this time, I said nothing. My eyes didn’t even leave the documents. “I might not be back tonight,” he said. “Dinner together tomorrow morning?” “Okay.” Caleb left, relieved. The door closed softly. Listening to his footsteps fade, I packed all the remaining materials into the folder and sealed it.

Joanna Bennett POV I woke up the next day to a cold pillow. I picked up my phone and saw a message, sent at three A.M. [Last night was an emergency. Couldn’t make it back this morning. I’m sorry.] I looked at it for two seconds, then locked the screen. The apology was real, and so was his inability to return. There were always so many things ahead of me, so many that “I’m sorry” had become a common phrase. After training that evening, I carried my bag home. As I changed shoes in the entryway, I heard voices in the living room. I walked in and saw Chloe sitting on the sofa, wearing loose loungewear, with a suitcase at her feet. Caleb stood beside her, his expression tightening the moment he saw me. “Chloe… she’s not quite settled since she came back, she always has trouble sleeping alone,” he fumbled for his words. “She lost touch with her pack friends during her years abroad, and now I’m the person she’s closest to. I thought I’d let her stay in the guest room for a few days, until she adjusts, then—” “Okay.” I put down my bag. Caleb tensed all over, his lips slightly parted, as if he was scrambling for excuses in his mind. But I agreed too quickly, so quickly that the expression on his face instantly froze, like he’d choked on cold air, unable to utter a single word. Chloe stood up from the sofa, her voice soft. “Caleb, can I invite a few friends over for dinner? A welcome home party for me. I’d feel more at ease if you arranged it.” Caleb hadn’t answered yet when I spoke. “Sure, I’ll prepare it.” Chloe smiled, a fleeting flash of triumph in her eyes. That evening, Chloe’s invited friends arrived one after another. They were all Caleb’s old friends, along with some members from other packs who had attended school with them. The living room quickly grew lively, everyone gathered around Chloe. They talked about her experiences, how she’d gotten thinner, how she was still as beautiful as ever. I was in the kitchen, cutting fruit, pouring drinks, and changing plates. I entered and exited the living room many times; no one asked if I wanted to sit down and chat with them. After a few rounds of drinks, someone, a little drunk, slung an arm around Caleb’s shoulder. “I say, Caleb, if you and Chloe hadn’t broken up back then, you’d probably have kids by now, right? Hahahaha—” The living room fell silent for an instant. Caleb’s face changed, and he sharply looked at me. I was coming out of the kitchen, carrying a platter of sliced watermelon. I placed the platter on the coffee table and smiled. “Yeah, what a shame.” My tone was light, like commenting on a movie. But no one dared to speak again. The man awkwardly drank his drink, and it took a while for the atmosphere to ease. Caleb stared at my profile for a long time. I was smiling. But there was nothing in that smile. No jealousy, no resentment, not even a trace of caring. Like an outsider hosting guests. After the dinner broke up, I was washing dishes in the kitchen. Chloe leaned against the doorframe. “Joanna, do you know that Caleb and I are fated mates?” The water faucet ran. My hands didn’t stop. “The Mating Ceremony was all planned,” Chloe said loudly. “I was the one who broke up with him. I wanted to go abroad, he begged me to stay, but I refused.” I turned off the faucet and placed the last plate in the rack. I turned around, drying my hands, and looked at Chloe. “So?” Chloe met my gaze, her smile confident, even carrying a hint of pity. “So I’m back.” She took a step forward. “This spot in this home is mine; it’s time for you, the replacement, to make your exit.” The kitchen was silent for a few seconds. I folded the hand towel and hung it back on the hook. “You’re right,” I said. “It is time for me to make my exit.” Chloe’s smile stiffened. “Joanna Bennett, you’d better understand your place. You’re just an orphan with no family, you—”

Joanna Bennett POV I cut her off. “Chloe, we’re all adults here. You can’t let go of Caleb, you can go after him, but there’s no need to put me down.” Chloe looked furious. I didn’t look at her again and walked out. In the living room, Caleb had just returned from seeing off his friends and bumped into me. He glanced at the kitchen, then at my face. “They had a bit too much to drink earlier, those things they said… don’t take them to heart.” I looked at him, silent for a few seconds. “Caleb Miller, I saw the photo album on your bookshelf.” The air in the living room seemed to solidify. “Every single one was Chloe, and on the back of each one were your words.” My voice was steady. “‘Day 47, missing you.’ ‘If you came back, I would never let go again.’” Caleb looked flustered, trying to grab my wrist, but I pulled away. “Joanna, let me explain, that was just—” “No need to explain.” I cut him off. Caleb stubbornly grabbed my hand. “Joanna,” his voice tightened, “Let’s talk—” “Caleb!” Chloe came out of the kitchen, holding up her hand, her voice urgent. “I accidentally cut my finger just now, it’s bleeding a lot. Quick, help me look, will it affect me doing missions later?” Blood was oozing from between her fingers. Caleb immediately released my wrist and strode towards Chloe. I stood there, looking down at my released wrist. A red mark remained, but it would soon fade. Just like all my traces of him. I glanced at the two of them, then turned and walked upstairs. My ankle injury still hadn’t healed; the bandage was wrapped tightly, and I had to lean heavily on the banister to climb the stairs. Amidst Caleb comforting Chloe in the background, as I reached the fourth step, the bandage accidentally caught on a metal bar. I didn’t have time to react, my foot slipped, and I fell heavily— That already swollen foot twisted sharply. A searing pain shot through me. I bit my lip, not making a sound. Caleb’s voice came from the living room: “What happened?” He took two steps towards me, then was called back. “Caleb, I’m still bleeding, please help me first…” His footsteps stopped. I bit my lip, slowly stood up by leaning on the wall. My left foot was completely useless; the blood from my ankle was close to soaking through the bandage. My wolf was almost entirely consumed by the pain and the agitation from the toxin. I pulled out my phone and dialed the doctor’s number. “Hello, my ankle is injured again. Could you please come pick me up?” Caleb finally walked over, his face pale. “I’ll take you.” “No need.” No sooner had I spoken than the sound of a vehicle came from outside. The doctor’s assistant came in and helped me into the car. I didn’t let Caleb touch me the entire time. Forty minutes later, after being treated, I walked out of the clinic on crutches. Caleb was waiting for me in the hallway. “Joanna.” He blocked my path. “What’s wrong with you tonight? Why are you so cold? If you’re angry, just say so, I can change, can’t I?” I stopped and looked at him. The hallway light was bright white; anxiety and confusion were in his eyes. “Caleb Miller,” I said, “haven’t you always hated it when I lost my temper?” Caleb froze. “Every time I confronted you about Chloe, you’d say I was too sensitive. You’d tell me to be more sensible, not to be unreasonable.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Now I’m sensible,” I looked at him, my voice soft. “I’m not throwing a temper, I can solve problems on my own, without bothering you.” I paused. “Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

Joanna Bennett POV Caleb looked panicked. My eyes held genuine confusion. Caleb couldn’t meet my gaze. I walked towards the door on my crutches. The cold light of dawn shone on my retreating back, but I held my spine straight. He seemed very uncomfortable. “Joanna.” He caught up to me, bent down, and picked me up. I didn’t struggle, nor did I lean against him. I just lay quietly in his arms, like a piece of luggage. In the car, he buckled my seatbelt. When his fingers brushed against me, I flinched away. Caleb gripped the steering wheel in silence for a long time, then spoke. “Joanna, let’s have the Mating Ceremony.” His tone became resolute. “Let’s officially become mates.” The car was instantly silent. I turned my head to look at him. “Didn’t you always say a Mating Ceremony was too soon?” I said softly. “You said you liked our current state very much.” Caleb’s voice was hoarse. “We’ve been together for five years. We’re going to have a Mating Ceremony sooner or later, so why not… now?” I looked at the unconcealed tension in his eyes and suddenly found it amusing. That expression, for five years, had always been on my face. I had tested him countless times, and he always had an excuse: too busy, missions, “let’s wait.” Now that I didn’t care, he was suddenly anxious. That impatient look was almost as if he was trying to forcefully bind me to him with a mate bond. I didn’t answer. The ride was silent. When we got home, I went upstairs, and Caleb sat motionless on the sofa. My ankle throbbed faintly. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. Soon after, I heard the sound of the front door closing and an engine starting downstairs. He went to find Chloe. It was expected, not worth losing sleep over. The next day, Beta Cole brought me my passport, plane ticket, and all other necessary documents for going abroad. The flight was booked for three days later. I confirmed the details, and when I returned to the apartment, Chloe was sitting there, eating pasta Caleb had cooked. “Morning.” Chloe smiled at me, her posture like the lady of the house. Caleb came out of the kitchen, his tone a little coaxing. “The weather’s nice today, why don’t the three of us go for a walk and relax?” I thought for a moment. “Sure.” There were large forests within the pack territory. Werewolves usually loved transforming into their wolf forms and running freely, rolling around in the forest. We didn’t do that; Chloe and Caleb seemed to prefer walking in human form. Chloe linked arms with Caleb, chatting about her experiences abroad, laughing and patting his shoulder. I walked behind them on my crutches, looking at the roadside flowers, at the clouds in the sky. No one looked back to tell me to catch up. And I didn’t need them to. There was a lake in the forest, a famous dating spot within the pack. As we reached the lake, Chloe walked over to me, her voice soft. “Joanna, who do you think Caleb would save first if there was danger?” Before I could answer, two wildly sprinting werewolves suddenly rushed towards us. Chloe screamed, didn’t dodge, but instead bumped into me. Due to my injured foot, I couldn’t dodge in time, and Chloe and I fell towards the lake. In that split second of falling, I saw Caleb rush over. His arms firmly caught Chloe. Chloe huddled in his embrace. Then I plunged into the cold lake water. Through the swirling water, I saw the two of them on the shore, tightly embracing. Chloe was buried in Caleb’s arms, and he held her shoulders tightly. I kept my eyes open in the water. The bandage on my ankle was soaked, and blood began to seep out again. I thought, I really wouldn’t have any expectations for Caleb anymore.

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“Julian, are you really going to marry Audrey, the one who poses nude for a living?” Liam Reynolds’ voice on the phone was dripping with undisguised contempt. Julian’s voice was cold and rational, like a blade dipped in ice. “It’s just a formality. Once Brandon Scott marries Lyla, I’ll give Audrey a sum of money and send her away.” So, he loved my own sister. He thought I was standing outside the studio, unable to hear anything. He thought the suit jacket he’d draped over my bare shoulders was a symbol of love and protection. He didn’t know I already had the key to a private island and a perpetually loyal lover in my account. Nor did he know I was patiently counting down the days until his performance ended. Audrey POV “Ms. Hayes, the transfer of your private island is complete,” Mr. Davies, my private butler, said over the transatlantic call. “The island is secluded. No communication devices can track your location.” “Additionally, your custom-designed family and companion service is ready. You paid a hefty sum for it. They’ve been implanted with the most advanced emotional programs. They will love you unconditionally and with absolute loyalty.” I stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking at my reflection in the glass, and softly agreed. “In thirty days, I’ll finish tying up all loose ends here and arrive on the island on schedule.” Hanging up the phone, I turned and walked back to the circular platform in the center of the art studio. This was Julian’s private studio. The air was filled with a mix of turpentine and a sophisticated woody scent. I untied the thin silk robe I was wearing, letting it fall to my ankles, exposing myself completely under the bright overhead lights. I am a nude model. In this field, it’s a profession accompanied by countless prejudices, condescension, and filthy speculation. But Julian Vance was an exception. He was one of the city’s most influential and wealthy figures, and also a gifted sculptor and painter. He once took off his expensive, high-end tailored suit, draped it over my bare, trembling shoulders, and in front of countless media flashes, kissed my collarbone and said, “In my eyes, you are the purest art in the world, my only muse.” “Cold?” A deep, mellow male voice interrupted my thoughts. Julian walked towards me, palette in hand. His fingertip, stained with a bit of warm paint, gently brushed against the small of my back. His gaze was focused and adoring, as if he were looking at a rare treasure. “Just ten more minutes, and this painting will be finished. For next month’s exhibition, I want the whole world to know how beautiful my wife, Audrey, is.” Wife. Hearing that word, my heart didn’t flutter with the usual sweetness. Instead, a bone-chilling coldness washed over me. I quietly lowered my gaze, remaining silent. Ten minutes later, Julian put down his paintbrush, picked up a cashmere blanket, and wrapped me snugly in it. He gently pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to wash my hands. After that, I’ll take you to try on wedding dresses.” Watching him walk into the bathroom, I noticed his phone casually placed next to the easel. The screen was lit, showing an ongoing FaceTime call with his friend, Liam. I took a step closer. Liam’s voice, a mix of teasing and pity, came clearly through the speaker. “Julian, are you really going to marry Audrey, the one who poses nude for a living? Are you crazy? How could the Vance family ever let a nude model marry into the family?” Amidst the sound of running water from the bathroom, Julian’s cold, rational voice came through his Bluetooth headset and reached my ears. “It’s just a formality. Brandon Scott dislikes Audrey’s profession and absolutely refuses to marry her, but his family is pressuring him not to break the engagement. If I don’t ‘steal’ Audrey’s fiancée status, how can Brandon be free to marry Lyla?” Liam sighed. “You’re something else. Just to let Lyla marry the man she loves, you, the heir to the Vance empire, are willing to humble yourself to pursue a nude model, even putting on this sickening act of being deeply in love and calling her your muse. Aren’t you afraid of getting trapped for life?” The water stopped running. Julian’s voice held a trace of barely suppressed tenderness, but it wasn’t for me. “As long as Lyla gets what she wants, everything I do is worth it. Once Lyla and Brandon are married, I’ll give Audrey a sum of money and send her away.” Boom. I felt all the blood in my body freeze instantly, and even breathing sent a tearing pain through me. It turned out that all his respect, favoritism, and protection for me over the past seven years had been nothing but lies. He pulled me out of the mire and put me on a pedestal, not because he loved me, but just to make way for my own sister, Lyla. What a grand and understated love. For Lyla’s happiness, he was willing to get his hands dirty, to embrace a “nude model” whom he fundamentally looked down on. I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to turn around. There was no one here who loved me anymore. It’s okay. In thirty days, I’ll go to that deserted island, where I’ll have a lover who will never betray me.

Audrey POV The bathroom door opened, and Julian walked out, drying his hands. He put on his usual gentle mask, came up to me, and naturally pulled me into his arms, his chin gently brushing against my neck. “What’s wrong? You’re trembling. Are you cold?” His tone was so caring, his movements so gentle. If I hadn’t just heard those words with my own ears, I would never have believed that beneath this warm body lay a heart so cruel towards me. I suppressed the churning nausea in my stomach, subtly stepping back half a pace from his embrace, my voice calm. “No, I’m just a little tired.” Julian didn’t notice anything amiss, just dotingly ruffled my hair. “Then we won’t go try on wedding dresses today. You rest well at home. Tonight, I’ll cook your favorite dishes myself.” Looking into his deeply affectionate eyes, an image from five years ago flashed uncontrollably in my mind. At that time, I had just started as a nude model, and uncensored photos of me were maliciously leaked by the media. My biological parents, ashamed of me, locked me out of the house. My fiancé, Brandon Scott, even threw my photos in my face, calling me “low-class” and “disgusting.” It was Julian who descended like a god, blocking all the garbage and hateful camera flashes thrown at me. With the hands that had sculpted countless masterpieces, he gently wiped away the dirt from my face and declared to the world, “Art itself is innocent; it’s your eyes that are dirty. Audrey is my lifelong inspiration.” Back then, I thought I had found salvation. I took out my battered heart, carefully mended it, and gave it to him wholeheartedly. But now, it seemed it was nothing but a carefully planned hunt. His so-called “inspiration” was just to make me willingly give up Brandon. A special notification sound suddenly rang out in the quiet art studio, interrupting my thoughts. Julian picked up his phone, and his expression instantly changed with just one glance. His usually gentle brows tightened, and a hint of undisguised panic flashed in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked, feigning ignorance. Julian hastily grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, not even sparing me a glance. “There’s a sudden emergency at the company. A multi-million dollar project has a glitch, and I have to go deal with it immediately. You wait patiently at home for me. Dinner might have to wait until tomorrow.” He spoke flawlessly, but as he turned away, I clearly saw the chat interface still lit up on his phone screen. It was a SnapChat message from Lyla, with an accompanying picture of a slender finger, with an extremely faint scratch on the fingertip, so shallow it hadn’t even bled. The caption read: “Julian, I accidentally scratched myself with a violin string while practicing. It hurts so much!” Because of such a trivial message, barely even a scratch, the man who constantly declared me his only inspiration, abandoned me without hesitation. The studio door was shut with a heavy thud. I stood there, looking at the empty room, and suddenly felt a strange sense of amusement. I once believed Julian was the man who loved me most in the world. But it turned out that in the face of a single scratch on Lyla’s finger, I, his “fiancée” who was about to marry him, wasn’t even worth an excuse. I didn’t cry. My tears had dried up during those long nights of being cursed by my parents and scorned by Brandon. I simply walked calmly to the easel, looking at the oil painting Julian had just finished. The woman in the painting was nude, her eyes pure and melancholic, breathtakingly beautiful. I picked up a paintbrush stained with black paint and, without the slightest hesitation, drew a huge, ugly ‘X’ across the woman’s face in the painting. Then, I turned and walked back to the bedroom, pulled out a black suitcase, and began to pack my belongings, one by one. Since I decided to leave, I would leave cleanly, without a trace.

Audrey POV After packing my usual clothes, I started to organize my documents, only to realize the most important ones weren’t with me. I paused for a moment, then changed into a conservative long-sleeved trench coat, wrapping myself up completely. I called an Uber to the Hayes family mansion. This was my home, yet I stood at the entrance like a cautious stranger. Ever since I insisted on becoming a nude model five years ago, against my family’s wishes, the Hayes family had changed their locks and never given me a key again. After ringing the doorbell, it took a full ten minutes for Martha, the housekeeper, to open the door, her face full of impatience. In the living room, my parents were sitting on the sofa, sipping tea. Seeing me walk in, their previously smiling faces instantly darkened, as if they had seen something repulsive. “What are you doing back? Our family’s name has been completely dragged through the mud by you, and you still have the nerve to step foot in this house?” Mom slammed her teacup onto the coffee table, her sharp voice piercing my ears. Dad just snorted, not even bothering to look at me directly. “What, you can’t make money flaunting yourself outside anymore, so you want to come back begging? Let me tell you, the Hayes family only has one daughter, Lyla. You disgusting thing, get out of here quickly and don’t soil our carpet!” I had heard such words countless times. Before, I would feel wronged, try to explain the difference between art and pornography, and cry, asking them why they only loved Lyla when we were both their daughters. But now, my heart was like a dry well, no longer stirred by any ripple. “I’ll just grab my things and leave.” I walked directly towards the study on the second floor. Just then, the front door of the mansion opened again. “I’ve brought Lyla home.” Julian’s voice echoed from the entrance hall. My steps abruptly halted. I turned around and saw Julian carefully escorting Lyla inside. Lyla was wearing a pure white, high-end couture dress, like a noble, flawless white swan. And Julian’s hand was loosely resting on her waist, his eyes filled with a tension and tenderness I had never seen directed at me. “Oh, my sweet daughter, how did you cut your hand? Let Mom see!” Mom’s harshness towards me instantly vanished, replaced by a face full of concern as she rushed to meet Lyla. Lyla leaned delicately against Julian, extending the finger whose red mark had almost disappeared. “I’m fine, I just practiced violin too hard. Thanks to Julian, he pushed aside a multi-million dollar meeting as soon as he heard I was hurt, insisting on taking me to the hospital for a bandage. The doctor even said the cut would have healed if we’d arrived any later.” Her words were full of boastfulness, but her eyes provocatively sought me out, standing at the top of the stairs. Julian finally noticed my presence. His body stiffened slightly. He subconsciously withdrew his hand from Lyla’s waist, a flicker of rapid panic and guilt in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He quickly walked to the bottom of the stairs, trying to take my hand. “I… my meeting ended early, and I happened to pass by Lyla’s studio, so I gave her a ride home.” I avoided his touch. I looked at this man, full of lies, and felt utterly absurd. A multi-million dollar meeting? Happened to pass by? He could unhesitatingly abandon me for Lyla’s minor injury, yet now he wanted to play the deeply affectionate, innocent role in front of me. “Don’t blame Julian. He’s just too kind; he can’t stand to see anyone hurt.” Lyla stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over my tightly wrapped trench coat. A malicious smile played on her lips. “Are you finally feeling ashamed, dressed so heavily today? Julian actually told me that while he respects your ‘art,’ he’s still quite bothered by you letting so many men see you.” Julian’s face changed drastically, and he snapped, “Lyla, don’t talk nonsense!” He turned to me, explaining urgently. “Don’t listen to her. I never thought that. In my heart, you are always the purest.” I watched him silently, watching the undeniable hypocrisy in his eyes. I didn’t argue or make a scene. I simply calmly withdrew my gaze and turned to continue upstairs. “Whether it’s nonsense or not, it no longer matters.”

Audrey POV I easily found my documents in the bottom drawer of the study. After carefully placing them in my bag, I went downstairs. I had intended to leave immediately, but my mother’s cold, hard voice stopped me. “Since you’re back, have dinner before you go. Otherwise, people will say the Hayes family is cruel, not even feeding their own daughter.” Mom’s words were spoken with extreme reluctance. If Julian hadn’t been present, she probably would have already told Martha to get a broom and kick me out. I wanted to refuse, but I caught Julian’s pleading gaze out of the corner of my eye, as if he was begging me to cooperate with his act as the “devoted fiancé.” I felt apathetic and nodded, taking a seat at the very edge of the dining table. Martha soon served the dishes. The table was piled high with food I disliked, and many spicy dishes. I have severe stomach ulcers and cannot tolerate any spice. My family knew this, and Julian knew it even better. Once, when we were eating out, a bit of chili accidentally got into my soup, and I was in so much pain I broke out in a cold sweat. That day, Julian, who was always so dignified and composed, lost his temper in the restaurant and even personally took care of me. From then on, whenever he was present at a meal, there was never a trace of chili. But now, he looked at the table full of dishes and didn’t even frown. “Julian, try this. I specially asked Martha to make it. I know you’ve been eating her plain food lately, you must be tired of it.” Lyla picked up a piece of meat and naturally placed it in Julian’s bowl. Julian subconsciously glanced at me. Seeing that I had my head down and wasn’t reacting, he smiled and ate the meat. “Thanks, Lyla. It’s certainly been a while since I’ve had anything spicy.” So, he hadn’t changed his palate for me; he had just been enduring it. I picked up the glass of plain water in front of me, took a sip, and suppressed the faint pang of pain in my stomach. At the dinner table, my parents constantly served Lyla and Julian, the three of them chatting and laughing as if they were the only family, and I was just a transparent, superfluous decoration. “By the way,” Lyla suddenly changed the subject, directing her words at me, “I heard you’re having a solo exhibition next month? And Julian is personally organizing it for you?” My hand, holding the knife and fork, paused slightly. That exhibition was Julian’s promised “wedding gift” to me. He said he would use the most magnificent exhibition to showcase my beauty to the world and wash away all the shame associated with me. “Yes.” I replied indifferently. Lyla covered her mouth and chuckled, her eyes full of disdain. “You’re really brave. If I were like you, posing nude in front of men every day, I wouldn’t even dare to leave the house, let alone hold an art exhibition. I truly don’t know how you manage to be so… uninhibited.” “Lyla!” Mom sounded like she was scolding her, but her tone was full of indulgence, “She has no shame, but don’t you dare learn from her! Our family has always been respectable. How did we end up with such a disgrace!” I didn’t retort. I just quietly looked at Julian. The man who had once draped his jacket over me in front of countless people and shielded me, was now sitting quietly. Not only did he not refute them as he usually would, but he slightly frowned and spoke to me in an extremely gentle, yet somewhat condescending tone. “Lyla is young and speaks her mind; don’t take it to heart. However… they do have a point. After this exhibition, once we’re married, you should stop modeling. A Vance wife shouldn’t be out there, letting people judge her.” His voice was soft, but it felt like a dull knife, mercilessly cutting into my heart. This was his so-called “inspiration” and “art.” It turned out that, deep down, he was just like those who looked at me with prejudiced eyes, believing my profession was low-class, disgraceful, and needed to be hidden. Every one of his previous defenses was just an act to make Brandon comfortable with breaking off the engagement. I put down my knife and fork and stood up. “I’m full. Please enjoy your meal.” I didn’t look at Julian’s instantly stiff face, nor did I heed my parents’ curses. I walked directly out of the mansion and into the cold autumn night.

Audrey POV After returning from the Hayes’ residence, I began a quiet purge. Twenty-five days until I left for the island. I sorted and packed up all the expensive gowns and jewelry Julian had customized for me in my walk-in closet, then contacted a luxury resale specialist. I dug out the “model contracts” I once treasured. The promises Julian had personally written, ensuring I would be his exclusive muse. His handwriting was strong and bold, once etching itself into my heart with every stroke, but now it only felt ironic. I lit a lighter, watching the papers turn to ash in the metal basin. “What are you burning?” Julian pushed open the door, a faint smell of alcohol clinging to him. Seeing the metal basin on the floor, he frowned slightly and quickly stepped forward, stomping out the last embers. “Just some unwanted scraps of paper.” I stood up. Julian looked at me. He stepped forward, pulled me forcefully into his embrace, his chin resting on the top of my head, his voice tinged with a hint of appeasement. “Are you still angry with me? That day at your parents’ house, I was just trying to calm them down. You know, you’re the only one in my heart.” He paused, then produced a gilded invitation as if it were a treasure. “Tomorrow is the opening of the exhibition. I promise, this exhibition, named ‘Audrey: A New Beginning’, will make you the most dazzling queen in the entire art world. All the rumors will be silenced.” I lowered my gaze, looking at the invitation card bearing my name, and a silent, cold laugh escaped my heart. If I hadn’t overheard his conversation with Liam that day, I probably would have been moved to tears. “Okay.” I softly agreed. The next evening, the city’s largest private art gallery was brightly lit. I wore a conservative black long dress and walked into the exhibition hall, holding Julian’s hand. However, when I looked up at the giant poster in the center of the hall, my steps froze. On the poster, the originally planned exhibition title, “Audrey: A New Beginning,” had been conspicuously replaced with “Lyla’s Growth.” The irony wasn’t lost on me. And in the very center of the exhibition hall, under the brightest spotlights, wasn’t the oil painting of me, but a massive sculpture. The sculpture depicted a young girl in a ballet dress, pure, noble, and untouchable. It was Lyla’s face. I looked for a long time. Finally, in the darkest, most inconspicuous corner of the exhibition hall, I found my artwork. The painting depicted me nude, bathed in dark red light, creating an ambiguous and alluring tone. Below the painting hung a glaring label: “Mud under the Swan’s Feet.” Mud. So this was his idea of a “queen.” Guests gathered in small groups, pointing at the painting in the corner and letting out subtle, knowing chuckles. “I heard this is Mr. Vance’s common fiancée? Her figure isn’t bad, no wonder she managed to seduce him.” “The contrast is too stark, isn’t it? That sculpture in the middle is Lyla, the eldest daughter of the Hayes family, right? That’s true art, elegant and sacred. The one in the corner is, at most, an explicit photo.” “Mr. Vance’s intentions are brilliant. Putting his fiancée’s nude painting beneath his beloved’s sculpture as a backdrop. Isn’t that a blatant insult?” Their harsh words pierced my ears like needles. I turned and looked at Julian, who stood beside me. He was wearing a well-tailored suit, a flawless smile on his face. He didn’t even glance at me, his gaze fixed dreamily on the sculpture of Lyla in the center. “Is this your gift to me?” My voice was very soft, yet it was unusually clear in the noisy exhibition hall. Julian snapped back to reality, meeting my eyes. He quickly grabbed my hand, lowering his voice to explain. “Listen to me. Lyla is applying to the Royal Art Academy, and she needs a prominent exhibition credit. You don’t care about these superficial things, do you? You’re my private muse. These paintings are in the corner to protect you, to keep too many people from seeing your body.” Protect? Stripping away my dignity and trampling it underfoot to elevate Lyla’s throne. Was this protection? I forcefully pulled my hand away, one finger at a time, prying his grip loose. “Julian, you’re disgusting.”

Audrey POV I didn’t make a scene at the exhibition. I simply turned and walked out of that suffocating art gallery, leaving Julian stunned. The cold wind on my face felt incredibly clear. Fifteen days until I left for the island. Back in the empty mansion, I turned off my phone, cutting off all outside noise. I began to liquidate my assets even faster, transferring all the money from the resale of luxury items into the overseas account provided by my private butler. Three days later, when I turned my phone back on, a deluge of news notifications popped up. “Breaking! Brandon Scott and Lyla Hayes officially announce engagement!” “Wedding of the Century! The Scott and Hayes families unite, the most perfect couple!” The accompanying photo showed Brandon in a white suit, gently kissing Lyla’s hand. Standing behind them, as a “male relative of the bride,” was Julian. In the photo, Julian’s eyes were deeply fixed on Lyla, harboring a profound, suppressed affection that even the media could discern. I quietly looked at the photo, and the last ripple in my heart completely settled. He finally got what he wanted. Using my dignity, my reputation, and my seven years of youth, he paved a smooth path for the woman he loved. Late that night, the mansion door was suddenly pushed open. Julian stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie askew. He had completely lost his usual aristocratic composure. Seeing me on the sofa, he seemed to find an outlet for his emotions. He lunged, pinning me roughly to the couch. He buried his head in my neck, his voice conveying a almost pathological sense of relief and pain. “She’s engaged… she finally got what she wanted…” The strong smell of alcohol mixed with his familiar woody scent made me feel a wave of physical revulsion. I stared coldly at the man pressing down on me. “Julian, what the hell are you doing?” “I’m not crazy!” Julian suddenly lifted his head, staring at me with a wild, possessive look. “It’s all over! Brandon married her. I don’t have to worry about her being wronged anymore. Now I only have you. Let’s get married, let’s get married right now, okay?” He said, lowering his head to kiss my lips, his hands roughly pulling at the buttons of my sleepwear. I used all my strength, delivering a sharp slap to his face. The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the silent living room. Julian’s head was knocked to the side. The alcohol in his system seemed to clear up a bit. He touched his stinging cheek, his eyes instantly turning sinister and terrifying. “You hit me?” He sneered, his eyes filled with the brutality of a torn facade. “Audrey, why are you acting so high and mighty? You’re nothing but a nude model who poses for paintings! Besides me, what other man in this world would marry you? Brandon thought you were dirty, your parents thought you were a disgrace. What do you think you are?” The most vicious words often come from the most intimate people. He stepped right on my most painful wound. He was trying to hide his own pain of losing Lyla. By belittling me, he tried to prove he was still the god who controlled everything. I didn’t struggle, nor did I cry. I just looked at him like he was a pathetic creature. “Yes, I’m dirty.” “So, Mr. Vance, don’t soil your noble hands.” He suddenly stopped all his movements, looking into my eyes. He scrambled off me, trying to fix my torn collar. “I’m sorry, I was drunk… I didn’t mean that…” I avoided his hand, stood up, straightened my clothes, and walked upstairs without looking back.

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I was touching up my lipstick when Nathan walked into the private suite of our engagement party, bringing that financially struggling college classmate with him. “Chloe accidentally got her dress dirty. Could you lend her yours for a bit?” He said, and after I froze for a few seconds, he added, “Everyone knows you’re the star today. It doesn’t matter what you wear.” A girl stood by the door, her canvas shoes worn white from washing, timidly saying hello. Tara stepped in front of me. “This is Summer’s engagement party! She went to thirty stores to find this dress!” Nathan glanced at me. It had been five years. Every time he looked at me with that gaze, I’d give in. I gently pushed Tara back, slowly closing my lipstick cap. “Let her wear it.” Nathan patted my head, satisfied. “I knew you’d be the most understanding. On our wedding day, I’ll buy you the best gown.” Chloe changed into my engagement dress. Nathan knelt down to adjust her hem. He whispered to Chloe, “You look beautiful.” I’d seen that gesture before. During our wedding photo shoot, the photographer asked him to do it, and he said it was “too cheesy.” I slipped off my engagement ring. This time, I wasn’t going to be “understanding” anymore. “She does look beautiful,” Nathan’s aunt said from a nearby table, taking Chloe’s hand and looking her up and down. Chloe lowered her head, a slight smile on her lips. Before she could speak, Nathan chimed in from beside her. “Chloe is a classmate of mine. Her family isn’t well-off. She got her dress dirty, and Summer felt bad for her, so she offered her own dress.” His aunt nodded, then cast a glance at me. “Then why is Summer dressed like that today? It’s her engagement party, she looks a bit plain.” “She doesn’t care about these things,” Nathan answered for me, casually putting an arm around my shoulder. “Summer is the most generous person.” As his hand landed, I took half a step back, and his arm fell short. “What’s wrong?” I lowered my eyes. “Nothing.” Tara grabbed my arm from behind, pulling me to the corner of the hallway. “Are you just going to let it go?” “What else can I do?” “You go out there and tell everyone that’s your dress, and that woman isn’t his fiancée—you are!” I looked at her reddened eyes. “Tara, you’re more upset than I am.” “How can I not be upset?” Tara’s voice was hoarse. “Do you know what the people at his table were saying just now?” She pulled out her phone and played a video. It was taken by Nathan’s college classmates. In the video, Chloe, wearing my dress, stood to Nathan’s right, his hand resting on her lower back. Someone cheered, “So beautiful!” Chloe lowered her head, blushing. She didn’t deny it. Nathan didn’t deny it either, just smiled and waved his hand. Below the video was a comment: “Nathan’s fiancée is so pure.” Thirty-plus likes, no one objected. I swallowed the bitterness in my heart, turned off the video, and handed the phone back to Tara. A new round of laughter erupted from the ballroom. Chloe was being pulled around for toasts, handling herself gracefully, leaning slightly as she held her glass. I had taught her that posture. Last month, she said she was nervous about attending a formal event for the first time and asked me how to hold a glass. I practiced with her all afternoon. “Could you call me a ride, Tara?” “You’re not going back in?” “There’s nothing left to go in for.” I went back to the guest book table and placed my ring beside the guestbook. A thin layer of dust covered the table, and the ring made a soft clink as it landed. My phone lit up. It was Nathan’s Ins post. “Thanks to everyone for coming tonight.” He attached three photos. One was a panoramic view of the ballroom, one was him toasting with friends, and the last one… Chloe, wearing my dress, smiling with crescent eyes. He tagged Chloe. The caption read: “Thanks, Chloe, for helping entertain guests. You worked hard.” The entire post didn’t mention me. Not even my name. I turned off the screen. When I reached the other side of the road, the lights of the ballroom were still bright. Even from far away, I could faintly hear music and laughter. Before getting into the car, I looked back once. Nathan stood on the steps of the hotel entrance, looking down at his phone. Chloe walked out from behind him and gently draped a jacket over his shoulders. He raised a hand to adjust his collar. The movement was natural.

“Summer, you left your ring at the guest book table.” Nathan’s call came at 2 AM, his voice unhurried. “I know.” “I’ve kept it for you. I’ll put it on you tomorrow.” He paused, then softened his tone. “I know I put you in a tough spot today. Chloe’s dress getting dirty really was an accident, and everyone saw how kind you were to lend her yours.” “Nathan, let’s break up.” Silence for three seconds on the other end. Then he chuckled softly. “Summer, I know you were hurt today, but breaking up? Is it really that serious?” “I’m serious.” “You always say we should break up when you’re upset.” He lowered his voice, with his usual patience. “Alright, when you’ve cooled off, call me. I’ll come pick you up.” “Nathan…” “Summer, be a good girl. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to that Japanese restaurant you wanted to try last time.” I didn’t continue speaking. After a few seconds of silence, his voice deepened. “Summer, it’s been five years. When will you ever really be able to leave me?” His words were soft, but I couldn’t answer. He truly didn’t believe it, didn’t believe I would leave. I hung up. Tara came out of the kitchen with a glass of water and sat opposite me. “What did he say?” “He said he’s coming to pick me up.” “Are you going?” “No.” She started to say something, then saw my expression and swallowed it back. I stared at my phone screen. At the top of the call log was his name, saved five years ago as “Nathan,” with a little sun emoji next to it. We had just started dating then. He waited for me by the college gate, holding a box of fried chicken. The November wind was cold, and the steam from the chicken scattered several times. He said, “Your roommate told me you take the long way every day just to pass a fried chicken place.” I said, “It’s too expensive, $10 a piece.” He laughed and pressed it into my hand. “From now on, tell me whatever you want to eat, whether it’s $10 or $100.” His eyes were so bright back then, they made me feel safe. Tara suddenly spoke. “Do you remember when he started changing?” I thought for a long time. “I don’t.” Maybe it was the first day Chloe appeared, her eyes red, saying she couldn’t afford her tuition. Maybe it was the first time he told me to “go easy on her.” The change was too slow. Just a little bit less each day, until I looked back, and there was nothing left. Tara tucked the blanket around me. “Don’t go back. Just stay here.” “Okay.” At 3 AM, another call came from him. The screen lit up for three seconds, then went dark. He didn’t call again. Because in his world, I’d be mad for one night, and when the sun rose, I’d go home willingly. Just like every time before. I pressed ignore on that call. This was the first time in five years.

“Tara, let me in.” The next evening, Nathan stood at Tara’s doorstep, holding a white paper bag. Tara blocked the door. “She doesn’t want to see you.” “I know she’s angry.” He smiled. “Just let me in to say a couple of words, then I’ll leave.” “Say what? That you didn’t even mention her name in your Ins post?” Nathan’s smile faltered for a moment. “Tara, this is between Summer and me.” “You two have already broken up. Don’t bother Summer anymore.” I walked to the door and pressed down on Tara’s arm. “Tara, let him in. I’ll talk to him face-to-face.” Tara stepped aside, her gaze cold as she looked Nathan up and down. He changed his shoes and placed the paper bag on the table. It was a box of cake. “Your favorite chestnut cake. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you yesterday.” I didn’t open it. He sat opposite me. “Summer, what exactly do you want me to do?” “I told you, break up.” His brows furrowed. “You’re breaking up over a dress?” “It’s not about a dress.” “Then what is it about?” He clasped his hands on the table, a posture identical to every time I’d thrown a fit before, cooperative and patient, waiting for me to finish speaking. “Last year, for your birthday, I booked a restaurant two months in advance. Before we left, Chloe called saying she had a stomachache, so you drove to her place first.” “She was alone then. What if something happened?” “You got there and found out she’d just eaten too much, and then you spent the whole evening watching TV with her, while I waited alone at the restaurant until closing time.” He paused. “Didn’t I apologize for that? I even bought you a necklace.” “You bought her the same necklace, didn’t you?” “She was just feeling down at the time…” “She’s always feeling down.” My voice was low, yet strangely steady. “When is she not feeling down?” Nathan fell silent. “Last month, on your business trip, you made me take a taxi to the airport by myself. Because you had to drive Chloe to move into her new apartment.” He opened his mouth. “She had a lot of bags…” “You gave her the special blanket from our home. The one my mom sent from back home.” “That one was old. I’ll buy you a new one.” “That was my blanket! My mom spent a week knitting it with her reading glasses on, and she packed it in three layers when she sent it, afraid the stitches would get damaged on the way.” The room grew quiet. Tara stood by the kitchen door, her knuckles white. I didn’t cry. Before, I would cry, my eyes red, asking him why, then choosing to forgive him after he said, “I was wrong.” But this time, I was just so tired. “Summer.” Nathan’s voice deepened, tinged with subtle disappointment. “I always thought you were different from them.” “Them?” “Those who fuss over every little thing.” He frowned, looking at me earnestly. “I thought you understood me. Chloe has no one else to rely on. You have me, you have your family, you lack nothing… What’s wrong with me taking care of her a little more?” He spoke sincerely, every word from the heart. “You have everything, can’t you just let someone who has nothing have a little something?” I looked at him. For a long time. There was even an expectation in his eyes, expecting me to nod as usual, to say yes. But among the things I had, one was called Nathan. He was slowly moving himself, piece by piece, to someone else, yet he asked me why I felt like something was missing. “Nathan, you’re right. I have everything.” He visibly relaxed. “So you, I can do without too.” The smile vanished from his face. “Summer.” “You weren’t like this before.” I didn’t answer. He stood up, pulled open the door, and walked out. My gaze fell on the cake box on the table. Chestnut cake. He didn’t remember anymore. My favorite flavor had changed since last year.

The wedding dress in the mirror suited me well. My mom from behind me adjusted my veil, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening with her smile. “When will Nathan be here? I haven’t seen him in over half a year.” I looked at my phone screen. Ten minutes ago, Nathan had replied to my message. “Chloe lost her graduation thesis data and is crying in her advisor’s office. I need to go help her sort it out.” “You go ahead and try on the dress. Explain it nicely to your mom. She’s always been fond of me, she’ll definitely understand. Tonight, I’ve booked your mom’s favorite upscale restaurant to make it up to her.” My mom had just had minor heart surgery last month, so I hadn’t told her about Nathan and me. I turned off the screen and turned around. “Mom, he has an urgent company meeting and can’t make it.” My mom paused, then smiled and patted my hand. “Work is important. It’s good for a man to be ambitious. You just need to look good in the dress. Come, let Mom take more pictures of you.” Click. In the photo, I was wearing a white wedding dress, smiling, but there was no light in my eyes. After putting her on the train back home, I went to Tara’s place. Sitting on the couch, I called the wedding planner. “Hello, I’d like to cancel my reservation for the Clear Lake Chapel.” The person on the other end paused. “Ms. Smith, that venue is booked eight months in advance, and the $12,000 deposit is non-refundable. Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure.” “You came here over a dozen times before, always so meticulous. Our designer said you put so much thought into it…” “Please cancel it. Thank you.” I hung up. Tara sat at the other end of the couch. “Are you really sure?” “Yes.” That chapel was forty miles outside the city. There was no direct subway; you had to transfer two buses and then walk for twenty minutes. I chose it because there was a lake nearby. Five years ago, the first time Nathan took me out, it was to that lake. He spent an entire afternoon taking photos of me by the lake. He said, “This is our secret spot.” The decoration plan was something I had worked through, draft by draft, with the designer. For the table flowers, I chose white magnolias… his mom liked simple elegance. The song played during the ceremony was the one we heard at a coffee shop on our first date. I drew the seating chart myself, coloring it with markers: blue for his guests, pink for mine. His college roommate had a fear of heights, so I specifically arranged a window seat for him on the first floor. Nathan had never asked about any of these details. “Summer, if you want to cry, just cry,” Tara said. I shook my head. I really felt like I couldn’t cry anymore. Tara received a call from Nathan while she was revising a proposal at work. “Summer’s phone is off. Could you tell her something for me?” Tara put down her pen. “What is it?” “Chloe needs to take her graduation photos next month and wants to find a unique location.” His tone was casual, as if discussing a minor chore. “I remembered the chapel Summer booked. The lakeside view is nice. Could she put in a good word for me to borrow it for a day?” Tara gripped her phone, her knuckles slowly tightening. “Nathan. That venue has already been canceled…”

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My cousin, Ivy, is thirty, but every holiday season, she’s still made to perform for our older relatives in ridiculous costumes. I’ve told Ivy more than once, “You’re thirty, you’re an adult. You don’t have to act like a kid and do everything the elders say.” But every time, Ivy never dared to defy them. Until this year, when she prepared another monkey costume for a performance. I originally planned to just let it go. But then she directly put the monkey costume on my six-year-old daughter, Lily. “This year, it’s our little Lily’s turn to show respect to the elders!” I stared, aghast, at my cousin, who was acting like a minion serving her masters by dragging others down, and at all the smug-faced elders in the room. A wave of sorrow and anger washed over me. Without hesitation, I ripped the monkey costume off Lily, took her hand, and walked out. “A room full of people, hundreds of years old combined, and you still love watching others act like monkeys.” “Whoever wants to play the monkey can do it. But my daughter and I are done with it.”

The faces of everyone in the room immediately darkened. My uncle, Michael, slammed his hand on the table. “What kind of attitude is that?! It’s the holidays, you have no respect!” I looked at him, speaking calmly and clearly, “If your ‘respect’ means preying on children for your amusement, then I’m sorry, but I have my own rules.” With that, I led Lily out the door. Lily’s small hand was clenched tightly in mine; I could feel her unease. Since my parents passed away, I rarely brought Lily home for the holidays. Maintaining superficial contact all these years was purely out of respect for my parents, to save them face. And also to inquire about Lily’s kindergarten enrollment. But if they thought they could use that to control me, they were gravely mistaken. Just as we reached the doorstep, Ivy ran after us. She grabbed my arm. “Sarah, don’t be like this. It’s the holidays, let’s not make everyone unhappy.” Her tone was gentle, but I could see calculation in her eyes. I knew her too well. Thirty years old and still clinging to mommy’s apron strings? All because Uncle Michael promised her an old house, right? “Sarah…” I cut her off directly. “Ivy, if you want that old house, if you want to play dumb and be a ‘filial’ daughter, that’s your business.” “Even if you’re fifty and still haven’t cut the cord, I won’t care. But you’re dragging my six-year-old daughter into this? Are you seriously acting like a minion now, trying to find new victims?” Hearing “cut the cord” and “minion,” Ivy’s face flushed instantly. I couldn’t be bothered to waste any more words on her. I picked up Lily and headed for her car seat in the back. But Ivy quickly followed, her voice rising, sharp and shrill. “What are you trying to prove, acting so high and mighty? You only came back because you’re hoping Uncle Michael will help your daughter get into that elite elementary school, right?! Now you’re pretending to be some independent modern woman!” I buckled Lily into her seat, gently stroked her head, and prepared to drive off. I was truly too lazy to argue with someone so foolish. But Ivy wouldn’t give up. She still clung to my car window, gritting her teeth. “Sarah! For that school spot, I don’t believe you won’t back down!” I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Family help is just a backup plan. If I really want my daughter to get in, I can just buy her a spot.” “I don’t need to be like you, thirty years old, and can’t fight for anything yourself except acting like a monkey.” Ivy’s face turned from green to white; she was clearly deeply stung. “What’s so great about you?! You just married a good husband, your parents died early and left you an inheritance. You just got lucky with where you were born!” I stepped on the gas, and before the window fully closed, I threw her a final line. “If you can’t stand me, you can go get yourself a better life, then. It’s not too late to try again.” The window closed. In the rearview mirror, Ivy stood frozen. Then she suddenly squatted down, covering her face and weeping. Lily, in the backseat, peered through the window at her aunt getting smaller in the distance. She quietly asked me, “Mommy, Aunt Ivy is crying. Aren’t we going to help her?” I took a deep breath, offering Lily a gentle smile through the rearview mirror. “Honey, she’s not crying because she’s sad. She’s crying because her designated victim was gone. And that victim was supposed to be us.” Lily nodded, seeming to understand and not understand at the same time. “Then, Mommy, we won’t be a designated victim.” “That’s right, we absolutely won’t.” By the time we got home, darkness had completely fallen. My husband was back in his hometown for the holidays, so it was just Lily and me at home. The house felt empty, but free of the fake and ridiculous family drama, which brought me a sense of peace. After tucking Lily into bed, a flurry of abusive messages from relatives popped up on my phone. I scrolled through them emotionlessly, but then a new message caught my eye. It was from Principal Davies of the elite elementary school. “Lily’s Mom, Happy Holidays.” “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need to inform you about something. Our Lily’s admission assessment wasn’t approved. You might want to look into other schools.” I stared at the screen. It was the evening of New Year’s Day, nine o’clock. The principal of an elementary school personally messaging me during the holidays to reject my daughter’s admission. There’s no such thing as coincidence in this world.

My mind flashed with the smug faces of Uncle Michael and Aunt Brenda, and Ivy’s shouting. So, this was their plan. To use what I cared about most to force me to humble myself. I gave a cold laugh. They had definitely messed with the wrong person. To avoid misdirected retaliation, I politely replied to Principal Davies, “May I ask, specifically, what aspect of Lily’s application wasn’t approved?” He quickly replied, “Lily’s Mom, our elite elementary school values not only a child’s inherent qualities but also places great importance on evaluating the family environment.” “After our background check on your family elders, we found that there might be some disharmony and lack of filial piety within your family. Therefore, overall, it’s deemed not very suitable.” Reading those lines, I almost laughed in anger. It was them, all right, using the excuse of family disharmony. So, “disharmony and lack of filial piety” meant that Lily and I didn’t perform monkey tricks for a bunch of old geezers on New Year’s Day, like Ivy did? Were we supposed to be obedient, act like clowns, and maybe even bow down to them? I took a deep breath and immediately called Ethan. I recounted everything that happened tonight, word for word. On the other end of the line, Ethan’s breathing noticeably deepened. “They’re using Lily’s admission to threaten you?” His voice dropped, but his tone was resolute. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about this. I’ll handle Lily’s admission.” “Elite elementary school, right? Perfect. Our group has a major cooperation project with the city council recently. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll have my assistant contact the director. “I want to see who dares to block my daughter, Lily’s, admission review when all her paperwork is in order.” My heart settled quite a bit, but I still cautioned, “Don’t be too impulsive. We have the moral high ground, so just follow proper procedures.” “Don’t worry, your husband here is the most reasonable man. But if someone isn’t reasonable, then I’ll make sure they know what they’re up against.” After hanging up, I felt much more at ease. But then, group messages started popping up again. I opened the “Happy Family” SnapChat group, and it was already in an uproar. Ivy was wailing and crying, sending many photos of her torn clothes and scarf. “I know Sarah doesn’t like me, but during the holidays, to lay hands on me in front of a child, how can I bear it…” She was acting so sincerely, crying real tears. Uncle Michael directly tagged me, cursing me for having no upbringing. Aunt Brenda also complained tearfully, demanding I apologize. I looked at the family of drama queens, at their familiar tactics and accusations. I typed out a reply and sent it, “She was clinging to my car window and wouldn’t let go, she ripped her own clothes. What does that have to do with me?” After my reply, the accusations in the group became even more intense. They even started to escalate, cursing my deceased parents for not raising me properly. I clenched my fists, then sent one last reply, “Is your ‘upbringing’ conspiring with outsiders to use a child’s school admission to force a junior to bow down? Fine, then I’ll find some ‘outsiders’ to judge fairly as well.” After sending it, without waiting for their reactions, I directly left the group. Once the world was quiet again, I immediately opened my phone’s photo album and found all those videos accumulated over the years. They were videos of Ivy, over the years, wearing ridiculous floral jackets and various weird costumes, wiggling her butt and making the elders clap and laugh. And also the chat logs from the family group just now. I bundled them all up and sent them to the most popular local news exposé account. With the caption, “Feudal elders force junior to act like a fool every year for ‘filial piety,’ threatening a child’s future if they don’t comply.” “Videos and chat logs as proof, asking for exposure.” I tapped my finger, and it was sent successfully.

The next day, the second day of the holidays. Lily and I woke up naturally, watched TV together, and did crafts. With no fake relatives and no drama, the house was filled with joyous laughter. Around noon, my phone started vibrating like crazy. Notifications from various social media apps rang like mad. I tapped on the notifications and saw a trending topic at the top of Ins’s local feed: “Thirty-Year-Old Daughter Forced to Act Like Monkey for Elders’ Filial Piety” I clicked on it, and the pinned post was the full video and long screenshot of the chat logs from the news exposé account. In the video, Ivy, wearing that ridiculous floral cotton jacket and monkey costume, twisted and contorted amidst the elders’ laughter. Scene after scene, like loud slaps, landed squarely on Ivy and those old folks’ faces. The comment section was even wilder: “It’s 2026, and we still have these feudal relics? Seriously laughable. How empty must a house full of old people be to need to humiliate juniors for validation?” “Sucking the life out of juniors, trampling on their dignity—is that what these people want?” “That woman is also a minion. She’s been kneeling for so long, now she wants to drag others down too, disgusting!” “Am I the only one who noticed the six-year-old girl? If her mom wasn’t tough, she would have been the next one forced to wear the monkey costume!” As the trending topic’s popularity exploded, insiders also started to come forward with information. “This family’s surname is Davies, locally known as a supposedly refined and educated background. But their ancestral home was strictly passed down only to male heirs. The daughter in the video probably wants to fight for the family property so badly it’s driven her crazy.” The netizens went even wilder. “Monkey family,” “patriarchal,” and other keywords were repeatedly mentioned, spreading like a virus. The family’s good name, which they had boasted about for decades in the local area, was completely ruined within a few hours. My phone started being bombarded by unknown numbers. I randomly answered one, and it was Ivy’s hysterical wailing. “Sarah! Are you crazy?! My reputation is utterly ruined because of you, take the video down right now! Hurry!” “Now all the netizens are calling me a joke, saying such awful things, it’s all your fault! All your fault!” I listened to her screaming calmly. Only when she was tired of cursing did I speak, calmly. “Ivy, you wore the outlandish costumes yourself, you agreed to let them film the video yourself, and you willingly performed. What does that have to do with me?” She immediately acted as if she’d been wronged, crying even harder. “But I was forced! You think I wanted to?!” “So, you came to force my daughter?” Without waiting for her to wail again, I hung up. Looking at the torrent of abusive messages flooding my apps—things like calling me an unfilial descendant, saying I’d ruined the family. Some even threatened that my daughter and I would die horrible deaths. My heart remained unmoved. I sent one unified reply, “When you put that monkey costume on my daughter, you should have known this day would come. If you touch my daughter again, I’ll show you what hell on earth truly means.” Then, I blocked every number and account I could. The world was quiet once more. Over the next two days, Lily and I waited for Ethan to come home, enjoying the most peaceful New Year we’d ever had. However, early on the morning of the fourth day of the holidays, Lily and I were woken by a rough banging and smashing sound. I comforted Lily, then peered through the peephole. Uncle Michael and Ivy stood outside, looking furious and menacing. “Sarah, you get your ass out here! You’ve gone too far, you have to take that video down today! Otherwise, I’ll smash this damn door down!” Behind him was a dark mass of relatives. “Sarah! You ungrateful wretch! How can you still hide like a coward after airing such dirty laundry?” Ivy also cried out, “Cousin, how could you ruin me! Are you satisfied now that you’ve ruined the whole family?!” Then she theatrically slumped to the ground. “You take the video down right now, or I’ll die right here at your door!” I watched her exaggerated performance, and the last shred of pity in my heart dissolved. She had been completely assimilated by the elders, willingly becoming part of this rotten system, even trying to drag my daughter into it. But since this was her choice, she shouldn’t blame me for showing no mercy when I dealt with her.

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On Christmas Day, my best friend, Sarah, had just popped open a bottle of champagne. Then my husband’s call came in: “Olivia, hurry home! Sophia’s depression flared up, and she’s threatening to jump!” “She won’t listen to anything we say. She insists she’ll only come down from the balcony if her mom comes back.” Sarah’s hand, reaching for the champagne, instantly dropped. She turned to grab her car keys from the table. I pressed down on her hand, a soft smile on my lips as I replied: “If she wants to die, let her.” Then I hung up, ignoring my phone as it buzzed relentlessly. Sarah looked frantic. “You’ve loved Chloe so much since she was little! You can’t play games with her life, even if you’re mad at her!” I looked at her, and softly spoke a single sentence. The next second, Sarah’s expression changed. “It wouldn’t be too much if that whole family dropped dead!” Seeing that my call wouldn’t go through, Ethan called Sarah’s phone instead. Sarah turned her phone towards me. Only after I nodded did she hit “answer.” As soon as the call connected, Ethan’s furious voice came through the speaker: “Olivia Hayes, what was that supposed to mean!” He aimed the phone’s camera at Sophia on the balcony, gasping for breath as he spoke: “Look at your daughter! Her life’s hanging by a thread right now. How could you say something like that?” Sophia, in the video, sat on the balcony railing, her eyes swollen and red from crying. She looked as though she could fall at any moment. Dressed in a thin shirt, her hands and face were chapped and red from the biting cold wind. The camera shifted, and Ethan roared at the screen: “Get back here from Sarah Miller’s place immediately, or if anything happens to Sophia, I swear I’ll never forgive you!” I watched Ethan’s frantic face and chuckled. “Impossible.” Ethan’s eyes on the screen instantly widened. “I’m not coming back. As for whether Sophia jumps or not, it has nothing to do with me.” With that, I hung up. I lowered my head and started preparing holiday dinner with Sarah. Just as I finished peeling a potato, my “emergency contact” ringtone echoed from the living room. Seeing “Mom” on the screen, my heart sank. “Olivia, Ethan just called me. He said Sophia’s acting up again and demanding you come home.” Her voice was laced with worry. “Ethan was crying, saying you’d rather let Sophia die than come back. What’s going on?” Ever since Chloe was born, my mom had doted on her, treating her like the apple of her eye. After Chloe developed depression and was constantly threatening to commit suicide, Mom’s heart ached even more. Mom’s voice choked as she pleaded: “Please, for your mother’s sake, will you go back?” “Mom loves Chloe the most. If something really happens, how am I supposed to live the rest of my life…?” Hearing her words, I spoke with difficulty. “Mom, I really can’t go back.” Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, Mom’s voice turned cold. “Olivia Hayes, how can you be so heartless? She’s your own flesh and blood.” “If you don’t come back today, don’t bother calling me your mother!” I gripped the phone, sighed, and slowly began to explain everything to her. … When I finished, Mom gasped in disbelief. “What!” After a long silence, she spoke again, her voice filled with unconcealed rage: “I’m blocking all contact from that Ethan guy right now! To crush his plan of using me to threaten you!” “Don’t worry, Olivia, Mom will always be your strongest backup.” Just as that call ended, Sarah’s gasp rang out from beside me. Sarah’s hand trembled as she handed me her phone. “Olivia, this is bad! Ethan went live…” “The live stream title is—” She looked up, her eyes wide with panic: “To Save My Depressed Daughter, Crowdsourcing Help to Find Her Mother.”

I clicked into the live stream. Thanks to the trending Christmas buzz, the viewer count in the top right corner soared. “What kind of father is this? His daughter’s about to jump in the background, and he’s got time to go live?” “He can’t find his wife himself, so he asks strangers for help? Are we his free labor?” “If she’s going to jump, call the police and firefighters! What’s the point of a live stream? Is he just trying to go viral?” Ethan ignored the screen full of doubts and spoke, sobbing: “My decision to go live today truly comes from a place of desperation…” “My daughter, Sophia, developed severe depression after experiencing a period of intense bullying in middle school.” He pointed the phone at Sophia, still on the balcony. Sophia was now sitting even further out, her face smeared with tears and hair sticking to her cheeks. She wildly waved away Ethan’s mom, who was trying to approach her: “I don’t want you! I only want Mom!” “If I don’t see Mom before midnight, I’m jumping!” Sophia’s words were clearly recorded by the live stream camera. “My daughter ran out to the balcony around nine PM and has been repeatedly saying she won’t come down unless she sees her mom. If anyone gets close, she threatens to jump.” “It’s been over an hour now, and she’s still sitting there…” Ethan placed his phone back on the stand, covering his face in anguish. “But, but… no matter how much I pleaded with her mother, she still refuses to come back.” “I know she thinks Sophia’s depression is a burden, but watching your child die, it’s just too cruel.” I typed a comment, intrigued: “You say her mom won’t come back. Do you have proof?” My comment influenced others below me, who also began to question: “Yeah, yeah, internet trends change too fast these days. Just saying her mom won’t come back isn’t credible enough.” “I just can’t believe a mother would be so heartless as to abandon her own daughter. Mothers love their children most of all!” Ethan caught sight of the comments’ skepticism and pulled another phone from his pocket. “I understand everyone’s doubts, but thankfully, I always record my calls.” My heart sank. Sure enough, as his finger pressed play, my words from an hour ago were repeatedly broadcast in the live stream. That line, “As for whether Sophia jumps or not, it has nothing to do with me,” was played a full five times by Ethan! Only when he saw the live chat comments completely turn to condemnation of me did he contentedly lower his phone. With red-rimmed eyes, he looked into the camera. “I truly couldn’t think of any other way, which is why I resorted to this and bothered everyone…” He clasped his hands together and knelt before the camera. “Please, everyone, help me with any clues to find her, so my daughter can have a peaceful New Year.” The comments were swayed by his emotion: “Don’t worry, buddy. Give us some clues. With so many of us, how can we not find her?” “I’ve never failed to find someone online. Don’t worry, man, your daughter will have a good year.” “I’m also a mother of a child with depression. How could this woman be so malicious? She doesn’t deserve to be a mother!” Ethan pulled out a photo of Sarah and me from his phone. “On the left is my wife, Olivia Hayes, and on the right is her best friend, Sarah Miller.” “They’re together celebrating the holidays now, but I don’t know where her best friend lives…” In the background, Sophia’s cries grew louder. Ethan pleaded earnestly, “Please, everyone, you must help me find her.”

At the same time, my phone was immediately bombarded with messages. My boss, colleagues, and old classmates I hadn’t spoken to in years all sent me texts inquiring. The content was nearly identical, mostly “Olivia, is it really true what your husband is saying?” Or “I can’t believe I know such a despicable person, I’m truly terrible at picking friends!” Ethan’s live stream had completely ignited a storm on the internet. Sarah’s and my information were quickly doxxed by netizens. Twenty minutes later, a highlighted comment appeared in the live stream: “That Sarah Miller is my neighbor! She lives at Parkview Apartments, Building 11, Apartment 302.” I looked at that comment, my body shaking uncontrollably. Because Sarah and I were currently staying at Parkview Apartments, Building 11, Apartment 302! Sarah’s face was even whiter than mine. She pointed at the comment. “Olivia… I don’t have neighbors.” The warm air from the AC blew on me, but Sarah’s words left my back drenched in a cold sweat. If she didn’t have neighbors, then who could this person be? As our address was dug up, the live stream comments plunged into complete frenzy. Everyone was eagerly anticipating how “they” would “deal with” a villain like me after the daughter was rescued from the balcony. Just then, Sarah’s phone suddenly rang with an urgent alarm. Afraid she’d be startled, I took her phone and first saw the content on the screen. With just that one glance, my grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. Someone had dug up Sarah’s car license plate number. Then, using the leaked apartment complex name, they went specifically to the building’s parking garage. They found Sarah’s car, parked in the underground garage. And maliciously splashed it with a bucket of animal blood and guts! Pig lungs and liver were hung on the car windows, leaving disgusting smears. It was her brand-new car, bought just last month. A wave of fury consumed my mind. I looked at Ethan on my phone, still endlessly thanking the comments. I scrolled to the bottom of the screen and initiated a “request to join live stream.” I knew that if I didn’t appear soon. They dared to vandalize the car this step, next they’d dare to smash the apartment. Ethan quickly accepted my live stream request. By the time my face appeared in the live stream, the viewer count had reached 100,000! A hint of apology was on his face. “Wife, I didn’t mean to use such an extreme method to force you to appear…” “It’s just—” He aimed the camera at Sophia again. Sophia’s appearance was even more terrifying now than before. She’d gotten a razor blade from somewhere, and her right arm was already gashed and bloody. She was surrounded by police officers and medical personnel, but no one dared approach her. If this standoff continued, she’d die from blood loss even if she didn’t jump. “If you don’t come back, our daughter is really going to die.” My gaze only lingered on Sophia for a second before immediately returning to Ethan. My voice was almost flat as I spoke: “Ethan, give Sophia the phone.” Ethan looked hesitant. “I can give it to her, but wife, can you promise not to say anything to upset Sophia? Her state is really fragile right now…” “I’m giving you a choice.” I adjusted my glasses. “You can also choose not to give her the phone. But if Sophia does something because she doesn’t see me, that won’t be my fault.” Ethan was enraged by my indifferent attitude. But fearing something might truly happen to Sophia, he reluctantly slid the phone across the ground to her. Before sliding it, he threatened: “Olivia Hayes, I’m warning you. If Sophia really dies because of you.” “I won’t let you get away with it!”

As soon as Sophia picked up the phone, the frantic look on her face vanished instantly. Her complexion was pale, tears still clung to the corners of her eyes, and her lips trembled as she murmured: “Mom, why won’t you come back to see me?” “I just wanted you to hug me… will you come back?” I looked at her pitiful appearance, but my heart felt no ripple of emotion. Instead, I turned and asked a seemingly unrelated question: “Sophia, do you still remember why you got depression?” A flicker of confusion crossed Sophia’s face. “Mom, does that matter?” I looked at her sternly. “It matters.” She tightly shut her eyes, her expression instantly becoming one of profound pain, as she shook her head wildly: “Mom, I don’t want to remember, I feel so awful.” Ethan, seeing Sophia like this, roared at me from a distance: “Olivia Hayes, what are you doing? Didn’t I tell you not to upset Sophia!” “Are you deliberately trying to force our daughter to die?!” I cut him off loudly, hardening my face as I emphasized to Sophia: “Sophia, if you don’t tell me why you have depression, I will not come back.” The comments scrolled furiously across my screen: “My God, is she even human? Her daughter’s in this state, and she still wants to upset her.” “My heart aches watching this. Sophia just wants a hug from her mom, why treat her like this…” “I’m a psychology student; patients are already emotionally agitated, and forcing her to recall the cause of her illness—she’s trying to force her daughter to die!” “Can someone arrest this mother? She’s disgusting, how is this any different from intentional murder!” Sophia’s eyebrows furrowed, and she painfully opened her mouth, speaking with great difficulty: “It’s because, in eighth grade, some girls in my class started ganging up on me.” “They forced me to give them ten dollars every day. If I didn’t, they’d find people to corner me in an alley after school.” As she spoke, her body trembled even more violently. “One day, they even… in the alley…” At this point, Sophia was utterly overcome with pain and lost her voice. But I wasn’t satisfied and pressed on: “What did they do to you in the alley!” Ethan couldn’t bear to listen, yelling furiously from the perimeter, his voice distorted: “Enough, Olivia Hayes!” “We both saw the surveillance footage from that day in the alley; we both know exactly what happened! Why do you insist on asking?” “Didn’t you yourself propose a pact that day? This incident, it would disappear from our home, and no one would ever mention it again.” He shrieked: “Are you only satisfied if you force Sophia to die today…?” “Is this how you’re a mother? I truly misjudged you!” Sophia opened her eyes, raised the phone, and asked me pleadingly: “Mom, I’ve told you everything. Can you come back now?” “Normally, if I just got a cut, you’d be so worried, looking everywhere for bandages. How have you changed now…” I stared at her coldly, and the words I spoke made everyone’s faces change. “No.” I added: “Even if you die here today, I will not come back.” Then, silently, I mouthed something to her. After seeing what I mouthed, Sophia’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with shock. In an instant, before anyone could react. She threw the phone away, swayed backward, and with a decisive fall, plunged towards the ground below.

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My vacation home. At the dinner table, the elders in my family started asking about my job in the city. “Just running a small business,” I answered casually. Hearing that, my cousin, Tiffany, sitting across from me, let out a snort. “So, selling yourself counts as a business now?” “I even saw your price list online. Quite the menu of services you’ve got there.” After getting everyone’s attention, she feigned magnanimity. “Every job has its dignity. We wouldn’t look down on you just because your profession is… humble.” Egging them on, she turned me into the target of everyone’s accusations. Without missing a beat, I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Pull the funding. I want her completely bankrupt.” Every time I came home for the holidays, I had to face another interrogation from my relatives. I’ve never liked sharing details about my life, so when Aunt Sarah asked about my job in Metropolis City, I just brushed her off. “Oh, just running a small business in the city.” “A business? That’s great! Not like your cousin Leo, who works for someone else, pulling all-nighters just to make a few grand.” “Ashley, you’re so capable, why don’t you help your cousins find jobs?” I felt a wave of awkwardness. But my dad jumped in before I could speak. “No problem! Leave it all to Ashley!” I immediately put down my forks, just about to explain that my “business” was just selling stuff at a flea market, when Tiffany, who had been quietly scrolling on her phone across the table, suddenly burst into laughter. “Seriously, the world is falling apart. Anyone can claim to be a businesswoman now. By that logic, back in the day, wouldn’t all the call girls have been entrepreneurs?” “Tiffany, what are you implying?” “How can you compare your cousin to… well, to *that*? That’s so disrespectful, apologize to Ashley.” I thought the elders were reasonable, that they would side with me. But I quickly realized I was wrong. “I’m not making things up. I’m not the one selling myself in the city, so why should I apologize?” Tiffany said, opening a photo and shoving it in front of Uncle Robert, who had spoken up for me. “Uncle Robert, look, isn’t this Ashley Miller in the picture?” I couldn’t see what was on the photo, but the sudden, strange looks from everyone made me realize the seriousness of the situation. The phone started passing from Uncle Robert’s hand, to Aunt Emily, then to Aunt Carol, and finally landed in my dad’s hands. Before I could say a word, a stinging slap landed on my face. My dad pointed at me, spitting as he yelled, “You shameless brat!” “Don’t hit our daughter!” My mom rushed to shield me, but no sooner had she spoken than my dad handed her the phone. “See for yourself what Ashley Miller is doing out there!” My mom took the phone, skepticism on her face, but her expression instantly turned serious, then morphed into fury. If I hadn’t ducked quickly, the cup in my mom’s hand would have shattered against my head. Slapped and almost hit with a cup for no reason, and then publicly cursed out by so many relatives, I was still completely bewildered. It wasn’t until Tiffany feigned concern, stepping forward to intervene, and said, covering her mouth, “I’m so sorry, so sorry. It’s all my fault for speaking up. I just assumed you all knew about Ashley’s… activities.” “What activities?!” “Don’t pretend. I’ve seen your price list.” Tiffany glanced at me, then finally handed me the photo. [5’7”+ Milf, Cool & Elegant Vibe, Sweet & Sassy] [Online Chat Companion: $80/hour (Text/FaceTime)] [Overnight Escort: $250/night (Local, by appointment)] [Full-day Companion: $500/day (Includes city outings, overnight additional)] [Special requests and long-term arrangements by DM. Serious inquiries only.] [Contact: 132xxxxxxxxxx (State purpose, direct price inquiries will be blocked)] Looking at the content on the poster, I was dumbfounded, especially when I saw the sexy swimsuit photo in the upper right corner. A surge of confusion washed over me. This wasn’t me. “Ashley, I’m not trying to criticize you, but there’s no shame in struggling when you’re out on your own. However, a girl should cherish her body. This line of work you’ve chosen is just… too far out.” “But hey, every job has its stars, right?” “We won’t look down on you just because you’re selling yourself. To each their own, I guess.” Noticing the confusion on my face, Tiffany continued to fan the flames, explaining where she supposedly got the poster. “When my boyfriend and I were out for dinner, someone slipped a little card into our car. I didn’t pay attention at first, but then I saw the photo, and I immediately recognized you.” “I only scanned the QR code out of concern, and I never expected it was actually you offering these services.” The more Tiffany spoke, the uglier my parents’ faces became, especially my dad’s. He turned beet red with rage, grabbed a chair, and was about to throw it at me, only to be held back by the other curious relatives. The relatives and elders who had greeted me warmly upon my return were now standing with their hands on their hips, sneering at me. “Such a disgrace. And to think you even finished grad school. You just wasted all that education.” “I don’t know how David raised his daughter. So shameless for money, she became a prostitute.” Some weren’t satisfied just yelling at me. Taking advantage of the noisy crowd, someone intentionally reached out and pushed me, making me lose my balance and fall to the floor.

When I looked up, I met Tiffany’s smug gaze. She and I had been at odds since we were kids. Being around the same age, we were always compared. I was a straight-A student, always in the top three of my class, while she consistently scraped by, ending up in the worst schools. She always felt she couldn’t measure up to me, and she was desperate to catch up. The constant comparisons had driven her crazy; she started seeing me as her sole rival. Two years ago, it was because I started a job at a financial company in Metropolis City that she quit her job back home and rushed there herself. “That poster has nothing to do with me! The person in that photo isn’t me!” I yelled with all my might, but no one listened. Not even my parents wanted to hear my explanation, they were too busy fawning over Tiffany with the other relatives. “Tiffany, I heard your boyfriend is a big company CEO. He must be super rich, right?” “We always knew Tiffany was capable and successful. She really is the most impressive girl in our family, unlike Ashley Miller, who’s just disgracing us.” Tiffany basked in the attention, and her parents joined in, laughing heartily with their hands on their hips. I got up and took my mom’s hand. “Mom, believe me, it’s all fake.” But she forcefully pulled away from me, then turned and clasped Tiffany’s hand. “Tiffany, your cousin has gone down the wrong path. Please, give her a hand, help her find a decent job.” Then, my mom yanked me hard. “Come here, get on your knees and apologize to your cousin, beg her to find you a job.” Me? Kneel to *her*? “Aunt Karen, it’s not that I don’t want to, but Ashley graduated with a master’s degree. She wouldn’t look at any job that pays less than six figures. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken… shortcuts.” “Tiffany Brooks, why are you spreading these lies everywhere?” I pushed past a few relatives and confronted her directly. “You’re spreading baseless rumors with a photo from who knows where. Don’t you know that’s illegal?” Tiffany just gave me a helpless look. She sighed. “Ashley, why are you still so stubborn? You did it, what’s the point in denying it?” “To be honest, I have a lot more evidence. You know I’m in sales; I meet a lot of people. And it just so happens that some of them are your clients.” “You really weren’t careful, letting people take photos while you were… working.” “If those photos from your bed got out, who would ever marry you then?” Tiffany’s words immediately turned the tide again. The judgmental elders started spewing insults at me, each one righteous in their anger. But I wasn’t a lamb to be slaughtered. When someone reached out to push me again, I shoved them back. They hadn’t expected me to retaliate, stumbled, and hit a chair behind them, letting out a cry of pain. That really stirred up a hornets’ nest. Aunt Emily shrieked, “She’s out of control! Doing disgraceful things and now hitting people?!” Uncle John pointed his finger at my nose, about to start yelling, but I cut him off. “If you say you have evidence, then show it to me.” I looked at Tiffany. “But if you can’t, then it’s defamation, and I will pursue legal action.” Tiffany clearly hadn’t expected me to say that; a hint of shock flashed across her face, but she quickly recovered with a smile. “Since you have no shame, then I’ll find them and let everyone judge for themselves.” She turned and sat on the sofa, pulling out her phone and scrolling through it. But after nearly ten minutes, she found nothing. “Well? Can’t find it, can you?” “Finding stuff takes time!” Others also started defending Tiffany. I was about to snatch her phone when I was interrupted by a commotion at the door. My brother, Ben, rushed in, looking disheveled, and after a quick scan of the room, walked straight toward me. I hadn’t even gotten out a “Ben” before his hand swung, connecting with my cheek. “We paid for your education all these years, and you have no shame left?! Your damn promotional poster even got sent to my phone! Are you that desperate for money?!” My cheek stung, but seeing the look on my brother’s face at that moment, I felt an even colder pang in my heart. No one believed me. “I’m saying it again, that has nothing to do with me. It’s all malicious photo manipulation and rumors.” “Then are you going to claim this is fake too?” Tiffany sneered, walking over. “Who wants to see photos of Ashley Miller with her clients? But I’ll warn you, some of them are pretty explicit, so any elders who don’t want to see should look away.” Filled with anger, I snatched the phone from her hand and immediately saw the offensive images on the screen. A naked woman, her hair disheveled, lay on a bed. The background was blurry, but her face was clearly visible, and it was mine. My great-aunt leaned over to look, then recoiled with a disgusted expression. “That’s disgusting, Ashley! You actually do that kind of stuff!” “Enough!” I roared, taking a step back. But I quickly composed myself, showing no anger, only a relieved smile. I pulled out my phone, slowly tapping the numbers on the dial pad, and after connecting, I spoke clearly for everyone to hear, “Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” “Someone maliciously Photoshopped my image to spread explicit rumors about me. Could you please send officers over?”

As I called the police, everyone else looked at me with expressions of utter disbelief, perhaps thinking, *Why would she call the police when she’s the one who did something wrong?* Only Tiffany’s eyes began to flicker nervously. She suddenly spoke up, trying to smooth things over. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s not a big deal. Everyone makes their own choices, you know. Aunt Karen, Uncle David, please don’t scold Ashley anymore. She’s not stealing or doing anything truly harmful; as long as she can support herself in the big city, that’s all that matters.” How grandly she spoke, without considering who started this whole mess. “Tiffany is so sensible, unlike Ashley. Not only is her behavior immoral, but she stubbornly refuses to admit her mistakes.” “How respectable is Tiffany’s profession? Can Ashley even compare? She’s a professor at Commonwealth University, you know!” I had been furious at my relatives’ words, but hearing that, my interest was suddenly piqued. “A professor at Commonwealth University?” I turned to Tiffany. “Commonwealth University is one of the top-ranked universities in the country. Its professors usually have at least a Master’s or a Ph.D. Even with relaxed requirements, they’d be specialized talents, often from abroad. Tiffany Brooks, which of those criteria do you meet?” “I…” Tiffany choked, but still insisted on her story. “Why do you care so much about my business? You haven’t even sorted out your own mess!” The others also chimed in to support Tiffany, until I proposed: “Commonwealth University’s official website lists all faculty and staff information. Since you’re officially employed there, your name should be searchable on the website, right?” Tiffany tried to stop me, but her mom and other elders held her back. “Just let her search. We have a clear conscience, after all.” Really? I opened the Commonwealth University website, browsed for two minutes, then showed them the blank search results page. “How come there’s nothing?” “Huh, what’s going on? Didn’t Tiffany say she’s been teaching at Commonwealth University for two years now?” “Yeah, she even sent me photos from her classes. Could it all be a lie?” I knew the truth: she’d spun a massive lie just to save face. But Tiffany still wouldn’t admit it. Instead, she put on a conflicted expression, then lowered her head and shyly began, “Actually, I didn’t want to say anything, but since Ashley has pushed me to this point, I have no choice but to admit it. I’m not an official full-time professor at Commonwealth University because…” “Because my boyfriend pulled some strings to get me in. My boyfriend is an entrepreneur, the sole heir of the Stone Group. He just wanted me to have an easy job.” At this, the relatives suddenly burst into laughter, but it wasn’t mocking laughter; it was full of fawning. They crowded around Tiffany and her mom, showering them with compliments. “We knew Tiffany’s boyfriend was successful, but we never knew he was *that* powerful! The Stone Group! That’s a huge company! Tiffany, you’re truly bringing honor to our family.” Tiffany deliberately looked at me, saying proudly, “Even though my boyfriend is influential, I don’t want to depend on him. I just want to focus on my career and be a strong, independent woman. How long can you bank on your youth to make money, right, Ashley?” Before I could speak, she continued her tirade. “We are sisters, after all, and we grew up together. I can’t bear to see you debase yourself.” “How about this: you cancel the police report, and I’ll have my boyfriend find you a job. Whether it’s cleaning toilets or sweeping floors at the corporation, it’s still much more respectable than selling yourself.” As soon as my parents heard Tiffany’s offer, they lunged for my phone. I dodged, but my brother charged forward with all his might and shoved me. While I was on the ground, he snatched the phone. He fumbled with it and said to me, “Are you calling the police because you think your reputation isn’t bad enough? I’m not asking you to find a good job, but please, stop disgracing yourself.” Just at that critical moment, the private room door was opened by the police. “Who called the police?”

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Ever since my mom, Brenda, became single, she turned terrifyingly obsessive. She envied her neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, who was a high-ranking executive at a big company, so Brenda started imposing strict rules at home, indulging her own power trip. She demanded I submit a formal request and wait for her approval for everything I did. One time, just because I yawned without raising my hand and yelling “Request!”, she slapped me across the face. When I had a high fever and was throwing up, she forced me to write a medical leave application, over and over again. Eighteen years by her side left me with countless psychological scars. But I also learned from her, developing my own twisted obsession with control. Later, when she was so fed up she wanted to pull out her own IV to die, I held down her arm. “Hold on.” “First, write an application.” When I was two, my dad, Robert, cheated. The woman he was with, Sarah, was a self-made businesswoman. She wasn’t particularly pretty, but she was loaded. When they divorced, Sarah even offered Brenda twenty thousand dollars, saying it was her way of buying Robert. Brenda was too proud to accept it. She threw the two stacks of cash right back at them on the spot. But two hours later, she started complaining about her unfortunate life, how she was utterly helpless without money. She kicked me, and my small body stumbled backward, hitting a table, and I started to cry. “What are you crying about?” “Your dad ran off, this family is falling apart because of you! If it weren’t for you, this dead weight, would I have to struggle like this?!” From that day on, I became her sole punching bag. I thought beatings were just a normal part of life, something I just had to endure. But then, when I was seven, a family moved in next door. They all dressed impeccably, left a trail of expensive perfume wherever they went, and always drove nice cars. I heard Mrs. Henderson, the neighbor, was a senior executive at a big company, managing a whole team of employees. Brenda’s gaze was fixed on Mrs. Henderson as if drawn by a magnet. It was hard to tell if it was envy or resentment. After that day, the air at home changed. She found an old binder somewhere, wrote “Household Management Binder” on the cover, and hung it in the most visible spot in our living room. Mimicking Mrs. Henderson’s air of authority became the most important thing in her life. And I was her only subordinate, the sole subject for her to practice these absurd rules on. When I was ten, Brenda got a new boyfriend, Gary, but he left less than a year later, leaving behind my pregnant mom and me, forced to bear all the responsibility. “It’s all because of you, you dead weight, ruining my happiness!” That day, she hung me upside down from the doorframe, lashing me with a whip, strike after strike. The louder the pleas from outside, the harder she hit. She said it was to teach me how to succeed. She only stopped when Mrs. Henderson threatened to call the police on her. But her blame towards me didn’t lessen. Brenda threw down the whip, pulled out the house rules, and flung them at my face. “Rule number three: No crying without prior notification. Your crying just now exceeded 20 decibels. As per the rules, two months of your allowance are deducted.” So for those two months, I was the class beggar. She was too busy gambling to cook for me or give me money for food. I could only scavenge leftovers from classmates to fill my stomach. Some kids, as a cruel joke, mixed dirt and spit into their leftover food. But I was too hungry. Even so, I swallowed it bite by bite. When I was twelve, the school organized a field trip, and every student had to pay fifty dollars for the activity fee. She made me submit a report beforehand. Every night after finishing my homework, I’d start writing the application. Each one was eight thousand words, and I’d write it over and over, while she tore them up one after another. It wasn’t until the field trip bus had already left the city that she finally signed the application form. Brenda, using the formal language she’d picked up from Mrs. Henderson, spoke stiffly: “Next time, make sure the format is standard. Indent the first line by two characters, and include a concluding statement at the end.” Later, my homeroom teacher noticed I’d been wearing the same frayed school uniform for an entire semester. After hearing about my situation, she secretly slipped fifty dollars to my desk-mate, telling her to “find” the money and give it to me. But when Brenda found out, she stormed into the school and made a huge scene, accusing the teacher of “inducing students to lie and undermining family rules.” She caused a fuss over a dozen times, eventually forcing the school to transfer the teacher. After that, the way all the teachers and students looked at me changed. What I didn’t realize then was that my own mindset had also subtly begun to shift.

My first strange rebellious thought came on the night Brenda’s water broke. She screamed so loudly it woke me from my sleep. She told me to call an ambulance, but I paused. I turned and picked up the house rules hanging on the wall, flipping to the third page. “But Mom, the house rules say I can’t touch a phone without submitting a request beforehand.” The consequences of breaking the rules were too severe. I couldn’t even imagine, and I was terrified of being whipped and forced to kneel again. I hated the pain. Brenda clutched her stomach, not speaking. I figured she must have implicitly agreed to the rules. “Mom, wait for me. I’ll go write the report right now.” I put down the rules, pulled a blank sheet of paper from the drawer, and started drafting: [Application for Phone Use] As soon as I wrote those seven words, I crumpled the paper and threw it away. The words weren’t centered. The second time, my handwriting wasn’t neat enough. Brenda said the font for reports had to be perfectly neat, or she’d hit my palms. So I tore it up and rewrote it. The third time, I finished the whole thing, but the format at the end wasn’t quite right… “Enough!” Brenda, with her last bit of strength, stopped me from tearing up that application. “Hand it over! I’ll sign it!” I nodded, taking tiny steps to Brenda’s side, and handed her the application. Just as she was about to sign, I pulled the pen from her hand. “Mom, the house rules specify that only a fountain pen can be used for signatures.” For my eighth-grade final exams, I needed to arrive early at school, so I wrote an application for early departure the day before, and Brenda signed it. But at the time, she claimed the pen wasn’t up to standard, hitting me for half an hour and forcing me to write a confession for two hours. By the time she finally agreed to let me leave, the morning exams were already over. I was so sure I could have gotten first place, but because I missed the exam, I ended up in the bottom ten of my class. She wasn’t happy about it. “Kevin, Mrs. Smith’s son, got second place, so how did you, this good-for-nothing, end up at the bottom?!” She beat me from our house all the way downstairs to the apartment complex. Whenever someone tried to intervene, she’d change her story. “This brat stole my money to go on a date with a guy, shouldn’t I hit her?!” But I hadn’t. I watched Brenda in excruciating pain and slowly said, “I’ll go get it from your room.” “But Mom said I’m not allowed to go into your room without permission, so just wait a little longer. I’ll just write another application to enter the room.” Brenda told me to bring the house rules over, and she tore them to shreds. “Call!” Brenda gave birth to another daughter, Chloe, which meant an extra job for me. The shredded house rules were meticulously taped back together, with a few new additions. The last one read: [These house rules apply only to the eldest daughter, Lily. Chloe is exempt.] My high school was boarding, but Brenda insisted I become a day student. She’d rather have me bike home at ten every night after evening study than let me miss cleaning up their dinner forks. “Why are you using water without an application?!” Along with Brenda’s curses, the whip in her hand landed on me, instantly tearing open my skin on my back and drawing blood. I explained, “Chloe peed on the floor, and I just got some water to clean it up.” The still-damp mop was even sitting nearby. Hearing this, Brenda grabbed the mop, pressed the wet, urine-stained mop head to my face, and forcefully shoved me against the wall, making it hard for me to breathe. The moment I could breathe again, I looked at my six-year-old sister, Chloe. She gave me a smile identical to Brenda’s. From childhood, Brenda had always been hands-off with my studies. She didn’t care about my grades. Even if I wrote applications that perfectly met her requirements, she wouldn’t give me money for workbooks, let alone any tutoring. Despite this, I was still in the top ten by my senior year. When the college entrance exam results came out, I was still in the bathroom washing Brenda’s clothes. When I learned my score far exceeded expectations, I instantly burst into tears of joy. I thought Brenda would be happy for me, but she coldly slapped me. “No report, who gave you permission to smile?” My scores were good enough for any top university in the country. Calls from prestigious universities, like Harvard and Yale, came in several times, but Brenda ignored them all. So I chose my own schools and filled out my own applications. But the result was— “The third-highest in the school and seventeenth in the city was accepted into a vocational school.” “I heard the vocational school not only waives all tuition but also offered a forty-thousand-dollar scholarship.” “With such good grades, she should have been a top student at Harvard, is it really worth going to a vocational school just for the money?” I only learned about my vocational school admission from others. Because Brenda wouldn’t allow me to use electronic devices, she arranged an incredibly busy summer job for me, leaving me no time to check my application information, giving her the opportunity to change it without my knowledge. I lost my temper with Brenda for the first time. “How dare you change my university choices? That will ruin my whole life!” “A whole life, my ass! What good is a degree now?!” Brenda kicked me and rolled her eyes. “I raised you for all these years, that forty thousand dollars is rightfully mine. Don’t think you can change your fate through studying, it won’t work with me.” “Go to vocational school, and I’ve already arranged your marriage after you graduate.” “Later, you’ll work hard to earn money and support the family. Chloe still needs you to buy her a house and a car. I don’t want Chloe to be weak and useless like you, it’s just sickening to watch.” I stormed out. Brenda’s words echoed in my ears. She had raised me for eighteen years, given me life but never an ounce of care. We were both daughters, but I was just a tool for her to exchange for benefits, while Chloe was her cherished darling. Was I going to let them exploit me for the rest of my life? Thinking these thoughts, I unconsciously walked onto a bridge with endless traffic. Reaching the edge, I stood on tiptoes and peered down at the rushing river below. Maybe I should just jump and end it all. No! The thought of suicide was quickly dismissed, replaced by another idea.

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1 As the top search-and-rescue diver in the country, I was used to high-stakes calls, but the one that came in on a rainy Tuesday morning made my blood run cold. A ten-year-old boy had gone missing at Savage Cove—the same place where my little sister, Grecia, drowned ten years ago. Back then, Nora, my girlfriend and captain of the rescue squad, promised she’d bring Grecia back safe. Instead, she cut my sister’s safety line to hand the rescue credit to her partner, Victor. Grecia was swept into the abyss. Victor became a national hero, while I spent the next decade diving into the dark more than two hundred times, pulling 193 people back to life. I mapped Savage Cove’s deadly depths until I knew every current—so no one else would be left waiting in the dark. But today, when dispatch sent the missing child’s photo, I froze. Behind him stood the boy’s mother. Her face was one I would never forget. I turned the phone face down on the desk. “I’m not taking this dive.” “Sean, you’ve got to be kidding me, right?” The dispatcher laughed, assuming it was a joke. “Last year during the peak flood season, you dove forty meters into near-zero visibility mud to pull a trapped kid out of a shipwreck. You hold the active recovery record. If you say you can’t do it, nobody else in this country can.” “I’m not joking,” I replied. “Sean…” “I’m serious. I can’t take this. Coordinate with another team. Don’t waste any more time.” I hung up. But before I could zip my gear bag, the door slammed open. Chief Harrison practically fell into the room, drenched in sweat. “Sean,” he panted, gripping the doorframe to steady his breathing. “Don’t leave yet. Just hear me out.” “Chief, there’s nothing to discuss.” “The conditions at Savage Cove are a nightmare,” Harrison urged, shutting the door behind him and blocking it with his body. “Our regular guys have been down there for two hours. Three rotation teams, and they haven’t found a single trace.” He lowered his voice, stepping closer. “The boy who went under is Victor’s son. Yes, that Victor, the owner of the biggest commercial diving firm in the state. His wife is Nora, the former rescue captain. If it weren’t for their massive donations over the years, we wouldn’t even have half of this high-tech equipment.” “Then use the equipment to find him,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “If the gear is so advanced, you don’t need me.” Harrison lunged forward, grabbing my arm with white-knuckled desperation. “We tried! The sonar can’t see past the blind spots in the underwater crevices. We need eyes down there. We need hands. Sean, I wouldn’t swallow my pride to beg you if there were any other way.” I remained silent. Harrison stomped his foot in frustration. “Are you worried about safety? I know Savage Cove is a death trap, but I swear to you, we have the best support on the shore. Dry suits, backup tanks, comms, whatever you want. I will guarantee your life with my own!” “It’s not a safety issue, Chief.” “Then what is it?” “Personal reasons.” “Personal reasons?” His voice cracked, rising in pitch. “Sean, there is a ten-year-old boy suffocating at the bottom of a river, and you’re telling me about personal reasons?” By now, the news of my refusal had leaked. Several rescue team members gathered outside the open door, whispering. “Sean, you’re the backbone of this team,” one of them called out. “If you won’t go, who will?” “Some hero he is,” another muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “Just a coward who’s afraid of a little current.” The insults started to pile up. I kept my face blank and checked my watch. “Chief, you just wasted another five minutes. I’m not taking the job. Call someone else. Time is running out.” I brushed past him, but a voice from the back of the crowd cut through the tension. “Your sister died in Savage Cove, didn’t she, Sean? Is that why you’re being so heartless? You’re just going to let a kid die?” I went rigid. My heart felt as though it were being squeezed by a freezing hand. My phone screen lit up on the desk behind me. The ten-year-old boy in the photo had a bright, gap-toothed smile. He was the exact same age my sister had been when she died. I closed my eyes. If Nora hadn’t unclipped her line ten years ago, would my sister be alive today? A sudden commotion at the entrance broke my thoughts. A man in a sharp, tailored suit strode through the crowd. He didn’t even look me in the eye. Instead, he snapped open his wallet and began throwing thick stacks of cash at my chest. “What do you mean, you won’t dive?” he sneered. “You want money? Here. Name your price.” Victor turned to Chief Harrison, his lip curled in disgust. “This is the savior you insisted on? Some legendary rescue diver? He’s nothing but a mercenary holding a dying child hostage to inflate his fee.” He stepped closer to me, pulling out his phone. “Still not enough? I can wire you a hundred thousand right now. Five hundred thousand? Name it. Just get my son out.” The onlookers gasped at the sheer amount of money being thrown around. I didn’t move. My eyes were locked on the silver service medal pinned to his lapel. Ten years. He was still wearing the honor he had bought with my sister’s life. Seeing where I was looking, Victor let out a cold, mocking laugh. “What? Jealous? I’m not like you, mercenary. I earned this medal with my life.” He puffed out his chest, playing the martyr for the crowd. “Ten years ago, right here in Savage Cove, the visibility was practically zero. My wife and I didn’t hesitate for a second. We dove straight in. Unlike some cowards who sit on the shore and bargain with a child’s life.” I stared at him, my throat tight. “Did you save her?” Victor’s smug grin faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “In those conditions, no one could guarantee a miracle…” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “So, you didn’t save her.” “I am indeed different from you,” I said, stepping closer to force him to look at me. He had clearly forgotten my face, forgotten the broken brother who had stood on the shore ten years ago. “I don’t dive unless I am absolutely sure. And I never give a grieving family false hope, only to drag them into a deeper despair.” Flustered and angry, Victor grabbed me by the collar. “Who cares if we couldn’t save her? At least we didn’t hide like cowards! You won’t even wet your feet. What right do you have to judge me?” The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, turning hostile. “He’s right. At least Victor tried ten years ago. Sean is just a greedy coward.” Their judgmental eyes stung like needles. They thought I was selfish, cold, and demanding a payout. I didn’t care to explain. Then, a woman stumbled through the doorway. Her hair was a messy nest, and her expensive makeup was smeared with tears. Ten years had passed, but her face was still instantly recognizable. The woman who had promised to bring my sister back, only to push her into the abyss, was standing right in front of me. My fists clenched so hard my fingernails bit into my palms. She didn’t look at my face. She shoved Victor back and threw herself toward me. “Please,” she sobbed, grabbing my hand. “The Chief says you’re our last hope. I don’t know you, but I trust you. My baby is down there. He’s only ten. He’s terrified of the dark. He can’t sleep without hearing my voice.” Her tears fell onto my shoes. “If you go down, I’ll give you anything. Whatever you want. Just save my boy.” I took a slow, deep breath, feeling the decades of suppressed rage boiling in my chest. If they knew the real price of this rescue, would they still ask for it? “I will go to the site,” I said quietly. Nora gasped with relief, squeezing my hand. “Thank God! Thank you, Mr… Mr. Shaw? Whatever your name is, my husband and I will never forget this.” “Don’t misunderstand,” I interrupted, pulling my hand away. “I agreed to go to the site. I didn’t say I would dive.” 2 Ten years later, I stood on the banks of Savage Cove once more. The shore was packed with state-of-the-art equipment. High-powered sonar scanners, massive underwater floodlights, three top-tier rescue boats idling in the water. A dozen experts hovered over a folding table, analyzing underwater topographical maps. “This is Victor’s son,” one coordinator shouted. “Spare no expense! Get him up!” Standing on the periphery, a bitter taste filled my mouth. Ten years ago, my sister had slipped into these exact same waters. Back then, there was only one cheap inflatable dinghy, a couple of standard nylon ropes, and Nora’s empty promise. But today, because the boy in the water belonged to a wealthy, influential family, an entire command center appeared within two hours. What was my sister’s life to them? A stepping stone. A sacrifice to polish their public image and pave the way for their lucrative diving empire. Even though they had only brought back a cold, lifeless body, they still wore the crowns of heroes, using that fake glory to build an empire. A technician rushed over to the Chief, his face pale. “Based on the water pressure and the boy’s tank capacity, the survival window is down to twenty minutes. His oxygen is almost gone. If we don’t get a diver down there right now, he’s dead.” “Sean, please,” Harrison urged. “You’re already here. Put on the gear.” I shook my head. “You have the most advanced sonar in the state, a top-tier medical team, and a dozen specialists. Besides, the boy’s parents are decorated rescue heroes from these exact waters. Why should I be the one to go down?” Nora flinched, not expecting me to bring up the past. Her lips trembled as she looked up at me. “Yes, we went down back then, but we were injured in that rescue! We retired to administrative roles years ago. Our physical condition isn’t up to a deep-dive recovery anymore!” Perhaps driven by a guilty conscience, she suddenly fell to her knees. Her knees hit the gravel with a sickening thud. “Mr. Shaw, I beg you! I admit we aren’t as good as you. We don’t deserve the hero titles. But my son is innocent! Please, if you go down, I’ll do anything. I’ll admit whatever you want!” She began to desperately knock her forehead against the rocky ground, bruising her skin. “Please! Save my son!” Her agonizing cries ignited the anger of the crowd around us. “Sean! Are you even human? How can you torture a grieving mother like this?” “You’re disgusting! She’s on her knees, and you’re still playing games!” A couple of angry young divers lunged forward, grabbing my arms and shoving me toward the water’s edge. “You’re going down today, whether you like it or not!” The waves of hostility pressed in from all sides. I let out a raspy, dry laugh. “You all want me to dive that badly?” I looked at Victor, then at Nora. “But even if I go down, even if I find your boy… how do you know I won’t just unclip his safety line and let him drift away?” “What did you just say?” Victor’s face contorted with rage. He yanked out his phone and made a rapid call. Within minutes, a flock of local reporters who had been waiting nearby rushed past the barricades, pointing cameras and microphones at us. Victor stood before the lenses, squeezing out tears of outrage. “I didn’t want to make this a public spectacle, but my son has been trapped underwater for over two hours. His oxygen will run out in ten minutes. And yet, this man, who claims to be the best rescue diver in the country, refuses to save him.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “I offered him money. My wife fell to her knees to beg him. We’ve done everything. My son is dying, and this man is using a child’s life to settle a personal grudge. Does a monster like this deserve to be called a savior?” The live feed exploded. Online headlines began flashing: Top Rescue Diver Refuses to Save Drowning Ten-Year-Old. The comments sections flooded with venom, calling for my head. Losing his mind, Victor lunged forward, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me toward the river’s edge. Taken off guard, I lost my footing. He shoved my head violently down into the freezing water. The biting cold rushed into my nose, my eyes, and my ears. The crushing pressure of the river seized my skull, and a familiar, terrifying suffocation washed over me. I closed my eyes. The memory of ten years ago rushed back. I remembered standing on this very shore, watching Nora and Victor climb out of the water, packing up their gear to leave. I had fallen to my knees, begging them. “Nora, please, she’s only ten! Just try one more time! Please!” And she had looked at me with cold, distant eyes. “I’m sorry, Sean. We did our best. The current is too strong. A layman like you wouldn’t understand the danger down there. We’re lucky to have made it out alive ourselves.” My sister must have felt this exact same terror. The water filling her lungs, believing she was saved, only to be cast back into the dark. Just as my vision began to fade into black, Victor yanked me out of the water by my hair. I collapsed onto the mud, coughing violently, my lungs burning. My ears buzzed with the sound of rushing water, but Victor’s triumphant sneer cut through the noise. “How does it feel to almost drown?” he hissed. “My son is feeling that every single second! And you stand here doing nothing!” No one in the crowd showed a shred of sympathy. “Serves him right! If he had just done his job, Victor wouldn’t have had to do that.” “He had it coming.” I wiped the remaining water from my eyes, staring at the couple through a blurred, bloodshot gaze. “You want to know why I won’t go down?” I rasped, my voice dripping with venom. “Because I’m afraid.” “I’m afraid that if I go down there, I’ll become just like you.” Victor’s face lost all color. “Ten years ago, in these exact waters,” I said, rising slowly to my feet. “You found her. But on the way to the surface, you unclipped her safety line.” Nora gasped, her body violently trembling as she stared at me. “You… you’re… Sean?”

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1 On the day of our wedding anniversary, I brought a homemade, carefully packed lunch to my wife’s corporate headquarters. The receptionist froze for a solid three seconds when she saw me. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore isn’t in today. she started her maternity leave.” I stared at her. I told her I had no idea my wife was pregnant. All the color drained from the receptionist’s face. She immediately backtracked, stammering that she must have remembered the schedule wrong. A cold chill crept up my spine. I pulled out my phone and remotely accessed the dashcam footage from Kate’s luxury SUV. The live feed showed a man carefully supporting my wife by the arm as they walked into the doors of an exclusive private maternity clinic. Their body language was undeniably intimate. When the man turned his head in the footage, my stomach dropped. I recognized him instantly. It was my best friend, Joshua. Three years ago, when I was hospitalized after a severe car crash, Joshua had visited me every single day. Back then, my wife used to tease me, saying my best buddy pampered me more than my own mother would. I dialed Kate’s number. The background noise on her end was loud and chaotic. “What is it, honey? My meeting hasn’t wrapped up yet.” The words of confrontation hovered right on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scream and ask her why. But I swallowed the bile down. “Nothing. I just missed you.” I hung up the phone. If these two pieces of trash wanted each other so badly, I would let them rot together. I sat in the pitch black living room, my eyes locked on the front door as it finally swung open. “Kate, was your corporate board meeting held at a maternity clinic today?” The motion sensor lights in the entryway flickered to life. Kate’s hand was still resting gently on Joshua’s forearm. At the sound of my voice, her entire body went rigid. Joshua instinctively shrank back, hiding slightly behind her. He gripped the lapel of Kate’s tailored blazer, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. “Kate, I told you I shouldn’t have let you accompany me. Nolan is definitely misunderstanding this.” His voice was a fragile whisper, dripping with manufactured victimhood. Kate furrowed her brow, stepping slightly to the side to shield his body with her own. She tossed her car keys onto the credenza. The metal smacked against the wood with a jarring clatter. “Nolan, what kind of psychotic episode are you having tonight? Are you spying on me?” She marched toward me, her tone laced with heavy impatience. I tossed my phone onto the glass coffee table. The screen was frozen on a screenshot from that morning, showing her delicately helping Joshua out of the passenger seat right in front of the clinic. “I went to your office to bring you lunch. Your receptionist told me you were on maternity leave.” I kept my voice deadpan. “I didn’t even know my own wife was pregnant, yet another man is already escorting you to your prenatal checkups.” Kate glanced at the glowing screen. For a fraction of a second, guilt flashed across her face. But she quickly squared her shoulders, her arrogance returning in full force. “Joshua has a weak constitution. He actually fainted a few days ago.” “I took him to the clinic for a full blood panel, and I just happened to get my checkup done while we were there.” She looked down at me as if I were a speck of dirt on her designer shoes. “When you were in that car wreck three years ago, he practically lived at the hospital taking care of you.” “Now that he’s unwell, what is wrong with me, as your wife, stepping up to repay that debt of gratitude?” Her self righteous speech actually made me laugh out loud. “Repay my debt? So you kept it a total secret from me, took time off work, and hid your pregnancy just to keep him company?” Joshua stepped out from behind her, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “Nolan, please don’t be mad at Kate. I begged her to keep my health issues a secret. I didn’t want to worry you.” He took a step forward, reaching out as if to grab my hand. I sidestepped, refusing to let him touch me. Without my support, he dramatically stumbled forward, collapsing onto the plush living room rug. Kate’s face twisted in pure rage. She immediately dropped to her knees to help him up. “Nolan! What the hell is wrong with you! You know his health is fragile, he can’t handle this kind of stress!” She roared at me, the veins in her neck bulging. I looked down at my hands. I hadn’t even made physical contact with the man. “Are you legally blind, Kate? I never even touched him.” Joshua leaned his weight heavily against Kate’s chest, shaking his head weakly. “Kate, I’m fine. I just lost my balance. It’s not Nolan’s fault.” “My chest just feels a little tight. I think I’ve been standing for too long today.” Kate wrapped her arms protectively around his shoulders, whipping her head around to glare at me with absolute venom. “Look at how bitter and toxic you’ve become. Where is the refined gentleman I married?” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger right at my face. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If anything happens to Joshua’s health, I will hold you personally responsible.” I stood there, quietly watching her unhinged display. This was the woman who had once sworn to love me for the rest of her life. Now, she was verbally eviscerating me over the pathetic lies of another man. I took a deep breath, swallowing the intense nausea churning in my gut. “Kate, take him and get out of my house.” She froze, clearly stunned that I had the nerve to kick her out. She let out a sharp, condescending laugh, her eyes sweeping over me with utter disgust. “Get your facts straight, Nolan.” “This house might have been left to you by your dead parents, but I am the one making the money to keep the lights on.” “You sit around here all day doing absolutely nothing. What right do you have to kick me out?” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the skin nearly broke. Joshua gently tugged at her sleeve. “Kate, I should just go. I don’t want to be the reason you two fight. I can just stay at a cheap motel, it’s fine.” Kate grabbed his hand, her voice softening into a sickly sweet croon. “Your body is far too weak to stay in some rundown motel.” She turned back to me, her eyes hardening into ice. “Joshua’s current apartment has a terrible mold problem. He is going to stay here with us for a few days, at least until I can find him a suitable luxury rental.” I stood my ground, staring directly into her eyes. “Absolutely not.” My defiance clearly infuriated her. She took a threatening step toward me, radiating oppressive authority. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, Nolan. I was notifying you.” “If you refuse to apologize to Joshua right now, I won’t be coming home for the next few days. You can sit here and reflect on your toxic behavior.” 2 “Do whatever you want.” I looked at her, my voice completely dead. Kate’s face turned a mottled shade of purple. She probably expected me to compromise, to grab her arm and beg her to stay like I used to. But she calculated wrong this time. She ground her teeth, wrapped her arm securely around Joshua’s waist, and marched toward the front door. “You’re going to regret this, Nolan.” The heavy oak door slammed shut, the sheer force of it rattling the walls. The living room fell back into a suffocating, dead silence. I collapsed onto the sofa, my mind instantly drifting back to her pregnancy. That was my child growing inside her, yet she chose to have another man by her side during the ultrasounds. A wave of bitter acid burned my throat. My phone screen lit up on the table. It was a text message. From Joshua. [Nolan, Kate insisted on booking me a suite at the Four Seasons. She said she absolutely refuses to let me suffer.] Attached was a photo taken from behind, showing Kate standing at a marble concierge desk, handing over her platinum credit card. I saved the screenshot to my cloud drive and immediately blocked his number. The next morning, just as I finished a tasteless cup of black coffee, the doorbell rang. It was Kate’s executive assistant, Rachel. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore sent me to pick up a few things.” Rachel kept her eyes glued to the floor, actively avoiding my gaze. Behind her stood two burly corporate bodyguards. They walked straight past me and headed directly for the climate-controlled storage room. A moment later, they started carrying out the premium reserve tonics and imported truffles my parents had left me before they passed away. I stepped firmly into the hallway, blocking their path. “Who gave you permission to touch those?” Rachel wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Nolan, Ms. Whitmore said Joshua’s body is incredibly fragile and he needs high-end nourishment.” “She mentioned that these items were just gathering dust in here anyway.” I let out a harsh, barking laugh. She wanted to take my deceased parents’ legacy to feed her pathetic little sidepiece? “Put them down. Tell her to come get them herself if she wants them so badly.” The words had barely left my mouth when Kate’s icy voice echoed from the open doorway. “Excuse me? Am I no longer allowed to make decisions about the inventory in my own home?” She was wearing the exact same designer suit from yesterday. She clearly hadn’t come home last night. Kate strode into the foyer, waving her hand to signal the bodyguards to continue carrying the boxes. “Nolan, you can’t possibly consume all of this by yourself.” “Joshua is recovering, and his body needs these exact nutrients.” She walked right up to me, holding out an open palm. “Give me the keys to your loft studio in the South End.” My head snapped up. I stared at her in utter disbelief. That studio was my sanctuary. It was my private creative base where I worked under my secret illustration pseudonym, “Ronin”. Every inch of that space held my blood, sweat, and artistic soul. “Why the hell do you need the keys to my studio?” Kate spoke as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Joshua says the recycled air in the hotel suite is making him claustrophobic. It’s bad for his recovery.” “Your studio has great natural light and a private courtyard. I’m lending it to him for a while.” She paused, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important there anyway.” “Those messy little sketches of yours don’t bring in a dime. We might as well put the real estate to some practical use.” I stared at her, my blood boiling. “That is my workspace. It’s not a halfway house for your stray trash.” Kate’s eyes darkened instantly. “Watch your mouth, Nolan. Since when did Joshua become trash?” Without warning, she lunged forward and grabbed the canvas tote bag resting on the entryway console. “Give that back!” I lunged to grab it out of her hands. Using her height advantage in heels, she held the bag high out of my reach with one hand. With her other hand, she ruthlessly tipped it upside down, dumping the contents all over the hardwood floor. Keys, my phone, and my hand-drawn conceptual drafts scattered everywhere. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately dropped to my knees to rescue the delicate drafting paper. But Kate was faster. She stepped forward, the sharp stiletto heel of her shoe planting directly in the center of my artwork. She bent down and snatched the keyring holding the studio keys. “You’re an unemployed bum who paints to kill time, and you actually think you’re some kind of tortured artist?” She tossed the keys in the air and caught them, her lips curling into a cruel, satisfied smile. “I’m taking these.” “You better stay out of trouble for the next few days. If you go to the studio and harass Joshua, I’ll make you regret it.” I stared at the crumpled, dirt-stained paper trapped under her heel. It was a commercial piece I had spent three agonizing months perfecting. My chest physically ached, my heart contracting in sharp, jagged spasms. “Kate, if Nolan really doesn’t want me there, we can just forget it.” “I really don’t want to be the wedge that drives your marriage apart.” Joshua’s fragile, breathy voice floated in from the front porch. 3 “Why wouldn’t he want you there? I’m the one paying the lease on that property anyway.” Kate turned her head, her voice melting into absolute honey as she spoke to the man outside. She didn’t even bother to give me a second glance as she turned to leave. I scrambled up from the floor and blocked the doorway. “Give me the keys.” I stared into her eyes, emphasizing every single syllable. Kate scowled, her patience completely evaporated. “Are you psychotic, Nolan? It’s just a dusty old room. Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum over this?” Joshua stood on the porch, looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “Nolan, I know you hate me, but I really am sick.” “I just wanted a quiet place to breathe and rest.” “Drop the act,” I snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You know exactly what you’re doing, you parasite.” Joshua’s face went chalk white. He swayed dramatically, stumbling backward two steps as if he had been physically struck. Kate exploded. She shoved me with both hands, her strength fueled by sheer fury. “That is enough!” Her push caught me completely off guard. I lost my footing, stumbling backward. The base of my spine slammed violently into the sharp, solid edge of the heavy oak shoe cabinet. A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my lower back, shooting down my legs. I gasped, instinctively clutching my spine as my legs gave out. I slid down the wooden cabinet, collapsing onto the floor. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt, sticking to my skin. Kate stood over me, looking down without a single ounce of pity in her eyes. “Stop playing dead. If you want to fake an injury, at least try to make it look convincing.” She grabbed Joshua’s arm, supporting his weight, and walked right out the door. The heavy front door clicked shut once again. I lay curled on the cold floor, the agony in my spine so intense I couldn’t even draw a full breath. My hands shaking violently, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed for an ambulance. Hours later, in a sterile hospital room. The emergency room doctor held up my X-ray scans, his face grim. “Mr. Whitmore, you’ve sustained severe trauma to your lumbar vertebrae.” “You are going to need strict bed rest for the next several days. Absolutely no physical strain, or you risk permanent nerve damage.” I lay flat on the stiff hospital mattress. My mind drifted to the artwork destroyed under her designer heel. Then to the child, my child, growing inside her womb. A hollow, rhythmic pain pulsed in my chest. I lay in that hospital bed for an entire day. By nightfall, the acute, stabbing pain in my back had dulled to a heavy ache. Suddenly, panic set in. I realized my finalized commercial commission, a massive canvas piece, was still sitting on an easel in the South End studio. If Joshua ruined it, the breach of contract penalty would completely bankrupt me. I ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Ignoring the bleeding, I forced myself upright, gritting my teeth against the pain, and hailed a cab to the studio. The front door of the loft was unlocked. I pushed it open, and the sight before me nearly tore my soul apart. Tubes of my imported, custom-mixed oil paints, worth tens of thousands of dollars, had been slashed open and stomped into the floorboards. In the center of the room, Joshua was standing with a pair of heavy fabric shears, carving jagged gashes into my nearly finished masterpiece, The Cosmos. “What the hell are you doing!” I roared, lunging forward and ripping the scissors out of his grip. He shrieked, instantly dropping to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his chest and wailing at the top of his lungs. “Ah! My chest! It hurts so much. Nolan, why did you shove me?” The rapid clicking of heels echoed from the hallway. Kate burst into the room. Seeing Joshua writhing on the paint-stained floor, her eyes turned bloodshot. Without asking a single question, she spun around and delivered a brutal, ringing slap across my face. The crack of her palm against my cheek echoed in the empty loft. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My head snapped to the side, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. “You absolute psycho! You know how weak his heart is, how could you be so vicious?” I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, pointing a trembling finger at the shredded canvas on the easel. “He destroyed my life’s work! He is playing you for a total fool!” “Why are you defending him? You didn’t even ask what happened before you hit me!” Kate didn’t even glance at the ruined painting. She dropped to her knees, carefully gathering Joshua into her arms. “Are a few sheets of trash paper more important than a human life?” “I am warning you right now. If Joshua’s condition worsens, I will make you pay with your life.” She practically carried him out of the room, rushing down the stairs. I slumped against the wall of my ruined sanctuary, surrounded by the wreckage of my art. My phone buzzed in my pocket. The caller ID showed Kate’s name. I pressed answer. “Nolan, you terrified Joshua today. His heart rate is highly irregular.” “He’s hooked up to an IV right now. You better drag yourself down here and apologize to him on your hands and knees.” 4 “My spine is injured. I can’t make it.” My knuckles were white as I gripped a torn shred of my canvas. My voice trembled with exhaustion. A sharp, mocking scoff echoed through the phone speaker. “Your spine? Nolan, if you’re going to lie to get out of trouble, at least invent something creative.” “Tonight is the Whitmore Group’s annual anniversary gala. Even if you have to crawl on your hands and knees, you will show up.” She paused, her tone dropping into a sinister, icy threat. “The tabloids are already spinning rumors that our marriage is falling apart. If you don’t show up tonight to play the loving husband and save our stock prices.” “Tomorrow morning, I will permanently cancel the maintenance funds for your parents’ cemetery plot.” My fist clenched so hard my fingernails drew blood. My parents were buried in the most exclusive, expensive memorial park in the city. It was the ultimate leverage she had over me, and she knew exactly how to use it. “Send the address,” I ground out between clenched teeth. An hour later. Wearing a loose-fitting black suit to hide my stiff posture, I walked into the grand ballroom of a luxury downtown hotel. My face was pale, my movements slow and calculated. The ballroom was an ocean of designer gowns, champagne flutes, and blinding camera flashes. Kate was wearing a breathtaking custom haute couture gown, radiant and glowing as she mingled with corporate elites. And standing right beside her, wearing a bespoke tuxedo and a sickeningly smug smile, was Joshua. Gleaming on his wrist was a limited edition luxury watch. The exact watch Kate had gifted me for my birthday last year. I stared at the scene, the nausea churning violently in my stomach. Kate spotted me from across the room. Her smile faltered, and she marched over, her brow heavily furrowed. “You look like you’re attending a funeral. Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me?” She hissed the warning under her breath. I ignored her completely, walking straight past her to sit at an empty table in the corner. The throbbing pain in my lumbar spine was intensifying by the minute. I needed to conserve every ounce of energy just to stay upright. The host took the stage, tapping the microphone and inviting Kate up to give the keynote address. Kate stood bathed in the spotlight, pulling Joshua up to stand right beside her. “Tonight, as we celebrate the anniversary of the Whitmore Group, I have a very special announcement to make.” Her voice boomed through the high-end sound system, commanding the room. “Mr. Joshua here will officially be joining the Whitmore Group as our new Executive Art Director.” “Furthermore, he will be the sole creative force behind the highly anticipated ‘Cosmos’ illustration exhibition opening next month in the city center.” The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause. I sat frozen in my chair, feeling as if a lightning bolt had struck me directly in the chest. That was my exhibition. I had spent six grueling months planning it. She hadn’t just shredded my original drafts. She had taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and slapped her lover’s name on all of it. I slammed my hands onto the table, forcing myself to stand. I shoved my chair back and marched toward the stage. “Kate, what gives you the right to hand my life’s work over to him?” I pointed directly at the two of them, my voice shaking with pure, unadulterated rage. The applause died instantly. Every single eye in the ballroom snapped toward me. Joshua immediately shrank behind Kate’s back, his eyes widening in performed terror. “Nolan, what are you talking about? I painted every single piece for that exhibition with my own two hands.” Kate’s face turned completely purple. She glared at the security detail standing near the stage. “Are you idiots deaf? Drag this lunatic out of here right now!” Four massive security guards in black suits rushed forward. Two of them grabbed my arms, twisting them painfully behind my back. “Let go of me!” I thrashed wildly against their grip. Kate walked down the steps of the stage, stopping inches from my face. “Nolan, are you so consumed by jealousy that you’ve lost your mind?” “You are a useless leech who can barely hold a paintbrush straight. You honestly expect these people to believe you created art of that caliber?” She looked down at me, her eyes filled with absolute venom and disgust. “Get on your knees and apologize to Joshua this instant. If you refuse, I promise you won’t walk out of here tonight.” The surrounding guests began to whisper, the gossip spreading like wildfire. “Mr. Whitmore is acting like a hysterical madman.” “I heard he’s incredibly paranoid. He attacks any young artist Ms. Whitmore decides to sponsor out of pure jealousy.” The guards shoved my shoulders down, kicking the backs of my knees to force me to the floor. The violent downward pressure triggered an explosive, blinding agony in my injured spine. My vision whited out, my consciousness slipping away. I squeezed my eyes shut in total despair. Just as my knees were about to hit the cold marble floor. The heavy double doors of the ballroom were violently kicked open with a deafening crash. A low, glacial female voice sliced through the silence of the room. “Whoever dares to touch him will lose their hands tonight.”

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