Category: English

For ten years, Julian Reed refused to consummate our marriage. If I so much as brushed against one of his belongings, he would have it burned and discarded—then brand the word “filth” onto my skin. A decade of marriage left me covered in shameful tattoos, hidden beneath my clothes. For a decade, my body was a canvas of unsightly tattoos, hidden beneath my clothes. That day, carrying a tray, I accidentally brushed his foot. I immediately fell to my knees, terrified, but he did not punish me. I thought his heart had finally warmed to me, but the very next day, he used me as collateral, offering me up in a vile public auction to acquire an item for his beloved, Seraphina Hayes. The men who coveted me began to openly calculate how many rare antiques they would bid for a single night with me. “She’s truly never been taken? Mr. Reed, you’d actually let go?” Julian sneered, “Only the untouched are sent to you. She hasn’t been near a man in nearly thirty years, so she’s certainly famished for it. On the bed, she’ll bend to your every whim…” The men frantically raised their bidding paddles, clamoring to see my compromising images. Julian gazed tenderly at Seraphina, cradled in his arms. “Sera, my darling, whatever you desire tonight, I will acquire for you.” “No matter the cost, Eleanor can pay for anything.” Watching my photos scroll across the massive screen, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I huddled at the edge of the crowd, engulfed by an icy chill. My blood felt as though it had been flash-frozen, then violently surged back through my veins, leaving my limbs numb and unresponsive. The most exclusive auction house in the coastal city typically announced its lots a week in advance, but for a powerful family like the Reeds, a last-minute addition was effortlessly arranged— And I was that “item,” forcibly inserted into the lineup. All because Seraphina had set her eyes on a priceless Ming Dynasty porcelain plate, deeming it suitable for a paint palette. The men’s lewd whispers continued: “Mr. Reed, using Eleanor as collateral, would she really agree?” Julian scoffed, “She’s nothing but a financial drain her parents sold to the Reed family. What right does she have to refuse?” “Besides, given her absolute devotion to me, if I told her to come naked and serve you right now, she’d kneel and thank me for the privilege.” “Mr. Reed is truly formidable. Even the most aloof beauty can be trained into a wanton courtesan.” Julian’s expression grew even more disgusted. “It just proves she’s inherently impure to her very core.” Inherently impure? If my grandfather hadn’t rescued his grandfather from a pile of dead bodies all those years ago, there would be no Reed family today. At last, I gave up on him completely. For ten years of our marriage, I lived alone in a separate wing of the mansion. Only when his parents came to inspect would he have my belongings moved to the balcony of his master bedroom. At night, fearing I might enter the room, he would lock the balcony door. Once, during a heavy rainstorm, I froze into unconsciousness on the balcony. When he found out, he merely had all the furniture in the house replaced, as if my very presence was a contagion. I used to believe I was the one who was “dirty,” which was why I was despised— At fifteen, my parents died in a car crash, our family fortune seized by uncles. I drifted through the streets, taking on any grueling job. At my hungriest, I even fought stray dogs for scraps of bread. Five years later, the Reed family found me. The day I was brought back, I thought my life had finally taken a turn for the better. So, when Grandfather Reed, on his deathbed, asked me to marry Julian, I agreed. He, unwilling to disappoint the dying man, reluctantly consented. I saw his hesitation and proactively offered him time to adjust, even signing a ten-year agreement— If, after ten years, he still didn’t love me, I would leave voluntarily. Because I truly loved him, and I remembered the flicker of kindness he had once shown me. 2 Years ago, when I was fighting stray dogs for a piece of bread, torn and bleeding, he tossed me an expired biscuit. That memory was a solitary beacon in my desolate life. So, after our marriage, no matter how much he loathed and humiliated me, I endured it silently. I would wash myself countless times a day, and disinfect everything before and after preparing food. Only now did I understand: it wasn’t a phobia of germs. He simply found me disgusting. It was late night by the time I walked home from the auction. Gazing at the brightly lit mansion, I dialed his number. “Three days from now, we divorce.” Upon entering, I found Julian still awake, the living room filled with many of his friends—the very same men from the auction. An alarm blared in my mind. I quickly offered a hurried greeting and retreated to a small room on the ground floor. Before I could close the door, Julian followed. He stood in the doorway, his eyes softer than usual. “You’ll sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” I assumed his parents were visiting and turned to gather my things, but he seized my wrist. “Go up now. Wash yourself and wait for me.” My body stiffened. My gaze fell upon the fresh hickeys Seraphina had bitten into his neck, then swept across the men outside, eager for a show. My heart sank to the bottom. I tried to close the door, but he kicked it open. The rebounding doorknob slammed violently into my hip, the searing pain making cold sweat prickle my skin. His pupils constricted slightly, but he still commanded in a low voice, “Be obedient. Go upstairs.” Knowing we would be divorced in a week, I didn’t want to cause a scene now. I swallowed my discomfort and turned. After two steps, I heard him chuckle softly behind me: “Ellie, don’t be nervous later. After all, it’s something you’ve waited ten years for. You should be happy.” I could only obey and go upstairs to the master bedroom to bathe. Picking up the clothes he’d left by the door, I froze. The fabric was thin as a dragonfly’s wing, barely reaching my thighs, utterly revealing. “Julian, the clothes—” Before I could finish, he had already shut the bedroom door. He sat on the sofa, commanding me to put the clothes on. “Haven’t you always wanted to please me? I’m giving you the chance. Make the most of it.” I bit my lip, my movements stiff as I pulled on the flimsy garment. My body trembled ceaselessly. Julian lifted his chin, signaling me to lie on the bed. I lay down numbly, feeling the overhead light flicker. “Nice figure.” “Look at the tattoos on her body, quite provocative. If her skin were flushed, wouldn’t it look even better?” Julian slowly rose, walked directly into the bathroom, and filled a basin with scalding hot water, which he then poured over me. My already sensitive skin instantly flared crimson. A smirk played on his lips. “Red. It certainly suits you.” Downstairs, the men were losing their minds. They watched the projected feed on the television, drooling. “No one argue with me, I’m having this woman. Mr. Reed, care to facilitate?” “Don’t be ridiculous. What are your paltry millions going to do? I heard the Thorne family will also be at this auction. Can you compete with Alistair Thorne?” “He doesn’t even care for women. He’s like an ice block all day, you could shave his head and he’d just join a monastery.” … I lay there for a long time, and Julian made no further moves. I managed to lift my head slightly, only to realize he had left at some point. I quickly found some clothes to put on, preparing to call the maid to change the sheets. I had just opened the door when I heard movement in the stairwell. It was Julian and Seraphina. “Arthur, gentle—” “Sera, darling, watching Eleanor’s disgusting figure earlier, my mind was only filled with you. Do you know how much I missed you?” “But my hand just touched her. Can you please disinfect it properly for me?” 3 The sickeningly sweet sounds of their intimacy washed over me in waves, drowning me. My heart a desolate wasteland, I silently skirted around them, descending the stairs from the other side. This was the servants’ staircase, without surveillance cameras. So no one saw me come down. Looking at the large screen in the living room, and the men with their faces flushed with disturbing arousal. I nearly stumbled. “Did you save the video from earlier? If I sell it on the black market, I could definitely make some pocket money.” “I just casually sent it to my big brother. He’s willing to pay twenty million.” Behind me, hurried footsteps sounded. Julian’s face darkened as he blocked my path. “Who told you to come down? When did you come down?” The people in the living room all turned their heads, eager to rip my clothes off immediately. I quickly retreated, wanting to go back to my room, but Seraphina blocked my path again. Her clothes were still disheveled, the marks on her neck a vivid red. “Ms. Vance, our family is hosting a charity auction the day after tomorrow. Please, come with us.” I instantly recalled their earlier words, my face etched with terror. “I won’t go! I won’t!” Julian looked at me with utter disdain. “What kind of behavior is this, screaming like that? Truly an uncultured country bumpkin!” “This event is for the most prominent families. You are my wife; you must go. Besides—” He swept his gaze over me from head to toe. “This auction’s main event is something you’ve never seen before. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It would be a great pity to miss it.” “I don’t want to—” He suddenly forced himself to lean close to me, his voice barely a whisper, laced with disgust, yet loud enough for me alone. “If you don’t go, tomorrow your grandfather’s ashes will be fed to the dogs.” My eyes widened abruptly, staring at him in disbelief. My grandfather was a towering hero his entire life. How dare he insult my grandfather like that! But realizing the immense power the Reed family now wielded, I could only agree. Time slipped away. On the night of the charity auction, Julian had a stylist specially prepare me. The transparent white gown revealed the tattoos on my arms and legs. With every step, I could feel the invasive stares of those around me. Seraphina, arm linked with Julian’s, walked ahead, while I followed behind like their attendant. Utterly out of place. As we neared our seats, Seraphina suddenly seemed to remember me. She pulled me to the very front. “Ms. Vance, your status truly suits this seat best. It also makes it easier for everyone to see you.” With nothing to block the view in front, my dress barely covered my thighs. I wanted to hide, but Julian’s gaze was full of menace. A burst of laughter suddenly erupted from behind me. “Is that the thirty-year-old virgin?” “Even though she’s older, being untouched at thirty is truly rare, quite unique.” I clenched my hands, digging my nails into my palms. “Shut up!” Julian’s reaction was quicker than anyone else’s. He sharply raised his hand to strike me. But at the moment of impact, he disgustedly lowered it. “My friends are complimenting you. Don’t be ungrateful, Eleanor. Don’t forget what you promised me.” Seraphina gently clutched his sleeve. “Arthur, don’t be angry.” “Perhaps my arrangement wasn’t good, making Ms. Vance upset. I’ll apologize to her.” She rose, appearing wronged, about to bow to me. “I’m so—” Julian pulled her into an embrace. “Why on earth would you apologize to a mere object? She’s not worthy.” He looked at me with cold eyes. “Don’t cross my line.” I lowered my head, not uttering another word. The auction soon began. No matter what Seraphina desired, Julian bought it without a second thought. 4 Soon, it was time for the priceless Ming Dynasty porcelain plate that Seraphina had so desperately wanted. The bidding started at a hundred million. Julian’s eyes were fixed on his phone, where a live stream was playing. I only glanced at it, and my blood ran cold. The live camera seemed to be directly in front of me, capturing my— And the chat stream was filled with different people placing bids. [I bid thirty million.] [Thirty-five million.] [Fifty million!] I abruptly stood up. But then I saw Julian’s smirk. He looked at Seraphina. “Sera, my darling, I’m going to put her up for public degradation for you.” The Reed family’s recent financial momentum wasn’t particularly strong. He had already spent nearly a billion just now. Where would he get the money for that? I suddenly recalled the live stream footage from earlier, and cold sweat broke out. So, he truly intended to use me as collateral for a grotesque public spectacle. “Julian, don’t you dare go too far!” “I am a person, a living, breathing human being, not an object you can casually buy and sell!” At my outburst, Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Eleanor, am I giving you too much leeway?” “You dare defy me in front of my friends and business partners? Truly, a child with no parents has no upbringing.” I glared fiercely at him. “Julian, my parents died serving our country. You have no right to judge them!” “Without my family, your Reed family would have long ago perished in—” SLAP! He struck me hard across the face. The next second, he brutally grabbed my hair and yanked me backward. “Tonight, you can’t escape!” He ordered his bodyguards to bind me. Red ropes coiled around my body, one by one. An iron chain was fastened around my neck. The other end was tied to a pillar at the side of the display stage. Seraphina leaned into Julian’s shoulder, peering at his phone. “The bidding’s already at eighty million? But it’s still quite a ways from the hundred million starting bid.” Julian’s face was etched with distress. “Cut her clothes open. Let everyone inspect the goods first.” I frantically shook my head, pleading with him. “Julian, I know I was wrong. I’ll stay far away from you from now on. Please, don’t do this to me, okay?” “I beg you—” He had already shamed me in front of everyone for ten years. I couldn’t bear to have my dignity trampled again. But he wouldn’t listen to me, letting the bodyguards rip my clothes to shreds. My self-respect was utterly crushed along with my garments. “Julian, I hate you—” My whispered plea was drowned out by the gasps of the crowd. “Wow!” “The brand on her stomach is actually in the shape of a rose! Sera, you really have a mind for these things.” “I only mentioned it to the designer, I never thought they’d actually be able to make it. It’s the first time I’ve seen such a striking rose.” “Mr. Reed! Look at your own auction platform, it’s already at 150 million!” Julian still wasn’t finished. “Not enough. There are still two more antiques not yet displayed. Not enough money.” My last piece of clothing was ripped away by the bodyguards. I had no strength left to struggle, despair engulfing all my senses. I don’t even remember how I was taken backstage. I only recall the dim light, someone carefully dressing me, and then being gently carried into a car. All I saw was a pair of fathomless, dark eyes, and then oblivion. As the car sped away from the auction house, the scene there had erupted into chaos. Seraphina’s coveted Ming Dynasty porcelain plate had now reached five hundred million. The bidder competing with her finally stopped. “Congratulations, Mr. Reed, on acquiring our Ming Dynasty porcelain!” Julian smiled, rising, and gently turned to look at Seraphina by his side. The next second, Julian froze in his tracks.

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1 The moment the just compensation hit my account, I immediately transferred every last dime to my adopted daughter. My son, Mark, was on his knees before me, snot running, tears streaming. “Mom, your granddaughter is still in the hospital, fighting for her life! She needs that money!” I ignored his pitiful pleas, turning instead to buy my adopted daughter a house in a bustling metropolitan area. Relatives swarmed, their voices cloying with “wisdom,” begging me to reconsider. “A daughter given away is like water poured out, and she’s not even your blood,” they’d nag. “You’ll end up out on the street, old woman, mark my words.” I didn’t listen to a single word; instead, I promptly showed them the door. In a flash, my story went viral online, hitting trending topics: “Small-Town Grandma Gives Redevelopment Fortune to Adopted Daughter, Biological Son Gets Nothing.” A national TV network even invited me to appear on “Life Unscripted.” Outside, the biting wind howled, and my son, Mark, hammered on the door, “BANG! BANG! BANG!” Inside, the house was a haven of warmth. My adopted daughter, Dawn, kept piling generous portions of my favorite braised pork onto my plate. Her husband, David, set a steaming mug of warm milk beside me. “Mom,” David ventured, his voice gentle, “are you sure we shouldn’t open the door for Mark and the others?” I slowly chewed a mouthful of pork, savoring the rich flavor. “Don’t mind them,” I said, my voice deliberately unhurried. “Just sit down and eat while it’s hot.” Mark’s furious pounding finally tore the old door from its hinges, sending it crashing to the floor. A flurry of relatives and reporters surged in, encircling us in a suffocating wave. Camera flashes popped like fireflies around us as Mark crawled on his knees from the doorway, straight to where I sat. “Mom,” he choked out, his voice raw, “Lily’s been given a critical prognosis. Please, just give me some money to save her. Even if it’s just a loan, okay?” I sat at the head of the table, unmoving as a stone. My daughter-in-law, Brenda, her hair disheveled, knelt tragically before me. “Mom, I’ll bow to you!” she wailed, banging her forehead lightly on the floor. “Please, save Lily! If we wait any longer, your granddaughter won’t make it!” I cast a cold, indifferent glance at them. “If you want charity,” I said, my voice flat, “go beg on the streets. Don’t come here wailing like banshees. You’re an embarrassment.” My words ignited a storm of indignation from the relatives. “Eleanor, this is completely out of line!” one shrilled. “Dawn is just an adopted daughter! You know what they say, ‘a stranger’s heart is a world away.’” Another chimed in, “Mark is your biological son! You’re giving your money to an outsider instead of him? What will people say?” “Exactly!” someone else added. “And your granddaughter is dying in the hospital, waiting for that money! You wouldn’t just watch her die, would you?” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips. Without warning, I snatched a handful of Mark’s hair and slapped him hard across the face. The relatives gasped, startled by my sudden ferocity, and rushed forward to intervene. I slowly released him. “Mark is your nephew, isn’t he?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Why don’t you all be charitable and lend him some money to save Lily?” Their faces twisted, a kaleidoscope of discomfort and anger. “What kind of talk is that?” one spluttered. “We all have our own struggles! You got a massive buyout, so why wouldn’t you save your own granddaughter? Isn’t that just common sense?” I gave them a cold, dismissive look. “My money is mine to give to whoever I please,” I stated flatly. “I don’t need your input. It’s getting dark. You all should leave.” The relatives flushed crimson with fury. “What deep-seated grudge,” one muttered, “could make you abandon your own flesh and blood?” “Hmph! You just wait,” another sneered. “See what happens when Dawn takes all your money and kicks you out!” I merely offered a faint smile, watching them disperse. Mark and Brenda, however, refused to budge. “Mom, I’m begging you,” Mark pleaded, his voice cracking. “Lily is truly in danger. If we don’t get her treatment now, it’ll be too late!” I tilted my chin, picked up another piece of braised pork, and put it in my mouth. “If it’s too late,” I mumbled around the food, “then go save her. Why are you still standing here?” “Don’t you have that house in the city?” I added, my voice carrying. “Sell it. Use the money to save your daughter.” My words choked them, and they finally shuffled out, dragging the reporters with them. Only then did David and Dawn let out a collective sigh of relief, carefully setting the door back in its frame. I continued to chew my pork, the rich flavor truly satisfying. “No need to pack much,” I announced. “I bought you a house in the city. We’re moving there right now.” Dawn’s eyes widened, a mixture of joy and apprehension flickering in them. “Mom,” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, “is this really fair to Mark? He’s your biological son, and I’m just… you picked me up from the roadside…” “You found me by the old creek bed…” I reached out and patted her shoulder, a rare, tender gesture. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Mom knows what she’s doing.” My hand tightened, clutching the small clump of hair I’d pulled from Mark’s head moments ago. The next day, the video of Mark and Brenda kneeling before me, desperately pleading for money to save Lily, exploded across social media. 2 Dawn scrolled through her phone, her foot tapping a furious rhythm on the polished floor. “Mom,” she fumed, “they’re absolutely despicable! They posted our old address online!” Her voice trembled. “Good thing we moved into the new place. Otherwise, we’d have been beaten black and blue.” I took the phone from Dawn’s hand. The screen showed a chaotic video of a mob breaking into our old house under the cover of night, smashing everything in sight. Even a simple ceramic bowl lay in pieces on the floor. The comments section was a cesspool of vitriol: “Good riddance! Too bad they got away, or we’d have taught them a lesson.” “That stupid old woman! Abandoning her own son and granddaughter for an adopted kid, pah!” “And that adopted girl’s no better, just standing there, watching her brother and sister-in-law suffer.” I chuckled, a dry, humorless sound, and handed the phone back to Dawn, telling her to send the video to the police. Soon after, the video was taken down, only fueling the online outrage. “Why would they remove it?” raged one comment. “Those old fools who ignore their own kin should see what happens when you refuse to save your own granddaughter!” “I bet the old woman reported it herself. She’s just pure evil.” “Hope that old hag kicks the bucket soon, and all her money goes to her son!” Mark, predictably, hadn’t sold the house to pay for Lily’s treatment. Instead, he and Brenda were milking the internet fame, live-streaming a tearful plea while peddling cheap goods. Behind them, Lily lay on a hospital bed, tubes snaking into her mouth, her tiny body barely clinging to life. The chat was flooded with insults directed at me, but actual sales were pathetically low. I decided to fan the flames. I opened my own burner account and typed into their live chat: “Don’t you have money? Why aren’t you selling that city house for cash?” Brenda’s expression shifted, a flicker of alarm, but she quickly pulled a mournful face. “Oh, we want to sell,” she whimpered, “but the housing market is so bad right now. We can’t get a good price.” I pressed on, shaping the narrative. “If you were truly desperate to save her, you wouldn’t care about the price,” I wrote. “Seems your daughter isn’t as important to you as you claim.” Mark’s face turned green. “Who are you?” he spat, glaring at the screen. “You’re not here, you can’t possibly understand a parent’s love for their child!” The chat exploded with agreement: “Exactly!” one user typed. “Desperate parents wouldn’t let their child suffer a moment longer. The critical prognosis came days ago, and you’re still live-streaming?” “As a mother myself,” another wrote, “if my child was critical, I’d sell everything I own, no matter the price!” “Go save your kid!” someone else chimed in. “Stop wasting time on this broadcast!” Before they could respond, their live stream was reported and shut down. 3 Two days later, I received a text from a realtor: Mark and Brenda were listing their house. I instructed the agent to drive the price down to the absolute minimum, promising them double commission if they secured it for me. I bought that house. Mark, undeterred, started another live stream from a different account. On screen, Lily lay weakly in her hospital bed, but her eyes were open now. Brenda wept into the camera, “We’ve already sold our house. Once Lily’s discharged, we’ll have nowhere to go!” Mark wiped away a tear that wasn’t there. “Mom,” he sniffled, “I know you’re watching. I know you bought a big house.” “Please,” he begged, “take us in. Lily needs a place to recover after she leaves the hospital. We’re truly desperate.” I remained completely unmoved by their performance. Live in my house? Not a chance. Then, someone leaked a video online confirming that I had bought Mark’s house. The live chat erupted: “Who’s heard of a mother this wicked?” “Her own son sells his house to save his daughter, and his mother manipulates the price to buy it for a steal?” “That person who told Mark to sell his house last time? Was it that old hag pulling the strings? Were we all just manipulated by her?” “Is this even human behavior? Worse than an animal!” Just then, a bold red comment flashed across my screen: “I’m the director of ‘Life Unscripted.’ I refuse to believe a mother would treat her own son this way without reason. Ms. Eleanor Hayes, I sincerely invite you to be a guest on our show.” Without a second thought, I typed “YES,” not missing the flicker of panic in Brenda’s eyes. The director then challenged Mark and Brenda to appear on the show to confront me. Mark, puffing himself up, declared self-righteously, “I live my life with integrity! I’ve never done anything to betray my mother! Let the audience be the judge!” The appointed day arrived quickly. The “Memory Weaver” device sat center stage, gleaming under the studio lights. The audience seats were packed, and the live stream viewership surged. Even Lily had been brought along. Mark, a smirk playing on his lips, sauntered over to my chair. “Mom,” he whispered, his smile widening, “it’s not too late to back out. Otherwise, when the audience sees how obviously you favor Dawn, it won’t be a pretty outcome for you.” I didn’t respond, though a bitter smile touched my lips. Even now, he had no idea where he’d gone wrong. My expression, which he interpreted as a sign of my being trapped, only made his grin stretch wider. After a brief introduction, the host placed a headset-like device over my temples. Instantly, I was plunged into a swirling vortex of memories. On the large screen behind me, a scene unfolded: Mark’s family welcoming me into their home after the old property was demolished. I clutched Snowball, my loyal white dog, as I stepped into a spacious, brightly lit room. A tall, comfortable bed, bathed in the soft glow of sunlight, beckoned. Brenda bustled around, diligently making my bed and unpacking my bags. Mark waited on me hand and foot, bringing tea, fetching water, even offering a shoulder rub. Lily sat on my lap, hugging me tight, begging me to stay forever. The three of them served me lavish meals, brimming with meat and vegetables. From the audience seats and the live chat, a torrent of insults poured forth: “This old woman doesn’t know how good she has it! Mark’s family treats her like royalty. How could she even think of giving the buyout money to her adopted daughter?” “Mark’s family has hearts of gold, wasted on this old hag!” “My own son and daughter-in-law aren’t even this good to me, and I’d still leave them everything! This old woman is just a total ingrate!” “The old woman’s crazy, she needs professional help.” The host’s gaze, laced with thinly veiled disgust, swept over me. Mark and his family, basking in the public’s praise, held their chins high. I ignored their judgmental stares and slowly closed my eyes.

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After a furious argument with Asher Voss, he slammed the door shut. Just then, bullet comments flickered before my eyes: 【The protagonist doesn’t know, but the male lead was trembling all over when he slammed the door.】 【Oh no, protagonist, go after him! He’s hiding in his car crying.】 【Waaah, the male lead’s eyes are red, he’s really about to break.】 Normally, I’d be swayed by the comments, humbling myself to appease Asher. But at this moment, I was simply exhausted, body and soul. Asher seemed to never learn how to actively love someone else. 1 I dragged my weary body home, my shoulders so sore I could barely lift them. In my hand, the late-night meal I’d picked up for Asher dug into my palm, turning it red through the plastic bag. But the moment I stepped inside, before I could utter a single word, a torrent of abuse rained down on me. “Olivia, how dare you show your face this late? Do you know I’ve been starving this whole time?” “Do you even care about me at all?” “All you ever do is busy yourself with those pathetic jobs!” Usually, I’d defend myself, but now I was too tired even to speak. I placed the food on the table, my voice soft. “Please eat something, okay, Asher?” Asher’s face was cold as he opened the takeout box. The next second, he abruptly stood up, flipping the table with a loud BANG. Food and drinks splattered across the floor, turning the room into an instant mess. Our favorite matching ceramic mugs lay in shards. A few sharp pieces grazed my calf, leaving thin red marks. His anger spent, Asher’s eyes were bloodshot. He spoke each word distinctly: “What kind of woman comes home almost midnight? Who knows if you’ve been fooling around with some guy? I just asked if you cared about me, and you didn’t even deny it. You clearly don’t love me!” I stared at Asher, dumbfounded, finding it utterly absurd. In the past, whenever he questioned me, I’d hold him, repeating my declarations of love over and over. But now, the bullet comments lit up again: 【Waaah, Asher’s just a man who lacks security.】 【Protagonist, what are you standing there for? Tell him you love him!】 【The male lead doesn’t have an omniscient view, how would he know you love him if you don’t say it?】 2 A booming CRASH, the door slamming shut, echoed jarringly in the silent dead of night. I instinctively glanced at the time. It was past midnight. It should have been time for sleep, but instead, I had to crouch down and clean up the wreckage. Asher was always like this: erupting in anger, then simply walking away, leaving the mess for me. The ache in my lower back grew more pronounced. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. My heart fluttered: Could it be Asher, coming back? Would he apologize? Clutching this hope, I opened the door, only to be met by our neighbor, a burly man who exercised regularly. His imposing figure intimidated me slightly. He launched straight into a furious reprimand: “What’s all that noise about, late at night? Are you brainless? You young people don’t sleep, but others need to! Make one more sound, and I’ll knock your teeth out!” I instinctively gripped the doorframe, my body trembling uncontrollably, forcing myself to bow my head and apologize repeatedly. I was alone in the house, and a feeling of utter helplessness instantly overwhelmed me. The neighbor grumpily pushed past me. “What are you crying about? Tell your man to come out and face me!” He peered into the house, and when he saw the mess, a strange flicker crossed his eyes. He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Do you want me to call the police? You shouldn’t stay with a man with a violent temper.” I offered a bitter, shaky smile, shaking my head. At that moment, the bullet comments buzzed again: 【This old man doesn’t know anything, pfft.】 【He just flipped a table to let off some steam, what’s that, domestic violence?】 【Asher’s been starving, so what if he lost his temper a bit?】 3 The neighbor gave me a deep, lingering look before he left, finally shaking his head. I closed the door, and silence descended upon the house once more. A long time ago, I learned from the bullet comments that I was the protagonist of a sweet romance novel, and Asher was my destined male lead. We were meant to be together for eight years before marrying. Asher was described as proud, possessive, and arrogant, while I was gentle and obedient, destined to accompany him through his struggles and slowly melt his heart with my love. With my encouragement, he would rise, becoming a billionaire through sheer effort and luck, and I would become the envied wife of a magnate. In the novel’s ending, I was supposedly the happiest woman. But my reality with Asher was far from smooth. We constantly argued over trivial things, and each time, I had to be the one to humble myself and seek reconciliation. If I didn’t speak up, he would never make the first move. The chat always said Asher was a twisted, unloved person who needed me to take the initiative and apologize. But after countless times, I was utterly exhausted, and he only grew worse. Just like now, the bullet comments relentlessly urged me: 【The protagonist doesn’t even know, the male lead was trembling all over when he slammed the door.】 【Oh no, protagonist, go after him! He’s hiding in his car crying.】 【Waaah, the male lead’s eyes are red, he’s really about to break.】 I finished cleaning up and sat on the sofa, too drained to move. Seeing my inaction, the chat grew frantic: 【Still not going? This woman is so dramatic.】 【The male lead’s crying, and she’s still sulking.】 【Waaah, poor Asher, my heart aches for him.】 I looked at the bullet comments, and suddenly, a laugh escaped me. Was it really my fault? 4 These past few days. Mornings spent rushing for interviews. Lunch breaks delivering meals to my hospitalized mother. Afternoons busy writing news reports. For ten consecutive days, I’d been working overtime. Yet, despite all this, I rarely complained. Today, I worked until ten at night. The only light in the entire building seemed to emanate from my computer screen. I drove for half an hour to get home, utterly drained. Pushing open the door, I was met with Asher’s sullen face. I forced myself to suppress my exhaustion, offering a small smile, and instinctively linked my arm through his. “What’s wrong, Asher?” He abruptly pulled his arm away, his tone accusatory. “Why aren’t you replying to my messages?” He scoffed. “No matter how busy you are, you can’t go two hours without replying, can you?” That’s when it hit me. I had left my phone charging since around eight, and hadn’t unplugged it. Of course, I hadn’t brought it with me. Luckily, I had turned off the main power before I left. My phone being plugged in wasn’t a problem. I lowered my voice, attempting to explain. “I’m sorry, I left my phone charging and didn’t see anything.” My voice soft, I added, “Asher, what did you send? Was it urgent?” Asher’s eyes suddenly sharpened, his voice cold. “Two hours without looking at your phone? Who are you trying to fool?” He narrowed his eyes. “You probably weren’t even working overtime.” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “I have facial recognition clock-out at work. I can go to the office tomorrow and get you a screenshot.” My voice was a hopeful plea. “How about that?” I tried to move closer to Asher, but he kept his face cold, deliberately shifting away. No matter what I said, he remained silent. He was always like this. Sulking by himself. At that moment, I saw the bullet comments. 【Ahhh, Asher’s so tsundere, I just love a proud, difficult man.】 【He cares so much about his wife, he just wants her to prove how much she cares about him.】 【Oh my god, I love this kind of male lead so much!】 The standoff lasted for fifteen minutes. I was the one who finally gave in. I grabbed my car keys and left. The night seemed to deepen around me. 5 At past eleven, the office was so quiet I could only hear my own breathing. I unlocked my phone and opened the chat with Asher. “Been gaming ’til now, starving. Olivia, pick up a KFC family bucket for me tonight.” The bullet comments exploded. 【Wow, he’s so grown and still eating family buckets, the male lead really hasn’t lost his childlike heart.】 【Help, this contrast is amazing.】 【Why is he inexplicably adorable?!】 In the darkness, the screen’s light stung my eyes. So that was why Asher was angry. A family bucket. I returned to my car, slumping weakly into the seat. Exhaustion washed over me. He could have just told me directly. That way, he would have eaten sooner, and I wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble. But Asher was always like this. Making me guess. Making me coax him. Draining me. I often thought that in a relationship, even if I put in more effort, it didn’t matter. But why was it always like this? Why would he never take the initiative? Would it kill him to say a few more words? My silence made the bullet comments impatient; they began to urge me. 【Go home already, Asher’s waiting for you at the door.】 【He’s been starving all this time, so heartbreaking.】 Starving? I instinctively touched my aching stomach. Who wasn’t starving right now? Why did the chat only care about Asher? Was it just because he was the male lead? In the end, I still went to KFC. And on the way, I bought some BBQ too. But all of it was overturned by Asher before I could eat. His reason for exploding? “Why isn’t there any Original Recipe chicken?” He glared. “Olivia, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I struggled to keep my voice steady. “The staff said they were out today, so they substituted it with an equivalent amount of chicken wings.” I pleaded. “Asher, please make do for now, okay? We can get it tomorrow.” Asher didn’t listen at all, just kept sulking. “If you’d gone at ten, would they have been out?” He snarled. “Couldn’t you have gone to a few more KFCs? I don’t believe every KFC in the city was out.” He added, his voice laced with contempt, “You just don’t care about me.” He unleashed a barrage of accusations, shoving all the blame onto me. Then he slammed the door and left. The bullet comments tirelessly defended him. In that moment, my heart turned to ash. Thinking of all this, I shook my head in weary resignation. This time, I was truly tired. But I had no time for sadness. There was an interview waiting for me tomorrow morning. I had to finish the draft tonight. My original plan was to eat something quick after getting home, work for an hour, then rest. Now, after all the drama, it was nearly one AM, and my work wasn’t done. I opened my laptop, my eyes almost closing from exhaustion. The screen’s light stung them. I forced myself to fight off sleep and began to work. My phone suddenly lit up. 6 For a brief moment, I actually hoped it was an apology from Asher. Even then, if Asher just lowered his head, I would soften and comfort him. My hand trembling, I unlocked the screen. It was a message from Scarlett. She was Asher’s childhood friend. “Sis-in-law, Asher and I are eating BBQ~ Please don’t overthink it, sis-in-law.” It came with a photo. Asher was smiling naturally, making a peace sign for the camera. I glanced at the BBQ in the trash can, feeling only a bitter irony. I replied: “Okay.” The bullet comments exploded. 【Is the protagonist an idiot? Can’t she tell the male lead is deliberately trying to make her jealous?】 【If you don’t comfort him, plenty of others will!】 【What’s the protagonist waiting for? Go apologize quickly!】 I flipped my phone face down on the table, throwing myself fully into my work. At two in the morning, I finally finished. After a quick shower, I lay down. Just as I did, the bullet comments appeared again. 【The tsundere male lead posted on social media!】 【Hahahaha, he’s deliberately trying to provoke the protagonist.】 【Oh no, protagonist, hurry and comfort the male lead.】 I opened my social media to see Asher’s post. Three photos. One was a selfie of him and Scarlett. One was a photo of the BBQ. One was a picture of them clinking glasses. In that moment, my throat felt terribly dry. My heart clenched, and I could barely breathe. I murmured to myself, “Asher, you’ve never posted anything about me on social media before.” The bullet comments seemed to hear me, scrambling to explain Asher’s actions. 【He doesn’t post photos with her because he’s afraid others will covet his wife.】 【Oh, the protagonist is so clueless. The male lead is dropping such obvious hints.】 【Dumb protagonist, just send a video call, and the male lead will come running back.】 I opened the chat with Asher. Three years of dating. My greetings always came first, and the last goodnight was always mine. Aside from asking me to run errands or do tasks, Asher almost never initiated contact with me. Years of love suddenly crumbled under the weight of it all. Why did the chat keep insisting Asher loved me, even tirelessly making excuses for him? My eyelids couldn’t stay open. The second before I closed my eyes, the comments were still urging me to go find Asher. 7 That sleep was anything but peaceful. In my dream, I walked down the aisle in a wedding gown, arm in arm with Asher, stepping into marriage amidst a shower of flowers. In this dream, Asher had become a business tycoon, surrounded by an endless stream of other women. Yet, he only had eyes for me. Even so, I was constantly worried Asher might stray. Noticing my anxiety, he’d lovingly ruffle my hair. “My Willow, so worried about me? Why don’t you just stay by my side always?” And so it went. To be with Asher every day, I quit my job and became his personal assistant at his company. The bullet comments scrolled by in unison. 【Wow, it’s a happy ending!】 【So sweet!】 【Oh, they’ll have office play every day now, so excited!】 The dream felt too real. I had become the type of woman who was constantly jealous, who would even give up her career just to cling to Asher. I woke up in a cold sweat. Was this truly the ending of a “sweet romance novel”? Was this a “happy ending”? I stared blankly at the ceiling until my eight AM alarm rang. I sat up, about to get out of bed, and saw a flurry of condemning bullet comments. 【Heartless woman! The male lead didn’t sleep all night!】 【The male lead waited all night after messaging the protagonist.】 【He’s really going to die of anger because of the protagonist.】 My eyes widened. Asher messaged me? What could it be? I opened the chat. My blood seemed to freeze. Two videos. In the first, Asher and Scarlett were arm in arm, singing a love song in a karaoke bar. Under the dim lights, they exchanged suggestive glances. In the second video, they were intimately close on a hotel bed, the background clearly a nearby hotel. My stomach churned. I thought Asher had finally developed a conscience. Turns out he had none at all. The bullet comments, seeing my reaction, started explaining. 【Protagonist, don’t misunderstand! The male lead just filmed a video and then told his childhood friend to leave.】 【Don’t worry, our male lead belongs only to the protagonist.】 【The male lead is a good man, he would definitely remain faithful.】 I clutched my phone, feeling only bitter irony. They could spin this as deep love. How much did the chat love the male lead? I couldn’t take it anymore. I sent Asher a breakup text. After countless arguments, Asher always threw out “if it’s not working, let’s break up.” This was the first time I had sent it. He was the chosen one in this novel, destined for success. But I wouldn’t compromise myself again. At the same time, the bullet comments scrolled frantically: 【Drama queen! She’s so ungrateful for such a good male lead.】 【It’s just an argument, why bring up breaking up?】 【She’ll regret it. How many people wish they had such a good man?】 Asher didn’t reply. Of course. He was always too proud. Never bowing his head. But breaking up with Asher was far from as easy as I’d imagined. I had underestimated the “setting.” 8 Mid-morning meeting, my phone kept ringing. I thought it was an emergency, so I stepped out of the conference room. A furious male voice roared from the other end. “Olivia Reed, you dared to break up with Asher? Do you know how heartbroken he is? You’re a heartless bitch!” He scoffed. “I don’t know what Asher ever saw in you. I order you to make up with him immediately!” It was Asher’s brother’s voice. I sneered. “Wasn’t I good to Asher? He ate my food, lived in my house, I always encouraged him to get his act together, and I always appeased him after every argument. What about him?” The man’s voice rose. “So what? He’s just not good at expressing himself. As his girlfriend, it’s your job to be more understanding!” “…” I hung up, irritated. Asher’s brother was just like Asher. Quickly, I threw myself back into my work. But another call interrupted me. It was my mother. The moment I answered, she launched into a furious tirade. “You ungrateful girl, you dared to break up with Asher? You must have a death wish!” She screeched. “He’s a top university graduate, and you, a mere community college student, dare to be picky?” She threatened. “Don’t bother bringing me food today, I’d rather starve to death than eat anything you bring!” I hung up, fuming. But all day long, I was bombarded with messages from various people. My friend: “You should be thankful you found someone as handsome and capable as Asher.” My father: “What right do you have to break up with Asher? If you insist on breaking up, I’ll disown you.” … My emotions completely shattered. Leaving my desk at eight, my phone rang again. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I screamed into the phone, “Are you all done?! Asher’s so great, why don’t you go be with him?!” “Excuse me, miss.” A deep, magnetic male voice interrupted me. “You seem to be in great need of assistance.” He continued, his voice calm and professional. “This is the Voss Emotional Wellness Center. You’re always welcome.” Then, kindly, “Have a pleasant day.” 9 In the past, I’d scoffed at such advertisements. But today, as if guided by an unseen force, I found myself at the door of the wellness center. Pushing the door open, I was greeted by a faint scent of jasmine. Instantly, the day’s fatigue seemed to melt away. A man in a white coat sat there, looking refined and handsome. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and offered a gentle smile. “Hello, miss. Welcome to the Voss Wellness Center. How can I help you?” I hesitated for a moment, then spoke honestly. “Hello. I just… I want to talk about my ex-boyfriend. I broke up with him, but everyone around me is telling me to get back with him, and I’m really confused.” The man raised an eyebrow. “What about your boyfriend made you unable to tolerate him?” I paused, then lowered my head and said, “I don’t think he truly loves me. He never comforts me, and he never takes the initiative to apologize.” The man suddenly chuckled. “That’s not a flaw. Many twisted, unloved people are like that. The more they fear loss, the more they fear expressing themselves.” Is that true? I froze. I’d seen these words in the bullet comments countless times. Just then, the man in the white coat handed me an iPad. “Madam, take a look at these case studies.” He gestured to the screen. “Mrs. Evans, her husband smoked and drank heavily, and she was forced to inhale secondhand smoke. She died of lung cancer at a young age.” Another example. “Ms. Davis, left disabled by domestic violence, now relies on a wheelchair.” Another. “Mrs. Lee, her husband took her money and squandered it on other women.” He paused, looking at me. “Your boyfriend…” he said slowly, “doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, has no bad habits. Are you going to break up with him just because he’s not good with words?” 10 Leaving the counseling office, a stronger sense of unease welled within me. This session. It was just like everyone else around me. Urging me to reconcile with Asher. The bullet comments lit up. 【The protagonist doesn’t know how good she has it. Where can you find such a good man?】 【What a great guy, if you don’t want him, give him to me!】 【Protagonist, you’re just being dramatic. You’ll regret this later.】 But was Asher really a good man? Weren’t his so-called virtues just what any normal person should possess? Back home, I slumped to the floor, powerless. The bullet comments were vicious. 【The protagonist is so ungrateful.】 【So annoying. The second female lead is much better suited for the male lead.】 【Such a small matter, and the protagonist refuses to humble herself.】 A buzzing filled my ears. It was all the blame from those around me. “Asher is such a good man, Willow, why don’t you appreciate him?” “Good men are hard to find. You need to hold onto him.” “Stop acting. Asher choosing you is a blessing from eight lifetimes.” I hugged my knees, a bitter ache spreading in my chest. Why? Why was everyone on Asher’s side? Why did everyone praise Asher? Why did everyone think I was punching above my weight? A heavy stone pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I always felt like I was being pushed, little by little, into an abyss. Until the jarring ring of my phone broke through. It was Asher. “Olivia, come for hotpot.” Not a question. An order. No apology, no explanation. My brain started warring with itself. Reason told me that a last-minute dinner invitation like this should be ignored. Emotion told me it was the first time he had ever actively invited me to dinner. The bullet comments: 【The male lead, I could cry.】 【The male lead bowed his head! He’s so utterly in love with the protagonist.】 【Protagonist, go quickly!】 After much deliberation, I went. Even if we truly broke up, it should be done face to face. A dignified farewell, I told myself. 11 The moment I entered the hotpot restaurant, the rich aroma of beef tallow hit me. This was a trendy hotpot place that had just opened. For someone who loved spicy food, it was a treasure. Asher knew I loved spicy food. He must have done his research. The bullet comments: 【The male and female leads are making up, time for some sweet romance again!】 【Look, the protagonist’s lips are curling up.】 【Sisters, it’s on!】 I pushed open the door to the private room, and the first person I saw was Asher – and his childhood friend, Scarlett. She wore a white dress, a radiant smile on her face. Asher sat beside her, silent. It was Scarlett who stood up, enthusiastically pulling me to the seat on the right. She sat between me and Asher, completely unfazed. Scarlett took my hand. “Sis-in-law, Asher asked me to mediate.” She beamed. “I can vouch for us—nothing happened last night, okay?” She leaned in close. “Asher, he only has eyes for you, sis-in-law.” My face grew increasingly grim. I asked, without mercy, “If he only has eyes for me, why did he send you to explain?” Scarlett’s face stiffened, but she quickly recovered her sweet smile. She picked up a glass of juice from the table and poured it into my cup. “Oh, you know how men are, not good with words…” I hated orange juice. Asher knew perfectly well I only drank cola. Scarlett’s words were cut short by Asher’s cold interruption. “Why are you explaining so much? People who understand me will understand.” The bullet comments echoed Asher’s sentiment. 【Oh, the male lead is afraid the protagonist won’t believe him, so he deliberately brought a side character as a witness. Why is she still making a fuss?】 【She won’t listen to explanations. The protagonist is so dramatic.】 【My words might be harsh, but this protagonist is impossible to deal with.】 12 The server came in with the hotpot base. I looked at the vibrant red tomato broth, and my mood grew even colder. Scarlett covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh, surely no girl can resist a tomato hotpot, right?” I completely ignored her, looking at Asher, my patience wearing thin. “Asher, you know I only like spicy broth. Why couldn’t you order a split pot?” Scarlett tried to interject. “Oh, sis-in-law, I…” I cut her off directly. “I’m asking Asher.” Asher frowned, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. “Scarlett can’t handle spicy food. Besides, what’s wrong with eating tomato hotpot? You don’t consider anyone else. You’re so selfish.” “I’m selfish?” I abruptly stood up. “Asher, I’m allergic to tomatoes. Don’t tell me you ‘didn’t know’ again.” My voice rose. “You considered Scarlett’s inability to smell spice, but you ‘forgot’ about my tomato allergy? I truly overestimated you.” The last sentence I screamed. Asher’s face stiffened. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Olivia, don’t speak so loudly. What if you disturb the people next door?” I actually laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. In that moment, I saw the man before me clearly. Selfish. Hypocritical. Twisted. “We’re done, Asher.” As I turned to leave, I heard Scarlett’s feigned persuasion, and Asher’s casual “Suit yourself.” Walking out of the hotpot restaurant, the night wind blew, and I shivered involuntarily. The bullet comments popped up again, criticizing me. 【It’s just a hotpot base, is it really worth it?】 【The male lead definitely knows about your tomato allergy, he’s just trying to get your attention.】 【The protagonist really doesn’t know what’s good for her.】 But I didn’t want to read a single word of it. It was absurd. The chat always made excuses for Asher. Asher gave me the silent treatment, and the chat said he wasn’t good with words. Asher couldn’t remember my preferences, and the chat said he was trying to make me jealous. Asher used Scarlett to anger me, and the chat said he brought her as a witness. These bullet comments were truly obsessed with the male lead. I pulled out my phone and blocked all of Asher’s contacts. The bullet comments were still going. 【Protagonist, you’re just being dramatic. You’ll regret this later.】 【Just wait and see, the male lead will be a billionaire later, he could give you endless wealth.】 【He’s practically giving you this good fortune, and you don’t want it, you stupid woman.】 How ridiculous. Why did they think my happiness revolved around having a rich husband? I wanted to sever all ties with Asher. But things were far from as simple as I’d imagined. 13 The next day at work, rumors ran rampant. Everyone looked at me with disdain. It wasn’t until I overheard a conversation in the break room that I realized the news of my breakup with Asher had spread throughout the company. In their eyes, I was the one who had brutally dumped Asher. “Olivia Reed really has a way with people. She pursued a high-flyer and then just dropped him.” “Oh, Olivia finally broke up with Asher, does that mean I have a chance?” “That top student, so handsome. Why would Olivia break up with him?” I spun around, confronting the speakers. That’s when I learned what had happened. Asher had posted on social media yesterday: “Never mind. I’ll let her go. I really don’t deserve her.” A sad caption paired with a selfie, and countless fangirls flooded his comments with sympathy. One of my colleagues, who was Asher’s former classmate, had championed him, spreading gossip about me everywhere. In her version of events, I became the heartless woman. At the same time, various contacts on my phone began sending me messages. My homeroom teacher: “Olivia, I’m very disappointed in you.” A classmate: “Olivia, you have no taste. Asher is a stock with huge potential.” My best friend: “Olivia, honestly, did you fall for someone else? No way, there can’t be anyone better than Asher in the world.” The bullet comments, seeing this, gloated. 【Those involved are blind, those standing by see clearly.】 【Everyone gets it except the protagonist.】 【The protagonist is truly deluded.】 14 None of this was anything. Until my boss called me into his office. He looked at me with displeasure. “Olivia Reed, you’re fired.” His voice was cold. “The company’s morale cannot be affected by someone like you.” I slammed my hand on the desk, demanding loudly, “What did I do wrong? I pull all-nighters writing news, I’m always the first to drive to accident scenes, I consistently secure exclusive stories for the station! Why are you firing me?!” My boss’s face remained cold. He irritably slapped a file onto my face. “Someone like you, who can’t even handle a basic relationship, what else can you handle?” I stood frozen, a cold sweat breaking out across my body. Why was everyone in the company also biased towards Asher? They didn’t even know Asher. At that moment, the bullet comments were ecstatic. 【Oh no, the protagonist lost her job. Now she’ll have to obediently return to the male lead.】

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1 When I woke, finding myself a widow once more, back in the gritty heart of the 1970s, I didn’t hesitate. This time, when my brother-in-law, Arthur, proposed stepping into my late husband’s shoes and caring for us both, I accepted. In my previous life, my husband, Liam, had slipped and fallen into the reservoir, drowning, leaving me and our child to face the world alone. Arthur, out of genuine concern for my struggles, had made the same offer then. But no matter how kind Arthur was, he would forever be a stepfather to my son. I’d rejected his generosity, choosing instead to raise my child single-handedly, enduring untold hardships. Eighteen years later, through my tireless efforts, my son, Daniel, had earned a coveted spot at a prestigious National University. Yet, on the very day of his acceptance celebration, my long-“deceased” husband, Liam, appeared before me, arm-in-arm with his childhood sweetheart, Mia. “Daniel is my son, with Mia,” Liam had declared, his voice chillingly calm. “Now that he’s a university student, it’s time for him to come home, to be reunited with his real family.” He’d then turned to me, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Thank you for your arduous eighteen years. Now, you can just disappear!” Only then did the horrifying truth dawn on me: I had, all this time, been raising their child. For nothing. My eyes snapped open. I was back. Back to the day Arthur made his proposal. 2 Accepting Arthur’s offer to step into Liam’s role finally brought a strange sense of relief, a definitive confirmation that I had, indeed, been reborn. My gaze swept across the funeral white sheets still draped in the courtyard, the solemn memorial shrine dedicated to Liam standing in the center of the living room. A tidal wave of hatred threatened to overwhelm me, a visceral urge to smash the entire setup, to shatter the very pretense of grief. But I forced myself to hold back. Everyone believed Liam had died a hero’s death for me, a sacrificial act. To desecrate his memorial now would only invite vicious slander, a public shaming that would brand me an ungrateful monster. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Hayes, already seethed with resentment for me, a bitterness born from Liam’s death. If not for the child I still had to raise, she probably would have drowned me herself, sending me to join her “good son.” In my previous life, Liam had gone to the reservoir late at night, hoping to catch fish to help my milk come in for our newborn. He’d slipped, falling into the depths. His body was never recovered, only a few of his belongings found by a park ranger on the shore. I’d been consumed by grief, convinced I was responsible for his death. That guilt had driven me to refuse Arthur’s proposal, insisting on raising young Leo alone. Fortunately, Leo had been a smart, driven boy. Through my endless sacrifices, he’d gained admission to a prestigious National University. Just as I was beginning to feel a glimmer of satisfaction, believing I could finally face my “deceased husband” with honor, Liam, the man whose grave I was sure was overgrown with weeds, appeared. Eighteen years after his supposed death, he stood there, alive, well, and wearing a crisp suit, a perfectly groomed woman by his side. My eyes immediately recognized her: Mia, Liam’s childhood sweetheart, the very woman who had taken my spot to return to the city. “Wife, Leo is my son, with Mia. Now that he’s a university student, it’s time for him to come home, to be reunited with his real family.” “Thank you for your arduous eighteen years of childcare,” he’d sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “Now, you can just disappear!” It was then I learned the monstrous truth: Liam had swapped our children on the very day I gave birth. My own flesh and blood, my true son, had been abandoned in the wilderness, left to the mercy of predators, a tragic, innocent victim. The child I had nurtured with my own blood and tears was another man’s progeny! Years of backbreaking rural labor had already taken their toll on my body, leaving me frail and worn. Learning this unimaginable betrayal, this soul-crushing lie, I was consumed by a furious grief that stole my very breath. I literally died from the shock and rage. But now, I was reborn. And I would never again be a stepping stone for someone else’s twisted agenda! 3 Eighteen years. The span of time was more fleeting than I’d imagined. Yet, throughout those long years, a stubborn anger had simmered within me. For that anger, that deep-seated resentment, I had worked harder to raise my son than I ever did in my previous life. The villagers secretly scoffed at me, whispering about my foolishness. They said no prodigy could emerge from our secluded hollow, urged me to abandon my daydreams and send my child to work in a factory. But I refused to believe them. If I could get Leo into a National University in my last life, with the added advantage of foreknowledge, how could I not do even better this time? Heaven truly rewards the diligent. Bolstered by the memories of two lifetimes, this time, my son not only earned a spot at a National University but achieved the highest score on the national academic exam, outscoring the second-place candidate by a full twenty points! Journalists flocked from every corner of the country, eager to interview the rural woman who had somehow nurtured a national academic champion in our humble, backwoods village. Even the Governor of the state, upon hearing the news, announced plans to publicly honor my son—he was not only the first student from our state to enter the National University but also the state’s first-ever national academic champion. I immediately decided to host the acceptance celebration at the finest banquet hall in the city, making sure the news of my son’s achievement was widely publicized. When the villagers heard, their usual taunts of me being “a woman who had taken on two husbands” vanished, replaced by fervent chatter: “Grace Chen, she’s truly an educated woman from the city! To raise a national academic champion like that…” “If Liam knew his son got into the National University, he could finally rest in peace.” I watched their fickle faces with a cold, detached amusement. How ridiculous. On the day of the celebration, I rose early. My mother-in-law, Mrs. Hayes, flushed with pride from the crowd’s fawning praise, sat beaming at the head table. Next to her, to my disbelief, sat Mia’s mother, Mrs. Miller. Before I could even open my mouth to question why they were at the head of my celebration, Mrs. Miller spoke, her voice sharp with disdain. “Grace Chen, how are you hosting guests? Can’t you see our glasses are empty?” Her face was a mask of condescension, her eyes filled with contempt. My son, Daniel, started to stand to pour water, but Mrs. Miller pressed him back down, a fawning smile spreading across her face. “Oh, no, sweet grandchild, don’t move! You’re a university student now! You shouldn’t be doing such things!” Then, she turned her angry gaze on me. “What are you gaping at? Get moving! Pour the water! How dare you make Daniel’s hands—hands destined for greatness—do such menial work?” It was Mrs. Hayes, my mother-in-law, who, sensing the escalating tension, finally stood and poured water for everyone, which finally placated Mrs. Miller. She seemed to quiet down, but later, while Daniel was being interviewed, she deliberately snuck up beside him. As Daniel earnestly answered the reporter’s questions, she gave him a loud, smacking kiss that left a bright red mark on his cheek. Her action brought the entire hall to a stunned silence. Daniel looked mortified, furiously wiping at the mark. Then, she pulled Daniel behind her, brazenly presenting herself as his grandmother, rambling confidently to the reporters, much to my mother-in-law’s seething frustration. People from every corner of the county had come to the celebration today. Even the Governor’s staff and various journalists were present. After rounds of greeting guests, I was utterly exhausted. The moment my backside touched the chair, I heard Mrs. Miller’s cold scoff. “Grace, it’s just hosting guests, isn’t it? Do you really need to put on such an act?” When she saw Daniel begin to knead my shoulders, her eyes widened, and she practically leaped to her feet. “Grace Chen, how shameless can you be?! Don’t you understand the concept of a grown son keeping a proper distance from his mother?! Daniel is destined for great things! How dare you let him massage your shoulders and back?!” “She’s my mother! It’s my filial duty to care for her, and it’s certainly not your place, as an outsider, to dictate my actions!” Daniel’s voice, sharp and clear, cut through her tirade. At his words, Mrs. Miller’s face twisted into a pained expression, her eyes reddening. Seeing Daniel fussing over me, showing no concern for her, she could only discreetly spit at me under her breath, then fix her gaze, expectantly, on the main entrance. At the host’s invitation, I stepped onto the stage to give my speech. Just as I took the microphone, ready to speak, the grand doors of the hall swung open. A familiar voice instantly resonated through the room— “How could I, his father, miss my son’s celebration for getting into the National University?” As the words hung in the air, a man and a woman, dressed in matching colors, walked in. My gaze met his, and I saw him: Liam Hayes, my husband, “dead” for eighteen years, standing there, alive, beside his childhood sweetheart, Mia. From the corner of my eye, I caught Mrs. Miller’s smug, triumphant expression. The moment everyone recognized them, the hall erupted in a cacophony of whispers and gasps. These were our neighbors; they all knew Liam had died eighteen years ago. My mother-in-law, seated at the table, gasped, her eyes instantly welling with tears. She was so overcome, she knocked over and shattered a glass. She slowly, cautiously, approached Liam, her trembling hand reaching out to caress his face. “Liam? Is it really you, my Liam?” Eighteen years apart from his mother. Liam’s eyes welled, tears streaming down his face. “Mom, it’s me, Liam. Your unfilial son…” My mother-in-law, though initially overjoyed to see her son returned from the dead, quickly regained her composure. Liam had her sit down, then, with an arrogant swagger, led Mia by the hand directly to me. “Grace Chen, I never thought you had it in you, getting my son into the National University.” His eyes glittered with a possessive pride. “But Daniel is my son, with Mia. We’ve been separated, a family of three, for so long. It’s time for us to be reunited.” Mia’s eyes also reddened, and she reached for Daniel’s hand. “Daniel, I’m your mother. Do you remember? I even visited you at school before.” She then turned her head, a smug satisfaction in her gaze. “And thank you, Grace, for raising our Daniel so well!” Daniel looked at me, a desperate plea in his eyes, as if asking if any of this could possibly be true. Liam, meanwhile, lovingly wiped away Mia’s tears. “There, there, it’s a joyful day! No need to cry!” Then he turned to me, his gaze dripping with mockery. “Now that Mia and I are back, it’s time for you to pack up and leave!” Everyone in the hall stared, their eyes wide, looking at Liam as if he were insane. Even Mrs. Hayes, who had been silent, suddenly jumped up and slapped Liam hard across the face. The resounding smack echoed through the room. Liam looked at his mother, the woman who had always doted on him, in utter disbelief. But Mrs. Hayes didn’t waste time explaining. Her face etched with pleading, she grabbed my hand. “Grace, dear, don’t mind Liam! He’s just talking nonsense! Don’t you dare listen to him!” “Mom! What are you saying?!” Liam shoved his mother away, then violently pushed me, sending me stumbling. Just as I was about to fall, a strong pair of arms encircled my waist, steadying me. Liam’s eyes widened in shock as he saw the man in a military uniform. “Arthur! What are you doing here—” The reporters in the room, seeing Arthur Hayes, swarmed him like bees to honey. Everyone knew Arthur. He had risen from a simple soldier to a decorated Regional Commander, earning immense honor. Arthur was notoriously elusive, rarely seen in public. An interview with him would be an exclusive, a goldmine. Arthur paid no mind to the clamoring reporters. His gaze, ice-cold, fixed solely on Liam. Liam met his brother’s frigid stare and felt a shiver run down his spine. He still couldn’t quite accept that his little brother, who used to trail behind him, was now a high-ranking Commander. Come to think of it, he had only returned with Mia because Daniel had topped the national exams, and Arthur had become a Commander. Things were different now; their family wasn’t impoverished anymore. With this thought, Liam put on a cordial smile and approached Arthur, patting his shoulder. “Arthur, to be honest, Daniel is my son with Mia. Back then, Mia and I were deeply in love, but Grace interfered. I had no choice but to switch Mia’s baby with Grace’s baby on the day they both gave birth.” “Mia and I suffered immensely all these years living outside the village. But now Daniel has grown up and entered the National University, so I don’t want to keep secrets anymore—” “Arthur, this Grace is a cunning, deceitful woman! Quickly, help me throw her out!” Liam finished, his face beaming with a triumphant smirk, fully expecting Arthur to expel me. But Arthur didn’t move an inch. I met Liam’s smug gaze. “By what right do you order Arthur to throw me out? Who do you think you are?!” “Because I’m Daniel’s biological father! And Arthur’s older brother!” I suppressed a cold laugh. This fool still didn’t know the truth. He thought he’d cleverly swapped the babies when Mia and I gave birth simultaneously. But knowing that Daniel wasn’t my biological child, how could I have possibly nurtured him all the way to a National University? No, it was my own blood, my real son. Still, it wasn’t too late to reveal the truth now. I truly looked forward to seeing the expression on his face when he found out. With that thought, I opened my mouth. “Liam, Daniel is actually…”

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1 On my first day back in the States, I walked straight into a scene I’d dreaded for years: my estranged sister, Lily, being publicly humiliated. Smack! A sharp, stinging slap landed squarely on Lily’s face, the sound echoing, drawing every eye in the crowded college quad. “Lily, I considered you a sister, how could you be so cruel? You take everything from me, even my boyfriend?!” The girl shrieked, her voice morphing into a simpering whine after delivering the blow. “Huh, I always thought Lily seemed hard to get along with, but a home-wrecker? Didn’t see that coming.” Whispers rippled through the onlookers. … My first day back in the country, my immediate thought was to visit my sister at her university. I also planned to scout the campus, considering a potential investment. I never imagined I’d arrive to such a spectacle. Lily was trapped, encircled by a hostile crowd, her face a mask of weary helplessness. I recognized the ringleader: Chad Worthington, her boyfriend. Next to him, a girl clung to his arm, looking utterly helpless and demure. “Lily Ellis, you’ve gone too far! We tolerate you bullying Lily, but now you’re accusing her of ruining your watch? What kind of cheap watch is worth five million dollars, anyway?!” Chad lectured my sister, his voice dripping with self-righteous indignation. “Oh, Chad, she copied my senior thesis! It almost kept me from graduating, but thankfully, Principal Evans saw through her plagiarism.” The girl, Lily, simpered, batting her eyelashes. “Lily, that’s a lie! You copied my senior thesis!” Lily’s voice was barely a whisper, weak and trembling. Lily. Her name jolted my memory. That was Lily, the daughter my stepmom brought into our lives. Lily was my full sister, born of the same parents. Not long after our mother passed, Dad brought home my stepmom, along with a little girl Lily’s age. Looking back, Dad must have already been having an affair while Mom was still pregnant with Lily. Later, under my stepmom’s relentless manipulation, Dad sent me away. She’d claimed our horoscopes clashed, that I’d jinx the family business, even curse Dad’s luck. He’d believed her, banished me abroad, leaving me to fend for myself. In truth, I never brought him bad luck; our family business had only boomed after I was born. My stepmom’s real fear was that Dad, always favoring sons, would leave her own daughter with nothing. “Lily Ellis, if I copied your work, why was it your graduation status that was revoked? If you get on your knees and apologize to me, I’ll let it go.” Lily’s arrogant tone snapped me from my thoughts. “Ben,” I said to my assistant, “get Principal Evans here. Now.” “Right away, sir,” Ben replied, nodding. “Lily Ellis, that broken watch of yours was already garbage, and now you’re trying to frame me, demanding five million dollars? Are you out of your mind? I’d say you’re worth more than that watch. If you want money, why don’t you just sell yourself?” Lily giggled, a cruel gleam in her eyes. “Lily, do you think this is worth five million dollars? Oh, wait, no. I’d say it’s worth ten million.” Chad pulled out his phone, a few taps, and then, a series of revealing photos flashed before everyone’s eyes. “Wow, Lily Ellis, who would’ve thought she’d take pictures like that? She always seemed so innocent, but look at her, playing dirty.” “Man, if I could spend just one night with her, I’d die a happy man!” The students surrounding them jabbered, their voices growing louder. “Ben, find out the truth about those photos.” I couldn’t believe my sister would do something like that. I had to know. “Now,” I added, my voice tight. “Yes, sir, immediately.” More and more people gathered, their faces alight with morbid curiosity. “Lily, how about a little game? For every minute you delay paying Lily, I’ll post one of your photos in the campus group chat.” Chad’s grin was sickeningly lecherous. “Yeah! Post ’em! Post ’em fast!” “Go, Chad!” “Wait, isn’t Chad Lily’s boyfriend? Why would he share his own girlfriend’s private pictures?” Finally, someone asked the obvious question. “Boyfriend? Please. Chad and Lily are the real couple. Lily was just a plaything.” 2 “You’re right, why else would he treat Lily like this?” The students babbled, a cacophony of judgment, and then, in the very next minute, a photo was indeed posted to the campus group chat. The group chat exploded, the comments even more vile and disgusting than the whispers. “Chad Worthington, you are absolutely despicable!” “Lily Ellis, all you have to do is kneel and apologize to Lily, plus pay ten million in compensation, and I’ll delete all these photos.” “Apologize? You wish! I have proof that Lily plagiarized my work. Who apologizes to whom is far from decided!” Lily seemed to remember something, a flicker of defiance returning to her eyes. “Proof? Haha! If you had proof, you wouldn’t have been expelled, would you? Stop putting on a show!” Lily laughed, her head tilted condescendingly. “Exactly! If you have proof, show it!” A student, eager for more drama, chimed in. “Forget the plagiarism for a second, Lily. Let’s talk about you damaging my watch.” Only then did Lily pull out a watch. I recognized it; it was a gift I’d given her years ago. “Lily Ellis, you’re just trying to extort me, aren’t you? A broken watch, you say it’s worth five million? Who knows what garbage dump you found it in?” Lily rolled her eyes, her tone dismissive. “Lily, why are you being so aggressive? Lily is your sister, after all. Are you trying to destroy her?” Chad said, feigning concern. “Chad Worthington, I can’t believe I ever fell for a wretch like you!” Lily’s voice trembled with fury. “Lily, I always side with justice, not people. If you’re in the right, I’ll definitely help you,” Chad said, posting more photos to the group chat. “Chad Worthington! Stop! Please, for the sake of our childhood, don’t post anymore!” Lily’s composure crumbled as she saw the new photos. “Besides the photos, I have videos too. Does anyone want to see them?” Chad asked the crowd, his voice laced with menace. “YES!” The crowd answered in unison, a hungry roar. “Sir, the photos are real. No Photoshop traces,” Ben reported, having finished his quick investigation. “How could Lily have taken photos like that?” I asked, my gut churning. “It’s Chad Worthington. He’s manipulated more than just Lily. There are so many other girls he’s tricked. He’s a total scumbag.” Ben’s voice was laced with disgust. “Principal Evans? How long until he gets here?” I pressed Ben. “He’s on his way.” “Tell him if he’s not here in ten minutes, I’ll tear this school down.” “I’ll hurry him up.” At that moment, the onlookers buzzed with anticipation for Chad’s promised videos, and Lily looked even more helpless. “Lily, I told you, I can let the senior thesis issue go. But you damaged my watch, and you’ll pay for it. My brother gave me that watch.” As soon as Lily’s words left her lips, Lily burst out laughing. “Haha! Your brother gave it to you? You’re such a liar, you can’t even blink when you say it! Dad forbade you from contacting your brother, so how could he give you a gift? Have you secretly been in touch with that unlucky brother of yours?” Chad sneered. “Even if your brother did give it to you, how would he have the money to buy you a watch like that?” Lily challenged. “That’s none of your business! Either fix my watch or pay up!” “That broken antique of yours? How am I supposed to fix it? You’re clearly just trying to extort me!” Lily whined, affecting a pitiful expression. “Move it, everyone! What’s all this commotion about?” A greasy, portly man pushed through the crowd, squeezing his way to the front. 3 “Dean Miller, you’re just in time! Quickly, while everyone’s here, tell them about the senior thesis plagiarism! Let everyone know how Lily Ellis copied my work!” Lily said to the man. “Ahem… well, about that!” Dean Miller hemmed and hawed, clearly reluctant to speak. “Oh, Dean! Just say it! After all…” Lily leaned in, whispering something into his ear that no one else could hear. “Yes, Lily is correct. Lily Ellis did plagiarize Lily’s senior thesis. The school has investigated thoroughly, and a formal announcement will be made on Monday,” Dean Miller declared, his voice suddenly authoritative. “Wow! So it’s true!” A murmur of shock rippled through the students. “No, I didn’t! Dean Miller, you’re mistaken!” “Lily Ellis, didn’t you say you had proof? Just show it!” A student reminded her. “Don’t listen to her nonsense. If she had proof, would the school have ruled against her like this?” “Lily Ellis, I told you, if you get on your knees and apologize to me, I’ll forgive you! If you don’t, you can forget about ever making it in this industry!” Lily tossed her head back at a forty-five-degree angle, her voice dripping with malice. “Forget it, Lily. I think these photos are worth more than any apology. Now, I wouldn’t trade them for ten million dollars. I’m raising the price! Let’s get her to sign an agreement to transfer all her assets to you. What do you say?” Chad said, looking at Lily. “Good idea. Get the lawyer here. We’ll sign it now.” “No matter how good the photos and videos are, nothing beats a live show. Let’s strip her clothes off, piece by piece, and give the students a little treat.” Chad leered, his large hands gripping Lily’s collar, tearing savagely. Lily didn’t have time to react; her shirt ripped in two. Lily burst into tears, frantic and exposed. “Why are you crying? Lily Ellis, you always bullied Lily in the dorms, we all know that. You deserve this!” A girl in the crowd, eager for more drama, sneered. “Jenny, what are you talking about?! When did I ever bully her? You guys ganged up on me, pouring water on my bed when I was out, putting something in my face wash that made my face break out for a month! I’m the one who’s always been bullied!” “Lily Ellis, do you have proof? If you do, show it. If not, stop slandering us.” Jenny clearly belonged to Lily’s clique. Lily’s eyes darted around, as if a new thought had struck her. “Lily Ellis, how about this: I’ll make you a bet. If you can provide proof, we’ll call it even. If you can’t, you sign the asset transfer agreement we just discussed.” “Lily, you dream big, don’t you? You want to pull a fast one? I’ll put all my assets on the line, but what about you? Nothing? I’ll only bet if the stakes are equal!” Lily countered. “Lily, bet her! She can’t possibly prove herself, what’s there to be afraid of? Surely your assets are more than hers? Just the outfit you’re wearing is worth infinitely more than anything she owns! We’ll just swallow up all her assets, won’t that be better?” Chad urged. “Fine, Lily Ellis, you asked for this. I’ll bet you! All my assets, plus five percent of Ellis Industries!” Lily declared. “Haha, forget it. You’re not worthy of betting against me!” Lily chuckled, then continued, “I have more shares than you. I have ten percent. All your assets combined probably don’t even make up for that extra five percent, do they?”

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The instant I decided to jump, clarity shattered through me. I was the tragically short-lived “first love” in a redemption story. My suicide would seal the male lead’s heart, transforming him from a bright, hopeful young man into a dark, ruthless mogul. He would only find solace and healing years later, in the warm glow of a new, sun-like heroine. But I knew the truth: I was on this ledge because he had driven me to the brink. 1 “Jump already! What kind of coward just stands there?” “I’m starving, heading to the dining hall. When are you actually going to jump?” “Isn’t this just a fake suicide attempt to get a scholarship for grad school?” Sharp, mocking jeers pierced the air, growing even louder after the police tried to quiet them. I bit back the desperate urge to leap, slowly turning on the rooftop’s edge. The female officer, who had been trying to subtly approach me, immediately froze, her voice soft and soothing as she begged me not to be impulsive. My academic advisor and my roommate pushed Ellias closer. His eyes were a harsh mix of annoyance and blame, a flicker of irritation deep within them. Not a trace of worry. Even his voice was flat, devoid of emotion: “Lila Evans, stop being ridiculous.” The female officer gently patted his back, a hint of prompting in her tone: “Ellias, weren’t you so worried you almost fainted just now?” She smiled tightly. “Go on, talk to your girlfriend. There’s no problem that can’t be solved.” I knew she was improvising, inventing an excuse for his belated arrival, terrified his coldness would push me over the edge. In reality, Ellias had been convinced I wouldn’t actually jump. He’d simply turned off his phone when he got the news. It was Sarah, my roommate – who often called me “love-drunk” – who had rallied all our friends, scrambling across campus to find him casually playing tennis. It had taken all their convincing power to drag him here. Ellias, seeing no reaction from me, impatiently sharpened his tone. “Lila Evans, come here. Everyone’s busy. We don’t have time for your childish games.” His callous demeanor made me doubt the strange flashes of memory in my mind were anything more than a desperate hallucination. How could Ellias ever be heartbroken by my death? He’d likely be relieved to finally shed a burden. Just like my own biological parents. Long-term medication had dulled my thoughts, but as I mused, someone suddenly tackled me. “Good girl. There’s endless possibility in life.” The female officer held me tight, her voice thick with relief. “Look at you, out in the wind for so long, you must be frozen solid. My treat, hot chocolate to warm you up.” From afar, I heard cheers from the onlookers. So many people, I realized, were actually happy I was alive. Seeing that I was no longer resisting, the officer carefully helped me to my feet, guiding me swiftly away from the edge of the rooftop. “See, Ellias? I told you she was just faking it!” 2 I looked up at the girl who spoke. Brooke Thompson. Two years younger than Ellias, his next-door neighbor, who had followed her “Ellias” to our university. She’d always been tactless, but her words now were particularly sharp. Her smile stiffened abruptly under the disapproving stares of the crowd, quickly replaced by indignant fury. “What are you looking at? This isn’t Lila Evans’s first time threatening suicide!” she spat. “She just loves attention. You’re all being fooled!” The female officer’s face darkened. “Young lady, please show some basic respect for life.” Brooke huffed, pouting. “I didn’t say anything wrong.” She wasn’t wrong. This attempt was my thirteenth time trying to end my life. Starvation, overdose, cutting, carbon monoxide poisoning – each time I was rescued, Ellias’s attitude toward me grew a little colder. Yet, he always saved me. I hated inconveniencing anyone; even in my despair, I chose methods I thought wouldn’t bother others too much. If I hadn’t yearned so desperately for Ellias’s attention, I would never have dared to jump in front of a crowd. My body hitting the ground would undoubtedly mean a grueling cleanup for the janitorial staff, and that thought, almost more than the pain, gave me pause. In the original plot, I wouldn’t have waited for Ellias. Amidst the jeers, I would have thrown myself off. Ellias would arrive a moment too late, witnessing my horrific death. This would shatter him, driving him to mental breakdown, consumed by endless regret for not saving me in time. He would unleash his fury on Brooke, the girl who’d held him back playing tennis. He would manipulate her into developing anorexia, until she withered away, barely fifty pounds, before she finally succumbed. Those who’d egged me on to jump would either be expelled or suffer mysterious accidents. No one who’d ever wronged me would be spared. No one would question Ellias’s ruthless revenge. Instead, they would sigh over his deep love for his tragic first love, hailing him as the epitome of devotion. Later, the heroine would patiently counsel him, telling him everyone deserved forgiveness. I merely lost my life, yet Ellias, even after achieving great success, would remain utterly tormented. They’d say he loved me to the core, a love so profound it became legendary. But now, I hadn’t died. All I could do was watch Ellias step in front of Brooke, defending her. “Officer, ‘respect for life’ is a conversation more suited for Lila Evans.” Brooke smirked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Lila, Aunt Carol really doesn’t want to see you waste your precious life, either.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, but it carried. “After all, you were so desperate to live back then that you even pushed your own mother—” “Brooke!” Ellias cut her off, his voice sharp. “We need to go.” “Oops, almost spilled the beans again!” Brooke clapped a hand over her mouth, her smile oozing malice. “My bad. I shouldn’t provoke Lila.” “Miss Evans, don’t get upset!” “Lila Evans!” “Lila!” The words “own mother” echoed like the gaping maw of a beast, swallowing all other sound. I stared at Ellias, my gaze fixed, muttering, “You promised me. You promised me. Why did you break your word?” Ellias’s indifferent expression finally shifted, but not because of my questions. It was for Brooke, who had clutched her chest and collapsed, seemingly in pain. A deafening roar filled my head, like a thousand steel needles stirring within. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was him scooping Brooke into his arms, turning his back, and walking away without a moment’s hesitation. 3 When I opened my eyes again, Sarah was sitting by the bed, grimacing as she played on her phone. “Damn it!” She tossed the phone down, met my surprised gaze, and irritably scratched her head. “What, not happy it’s me sitting here?” She rolled her eyes. “Too bad your precious Ellias is busy playing nursemaid to his ‘sick’ little sister.” Her words were sharp, but beneath them, a familiar closeness, and if I listened carefully, a hint of anxiety. “No… no, not at all. Thank you.” I hadn’t spoken normally with anyone in so long; the more eager I was, the harder it was to express myself. Even my thanks came out haltingly. “Thank you, really, Sarah.” Sarah waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t thank me, thank Officer Miller. If she hadn’t asked me to look after you, I wouldn’t bother with your dramatic, love-struck nonsense.” Her face was grim, her short hair damp with sweat and sticking up in disarray. She was still wearing the same dust-stained clothes from earlier, and there were large, treated scrapes on her knees and arms. Probably from a fall. Guilt surged from deep within me. “I’m so sorry.” Sarah had been the first to reach the rooftop to stop me. She’d called the police, then alerted professors and my advisor. When I’d desperately threatened my life to see Ellias, she’d rallied friends to search for him. She’d poured all her energy into saving a roommate who had once betrayed her. If I hadn’t awakened, all her efforts would have culminated in witnessing my brains splattered on the pavement – a lifelong trauma. Meanwhile, Ellias, who had been too busy playing a sappy game of tennis with Brooke to arrive in time, was somehow seen as the greatest victim. All because after my death, he’d found countless ways to torture himself. Even my biological father, who had abandoned his wife and daughter, was moved by Ellias’s apparent devotion, actively seeking him out to drink and offer solace, commiserating with him like a kindred spirit, urging him to let go and start anew. Only Sarah had pointed a furious finger at Ellias, tearing into him as a “performer,” asking why he didn’t just join me if he was so bent on revenge against Brooke and everyone else. Ellias, unable to stand the mockery, had run off to jump into the river, only to accidentally save an influential figure, gaining a boost in his career. Sarah, however, was accused of inciting suicide, subjected to relentless cyberbullying, and lost her chance to study abroad. Years later, the heroine would even dig her up, draining her of her last bit of worth to aid in the male lead’s healing. No one remembered she was once my only friend. Until Ellias claimed Sarah was trying to seduce him. He presented chat screenshots, photos, and even “witnesses.” I hadn’t dared to ask Sarah, trying to pretend I didn’t know, hoping to remain her friend. When Sarah heard the rumors, she confronted me, asking who I believed. Like many times before, I chose Ellias. She’d been furious, immediately calling the police, forcing Ellias into a confrontation at the station. It turned out the chat logs were faked by someone impersonating her, the photos were ill-timed shots, and the “witnesses” were known for casually spreading baseless sexual rumors. Ellias had promptly apologized to her. But I, overwhelmed by guilt, had been unable to open my mouth. From that day on, Sarah drew a clear line, emphasizing that we were just ordinary roommates, and she would never be friends with a love-struck girl who put a man above all else. I was already awkward and unlikable. After that, beyond necessary communication, only Ellias would talk to me. But he was always busy: student government work, art department events, and countless parties where I wasn’t welcome. Our chat history was filled with my one-sided messages. Even after my suicide attempt and subsequent collapse due to Brooke’s provocation, Ellias only sent a cold, terse command in the brief gaps between attending to her: [Once you’ve calmed down, we need to talk.] 4 A familiar dull ache spread through my chest, yet my thoughts were clearer than they’d ever been. I took a deep breath, my fingers trembling as I typed a reply: [No need. I agree to break up.] Whether those melodramatic plot points were the reality of my future or just hallucinations brought on by too much medication, one thing was certain: Ellias didn’t love me. And I was tired of being a crazy person. “You’re actually blocking your most beloved boyfriend?” Sarah blinked her clear eyes, not even trying to hide her peeking. She looked almost… happy. Gathering my courage, I asked her to come home with me. In the second semester of sophomore year, Ellias had filled out an application for me to live off-campus, citing my unstable mental health. The house was one of the inheritances my mom left me. She had once wanted to drag me with her, to die there together, to make my cheating father regret. After my mom’s death, I used the rent money to pay for high school, letting tenants completely transform the house until no trace of my childhood trauma remained. Now, the house was filled with Ellias’s belongings. His gaming room, his art studio, his bar. The living room displayed his annual birthday gifts for me, only three of them. Last year, I had lost my “reward” for not being obedient. Sarah stood in the doorway. “Alright, pack your stuff and move back to the dorm. I’ll have Chloe and Emily clear out a bed for you.” She added, “Make sure to calculate the rent, don’t let him take advantage.” “This house is mine,” I said, unable to meet Sarah’s “are you crazy?” look. “Sarah, I want Ellias to move his stuff out.” “Wanting it won’t do anything. Make him get his butt over here and move it!” Ellias wasn’t answering calls or texts. Sarah scoffed, then called a moving company to come pack everything up. She even took photos and posted them to her social media: [Helping a friend clear out her ex-boyfriend’s relics.] I stared unblinking at the word “friend” until my eyes stung, then splashed cold water on my face. That’s when I noticed Ellias’s new directive: [Tell Sarah to leave immediately.] [Lila Evans, you’re testing my limits.] [You have one hour to restore everything, or face the consequences!] Sarah snorted. “He really thinks he’s king of the world.” The complex emotions swirling in my heart were dispelled by her words. I calmly typed four words in reply: [This is my home.] 5 Ellias never showed up. He was sure I wouldn’t dare. So I had the moving company deliver a dozen large cardboard boxes to the school gates. I heard Ellias’s face was a sight when he arrived. The campus gossip pages were buzzing, debating if I’d finally come to my senses or completely lost it. My advisor, fearing another breakdown, proactively granted me a month’s medical leave, urging me to rest thoroughly before returning to classes. I needed the time to sift through the ruins of my life anyway. An entire month passed. Ellias never contacted me, and I never sought him out. Brooke, though, posted daily nine-panel grids of her lavish meals and adventures, showcasing how much fun she was having with her “Ellias.” As the furor over my suicide attempt gradually subsided, I invited Sarah to lunch. “Thank you for being there for me for so long. Can I treat you to burgers?” Sarah hesitated for only a second. “Burgers, yes!” After two long years, I was finally sitting down to a meal with a friend again. The cool carbonation of the cola warmed me from the inside out. Ellias only liked Chinese food. Whenever I suggested trying foreign cuisines, he would reprimand me, saying I was brainwashed by consumerism. Yet, the restaurants he took his friends to often cost hundreds of dollars per person. I felt that socializing among students shouldn’t exceed a college student’s budget, but he would impatiently insist it was a “reasonable investment,” unlike my wasteful spending on mere cravings. To “correct” my bad habits, he demanded I hand over my monthly allowance of two thousand dollars for him to manage. Ellias never asked what I liked to eat. He simply arranged my meals according to his idea of a balanced diet. He’d watch me finish the broccoli I hated, demand I drink every drop of the intensely gamey lamb soup from the cafeteria, and, citing my “family history of illness,” would beg others to stop me from drinking bubble tea or sodas. Back when I still had friends, they would jokingly say they envied my “dad-like boyfriend.” The more they said it, the more I believed it, grateful to Ellias for filling the void left by my father. I didn’t even realize the allowance was from my own father. Even if it was a love only expressed through money, it was still cold, hard cash. And Ellias’s “love” for me was merely arranging custom meals from a mild Cantonese restaurant. Sarah stared at me, wide-eyed. “Lila Evans, do you know how many meals you could get at ‘Chen’s Bistro’ with two thousand dollars?” I hadn’t calculated it. Thanks to Ellias’s superficiality, Mr. Chen, the owner, remembered me well as a loyal customer of over two years. He quickly sent me the menu prices and mentioned that the anniversary special could be stacked with a renewal discount. Three hundred dollars a month for a balanced diet of meat and vegetables, plus after-meal fruit – less than a sixth of my allowance. And even though I hadn’t been attending classes, the meals were still being delivered to the school. No wonder one of Brooke’s recent meal photos had looked so familiar. Ellias truly knew how to infuriate me. 6 “He needs to pay up!” Sarah declared, her voice firm. “Ellias has to give you your money back!” With that, she frantically rushed out to call her aunt, who was a lawyer. I thought it wouldn’t be that complicated. I just sent Ellias the itemized breakdown: [Ellias Reed, please return my remaining allowance, totaling $32,510.00.]

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

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

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

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

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