Category: English

When I submitted my expense report, Ms. Jenkins, the accountant, practically threw the receipts back at me. “New company policy,” she snapped, her voice as crisp as a freshly ironed shirt. “Accommodations in major cities capped at $100 a night, food at $20. You’re way over the limit!” “Seriously?” I stared at her, disbelief curdling in my gut. “I was in New York City! Even a budget motel like ‘InnExpress’ costs upwards of $300. What am I supposed to do, sleep on a park bench for $100 a night?” “That’s not my problem,” she said, her voice flat, her eyes unblinking. “It’s Mr. Sterling’s rule.” I glanced down at the pile of receipts in my hand, nearly $50,000 worth. My last six months’ salary, plus maxed-out credit cards, had barely kept me afloat. If they didn’t reimburse me, I wouldn’t even be able to afford groceries. Thinking of all my contributions to the company, the millions I’d brought in, I went to Mr. Sterling’s office, clinging to a thread of naive hope. But he just waved me off. “I said it’s a company rule,” he repeated, not even bothering to look up from his computer. “Coming to me won’t change anything!” 1 I’d been on the road for months, constantly traveling to nail down a multi-million-dollar project for the company. Now, with the project finally nearing completion, they were suddenly refusing to cover my travel expenses. Earlier, I’d tried to catch Ms. Jenkins in between trips back to the office to report on the project’s progress, but she’d shut me down immediately. “Expense reports are only processed during the last week of the month,” she’d declared. The problem was, the last week of every month was exactly when I had crucial project review meetings with the client. How on earth was I supposed to be in the office then? So, I had no choice but to wait until the very beginning of the last week, rush back to file my report, and then dash back to the client. And now, of course, my accommodation and dining expenses were “over budget.” Ms. Jenkins had a face like a stone wall, repeating the same mantra over and over: “If Mr. Sterling signs it, I’ll process it.” Armed with my stack of denied reports, I found Mr. Sterling. “Sir,” I began, trying to keep my voice steady, “you can’t possibly find a hotel in New York City for $100 a night.” He scoffed, a sneer twisting his lips. “Have you even tried? How can you be so certain it’s impossible when you haven’t made an effort?” “Even a budget motel like ‘InnExpress’ charges $300,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly. “I stayed in a dingy little inn for $150, which was already a steal. Go online, check it out!” Mr. Sterling smirked, pulled out his phone, and typed furiously. He quickly found a few youth hostels online, advertising beds for $50 a night. “See?” he crowed, holding up his screen. “Need me to book one for you?” “Those are hostels!” I retorted, exasperated. “Eight people to a room! That’s not a business trip, that’s a sleepover!” “And?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing. “If others can stay there, why can’t you?” “Because I need to work overtime! I can’t get anything done with eight people crammed into one room! And what about my personal belongings, my company laptop? What if they get stolen?” He paused, perhaps conceding the point. But then he typed away again, pulling up “InnExpress” locations in the outer boroughs or far-flung suburbs, like Staten Island. Sure enough, some listed rooms for $100. “Mr. Sterling,” I said, barely containing my anger. “While technically part of New York, those locations are hours away. I’d need to take a commuter train just to get to the client’s office!” He opened a map on his phone, scrutinizing it for a long moment. “Nonsense. There are buses! You just have to wake up earlier, that’s all, Ethan.” I bit back the urge to curse. “And $20 for meals isn’t enough either. A basic sandwich and coffee in the city costs nearly that much!” “Ethan,” he said, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin. “This is where I really need to set you straight. If you weren’t traveling, wouldn’t you pay for your own meals? Why should the company cover it just because you’re on a trip? You have to eat whether you’re traveling or not. The $20 is a perk, a bonus! It’s at least enough for a budget meal service, isn’t it?” I was utterly speechless. Along with the company’s insistence on slow, uncomfortable regional trains, this was the “business travel package”: endure a miserable journey, bunk in a hostel, and eat cheap, shared meals. Anyone who wanted that could have it! Watching his utterly shameless expression, I knew he wouldn’t budge on the money. Fine. I’d give in. Even if I only got reimbursed at his ridiculous rates – $100 for lodging, $20 for meals – that still left over $40,000. I needed something back, especially since I was struggling to put food on the table. But then, unbelievably, even after I swallowed that bitter pill, Ms. Jenkins still wouldn’t release the funds. 2 I trudged back to my cubicle, adjusted the reimbursement amounts on my report, and then headed back to Ms. Jenkins’s desk. “Ms. Jenkins,” I said, trying to sound reasonable, “how about this? Just reimburse me based on the $100 for lodging and $20 for meals, as per company policy.” Ms. Jenkins took my report, glanced at it, and then tossed it back onto the counter. “Can’t process it.” My blood ran cold. “But I just agreed to your company’s absurd policy! Why can’t you process it now?” “The invoice amount doesn’t match the reimbursement amount.” “So what? The invoice amount is higher than the company’s allowed expenditure! The national tax regulations even permit this kind of adjustment!” “The government might allow it, but Mr. Sterling doesn’t. He requires the amounts to match exactly.” My temper flared. “Ms. Jenkins, I haven’t submitted an expense report in almost a year. I’ve personally covered over $50,000 for this company, and now I’m willing to settle for just $40,000-something based on your company’s insane rules! Can you please, for the love of God, just process this?” “Mr. White,” she said, her voice utterly devoid of emotion, “those are Mr. Sterling’s requirements. Get his signature, and I’ll process it immediately.” Watching Ms. Jenkins, who seemed to be carved from granite, I knew arguing was futile. So, for the second time, I returned to Mr. Sterling’s office. “Mr. Sterling,” I began, trying to rein in my frustration, “Ms. Jenkins says the invoice amount is too high and needs your signature to be processed.” He took the report, saw the reduced amount – over $10,000 less than the original – and a wide, gleeful smile spread across his face. “Ethan, my boy,” he said, practically purring. “You know, a company this big can’t be managed by people alone; it needs systems, it needs rules. Consider this a lesson learned. Normally, we don’t allow such discrepancies, but I’ll make an exception for you this one time. Don’t let it happen again, though!” With that, he scrawled his signature on the report. He’d just swindled me out of over ten grand, of course he was happy to sign. Armed with Mr. Sterling’s signature, I hurried back to the finance department. The moment I handed the report to Ms. Jenkins, she, once again, tossed it back. “Can’t process it!” Hearing those words, my blood practically boiled. 3 “What now?!” I snapped, my voice dangerously high. “Company policy states a maximum reimbursement of $5,000 per month. You’ll need to split that into nine separate reports. Go break it down and bring it back.” I took a deep, shaky breath, fighting to keep my composure. “Ms. Jenkins, why couldn’t you have told me all the problems at once?” “The company’s financial policies are posted right there on the wall,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “It’s not my fault if you don’t bother to read them.” I looked up. Sure enough, a printed notice was tacked to the wall. Who the hell ever wandered into the finance department just to read notices? I felt myself about to explode, my voice rising with every word. “This reimbursement is for money I paid out for the company! This is money the company owes me, not a bonus or a salary! I spent nearly $50,000 of my own money, and you expect me to wait nine months to get it back? Are you going to pay me interest?” But, as always, her reply was the same emotionless drone: “It’s Mr. Sterling’s policy. Get his signature, and I’ll process it immediately.” Mr. Sterling again? Looking at Ms. Jenkins’s unyielding expression, I knew further argument was pointless. So, once more, I trudged back to Mr. Sterling’s office. “Mr. Sterling,” I said, trying to maintain a shred of politeness. “Ms. Jenkins says there’s a new company policy limiting reimbursements to $5,000 a month.” “That’s right,” he said, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his voice. “That’s the rule.” “But I’ve been traveling constantly, I haven’t had time to come back and file reports. I’ve accumulated over half a year’s worth of expenses! Even at your company’s reduced rates, that’s still over $40,000!” He didn’t even lift his head. “Then split it up. Reimburse a little each month.” “But I travel every single month! My new travel expenses alone will almost hit $5,000! By your company’s rules, I’ll never get my $40,000 back! This is money I paid for the company!” At that, Mr. Sterling slowly lifted his head. “Ethan, a company this large needs rules to function properly. You didn’t file on time; that’s your problem. And I just told you, I made an exception for you once, but it won’t happen again. Why are you back?” “Mr. Sterling, I have crucial project meetings at the client’s site at the end of every month! I can’t possibly come back to the office! How am I supposed to file?” “See, Ethan, you’re always so absolute. Have you even tried to find a solution? You haven’t made an effort, so how can you say it’s impossible?” “The client requires my presence at those meetings! I genuinely can’t come back!” “You could always fill out the forms and mail the receipts in, couldn’t you?” Are you kidding me? How was I supposed to know about all these ridiculous new rules that popped up out of nowhere? Besides, I had mailed them in once before, and Ms. Jenkins had complained my receipts weren’t taped horizontally, letting them sit in her office for months. But if I told him that, he’d just retort, “Well, why couldn’t you tape them horizontally then?” It was always something with him. He always had an answer, always a way to make it my fault. 4 I stormed out of Mr. Sterling’s office, a boiling cauldron of rage. But what choice did I have? I had to get at least $5,000 out. My credit card bills were due, I needed to eat, and my entire salary had been sunk into these travel expenses. I was flat broke. Finally, on my fourth attempt, Ms. Jenkins accepted my expense report. Her face was still a blank mask. “Mr. White,” she said, “this report is finally correct. It seems you’ve learned to follow our financial rules, haven’t you?” If I weren’t so desperate for the money, I might have slapped her. I bit back my anger and forced a question. “Thank you, Ms. Jenkins. When can I expect the reimbursement?” “If you’re lucky, it’ll be processed with next month’s salary.” My jaw dropped. It was already the end of the current month. Next month’s salary wouldn’t be paid until the middle of next month. That meant I wouldn’t see a dime for nearly two months! I was counting on that money to eat! My last paycheck had immediately been swallowed by credit card debt. I was truly penniless. “Ms. Jenkins,” I pleaded, “can’t it be sooner? I’m genuinely out of money.” “Mr. White,” she droned, “that’s just how the reimbursement process works. We have to verify receipts, reconcile accounts… it’s not a quick turnaround.” Processes. What was the point of all these processes except to trip up ordinary people like me? I decided to try a different angle. “Ms. Jenkins, could I get an advance on my salary for this month? I really, truly don’t have money for food.” Predictably, the same old line: “If Mr. Sterling signs it, I can process it!” “Ms. Jenkins, can you please, for once, try to see this from my perspective? I’ve effectively been paying to work for this company for over half a year! My salary and all my savings have been poured into travel expenses!” Ms. Jenkins’s poker face remained impassive. “Get Mr. Sterling’s signature, and I’ll advance your salary immediately.” I was starting to wonder if Ms. Jenkins was an AI, programmed with only one response: “If Mr. Sterling signs it, I’ll do it.” Defeated, I sought out Mr. Sterling again. To my surprise, he didn’t refuse outright. “Ethan,” he said, feigning sympathy. “You should know, advancing a salary incurs financial costs for the company. That money, sitting in the bank, earns interest. Since you’re truly broke and need an advance for food, I can’t just let you starve. But, business is business, and you’ll have to bear the loss of that interest. How about this: I’ll approve $5,000, and we’ll calculate interest at 5%. So you’ll actually receive $4,750, with $250 as interest.” So, the old snake did understand the concept of capital costs? Then why wasn’t he paying me interest for holding my money for so long? Today was a real eye-opener. From start to finish, he had me completely cornered. It really felt like I was paying to work here. But the thought of not being able to eat gnawed at me. I swallowed my pride and forced out the words, “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.” “No need to thank me,” he said, beaming. “Just work hard, Ethan, and repay the company with your performance!” Repay? Oh, I’d repay him alright. With interest. 5 The very next morning, just as I settled into my office, Mr. Thompson, our client from New York, called. “The end-of-month project review meeting is today,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “Why aren’t you here?” “My apologies, Mr. Thompson. Our company policy dictates that expense reports can only be filed at the end of the month. I had to return to the office for that. Perhaps my boss can arrange for someone else?” Mr. Thompson exploded. “Expense reports? Are you kidding me right now? You’re missing a critical project meeting for expense reports? Do you know we’re on the cusp of final acceptance? Everyone’s working overtime, and you’re filing expenses?!” “Mr. Thompson, please calm down,” I tried to explain. “I haven’t been reimbursed in over half a year. I literally didn’t have money for food. If I hadn’t come back yesterday, I might have been sleeping on the streets today.” But Mr. Thompson wasn’t listening. “I’m calling your boss right now! We’ll see what’s more important: your expenses or this project!” The second phase of the project had a potential budget in the tens of millions. Mr. Sterling wouldn’t dare offend such a huge client. Sure enough, less than three minutes later, Mr. Sterling burst into my office, practically roaring. “The project is about to be accepted! Why are you still in the office?” “Mr. Sterling,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, “I want to be there, but I don’t have any money.” “Didn’t I just advance you $5,000?” he sputtered. “It was $4,750, actually. And it all went to pay off my credit card debt. Now I’m flat broke again. Can’t afford a train ticket, can’t stay in a hostel, certainly can’t eat a budget shared meal.” Mr. Sterling froze, stunned. But then his face hardened. “Are you trying to say you don’t want your commission and project bonus?” I knew he’d try to scare me with that. “Mr. Sterling, if I stayed in New York, I don’t know if the project would be finished, but I’d definitely be finished. I don’t have a single dollar on me. I can’t even buy a train ticket to New York, so how am I supposed to worry about project bonuses? Am I supposed to take out a payday loan?” “For the company, what’s wrong with a small loan?” “Mr. Sterling, you take a 5% cut when you advance my salary, and now you want me to take out a payday loan for travel expenses, which would be another few percentage points? So my salary effectively gets discounted by 10% from now on?” Seeing my firm stance, Mr. Sterling finally gave in. As he walked out, he said, “Go to Ms. Jenkins and get another $5,000 advanced. Go now.” “Will you still charge 5% interest?” I asked, pushing my luck. “Because if so, I don’t think it’s worth it.” My words choked him for a moment. He finally spat out, “No! It’ll be a company travel advance!” I immediately filled out the advance request form, found Mr. Sterling, who angrily scrawled his signature. “Ethan, don’t do this again! Work comes first. Don’t let a little money jeopardize project progress.” A “little money”? He had some nerve. If not for his ridiculous rules, would I have willingly put myself through this miserable train journey back and forth to New York? Of course, my goal was to get the money. There was no need to burn bridges yet. So, I mumbled an agreement, went straight to Ms. Jenkins, and she quickly transferred the funds. Money in hand, I whistled my way back to my office and continued messing around on my phone. I had no intention of going back to New York to eat budget shared meals. 6 I hadn’t been goofing off for long when Mr. Sterling, passing by, saw me lounging in my office. He stormed in, his face crimson with fury. “Mr. White, why are you still in the office? The client’s project meeting is this afternoon!” “Mr. Sterling,” I said calmly, “the $5,000 was only enough to pay off my credit card. Once that was done, I didn’t have money left for a ticket.” His face flushed even darker. “Are you doing this on purpose?” “I only came back because company policy dictates end-of-month reimbursement. I truly don’t have any money. The $5,000 travel advance you gave me was automatically deducted by my credit card company the moment it hit my account. I’m as helpless as you are, Mr. Sterling.” Before I could finish, Mr. Sterling’s phone rang. I recognized Mr. Thompson’s voice on the other end, unleashing a torrent of abuse at my boss, demanding that I show up at the project meeting that afternoon. I distinctly heard Mr. Thompson shout at Mr. Sterling, “Do you even want the second phase of this project?!” After he hung up, Mr. Sterling gritted his teeth. “Is your credit card paid off now?” “Still owe a little over $5,000,” I replied. “Alright, look,” he said, his voice strained. “Go to finance right now and get a $10,000 advance. Book a midday flight to New York!” He paused, then turned back. “No, forget it. I’ll have my assistant book the flight. You just go get the money.” It was clear Mr. Sterling was desperate. Before, he’d forced me to take slow regional trains, wouldn’t even approve a faster commuter rail. Now, it was a same-day flight. I quickly checked; it was a full-fare ticket, over $2,000. Mr. Sterling’s heart must have been bleeding. I found Ms. Jenkins again, presenting Mr. Sterling’s signature for another $10,000 advance. Ms. Jenkins looked utterly incredulous. “Mr. White, you’re truly something! You’ve managed to move $20,000 out of the company in just two days!” “Ms. Jenkins,” I said, trying to maintain my calm. “You need to be precise with your language. I haven’t gotten back what’s rightfully mine yet. How is this ‘moving money’? If anything, the company should have given me $50,000 yesterday. I’m still at a disadvantage here.” Once I had the money, Mr. Sterling’s assistant had already booked my flight. Time was tight, so Mr. Sterling even had his driver take me to the airport. I actually got a taste of the boss’s treatment for once. However, after pushing Mr. Sterling this far, I knew my days at the company were numbered. He was begrudgingly approving these funds, undoubtedly banking on me completing the current project’s acceptance and helping him secure the second phase. Once this project was done, I was certain he’d kick me to the curb. My 5% project commission would be around $200,000, plus the $30,000-plus in outstanding expenses. Getting that money back would be tricky. Good thing I had a backup plan.

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When Mike, my fiancé, died in the earthquake, he entrusted me to his older brother, Eason. This care stretched into five long years. Then, one night, fueled by too much wine, we lost control. A reckless night led to a life stirring within me. Clutching the pregnancy test results, my mind racing with visions of a diamond ring I’d glimpsed in his drawer, I hurried home, eager to surprise him. But as I stepped inside, I stumbled upon a scene I could never have imagined: him and Vivian, his one true love, in a moment of intimate passion. My face went stark white. I turned to flee, but his voice, rough with raw need, snagged me. “Cathy, could you run to the pharmacy for some condoms?” I clutched the pregnancy test results, my smile a grimace of despair. When I returned with the purchase, Eason paid me ten thousand credits for my errand. Vivian cast a triumphant glance at the small package, then a venomous one at me. “Eason, your… sister-in-law looks so innocent, yet her taste is surprisingly sharp!” Eason’s gaze swept over me, sharp and commanding. “This is adult business, not for little ears. Go stay at a hotel for a few days before you come back!” I ended our child’s life. I obeyed. I left. And I never came back. 1. The doctor, seeing me return so soon, looked at me with a questioning gaze. “Is something wrong?” She had reason to ask. When I first discovered I was pregnant, my cheeks had bloomed with joyous color. Now, they were deathly pale. “Please, schedule the earliest possible abortion for me.” Having witnessed countless human dramas, she offered no further persuade. But when it came to signing the consent form, she insisted I get a family member’s signature. I pulled out my phone, instinctively hitting the speed dial. The phone buzzed once before Eason disconnected it, faster than my own hand could react. I gave a bitter laugh. “I have no family; I’ll have to sign for myself.” Stepping down from the operating table, I saw a screenshot of a hotel booking on my phone. Eason had thoughtfully booked a week’s stay at a luxury hotel. His message read: “Unless it’s a matter of life or death, don’t disturb me these next few days. You understand.” And what was there not to understand, especially after seeing the diamond ring on Vivian’s finger? It was laughable how I had deluded myself, believing it was meant for me. Even more ludicrous, that he might remember our one night of reckless abandon. I glanced at the bloody, indistinct form of the embryo, my heart turning to ashes. I left. The luxury suite was fully equipped, as comfortable as the cozy bedroom Eason had always provided for me. But as I curled up under the covers, all I felt was a pervasive chill. My hands trembled as I dialed a number. “Dr. Sharma, that medical aid mission to Africa you mentioned last time? Count me in.” Dr. Sharma, perceptive and thoughtful, expressed her delight at my willingness to join, then probed gently. “Cathy, didn’t you say your late fiancé’s brother wouldn’t approve of you going to Africa? Did you two have a fight?” “Don’t you dare throw a tantrum and run off with me! He’ll turn the world upside down looking for you!” Dr. Sharma’s concern was understandable. After Eason and I had that chaotic night, I had slipped away while he was asleep, mortified. Afterward, he acted as if nothing had happened, maintaining his protective, older-brother demeanor. Angry that he dared to act so irresponsibly, I had run off on a trip to clear my head. Eason, in his frantic search for me, caused a city-wide uproar. Everyone knew he valued his “sister-in-law” more than his own eyesight. Seeing the news, I automatically assumed I was important to him. It turned out I had been foolishly overthinking. He was now so entangled with his beloved that he could dismiss me to a hotel for a week. Once he married, that house would surely offer no place for me. And I had no desire to watch him and another woman in sweet affection, day after day. “Dr. Sharma, he agreed to it.” “Alright, then I’ll add your name to the roster immediately. I’ll send you the details shortly so you can prepare.” Poring over the documents, I booked a flight for seven days later. I would stay at the hotel for a week, then leave. As for what I needed to take, I tried to recall, but it seemed there was nothing I truly needed. Since the earthquake, I, a girl without a home, had everything bought for me by Eason. He had covered all my expenses, leaving my parents’ inheritance untouched. The debt I owed him, I had to repay. I kept a little for myself, then transferred the rest to the bank account linked to the card he’d given me. With everything settled, my mind finally at peace, I fell into a deep sleep. In my slumber, the room seemed to sway again. My phone rang repeatedly, yet I heard nothing. Then, an urgent pounding on the door. “Cathy? Open the door!” 2. Eason’s frantic voice disoriented me. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. I opened the door in a daze. Seeing that I was unharmed, he let out a sigh of relief, then his anger flared. “What’s wrong with you? Not answering your phone, ignoring my messages. Is it amusing to deliberately scare me?” I picked up my phone, realizing Eason had called countless times. While I was asleep, there had been another tremor. “I’m sorry, I was sleeping too deeply to hear.” “You’re lying! You’re terrified of earthquakes. Every time there’s even a slight tremor, you’re too scared to sleep!” He was right. In those moments, he would stay by my side all night. He would endlessly reassure me that he would protect me. Even if the world collapsed, he would die with me. I glanced at the mismatched buttons on his shirt, a strange warmth spreading through my chest. He did still care about my safety. But the intimate marks on his neck below his jawline, a silent reminder of his entanglement with Vivian, screamed at me not to delude myself. He only placed me, another orphan, in his protective circle because of his brother’s dying wish. “Perhaps I was just too tired.” Eason clearly didn’t believe me. He stared at my face for a few seconds, then spoke, his voice cold and accusatory. “Why did you paint your face so white in the middle of the night? Was it just to trick me into coming here?” I lifted my gaze, seeing the displeasure in his eyes. Before, when the ground shook, he’d tell my pale face not to be afraid. Now, my face utterly devoid of color from the recent procedure, he accused me of painting it to deceive him. I tugged lightly at the corner of my lips, my heart feeling like a plum steeped in icy water. “It’s my fault for ruining your good time, big brother. You should go back to your fiancée.” It had been so long since I called him ‘big brother.’ The unexpected address made Eason’s thin lips press into a tight line. His eyes, dark as a deep well, held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. “You’re coming back with me. If there’s another aftershock, I’ll feel better with you close by. Vivian will too.” “Besides, it’ll stop you from causing more trouble.” “I won’t cause trouble. You go!” I stood stubbornly rooted to the spot. Eason’s brows furrowed, his voice losing patience. “Just because you wouldn’t answer your phone, I left Vivian alone at home. Can’t you be more understanding?” But I had already ended the pregnancy and quietly decided to leave. Wasn’t that understanding enough? Before I could speak, Eason’s phone rang. A syrupy, tearful female voice asked him, “Eason, when are you coming back? I’m a little scared…” “Don’t be afraid, darling. I’ll be right there!” Eason soothed her softly, while casting a meaningful glance at me. I was already grateful that he had thought of me immediately after the earthquake. For someone with no blood relation, to have cared for me for so many years—if I continued to be difficult, it would be pure ingratitude. Eason couldn’t hang up the phone just yet, and I still refused to move. So, he simply hoisted me over his shoulder and headed for the elevator. I struggled violently, telling him to put me down, and accidentally knocked his phone to the floor. Annoyed, he reached out and slapped my bottom. The sharp crack of his palm against my behind echoed in the corridor. Both of us froze, stunned. The heat of his palm, through the thin fabric, scorched me, making me deeply uncomfortable. The memory of our wild night flooded me, and my chilled body instantly burned. A young girl passing by stifled a giggle and hurried away, only to gossip in a hushed voice to her friend at the corner. “Just saw the most intense couple! I bet they won’t leave their hotel room for three days!” Eason, already frozen by his own impulsive action, instantly dropped me onto the floor as if I were scorching hot. His face, usually so composed, flushed crimson all the way to his neck. “Look at the trouble you’ve caused! It’s utterly humiliating! I shouldn’t have come to bother with you!” With that, he picked up his phone and left alone. I mustered all my strength to steady myself, but the moment the elevator doors began to close, I couldn’t hold on any longer. He was the one who had forcefully tried to carry me, and he was the one who had crossed a line by slapping my bottom. If that was humiliating, then what was getting me pregnant? My emotions surged, and the bleeding below stopped. My vision blurred, and I fell backward, straight down. The young girl, hearing the thud, quickly shouted at the elevator, “Hey, your girlfriend passed out!” 3. I forced my eyes open, catching only the descending numbers on the elevator. Finally, it stopped at the ground floor, remaining still. The young girl, halfway through her gossip, rushed over and helped me up. Seeing the pooling blood beneath me, her face was filled with indignation. “What happened? Did your boyfriend just leave you like that?” I offered a bitter smile. “You’re mistaken. He’s not my boyfriend.” She, however, automatically interpreted it as us having a fight and breaking up. Leaning on her, I tried to make my way back to my suite, but after only two steps, I completely blacked out. When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was stark white. The familiar scent of antiseptic told me I was in a hospital. “You’re awake?” The nurse, after confirming I was alright, began to chatter. “What’s with your emergency contact? I called him several times, and he just kept hanging up.” “It was the young girl who brought you in who paid for your medical fees.” I pulled out my phone and checked the call history. I understood then; Eason was truly furious. But I no longer had the heart to explain or reconcile. I was even more relieved he hadn’t answered, or my abortion would have been impossible to hide. After a few days of quiet recovery at the hospital, I returned to the hotel to retrieve my luggage. But I was informed that Eason had already checked me out. The attendant apologetically handed me my bags, though her eyes held a hint of amusement. As I left, the hushed whispers behind me reached my ears, word for word. “She’s lost her favor, hasn’t she?” “Lord Eason is already engaged. There’s no place for his… sister-in-law anymore.” “I thought after all these years by Lord Eason’s side, she’d finally gain his affection. Who knew she’d still lose to his one true love!” In the hotel lobby, a preview of Eason and Vivian’s engagement ceremony for tomorrow was playing. I hailed a cab as if deaf to it all, heading for the airport. The scenery outside the window blurred as the car sped away, and I leaned back, closing my eyes to rest. The car drove for a long time, and still we hadn’t reached. I opened my eyes, sensing something was wrong. Panic rising, I glanced at the rearview mirror. The masked driver’s casual glance in my direction felt like the cold stare of a viper. Forcing myself to remain calm, I fumbled for my phone to call for help. The masked man noticed my intention. He let out a cold laugh and slammed on the brakes. “Too late to notice now.” He got out of the car, pressed a damp cloth over my mouth and nose, and my consciousness immediately began to fade. He snatched my phone, a mocking smile on his face. “Trying to call for help?” “How about we make a bet? If he answers your call, I’ll let you go. If he doesn’t… hehe…” The man used my fingerprint to unlock my phone and dialed the top contact. Sure enough, Eason didn’t answer. Then he directly hung up. On the last call, he finally picked up. I tried to scream for help, but the sound was barely a whisper. From the other end, his voice was filled with furious rage. “Cathy! Get your identity straight! My brother is dead! To me, you are, at best, a stranger! Stop trying to cling to me!” His roaring, deafening voice, mingled with the masked man’s mockery, pierced my eardrums and my heart. We arrived at an abandoned factory. The masked man dragged me from the car and threw me onto the ground. A pair of high heels entered my blurry vision. Before I could even make out the woman’s face, she kicked me twice, viciously. Weakened, I saw stars. “Cathy, you shameless hussy!” “Eason treated you like his own sister, but you’re so vile as to try and tarnish his name!” The familiar voice made me realize who was kicking me. That day, when I walked in on Vivian and Eason’s passionate embrace, her eyes had filled with hostility the moment she saw me. Seeing my silence, Vivian pulled out her phone and accused me. “Did you get someone to release this photo?” “If Eason hadn’t handled it quickly after I discovered it, you would have succeeded!” I looked at the photo, finally understanding why Eason had said those words. 4. The photo showed Eason’s back as he dropped me onto the ground. The caption read: [To the all-knowing netizens, help expose this scumbag! His girlfriend just had a miscarriage, and he violently broke up with her when she refused his advances!] I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and flatly denied it. “You’re mistaken.” “Mistaken? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning! You just panicked because Eason’s about to get engaged to me!” “You, an innocent young woman, are so shameless you’d even use a clumsy excuse like a miscarriage to add drama to your own story!” Eason’s denial and mistreatment were one thing. But now Vivian was kidnapping and humiliating me? Did she truly think I was so easily bullied? I used all my strength to push away the foot that was grinding into my face. She was caught off guard, stumbled, and fell to the ground. Annoyed, she raised her hand to slap me, but for some reason, she stopped herself. A conniving smile I couldn’t decipher played on her lips. “Cathy, as a woman, I could tell at a glance that you like Eason. How about we make a bet? How important are you, truly, to him?” A terrible premonition welled in my heart. But to my shock, Vivian slapped herself hard, twice. Then, under my astonished gaze, she slipped the diamond ring onto my finger. Finally, she scratched several bloody marks onto her own hands before allowing the masked man to tie her up. She turned to me, crying crocodile tears. “Cathy, you invited me here just to kidnap me? To humiliate me?” The moment she finished speaking, a figure kicked open the door and burst in. Even against the blinding light, I recognized Eason instantly. Overwhelmed with a fresh wave of injustice, I called out to him, my voice barely a whisper. “Eason…” But he completely ignored me. I watched as he tenderly untied Vivian, sweeping her into his arms, consoling her softly. “Darling, are you alright?” He cupped Vivian’s swollen, reddened face, his eyes red with pain. That night, he had been angry for me too. But after Vivian returned, his eyes had no longer held me. Still uneasy, he examined Vivian from head to toe. Upon discovering several scratch marks on Vivian’s empty left hand, a chilling aura of death radiated from him. He turned to me, no longer seeking confirmation, and roared, “Cathy! Who gave you permission to bully her?!” Vivian, her eyes red and puffy like a rabbit’s, choked back a sob as she pleaded for me. “Eason, don’t blame your sister-in-law. She likes you, so her jealousy is understandable.” “Thankfully you arrived in time. I wasn’t too badly hurt…” Eason glanced at the masked man, who had seized the opportunity to escape, then, unable to contain his fury, slapped me. “What kind of sister-in-law falls for her late fiancé’s brother, even wanting it to be widely known? She has no shame, but I do!” Vivian’s lips curved upwards, then she tearfully pleaded with me. “Cathy, can you give me back the diamond ring? It’s Eason’s engagement ring for me. If you just return it, I’ll overlook everything you did, kidnapping and humiliating me…” Her swollen eyes were filled with pure provocation. Seeing through her charade, I ripped the diamond ring from my finger and tossed it at Eason’s feet. I looked him directly in the eyes, speaking each word with cold precision. “I don’t like you, and I have no interest in playing along with your fiancée’s charades. Take your pathetic ring and get lost!” My words made Eason’s icy face darken to a storm cloud. The disappointment in his eyes was palpable. “Cathy, pick up that ring and return it to your future sister-in-law! And apologize to her!” He was the one in the wrong from beginning to end, yet he was forcing me to apologize. “She’s the one who tied me up and brought me here! If anyone should apologize, it’s her to me!” “Cathy, I’ve truly spoiled you beyond measure these past few years!” “If you won’t apologize, fine. Then go kneel before my brother’s grave and reflect on how outrageously wrong you are, and whether you are worthy of his dying wish, his last selfless act to ensure you were settled!” His voice was frigid, leaving no room for refusal. He was right. I was leaving soon; I should go see Mike. He drove me to the cemetery. Seeing me obediently kneel, Eason, holding a smug Vivian, strode away. It had started to rain, though I hadn’t noticed when. I bought a new plane ticket and left without a single backward glance. As the plane prepared for takeoff, I searched for my medical aid documents, only to realize the folder was gone. Inside, were my pregnancy test results and the abortion procedure consent form. Eason’s call arrived, unbidden. “Cathy! Tell me, who was that wild man who got you pregnant?!”

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1 Daniel, desperate to escape with me, had agreed to have children with his childhood sweetheart, Serena, to secure his family’s lineage. After their first son, Leo, was born, he claimed the boy was too young to be without a father and asked me to wait until Leo turned three. Three years passed. Then he announced his family wanted a daughter, to complete their legacy, and begged for a little more time. I waited and waited, through 1,460 sunrises and sunsets over Mount Cinderpeak. Just when I thought we could finally leave, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant with his child. I stood before Daniel, my hiking pack slung over my shoulder, the ultrasound report clutched in my hand. But he held Serena close, his voice strained with feigned reluctance. “Grandfather and Grandmother want a third grandchild, Elara. Can’t you just wait a little longer?” The very next day, a searing pain tore through my abdomen, and I tumbled down the stairs, miscarrying his child. In the fading moments of my consciousness, Daniel loomed over me, his gaze chillingly distant. “Elara,” he said, his voice flat, “you shouldn’t have gotten pregnant with my child.” Tears streamed down my face, my heart turning to stone. It was time to leave, and this time, alone. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Caldwell heir’s gold-digging mistress, the one who just wouldn’t leave,” a voice sneered. “Can you believe she actually dared to get pregnant? As if the Caldwells would ever let her carry a child.” “Look at her now, karma’s a bitch, isn’t it? The Caldwells specifically instructed the staff during the procedure—no pain relief. They wanted it to be unforgettable.” “Her womb’s been ravaged. Let’s see her try to carry any child after that. Just serves her right.” My eyes fluttered open. I tried to push myself up, but a searing, drilling pain shot through my abdomen. At my gasp of pain, the two nurses by the bed instantly fell silent, but the disdain in their eyes remained starkly visible. Thankfully, I’d grown accustomed to their stinging gazes. I turned my head, my voice raspy. “How long can I stay here?” The plumper nurse’s tone was thick with barely concealed mockery: “Miss Elara, you’re free to check out now. But of course, you can stay as long as you wish. We’ll be delighted to serve you.” With a dismissive sniff, she pulled the other nurse away, their snickering whispers echoing down the hall. “Oh, look at her, all red-eyed and playing the victim. Who’s she trying to impress? Daniel Caldwell? Please. He didn’t even show up when she was miscarrying. What makes her think he’d come now? She must be completely delusional.” I lowered my gaze, my hand drifting to my once again flat abdomen. A bitter smile touched my lips. They had it all wrong. I wasn’t waiting for Daniel. I was just trying to avoid these next few days. These were the days of Serena’s ovulation cycle. Every month, during this time, they became inseparable, flaunting their passion as if no one else existed. Each time, their unrestrained murmurs of affection felt like a thousand knives twisting in my gut, leaving me hollowed out and bleeding. Yet, I was forbidden from saying a word. Sure enough, ten days later, when I pushed open the front door, my face pale and my body weak, they were on the sofa, locked in a post-coital embrace. Daniel was still lingering, kissing her neck, his hand restlessly exploring. It was Serena who noticed me first. She feigned a coy retreat, nestling deeper into him with a playful whimper. “Wait, Daniel,” she purred, “the pregnancy test results should be ready, shouldn’t they?” She picked up the test stick from the table, her eyes widening, then she practically bounced with glee. “Two lines! I’m pregnant with our third!” Then she pouted, a delicate tap to Daniel’s chest. “Oh no, you were so rough just now! What if you hurt our little ‘Three’? You big meanie!” Daniel pulled her into a doting embrace, his hand tenderly caressing Serena’s still-flat stomach. “Never,” he murmured, his eyes full of affection. “Daddy will be gentle from now on. We wouldn’t want to scare little ‘Three,’ would we?” His gaze was brimming with the joy and tenderness of a man about to become a father once more. A stark contrast to the chilling indifference in his eyes when he’d learned I was pregnant. Even though I’d known what to expect, my heart still twisted with a sharp, familiar pang. Finally, Daniel noticed me standing frozen in the doorway. He stiffened, instinctively putting a subtle distance between himself and Serena. His voice softened, tinged with a carefully constructed apology and regret. “Elara, you heard? We… we had no choice. Grandfather says the Caldwell Group’s affairs are too vast, and two children simply aren’t enough to secure its future. A third heir is needed for stability.” “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have put Serena through this, especially right after her second postpartum period, to try for another.” He reached out, tenderly brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from Serena’s forehead, completely oblivious to my ashen face. Serena, her cheeks flushed, buried herself in his arms, playfully chiding, “It’s fine, Daniel. I quite enjoyed it, actually. I loved it.” Watching them ready to melt into another display of affection, a tidal wave of bitter resentment surged within me. I placed a hand on my still-empty belly, cutting through their moment. “Then why wasn’t my child enough?” Daniel’s gaze immediately clouded with a complex mix of emotions, his brow furrowing. “Elara, what are you talking about?” I offered a mirthless laugh, pushing the question again. “Daniel Caldwell, wasn’t my child, our child, a valid heir to the Caldwell family name?” Before he could answer, a toy car inexplicably flew from upstairs, striking me squarely on the forehead. An angry, childish voice immediately followed. “No! No! You vixen! Anything you have would be a mongrel! You’re not allowed to steal our family’s money!” I reeled back a few steps, stumbling. Just as I managed to regain my footing, a small boy, running at full speed, slammed directly into me, sending me sprawling. 2 It was Leo, Daniel and Serena’s three-year-old eldest son. “Bitch! Bitch! How dare you come back! I won’t let you set foot in my house again! Get out!” He started pummeling my midsection with his tiny fists. My womb, already ravaged by the brutal medical procedure, throbbed with agony at even the slightest touch. I clutched my stomach, trembling uncontrollably. Daniel, seeing the beads of cold sweat rolling down my forehead, quickly pulled his son away. “Leo, how dare you speak to Aunt Elara like that? Apologize!” But the hand he’d raised was caught by Serena. She stepped between us, her lips trembling in a wounded pout. “Daniel, why are you so harsh on the child? Have you forgotten what you promised me?” “Besides, how strong can a little child be…?” Serena trailed off, casting a glance of pure disgust at me. The tenderness in Daniel’s expression slowly faded, replaced by disappointment. He turned to me, his voice tinged with weary resignation. “Elara, you’re an adult. Why are you making such a fuss over a child, and putting on a show?” “And besides, you were the one who spoke out of turn. Don’t do it again.” I bit down on my trembling lip. Seeing that I had no intention of backing down, Daniel’s face hardened. He pushed me towards the nursery. “Alright, alright, Elara, go look after Lily.” “You’ve been her caregiver since birth. She’s closer to you than to Serena. When she cries, no one else can soothe her; it’s exhausting.” I met his gaze stubbornly, wrenching my arm free. “Daniel Caldwell, I told you I’m not doing this anymore. I am not your nanny.” As if on cue, Mrs. Jenkins, the Caldwell family’s elderly housekeeper, rushed out, a whirlwind of disapproval, and forcibly thrust Daniel’s newborn daughter, Lily, into my arms. “Elara? Oh, thank goodness you’re back! Just a little miscarriage, why did you have to stay in the hospital for so long? So delicate!” “Go on, go on, take her! My old bones have been worn to dust these past few days. Alright, she’s back with her rightful owner. You take care of her properly now, hear?” Then, she herded Daniel, Serena, and Leo towards the door. “Mr. Caldwell, Miss Montgomery, what are you dawdling for? Haven’t you forgotten you’re taking Leo to the family estate for dinner tonight? Look at the time! Come on, move it!” I made to hand the baby back, but Mrs. Jenkins, solid as a brick wall, blocked my path, ushering Daniel away. Her eyebrows shot up, forming sharp, menacing angles like twin blades. “What do you think you’re doing?! In my day, you’d be nothing but a common servant! Do you really think a few nights in bed with the master makes you the lady of the house? Know your place!” A disgusted “Pah!” escaped her lips, and the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, the sound echoing the finality of her contempt. Only the baby’s deafening cries remained, threatening to shatter my eardrums, my very heart. I stared blankly at the child in my arms, utterly bewildered by how my life had spiraled into this. My unfocused gaze suddenly settled on the expansive photo wall in the living room. Only then did I realize that, at some point I couldn’t pinpoint, the candid photos of Daniel and me hiking through snow-capped mountains, the scenic shots of our adventures, had slowly, systematically been replaced by family portraits of him, Serena, and their son. There was no trace of me left. Only a single, small photograph of a mountain remained. It was Mount Cinderpeak, the place where Daniel and I had fallen in love, and where our wedding was supposed to have been. The night before we were to leave, Daniel’s grandparents, disgusted by my common background, demanded he marry Miss Serena Montgomery instead. Daniel had stormed out of the house, already with me in Willow Creek, ready to venture into the mountains. But a frantic call from the hospital’s ICU unit pulled him back. When he reappeared before me, his face was shadowed by stubble, his eyes bloodshot. He collapsed to his knees, a raw sound escaping him. “Elara, I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “Grandfather and Grandmother raised me since childhood. I can’t let them… I can’t let them die, but I can’t lose you either!” “I… I made a deal. If I just have one grandchild with Serena, they’ll let me go. They’ll set me free.” “Elara, please, don’t be angry, don’t leave me. Serena is just… a means to an end. You’re the one I truly love! Please, just endure this for ten months, okay?” The first time, Daniel cried into my shoulder, then abruptly pulled away at the last moment, stumbling into Serena’s room. He was back in mine within a minute. The second time, he inexplicably stayed half an hour longer. The third time, he stayed the night. The fourth, the fifth… I withered, waiting in my room until dawn, but he never returned. I waited for their first child, then their second, waited through 1,460 sunrises and sunsets over Mount Cinderpeak. But Daniel and Serena only grew closer, more and more like a real couple. And I became their housekeeper and nanny. It wasn’t that I hadn’t cried, hadn’t argued, hadn’t pleaded. Daniel would always soothe me, only to drift back to Serena’s side moments later. Now, their third child was on the way. I should have seen it clearly by now. It was time to leave. I sat there, utterly lost, until late into the night. Finally, Daniel’s family returned, their laughter echoing through the hall. The moment they opened the door, they froze. 3 His daughter lay on the sofa where I’d left her, cried out, and utterly weak. The photographs from the wall lay shredded into a million pieces. “Elara Reynolds! Didn’t I tell you to look after my daughter? Why isn’t she making a sound?! Are you trying to kill her?!” Daniel lunged, his hand closing around my throat, his face twisted into a mask of fury. Serena anxiously scooped up the child and thrust her directly into my arms. “Elara Reynolds! Just because you lost your baby, you can’t take it out on my daughter!” “Now, go back and feed her and change her diaper!” I remained impassive, even managing a faint smile. “I’ve told you already. I’m not your nanny anymore. Don’t you understand?” Serena flinched, then stomped her foot in exasperation, tears welling in her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. “Daniel, look at her! I told you she resented me! Do you know how hard these past few years have been for me? Bearing three children without a title, just to fulfill your love story!” “And in the end, I’m the villain!” Daniel’s jaw tightened, and he instantly intensified his grip on my throat, his eyes blazing with savage rage. “Elara Reynolds, a woman giving birth is like stepping into the gates of hell! Serena has done it twice, and now she’s about to do it a third time—all for you!” But if he’d just open his eyes, he’d see that Serena, whom he claimed had walked through hell’s gates twice, was still slender and graceful, like a young girl. While I, on the other hand, resembled a candle flickering to its end, dark circles stretching from beneath my eyes to the corners of my mouth, all from three months of sleepless nights, tending to her daughter’s every need. And besides, I was never the one who demanded he have children. What right did he have?! My expression, like my heart, was a stagnant pool. But Daniel mistook it for defiance and grew even angrier. “Can’t you just be reasonable for once?! My grandparents’ opinion of you only improved because you took good care of Leo and Lily! Our plan was so close to success, and now this?! What are you trying to do?!” “Don’t you want to go to Mount Cinderpeak with me anymore?!” That same old threat. The last vestige of love in my heart finally dissolved, drifting away like smoke. I forced back the tears that my constricted throat was forcing out, and spoke, my voice calm, almost serene. “No, Daniel. I don’t want to go with you anymore.” Daniel’s body stiffened, and a flicker of panic crossed his face. Ignoring Serena’s furious shouts behind him, he scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom. He dropped me onto the bed, then paced the room, a frantic bundle of nervous energy. He fired off questions like a rapid-fire cannon. “Elara Reynolds, what do you mean you don’t want to go to Mount Cinderpeak anymore? Are you abandoning me?” His voice softened only after he saw the angry red marks of his fingers branding my neck. “Elara, what’s gotten into you lately? Is it because of the miscarriage?” “Is it… is it because taking care of Serena’s children has been too much?” “Or is it because I’ve been spending too much time with Serena? Are you angry?” I sat calmly on the bed, my heart overflowing with a bitter realization. Daniel, it seemed, had known everything all along. When I remained silent, Daniel reluctantly reined in his surging frustration. He knelt before me, his expression earnest. “Elara, please, let me explain. First, your baby being… gone, it really is for the best. If you had carried it to term, the Montgomerys would never have agreed. It would have caused so much trouble.” “And asking you to care for the children… it was because you already had experience with Leo, you were so good with him. Serena just isn’t comfortable with strangers in the house, and she only trusts you.” “Serena just had the baby, her body’s still weak. Of course, I need to look after her more.” I watched him speak, my heart chillingly aware of the pervasive sorrow blossoming within me. Perhaps Daniel himself didn’t realize that even as he tried to placate me, every word he uttered still prioritized Serena. My bitter smile, in Daniel’s eyes, was misinterpreted as a sign of capitulation. His eyes lit up. He raised three fingers, repeating the same tired promise. “Elara, just wait a little longer. I, Daniel Caldwell, swear to you, the moment this third child is born, we’ll run away together. No more delays!” Fearing I wouldn’t believe him, he pulled out his phone and immediately booked plane tickets for a year and a half from now. I glanced at the screen, a sardonic question on my lips. “Why a year and a half from now?” Daniel’s brow furrowed, his voice tinged with a hint of reproach. “Elara, I at least have to wait until Serena finishes her postpartum recovery, don’t I? Don’t be so heartless.” The air in the room grew heavy, thick with unspoken words. After a long silence, he sighed, as if conceding defeat, and reluctantly changed the tickets. “Fine, fine! I’ll change it to the day of the due date. The moment the third child is born, I’ll leave with you. Is that good enough?!” His phone buzzed then, a call from Grandfather Caldwell. Our eyes met, and Daniel’s flashed with an inexplicable guilt. I snatched the phone, my fingers swift as lightning, and answered. Grandfather Caldwell’s words, spoken without preamble, utterly blindsided me. “Daniel, I’ve discussed it with the Montgomerys. You and Serena are to register your marriage tomorrow. Don’t want that vixen charming you away again.” 4 “Hello? Did you hear me?!” Daniel frantically tried to cut in. “Grandfather, I’ll talk to you later.” Daniel and Serena were getting married?! The revelation struck me like a lightning bolt. My heart, already numb from countless stabs, still betrayed me, tears shamelessly spilling at the news. “Elara, listen to me,” Daniel stammered, fumbling to wipe away my tears. “Serena and I are just registering our marriage. It means nothing else, don’t overthink this!” I quietly turned my head, pulling away from his desperate attempts. He rushed to explain. “Think about it, Elara. Serena’s carried three of my children. I at least owe her some kind of recognition, don’t I? Even if it’s just for appearances, I can’t let my children be illegitimate, can I?” “Please, just be reasonable, Elara Reynolds.” Reasonable! Always reasonable! I couldn’t take it anymore. I seized a pillow and began pummeling Daniel, a furious onslaught of blows. “You’re marrying Serena, so what does that make me?! The persistent mistress? The gold-digging whore? Or the shameless vixen they all call me?!” “Daniel Caldwell, do you even know what people say about me?!” Before I could finish, the air around Daniel seemed to drop several degrees, thick with his simmering fury. He unleashed a vicious slap across my face. “Elara Reynolds, snap out of it! Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed to be with you?!” “My grandparents were almost driven to their graves by me! Can’t you stop being so selfish?!” “Know your place, Elara Reynolds!” I was knocked sideways onto the bed, my mouth instantly filling with the metallic tang of blood. It felt like a cruel jest, mocking my three years of foolish longing. “Daniel Caldwell,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “I know my place now. I’m going to Mount Cinderpeak tonight.” “Elara Reynolds! How can you go when you just miscarried?!” Daniel called after me, but I ignored him, storming into the study. The scene inside made me freeze. My hiking pack, carefully prepared just days ago, was shredded into tattered rags, its contents scattered across the floor. Daniel’s son was clearly the culprit, brandishing a half-broken trekking pole as he raced around the room. “Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! I’m a helicopter! I’m the strongest helicopter!” In his other hand, he clutched a small object. I let out a choked scream. “Give that back to me!” Daniel’s son grinned, a triumphant smirk on his face, and stomped his foot down, crushing the object to bits! “No!” I went berserk. I shoved Daniel’s son to the ground, then collapsed to my knees myself with a thud. With trembling hands, I gathered the shattered pieces, holding them up directly to Daniel’s face, a desperate, broken sob tearing through me. “Daniel Caldwell! This was my mother’s voice recorder! Her only possession she left for me!” “Why are you, your whole family, doing this to me?!” Daniel averted his gaze. He knew. He knew the reason I was so obsessed with trekking was because my mother had been a passionate hiker. Every time she summitted a snow-capped peak, every time she witnessed a breathtaking landscape, she would use that voice recorder to capture her thoughts in that moment, leaving them for me. In the years since her passing, I had endured by constantly visiting the places she’d trekked, listening to those fragments of her voice. But now, there was nothing. My very soul felt as though it had shattered along with it. A thousand emotions—grief, fury, despair—choked in my throat, unable to form words, dissolving into a numb, repeated whisper. “It’s all gone, all gone. I have nothing left, Daniel!” Daniel babbled incoherently, trying to soothe me. “Elara, what’s done is done. Please don’t cry, don’t cry. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

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1 Scarlett Bennett’s greatest regret was falling in love with her uncle who also is her guardian, Damien Graves. At ten, the tall, comforting man had held her close, promising to protect her after her parents’ death. At fifteen, when bullies tormented her, Damien forced them to grovel for forgiveness. At eighteen, she donated part of her liver to save his life—then stole a kiss. He awoke with stunned alarm, pushing her away with chilling distance. The final betrayal came when Damien’s beloved Serena needed a kidney. “I’ll grant any wish,” he vowed, if Scarlett would donate hers. She refused. Serena died. At the memorial, Damien exposed Scarlett’s teenage love diaries, branding her with shame. On her birthday, he drugged her, staged a vile scene with rough men, and spat: “Don’t imagine I’d touch you. You’re repulsive.” As ice water revived her, she saw Damien approach, knife in hand. “This is what you owe Serena.” Then—she woke up, back to the day he first asked for her kidney. … “Please, I’m begging you. This kidney might mean nothing to you, but Serena will die without it.” “If you agree to donate your kidney, I will do everything in my power to fulfill any request you have.” Damien’s pleading voice echoed in Scarlett’s ears, jolting her back to reality. She had been reborn. In her previous life, Scarlett had refused Damien on this very day, leading to a truly horrific fate. But back then, Scarlett had already sacrificed part of her liver for Damien. How could she possibly risk losing a kidney as well? Yet, reborn, Scarlett now understood everything. Refusal would still mean death. This kidney, then, would be her repayment for Damien’s eleven years of raising her. Once it was given, they would be completely even. At the thought, Scarlett clenched her fists, her voice resolute. “I’ll do it.” Damien’s unfinished words caught in his throat, while the doctor beside him exclaimed in alarm. “Miss Bennett, have you thought this through? Under normal circumstances, we strongly advise against a second organ donation for someone who has already donated before. This not only significantly increases the difficulty of the surgery but also carries a considerable risk of death.” Scarlett, however, nodded firmly. How could she not know these risks? But to finally escape Damien, she was willing to die if necessary. Only after witnessing Scarlett sign the consent form did the heavy weight lift from Damien’s heart. He had feared Scarlett was playing games, yet she had signed the agreement without a moment’s hesitation. The realization softened his expression as he looked at her. “Since you’ve agreed to the kidney donation, I’ll keep my word. Name your price, whatever you ask.” “My only request is to sever all ties with the Graves family. From this day forward, I will no longer be a Graves.” Damien frowned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Are you serious?” He’d expected Scarlett to try to blackmail him into marriage, but her request was to cut ties with him completely. Scarlett met his gaze, her voice cool. “Yes.” Damien stared at her suspiciously for a few seconds, then his face hardened. “Scarlett Bennett, I advise you to drop your little games. Don’t think that by breaking ties with my family, you and I could ever be together.” “You and I are impossible, always. There’s only one person in my heart, and that’s Serena. Not you.” Scarlett’s eyelashes trembled slightly. “I know.” The humiliation of her past life was still vivid. How could Scarlett not know how deeply he loved Serena? So, in this life, Scarlett would no longer love Damien. She just wanted to be as far away from him as possible, the farther the better. Damien’s gaze lingered on Scarlett’s face for a moment longer. He didn’t know why, but Scarlett felt… different. He just couldn’t pinpoint how. Damien was about to speak, but Serena’s voice drifted from the hospital room. He rushed in almost instinctively, and Scarlett, her expression dimming slightly, followed him in. Serena coughed, her eyes welling up. “Damien, please don’t pressure Miss Bennett anymore. I know she doesn’t like me, and I understand if she’s unwilling to donate her kidney.” Serena seemed about to continue, but Damien gripped her hand tightly, his voice joyful. “Serena, Scarlett has agreed to donate her kidney! You’ll be alright!” Serena’s words caught in her throat. She stared at Scarlett in shock, then her eyes turned scarlet. “Damien, did Miss Bennett’s condition… was it for you to marry her?” Before Damien could answer, Serena raised her hand and slapped Scarlett across the face. A red mark instantly bloomed on Scarlett’s cheek. Serena clutched her chest, her voice trembling with emotion. “Scarlett Bennett, have you no shame? Damien is your guardian! How could you do something so despicable?” “Damien, if you marry Scarlett Bennett, I swear I’d rather die right now!” Serena’s emotions were spiraling. Damien, completely ignoring the bruised Scarlett, pulled Serena into his arms. “Serena, you’re the only one I love. I’ll only marry you in this life. As for anyone else, don’t even think about it.” Scarlett covered her stinging cheek, a self-mocking smile twisting her lips. She wisely chose not to watch further. As she walked away, she overheard their conversation. “She already donated her liver for you. Is it safe for her to donate a kidney for me as well?” Scarlett’s steps faltered, a flicker of hope for Damien’s response sparking in her heart, only to be utterly extinguished the next second. “Serena, you know I don’t care about anyone else’s life or death but yours. All that matters is for you to get well. That’s enough.” After stepping out of the room, Scarlett took a few moments to compose herself, then dialed her academic advisor’s number. “Hello, Professor. About the Frontier Aid Initiative you mentioned last time, I’d like to join.” 2 Her advisor’s voice immediately filled with delight. “That’s wonderful, Scarlett! I’m so proud of you. The country needs dedicated young people like you!” “But this program is very demanding, and it’s in a remote location.” “Your guardian, Damien, is so protective of you. Will he agree to you joining?” Scarlett gripped her phone, her voice firm. “He doesn’t need to agree. I can make my own decisions.” After hanging up, Scarlett instantly felt all her strength drain away, a desperate need to lean against the wall. But as she took a step back, she bumped right into Damien’s solid chest. Scarlett flinched in surprise, and Damien’s brow furrowed. “Who were you on the phone with? What ‘joining’?” Scarlett calmly replied, “Oh, my professor asked if I wanted to join a school club.” Damien said nothing more, his voice now a flat announcement. “The surgery is scheduled for a week from now. During this time, I’ll be bringing Serena home to stay.” He paused, then, remembering something else, his tone turned icy. “Also, I don’t want to see any strange letters in my study. I don’t want Serena to have any unnecessary misunderstandings.” Scarlett turned her head, her nails digging into her palm, then acquiesced bitterly. “Understood.” Ever since her stolen kiss was discovered, Scarlett had written Damien a long, detailed love letter every week, solely to express her affection. But every single one of those letters had, without exception, ended up in the trash. Yet, Scarlett had stubbornly continued to write. She never imagined that her heartfelt confessions, brimming with love in her eyes, were seen by Damien as peculiar and utterly distasteful. Seeing Scarlett agree, Damien said no more. He simply gave instructions to his driver, then turned and walked back into Serena’s hospital room. An hour later, Scarlett saw Damien’s car pull up to the hospital entrance. Damien was helping Serena into the back seat. Seeing this, Scarlett immediately went downstairs to the curb. She was about to open the car door, but it drove off, leaving only a puff of exhaust fumes. Scarlett froze in place. The next second, she received a text from Damien. “Serena has a phobia of unfamiliar scents. She doesn’t like strangers’ smells. Get a cab back yourself.” Scarlett’s eyes dimmed. She lowered her phone and hailed a passing taxi. Inside the cab, Scarlett stared silently out the window. The driver, noticing her distress, kindly asked, “Miss, your face looks quite bruised. Should I stop at a pharmacy?” Scarlett shook her head, her eyes growing even sadder. Her so-called family hadn’t offered a single word of concern. The only person who cared was a complete stranger. How ironic, how ridiculous. After a long drive, the car pulled up to the villa. Scarlett got out and pushed open the door. Inside, she didn’t see Damien, only Serena, toying with a necklace. Scarlett looked closer, realizing the necklace in Serena’s hand was the jade pendant she kept in her safe. It was the only memento her parents had left her, something Scarlett cherished so deeply she rarely even dared to touch it. And now it was in Serena’s hand. Scarlett’s face turned icy. She extended her hand towards Serena. “Give me back the pendant.” “Miss Dawson, entering my room without my permission? Is that the upbringing of a well-bred lady?” As Scarlett spoke, Serena’s face twisted in displeasure, but Damien’s voice came from upstairs first. “I told Serena to go in.” “Serena will be the lady of this house eventually. It’s her right to enter and exit any room she pleases. Besides, as long as Serena is happy, you shouldn’t object, even if she wants to stay in your room.” Damien stood before Scarlett, scrutinizing her with a cold, detached expression. Scarlett’s face went pale. Serena, seeing Damien descend, became even more brazen. “It’s just a broken old pendant, isn’t it? If you want it back, here.” Serena extended her hand, offering the pendant to Scarlett. As Scarlett reached out to take it, the pendant slipped and shattered on the floor, breaking into two pieces. “No!” In that instant, the jade shattered. And Scarlett’s heart shattered with it. It was the only relic her parents had left her, her sole tangible memory of them. Scarlett knelt on the floor, tears blurring her vision, ignoring her dignity as she pushed past Serena. She tried to piece the pendant back together, but she couldn’t change the fact that it was broken. Serena stood by, bewildered. She hadn’t expected Scarlett to react so strongly. Damien’s brow furrowed slightly. In all their years living together, this was the first time he had seen Scarlett lose control. But seeing Serena visibly startled, he frowned, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright. Serena didn’t do it on purpose. How much is the pendant? I’ll compensate you.” 3 Scarlett didn’t react. She simply, reverently, gathered the shattered pieces of the jade pendant and tucked them into her bag. After a long moment, she forced a desolate smile for Damien. “No need, Uncle Damien.” As Scarlett spoke, she hurried away, leaving Damien rooted to the spot. Uncle Damien? Ever since Scarlett had confessed her feelings, she had never once called him that. No matter how many times Damien insisted, Scarlett refused to change. But now, she had called him ‘Uncle Damien’ on her own accord. Damien stood frozen, lost in thought, until Serena shook his arm, pulling him back to the present. “Damien, what’s wrong?” Damien immediately reverted to his concerned tone. “I’m fine. Don’t mind what just happened. Scarlett isn’t a bad person, really. She’s just been spoiled by me all these years, a little headstrong.” Serena paused, surprised that Damien would defend Scarlett. She pretended to be understanding, nodding, but a flash of jealousy and malice flickered in her eyes the next instant. Seeking reassurance, Serena wrapped her arms around Damien’s waist, cooing. “Damien, after my surgery, can we get married? I can’t wait to live with you.” Damien’s eyes softened. He gently ran his thumb over Serena’s nose, his voice filled with affection. “Yes, darling. Anything you wish.” Serena’s voice trembled with excitement. “Really? Then I’m going to be the most beautiful bride in the world!” … For the next several days, Scarlett went to school to complete the paperwork for the Frontier Aid Initiative. She worked tirelessly, burning the candle at both ends, leaving early and returning late. Despite living under the same roof, she never once saw Damien. One evening, Scarlett carried a large box filled with the love letters she had once written, heading towards the fireplace, intending to destroy them all. Just as she was burning the last one, Damien’s sharp voice cut through the air behind her. “What are you doing?” Scarlett said nothing, but Damien’s eyes landed on the unburnt part of a letter. His face turned ashen. He strode forward and tightly gripped Scarlett’s wrist, his voice low, tinged with a warning. “Scarlett Bennett, what kind of stunt are you pulling now? Trying to get my attention this way?” “Is this amusing to you?” Scarlett lowered her head, pulling free of his grasp. “You’re overthinking it.” Damien, however, became even more convinced of his theory. He announced coldly, “In ten days, it’s my wedding to Serena. You’re welcome to attend.” Scarlett’s face went paper-white, her smile strained. “Congratulations.” In ten days, she would already be with the Frontier Aid Initiative, likely unable to attend his wedding. But Scarlett said nothing more, turning to leave. Just as she reached the door, Damien called out to her. “Serena says a wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and she doesn’t trust anyone else to plan it.” Scarlett didn’t understand Damien’s meaning. She asked, “So?” “So, I’d like to ask you to plan this wedding for us. I raised you from a child, so you must know exactly what I want.” 4 Scarlett lowered her gaze, a faint smile playing on her lips, masking the self-mockery and cold sarcasm in her eyes. “Uncle Damien, I truly don’t love you anymore. There’s no need to humiliate me this way.” With that, Scarlett strode out of the villa, leaving Damien frozen in place. Scarlett hailed a cab to school. She still had some documents to fill out. As she left the office after finishing, she suddenly felt countless gazes fixed on her, accompanied by whispers and snickers. “Oh my god, seriously? Rich people are so twisted.” “Figures, the more prim and proper they look, the dirtier they are behind closed doors.” “I’ve already got a novel title in mind: The Tycoon’s Caged Canary.” As Scarlett stood bewildered, her dormmate rushed up and grabbed her arm. “Scarlett, check social media!” Scarlett quickly pulled out her phone, only to see a headline glaring back at her: “Graves Heir’s Forbidden Love Exposed!” She clicked on it in disbelief, finding a pixelated, salacious video. The woman in the footage was undeniably her, captured in compromising positions, appearing to brazenly proposition Damien. Her eyes turned bloodshot, her fists clenched tight. “This video is doctored! I never did anything like that!” “I believe you, Scarlett. This trending topic was clearly bought. You have to find the culprit who spread these lies! Don’t let them get away with it!” At her friend’s words, Scarlett immediately hailed a cab back to the villa, hoping to discuss it with Damien. As she ascended the stairs, she saw Damien blocking the way. Before she could speak, he fixed her with a cold, contemptuous gaze. “Is this what you meant by ‘not loving me anymore’?” “You, a young woman, willing to ruin your own reputation just to sabotage my wedding to Serena? Have you no shame?” Scarlett bit her lip fiercely, desperate to say something, but no words would come out. She hadn’t expected Damien to think such things of her. All her strength to argue evaporated in an instant. Damien, however, misinterpreted her silence as guilt. A sneer twisted his lips, his expression growing colder. “Scarlett Bennett, if you think I’ll be forced to marry you because of public opinion, you’re gravely mistaken.” “I, Damien Graves, will marry no one but Serena Dawson, in this life or any other!” No sooner had Damien spoken than Serena, who had overheard everything from behind him, stepped forward. She approached Scarlett, her voice dripping with disdain. “Miss Bennett, a young lady should have self-respect. Not debase herself in such a manner.” Scarlett started to explain, but Serena secretly put force behind a push. Behind Scarlett was a treacherous flight of fifty steps. The next instant, Serena feigned a sprained ankle and tumbled forward down the stairs. In that split-second decision, Damien almost instinctively reached out and caught Serena’s hand. Only when the sound of Scarlett tumbling down the stairs echoed did Damien finally notice her. Scarlett curled into a ball, writhing in pain, biting her knee. Large, silent tears streamed down her face, as if their flow could dull the agonizing pain. Damien’s eyes narrowed. He took the steps two at a time, rushing down. “Scarlett Bennett, are you alright?! Are you hurt?” 5 When Scarlett woke up, the first thing she saw was Damien’s drawn, tired face. Seeing her awaken, Damien’s voice was, for once, a little softer. “I didn’t save you because Serena… she’s ill.” Scarlett’s voice was flat. “I understand.” Damien let out a barely perceptible sigh, then cautioned, “You’re donating a kidney in a few days. You absolutely must rest and recover.” Scarlett heard him and let out a bitter laugh. She knew it. Of course Damien was only here because he was afraid her injuries would delay Serena’s kidney transplant. After speaking, he fell silent for a moment, then spoke again. “Also, no matter what, I won’t forget my promise. Even after I’m married, I will protect you for the rest of your life.” Scarlett’s eyes lifted slightly. Then, in her heart, she silently replied, “Unfortunately, I no longer need it.” For the next day, Damien didn’t return. Scarlett waited alone for her IV drip to finish, then handled her discharge papers by herself. Just as she finished the paperwork, she saw a gurney rushing towards the emergency room. Scarlett instantly spotted Damien’s frantic figure beside it. Lying on the gurney, to her shock, was Serena. Scarlett’s mind suddenly snapped. In her previous life, Serena’s death was due to Scarlett’s refusal to donate a kidney. Now that she had agreed, why was Serena still on a gurney? She didn’t wait for an explanation, simply ran towards the emergency room. At the doorway, Damien sat on a long bench, his head bowed in despair, his drumming fingers betraying his anxiety. Scarlett asked Damien what had happened. Only then did she learn that Serena had a blood clotting disorder. She had felt dizzy while bathing and hit her head on the bathtub, leading to a serious hemorrhage. After a long moment, the doctor emerged from the emergency room. “The patient has lost a lot of blood. Is there a family member who can donate?” Damien shot up. “I will!” “The patient has Rh-negative blood type. What is your blood type?” Damien’s face went stark white. His voice trembled, weak. “I’m B positive.” Rh-negative blood, a rare blood type. In the room, only Scarlett possessed it. Scarlett stood up almost without hesitation. “I’m Rh-negative! I’ll donate!” Everything she had experienced in her past life was still vivid. She was finally on the verge of escaping that fate. She absolutely could not let history repeat itself. Scarlett was led by the nurse and had a full liter of blood drawn. Afterwards, Scarlett’s vision went black, and she collapsed in the donation room. When she woke up again, her bedside was empty, save for the nurse who came in to change her bandages, casting her a sympathetic glance. “Miss Bennett, you’re awake!” “Your guardian, he’s quite cold-hearted, isn’t he? Making you have surgery without anesthesia, all for his girlfriend.” Scarlett offered only a pale, bitter smile. After the nurse left, she checked her phone. Two hours left. Enough time to hail a cab, pick up her luggage, and get to the airport. Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. She was about to get out of bed, but a searing, splitting pain surged through her. It was an agony that pierced her bones, struck her very soul, as if countless sharp blades were indiscriminately slicing inside her body. Every heartbeat was accompanied by a heart-wrenching cry. But at the thought of leaving Damien, Scarlett gritted her teeth, braced herself against the bed frame, and got out of bed. She painstakingly changed her clothes, picked up the severance agreement she had carried with her for so long, and limped, step by agonizing step, towards Serena’s hospital room. Inside the room, Damien was intently watching the sleeping Serena, completely oblivious to Scarlett’s entry. It wasn’t until Scarlett presented the severance agreement that he finally reacted. His face darkened as he read its contents. He asked in a low voice, “What is this? Are you truly going to cut ties with me? I told you, there’s no possibility between us. Why are you still pursuing this?” Sweat beaded on Scarlett’s forehead from the pain. She bit her lip, stubbornly stating, “This is what you promised me.” Damien looked at Scarlett’s pale face, suddenly feeling a surge of irritation. After a moment, he took the paper and pen from Scarlett, and signed his name prominently on the agreement. Scarlett, finally receiving the signed agreement, felt a wave of relief. She turned and limped away. Damien, however, frowned and asked, “You just had surgery. You’re still so weak. Why aren’t you in a hospital gown, resting? Where are you going, dressed in your own clothes?” Scarlett’s throat was dry. Her slender back seemed ready to collapse at any moment. “The hospital is stifling. I’m going for a walk.” Damien watched her retreating figure, a rare hint of concern in his voice. “It’s windy outside. Come back soon.” Scarlett murmured, “Mmm,” but in her heart, she whispered, “Damien, I’m not coming back.” She picked up her luggage and, dragging her bruised and aching body, boarded the plane bound for West River City. Sunlight spilled over her slender back. Scarlett turned then, taking one last deep look at the city. “Goodbye, the place she lived for twelve years. Goodbye, Damien.”

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1 My best friend and I found ourselves transported into a novel. She became the obsessively devoted fiancée of the aloof male lead, while I was the “canary in a gilded cage,” kept within a luxurious mansion by a disturbingly obsessive villain. Then, the male lead’s first love returned from abroad. My best friend found me, tears streaming down her face, claiming that her wretched fiancé hadn’t slept with her in three days. She wanted a divorce. As for me, my wifely duties these past few years had been upheld solely by my lack of funds. But then my best friend showed me her secret savings. “You divorce, I divorce too!” I declared. Life after divorce was surprisingly freeing. My best friend and I found ourselves with more “husbands” than we could count. Until one day, I received a text message. “I’ve prepared a gift for you. Your best friend’s husband and his first love – only one can live. Who do you choose?” … It was midday when I woke in the sprawling eight-foot bed, my body still carrying a faint, lingering ache. The sound of water running in the bathroom signaled that Alexander hadn’t left for work yet. I scrambled out of bed, quickly dressed, and, forgoing my morning routine, hurried to his study. That man had already showered three times today. I certainly didn’t want him showering a fourth. Stepping out of the bedroom, a maid approached me. “Madam, Mrs. Hayes from next door has been waiting for you downstairs for an hour.” I quickly rushed downstairs. The moment my best friend saw me, fresh tears welled in her already swollen eyes. “Anna, I’m getting a divorce, boohoohoo…” This year marked our third year since transmigrating into the novel. She had become the obsessively devoted fiancée of the domineering CEO next door. And I had become the “canary in a gilded cage,” held captive in a lavish mansion by a possessive villain. On the surface, she had lowered her noble status and shamelessly moved into Eddy Hayes’s house, ostensibly to relentlessly pursue him. In reality, it was to be my neighbor and to indulge her own little eccentricity. You see, she had a peculiar condition, and so did I. In our previous lives, we were fellow “patients.” She suffered from an obsessive devotion that found pleasure in giving and seeking approval. I, on the other hand, had severe social anxiety, disliking any interaction or communication with anyone other than my best friend. So, for these three years, we had both lived quite pleasantly. Watching my best friend sob uncontrollably, I carefully chose my words, asking gently, “Did he die an early death or become paralyzed in a car accident?” I couldn’t imagine a third reason. My best friend pouted, her voice brimming with grievance. “His first love, Eleanor, came back…” “Eddy hasn’t been home for three days, saying he was busy with work. Then this morning, he came back, and he didn’t even kiss or cuddle me. He just collapsed into bed and fell asleep.” She sniffled. “It was so out of character. So I secretly looked at his phone, and that’s when I found out Eleanor came back three days ago, and they even had dinner together, boohoohoo…” A husband who didn’t come home for three days? How wonderful that would be. If Alexander stayed away for three days, I’d wake up laughing in my dreams. But people were different, and their conditions were different. I handed my best friend a tissue to wipe her tears, asking, “Are you sure you want to divorce? If you do, will you be able to adjust to being someone else’s ‘devoted admirer’?” My best friend showed me her bank balance. “I’ve saved enough to support many men. I’ll try out a few; surely one of them will make me happy.” Seeing all those zeros in her balance, my heart fluttered. “Then you can support one more: me!” “You divorce, I divorce too!” The moment the words left my lips, I heard a soft chuckle behind me. “Hmph.” My best friend saw the person behind me first. Her face went white with fright, and without another word, she dropped me and bolted. “Divorce what?” The sofa beside me dipped. A warm, familiar hand easily settled on my waist. The man’s voice, though tinged with amusement, carried no hint of genuine happiness, sending a chill down my spine. When I didn’t answer, he pressed on, “What did Mrs. Hayes from next door say to you? Is she complaining about his front gate again, thinking it’s time for another replacement?” … When I first transmigrated, I was terrified of Alexander, this stranger, and his overly intimate behavior made my life a living hell. My best friend, feeling sorry for me, tried to help me escape eight times. Each time, I was caught and dragged back. And each time, Alexander had his men smash the front gate of her husband’s house. Even our two families’ companies had been constantly at loggerheads, so it was no wonder my best friend bolted at the sight of Alexander. “Nothing. You should go to work.” I subtly shifted sideways, evading Alexander’s hand. The next second, his entire body pressed against mine. His arm, unrestrained, wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me firmly into his embrace. “If they divorce, I can help her find ten, twenty other men. But if you dare to run…” The subtle scent of his elegant shower gel, the warmth of his body, no longer terrified me as they had three years ago. Yet, his words made my heart pound erratically. “You might have to suffer a little.” I looked up. Alexander’s handsome face was expressionless, but his gaze, full of deep meaning, rested on my hand. I remembered the iron chain I’d found in the corner of his study a few days ago. I had a chilling suspicion Alexander was about to lose his mind. 2 My social anxiety had been with me for over a decade. I loathed talking to people, and I detested eating, shopping, or working with anyone else. When I first transmigrated into this world, I was an employee at Alexander Thorne’s company. Even if I barely spoke a word for three days, my looks still attracted unwanted attention from colleagues. Mustering all my courage, I went to Alexander to resign. To my astonishment, he suddenly asked me, “Would you consider marrying me? No work, no in-laws, no social obligations. You just wouldn’t be able to leave the Thorne estate, ever.” The words “no social obligations” hit me hard. In this strange new world, that lifestyle seemed to be the only one that would offer me some peace. So, I married him. It only required dedicating two or three hours each evening. I figured I could endure it. It wasn’t until I discovered that the obsessively devoted fiancée of the domineering CEO next door was my best friend that my world finally brightened. She told me Alexander was deranged. She said I didn’t just dislike socializing; I needed to socialize. She argued that he shouldn’t restrict my freedom. So, my best friend helped me escape eight times. Alexander chased me down eight times, and each time he became more unhinged. The last time I was brought back, he had all the windows in the house sealed, threatening to burn down the entire neighborhood if I ever tried to escape again. I was terrified. I told my best friend I didn’t want to run anymore; the Thorne estate was a good place. But now that my best friend wanted a divorce, what was the point of me staying here? That night, Alexander called, saying he’d be home around midnight due to work. I immediately packed a bag, climbed out a window, scaled the wall, and made my way to my best friend’s house. “You two never officially tied the knot, so there’s no need for divorce papers. Tonight, the stars are aligned, the timing is perfect. Are you ready to go?” My best friend deftly stuffed jewelry and valuables into a large bag. “Yes! Absolutely! If your husband heard us talking about this during the day, and we didn’t leave tonight, he’d flay me alive anyway!” As I helped my best friend pack, I pondered thoughtfully. “He only threatened arson. Flaying someone alive is life-threatening; I don’t think he’d dare commit such a crime.” My best friend stared at me. “As if arson isn’t a crime he’d dare to commit!” We quickly finished packing. My best friend instructed me to drive to the airport, while she busied herself in the passenger seat, booking the earliest possible flights. Near the airport, I stepped on the brake and told my best friend to get out. “Are you backing out?” she complained, pouting. “Anna, you said today was perfect! If we go back now, after I divorce, we won’t be neighbors anymore…” Despite her grumbling, my best friend didn’t stop moving, dutifully following behind me. It wasn’t until I led her to another car and started driving away from home that she realized what was happening. “Huh! You’re not going back, are you? Where did you get this car?” I explained calmly, “I bought the car online and arranged for a valet to park it here. Flying would be too easy for them to track us with the real names on tickets. We’d be intercepted by the Hayes and Thorne people before we even boarded. Even if we flew abroad, they could still follow the trail. We need to go somewhere absolutely safe first.” My best friend’s eyes gleamed as she looked at me. Then, her voice turned syrupy sweet. “Anna, you’re so smart~! I love you so much~! Thank goodness I have you on this trip! Mwah!” Even as a woman, I couldn’t resist the emotional validation offered by another beautiful woman. My lips curved into a delighted smile. However, before I could bask in my pride, my best friend continued, “I always thought you were just a useless homebody. When I first started thinking about divorce, I even searched online for ‘adult child care guides.’” She paused. “Oh, by the way, where is this ‘absolutely safe’ place you mentioned?” The words “useless homebody” stung me deeply. I shot a side-eye at my best friend. “Your husband’s house,” I replied. My best friend froze. “…” 3 Our car pulled up in front of a grand mansion in the suburbs. My best friend, still bewildered, began pummeling my shoulder with her little fists, the blows more amusing than painful. “You scared me to death! This is my husband’s grandfather’s house! How could you trick me and say it was my husband’s house?” I asked her, “Is this house not your husband’s?” Hayes Enterprises was once the wealthiest corporation in the city. Mr. Hayes Sr.’s only son, Eddy Hayes’s father, had died in a car accident over a decade ago. Mr. Hayes Sr. himself wasn’t in good health, so now the vast family fortune was entirely managed by Eddy. My saying this was her husband’s house was technically correct. My best friend huffed. “Well, then it’s your husband’s house too!” I chuckled. “While Alexander is Mr. Hayes Sr.’s illegitimate son, he’s never been acknowledged by the Hayes family. So, nothing of the Hayes estate concerns him, and therefore, nothing concerns me.” This was also the reason Alexander and Eddy were constantly at odds, and why Alexander became the novel’s antagonist. “Alright, alright,” my best friend conceded, unable to argue with me. She quickly changed the subject. She looked anxious. “But why are we here? If Grandpa Hayes finds out about the divorce, it’ll be disastrous. Eddy really cares about his grandfather…” “It’s not about divorce,” I interrupted my best friend. “You’re here to prepare a birthday surprise for Eddy. You want to secretly go abroad to buy him a gift, so you’re asking Mr. Hayes Sr. for help to use his private jet. And you’re asking him to instruct his people to keep your whereabouts a complete secret from Eddy.” My best friend’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “Ah! With Grandpa helping us, no one will be able to track us! And Eddy, for his grandfather’s sake, definitely won’t dare to make a fuss about my disappearance or our divorce here…” A quick learner, she was. Mr. Hayes Sr. quickly arranged for us to be flown abroad, thoughtfully booking us a hotel in a bustling downtown area. After checking in, my best friend eagerly rushed out to shop and enjoy herself. I, on the other hand, felt a wave of relief wash over me. I wrapped myself in the duvet and sank into a deep, uninterrupted sleep. It had been so long since I’d left the house; the journey seemed to have drained all my energy. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but I found myself dreaming of my previous life. Back then, my best friend and I would read novels together in the hospital. She’d say she loved how the male lead, Eddy Hayes, was so deeply devoted to Eleanor, his first love, even divorcing the wealthy female lead and remaining a widower for Eleanor his entire life. Such a good man was impossible to find. I, on the other hand, said I liked the obsessive villain, Alexander Thorne. His background as an illegitimate child was pitiable, and he’d clawed his way up to become the city’s richest man, even taking down the Hayes family. It was just a shame he was such a simp for love. He’d kidnapped Eddy’s first love for revenge, but then fell for her himself, and in the end, actually handed over his entire fortune to the male lead for love. I also dreamed of when I first transmigrated and married Alexander. The Thorne estate was empty and desolate, like a prison, without even a single servant. I would sleep until the afternoon, my stomach growling with hunger, only to find the refrigerator bare. But I was unwilling to leave the house. The result was that I fainted during our intimate moments with Alexander one evening. When I groggily woke up, my best friend had returned and was posing in front of the mirror, admiring her new clothes. Seeing me awake, she asked with a mischievous grin, “Why is your face so red? Quick, tell me, what did you dream about?” I answered truthfully, “I dreamed that Alexander and I were… exercising, and then I fainted.” My best friend burst into peals of laughter. Between giggles, she asked, “Do you want me to find you some high-class room service, or should I take you to a bar on the next street to blow off some steam? Hahahaha!” I rubbed my aching head and continued, “The dream was real. When I woke up that time, Alexander even told me… that if I ever left him, I wouldn’t survive seven days.” My best friend stopped laughing. In these three years, whether through Alexander’s actions or Eddy’s words, she had witnessed Alexander’s chilling aura and ruthless methods. She quickly sat on the edge of the bed, her face serious. “How about we go to the hospital for a check-up? See if Alexander put any poison or hex on you. Otherwise, how could he come up with such a precise number as seven days?” I accused my best friend of reading too many novels. But she insisted on taking me to the hospital. Knowing I disliked contact with strangers, she simply booked two appointments, saying she could accompany me for both check-ups that way. An hour later, we both stared at the papers in our hands, dumbfounded. I was pregnant. And so was she.

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1 It was the third year of my engagement to Kris Stone when he found a dazzling racing star abroad. The day before Valentine’s, he deliberately brought the girl to me to break off our engagement. “Skye and I share the same passions,” he’d declared, his gaze dismissive. “A sheltered girl like you will never understand the thrill of racing.” I asked, my voice barely a whisper of protest, “Does it have to be today?” He chuckled. “Does calling off an engagement require a special date?” I simply nodded, offering no further argument. Only to enter the same race as him the following month. What he didn’t know was that I understood the allure of racing long before he ever did. Later, I married someone else on his birthday. His eyes bloodshot, he asked, “Does it have to be today?” I smiled back. “Weddings need an auspicious date, you know. Today is perfect.” When Kris came looking for me, it had been nearly half a year since I’d last seen him. He’d spent three years studying abroad, only to return home without a single word to me. Just days prior, an audio recorder had arrived in the mail, sent from overseas. The moment I pressed play, a chorus of laughter erupted. “Hahahaha, Ollie, you’re something else! Not only did you get your racing license, but you also snagged our hottest racing star! Come on, Skye, tell us, how fast does Ollie drive in bed?” A sultry female voice purred in response: “Is that even a question? Straight to the fast lane, baby!” A chorus of piercing shrieks immediately followed, threatening to rupture my eardrums. I lowered the volume on the recorder, continuing to listen. “So, Ollie, what are you going to do about your fiancée back home? Heard you two have been engaged for three years. Aren’t your folks pressing you to marry her?” My hands instinctively clenched into fists, and I cranked the volume to its maximum. “Fiancée? What did we know about love as kids? Chloe and I haven’t seen each other in over six months. At this point, she’s barely more than a free, high-end housekeeper for my parents. She’s obedient, easy to get rid of.” Someone snickered: “Well, leave it to our Ollie, managing to get the Hayes family’s eldest daughter to willingly play housemaid.” The recording paused for a few seconds. Then I heard Kris’s dismissive scoff: “Heh, well, who told her to like me so much?” After listening to that recording, my mind went utterly blank. I waited, numb, for Kris to return and offer an explanation. Now, his red Porsche was parked right outside my front door. The window was down, and he sat in the driver’s seat. One hand cupped the chin of the girl beside him, the other cradled the back of her head. They were locked in a deep, lingering kiss, utterly unconcerned by the world. Suddenly, I remembered the day Kris left for his studies abroad three years ago. In the departure lounge, he had gently kissed my cheek, his eyes bright with promises. “Chloe, wait for me. When I graduate, I’ll come back and marry you.” But it was as if he’d forgotten every single one of them. I took a shaky breath, stepping back awkwardly, forcing my gaze away. It seemed no explanation was needed now. A full ten minutes passed before I heard the car door creak open. Kris sauntered leisurely towards me, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Saw everything, did you?” he asked, his expression utterly nonchalant. “Let’s just call off our engagement, shall we?” “You’re a good person, but you just lack… personality.” “The kind of woman I like is confident, bold, full of life. And you, well, you’re none of those things.” The Porsche’s window rolled down a few inches. The girl in the passenger seat blew a casual whistle in our direction, throwing a playful kiss for good measure. Kris clearly adored the gesture, his face softening with doting affection. “Her name’s Skye. She shares my passions.” “A sheltered flower like you will never understand the thrill of racing.” Moonlight spilled across his face, but his gaze, when it found Skye, was softer than the moonbeams themselves. I struggled to suppress the turmoil churning inside me, my voice laced with a bitter edge. “Are you sure about this? Does it have to be today?” Kris paused for a few seconds, then chuckled. “Does calling off an engagement require a special date?” Right, I thought. I nodded slowly. “Alright, I understand.” Perhaps my calm reaction was more unsettling than he expected, because Kris looked subtly uncomfortable. “If there’s anything you need help with, let me know. For example, with your family, do you need me to explain things for you?” “No need.” Thanks to that audio recorder, I already knew everything I needed to. The Hayes and Stone families had been close for generations. When I was eighteen, my mother fell critically ill. It was thanks to Kris’s mother, who donated a kidney, that my mother’s life was saved. Before the surgery, she lay in her hospital bed, tears streaming down her face. “How will we ever repay this kindness?” Kris’s mother, half-joking, half-serious, had replied, “If you truly want to repay me, then let Chloe become my daughter-in-law, eh?” I stood rooted to the spot, completely bewildered, but it was Kris who spoke first, eager to agree. “It’s settled then, Auntie. I like Chloe. I’ll definitely marry her someday.” The young man made his solemn vow, as if he’d never break his word. And so, three years ago, Kris and I became engaged. I remained in the country, while he went abroad. Perhaps out of a sense of obligation, I diligently learned cooking and nursing, spending every spare moment caring for Kris’s parents. The rumors around town grew increasingly unpleasant. They whispered that I was Kris’s “doormat,” shamelessly acting as his family’s housekeeper even before marrying him. But thinking of my mother, I swallowed my pride and endured. To vent my frustration, I secretly took up racing, even winning several competitions. 2 Later, my mother’s illness returned, and she passed away. My father remarried, finding new happiness, and my standing in our home grew increasingly insignificant. It felt as if, other than Kris, I had no one left to lean on. But now, he was telling me he’d fallen for someone else. It dawned on me that to him, I was merely a fleeting infatuation from childhood, nothing compared to the rapid, intense spark he found in a matter of days. I expected tears, but not a single one fell. Instead, I silently retrieved the tokens we had exchanged during our engagement from the safe. It was an exquisite antique hair ornament, symbolizing a wife’s lasting bond with her husband. The one I had given him was a double-sided, intricately carved jade pendant from my mother, signifying the refined character and gentle nobility of a true gentleman. That pendant was the last, most precious thing my mother had left me. I arranged to meet Kris again. Since the engagement was off, it was only right to exchange our tokens back. Just after midnight, Kris updated his social media. He and Skye were tightly embraced, their hands forming a heart shape together. Kris’s caption read: “No special skills, just managed to snag the one I wanted on Valentine’s Day.” So, he was in such a hurry to break off our engagement because he wanted to go public with his new relationship on Valentine’s Day. I simply ‘liked’ the post. If they were so smitten, they might as well be locked together forever. Minutes later, a new message popped up on my phone. Adrian Vance: “Happy Valentine’s Day.” My brain froze for a few seconds as I stared at the name. I never expected him to be the first one to say that to me. The whispers in our circles always painted Adrian as someone of impossibly high standing, utterly out of reach. And I had only met him a handful of times through racing. Perhaps he’d sent it by mistake. But the very next second, another message suddenly appeared. “You deserve better.” Before I could even process Adrian’s words, I was drowned in a tidal wave of rumors. Practically everyone around me was buzzing about Kris having dumped me. My father lectured me harshly that morning, and even my stepmother offered sarcastic remarks about my worthlessness. I found it darkly amusing. When did the one who was wronged become the one to be shamed? Soon after, my inbox began to flood with private messages. “Heard Ollie found a new girlfriend? Hahahaha, and on Valentine’s Day, no less! Don’t know how you’ll ever recover.” “Well, you didn’t lose out completely these past few years. At least you learned how to cater to people, right, Chloe?” “He’s actually soft-hearted beneath that tough exterior. Just beg him nicely, and maybe he’ll come around. If not, a good old-fashioned scene might do the trick.” I ignored their taunts, blocking and deleting them one by one. All I wanted now was to retrieve my mother’s memento. I placed the hair ornament and the audio recorder into a small box. At the appointed time, I arrived at the designated location. But upon arrival, I realized I’d been tricked. A large table full of people, all of them Kris’s usual friends from back home. He and Skye sat in the center, laughing and chatting jovially with everyone. At the sound of the door opening, every eye in the room shifted to me. Kris offered an explanation: “Skye said she really wanted to meet my friends, so I took the opportunity to invite everyone. You don’t mind, do you?” Someone, eager for drama, quickly pulled out a chair for me. “Oh, Chloe’s here! Come, come, we were just waiting for you!” I didn’t sit. Instead, I placed the box containing the hair ornament on the table. “Here’s your item back,” I said. “Now, where’s mine?” Kris froze for a few seconds, then clicked his tongue. “Oh, damn, I completely forgot.” “Then please mail it to me as soon as possible. I have other commitments.” “Chloe, don’t leave! If you go, everyone will think I’m the home-wrecker!” She frowned slightly, feigning an innocent expression. I just smiled. “Aren’t you?” The private room fell silent. Skye’s face visibly darkened. Kris shot me an annoyed glance. “Sit down, Chloe. I’ll call my driver; he’ll bring it over in a bit.” While waiting for Kris’s driver to deliver the item, the group resumed their lively chatter. Kris was right; Skye was indeed quite audacious. She spoke with lively confidence, clearly the center of attention. Someone asked, “Skye, we heard you used to be a grid girl when you were abroad? Tell us all about it!” At that, her eyes lit up, and she grew even more animated. While I quietly sipped my tea, she launched into a detailed monologue, covering everything from racing rules to techniques, sounding as if she’d been a veteran of the sport for years. “Do you know,” she gushed, “I absolutely adore the racetrack! Not only do you get that adrenaline rush, but you also meet so many amazing, handsome drivers.” Skye shot a pointed glance at Kris, who was already gazing at her, his eyes full of tender admiration. She sighed dramatically. “Oh, it’s a shame, though. That racing license is just impossible to get! I’ve tried so many times and failed.” The others, unfamiliar with the racing world, found her stories utterly captivating. “Wow, Skye, you’re already incredible! None of the girls we know have ever even touched a race car.” “Yeah, Ollie, you’ve got great taste. Finding such a gorgeous and fierce girl!” Kris instinctively glanced over at me, but I just kept my head down, sipping my tea, not uttering a word. 3 Skye followed his gaze to me, then suddenly asked, “Chloe, do you know anything about racing?” At her question, a ripple of laughter immediately spread through the group. “Her? How could she understand such a thrilling sport? Miss Hayes barely steps foot outside her family estate; she’d probably faint dead away at the racetrack!” “Now, now, don’t say that. Who says Chloe never leaves the house? I’ve seen her running to Ollie’s place often enough. Tsk, who says knowing how to cater to someone isn’t a skill?” Skye’s eyes widened, and she gasped, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh? Really? My apologies, then. That was rather tactless of me. But it’s fine, really. Everyone has their own unique value, after all.” Then she turned to Kris, pouting playfully. “Ollie, I’m terrible at catering to people. When we get married, you’ll definitely have to find your parents a maid as competent as Chloe, won’t you?” A fresh wave of laughter erupted around the table. I clenched my fists, then relaxed them. As soon as I had my memento back, I wouldn’t stay here for another second. Skye pulled a ticket from her bag and had someone pass it to me. “Chloe,” she said, “this is a ticket to next month’s race. I just happened to have an extra one. Ollie and I will both be competing, so you should definitely come and broaden your horizons, alright?” I looked at the ticket and smiled. Wasn’t this the very race I’d just registered for? Too fed up to argue, I drained my teacup, then looked up at Kris. “Ask your driver where my item is,” I demanded. Kris made the call, then his brow suddenly furrowed. “Chloe, it seems I can’t give you your item just yet.” I shot to my feet, a bewildered expression on my face. Kris rubbed his temples, not bothering to lie. “I distinctly remember putting it in the box, but… it’s suddenly gone.” What did he mean, ‘suddenly gone’? That was the only thing my mother had left me. I would turn the entire place upside down if I had to, but I would find it. Skye paid no attention to my exchange with Kris. She was standing, reaching for a bottle of red wine in the center of the table. As she bent, something around her neck was perfectly exposed. It was my intricately carved jade pendant! “Wait!” I quickly stopped her, pointing to her neck. “That jade pendant you’re wearing right now – that’s mine.” Everyone fell silent, their gazes fixed on us. Skye turned to Kris, unhurried. “Ollie, Chloe says this is hers, but how can she prove it?” Kris was momentarily speechless. He had never truly cared for me, so it was unlikely he had ever really looked closely at the token. But I remembered. “The carving on it depicts two dragons playing with a pearl, intricate and pierced through, with their bodies intertwined. On one side, there’s a faint yellow spot, a slight imperfection.” That pendant had never left my side before I turned twenty; every single detail of it was etched into my memory. Skye held up the pendant, examining it front and back, then turned to Kris, smiling. “Ollie,” she cooed, “even if it is Chloe’s, I’ve taken a liking to it. Can’t I just keep it?” “No, you can’t,” I stated, my voice firm. “You need to return it to me right now, immediately.” On this, I would not yield an inch. Kris stood, gently patting Skye’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort, then frowned at me. “Come on, Chloe, don’t make such a big deal out of it. It’s just a pendant. Name your price, and I’ll transfer the money to you right away.” What on earth was he talking about? I was so frantic, I felt tears welling. I shouted, “That’s the only thing my mother left me! It’s her memento, her last belonging! Don’t you understand?!” At my words, the private room plunged into an even deeper silence, a stifling, death-like hush. “A memento? Why didn’t you say so sooner! I don’t want anything so ill-omened!” Skye abruptly ripped the pendant from her neck and, as if it were trash, slammed it onto the table without a thought. CRACK— With a single impact, the jade pendant split in two, right down the middle. In that instant, an emotional tsunami crashed over me, swallowing every last shred of my composure. I finally snapped. I lunged forward, seized Skye by her hair, and slammed her head onto the table. With my other hand, I smashed a wine glass and aimed its sharp, jagged edge at her terrified face. “Ah! You’re insane!” Skye shrieked. The entire room erupted into chaos. Kris instantly grabbed my wrist, halting my next move. Glass had sliced into my hand, and blood trickled from between my fingers, staining his hand as well. “Chloe Hayes, can you calm down?! The item is already broken, and you’re bleeding!” I suppressed the murderous urge surging within me, violently yanked my arm free, and trembling, picked up the shattered jade from the table, trying to piece it back together, but it would never be whole again. Tears finally streamed down my face. I hadn’t cried when the engagement was broken, nor when others insulted me. But this time, I couldn’t hold back any longer. Kris tentatively touched my shoulder, a hint of guilt in his voice. “Stop trying. It’s already broken. Be careful; don’t hurt yourself further.” “Get lost!” I screamed at him, slapping him hard across the face. Under his stunned gaze, I carefully gathered the broken pendant pieces and walked out without a backward glance. Every last shred of affection I had ever felt for Kris was, at that moment, finally ripped out by the roots. I had nothing left to lose, nothing left to hold me back.

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My sugar daddy brought me to a fancy party, and I got into a massive brawl with his childhood sweetheart. When he finally pulled me out of the chaos, I glared at him through my messy hair. “Picking sides, are we?” He said nothing. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it in his face. “I’m dumping you.” 1 I was Clark Croft’s kept woman. I’d been with him for three years. He was handsome, rich, and incredible in bed. He was generous with me, too. His only rule? No kissing scenes. It cost me a few roles and earned me a reputation for being “stuck-up,” but I didn’t care. I’ve always been the type to play by the rules and never cause him trouble. I just never imagined my first time causing trouble would be this big. I beat up the woman he’d supposedly been in love with his whole life, who had just returned from overseas. 2 It all started when Clark asked me to be his date to a party. I never fit in with his high-society crowd and was tempted to refuse, but I’d been away filming for three months, and the truth was, I missed him. So I went. As expected, I ran into people I’d rather avoid. I tried to steer clear, but they always seemed to find me. I had just stepped out into the garden for a breath of fresh air when Evelyn and Cara followed me. Evelyn was Clark’s childhood friend. Her family had moved abroad a few years ago for business and had only recently returned. Cara was my arch-nemesis, the one who constantly paid for smear campaigns and negative press about me. I never would have guessed they knew each other. I sat on a bench, not wanting to move. Cara, arms crossed, started in with her thinly veiled insults. “Isn’t this Mr. Song’s engagement party? How did they let just anyone in?” Evelyn glanced at me, her tone flat. “Didn’t you drag me out here to talk? Is this it?” Cara shot her a sycophantic smile. “Don’t be in such a rush, Evie. It was so stuffy inside. Let’s get some air, we can chat while we walk.” Evelyn didn’t say anything, just leaned casually against the fountain. “Evie, are you and Clark getting married?” “Mm, it’s more or less decided.” “That’s wonderful! A match made in heaven. Some people should really know when to make a graceful exit.” Evelyn remained silent. Cara kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I turned to leave, but her next words stopped me in my tracks. “Some people aren’t just trash themselves, their families are a mess, too. That construction project disaster… so many people lost their jobs. If you ask me, the person in charge getting off with just a broken leg was karma.” My steps faltered. I turned, walked right up to her, and slapped her twice. Cara clutched her face, glaring at me. “Ivy, are you crazy?” I scoffed. “Talking behind my back is one thing, but did you really think I wouldn’t dare to hit you to your face?” Evelyn frowned at me. “Miss Shaw, this is the Song family’s home. Have you considered the consequences of your actions?” My gaze was sharp. “Miss Vance, if it were your parents being slandered like that, I hope you’d also have the presence of mind to consider the consequences first.” Evelyn didn’t answer, but Cara lunged, grabbing my hair. We tumbled into a heap, scratching and pulling. I don’t know how Evelyn got involved, but by the time Clark and the others arrived, the three of us were a tangled mess on the ground. Clark’s face was dark as he yanked me out of the fray. I was a complete wreck. Across from me, Evelyn looked much better. I leveled a cold glare at Clark. “Picking sides, are we?” His brow was furrowed, but he said nothing. I ripped the ring off my finger and threw it in his face. “I’m dumping you!” Holding my breath, I ran out of the garden, out of the house, and jumped into a taxi that had just pulled up. But I couldn’t hold back the tears. A wave of overwhelming hurt washed over me. I had just wrapped a shoot yesterday and had come to see him, filled with longing. We barely spoke, and then I get humiliated and he takes her side. My phone buzzed relentlessly. It was Clark. I answered, launching a preemptive strike. “The penthouse is in my name. You have one week to move out!” I hung up and blocked him on everything. That bastard. We were done. 3 I didn’t go back to the penthouse. I found a random hotel and checked in. After a shower, I finally calmed down enough to realize how insane my actions had been. I had to be the first kept woman to ever kick out her sugar daddy. I was getting bolder and bolder with him. In the beginning, I was the one who was timid and subservient. I first met Clark at an industry party. My agent was forcing me to schmooze with directors and investors. My family used to be well-off, but my father’s construction business had gone under. He not only broke his leg, but he also used every penny we had to compensate his workers. We were drowning in debt, and my parents were stressed to their breaking point. I wanted to help, so when a scout offered me a contract, I signed it without thinking. It was a predatory deal. I got no resources and was dragged to parties to drink with powerful men. I couldn’t afford to break the contract, so I dodged a few parties by faking illnesses. Until that night, when I had no choice but to go. I pushed open the door to a private room filled with middle-aged men. At the head of the table, Clark was a breath of fresh air, impossible to miss. But he was just leaving as I arrived. In a panic, I followed him out. “Sir,” I asked, “can I be with you?” He was a head taller than me and looked down. “And why is that? Do I look like the easiest target?” He looked like the hardest target, but I didn’t dare say that. I shook my head earnestly. “You’re the most handsome.” Clark chuckled. “I know.” I could sense his impatience. I wracked my brain. “You look like a good person.” A half-smile played on his lips. “You’re a bad judge of character, then.” And then he left, and my agent dragged me back inside. They forced a lot of alcohol on me. When a fat, greasy director’s hand landed on my thigh, I struggled, knocking over a glass. He slapped me, calling me ungrateful, and started pulling at my clothes. In a moment of desperation, I grabbed a shard of broken glass and stabbed him in the leg. I was sure I was going to jail. Then, the door to the room swung open, and Clark was standing there. He glanced inside, and the director, who had been squealing like a pig, fell silent. “Didn’t you want to be with me? What are you waiting for?” I dropped the glass shard and threw myself into his arms, shaking so hard I could barely stand. He held me until he carried me out of there. 4 Clark took me back to his penthouse on the South Bank. I had showered hours ago but was too scared to leave the bathroom. I could hear him on the phone outside, dealing with the mess from earlier. When the talking stopped, I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out. He was lounging on the sofa, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of his collarbones. I walked up to him, mustered all my courage, and dropped the towel. I didn’t dare to look up. He stood, picked up the towel, and wrapped it around me again. “Not very old, but you’ve got a lot of tricks,” he teased. My face was burning. “I… I’ve never been with anyone before… I don’t know the… procedure…” “Look at me.” I clutched the towel and forced myself to meet his eyes. His gaze was calm, with a playful glint that was both captivating and dangerous. “You trust me that much? Not afraid I’m worse than them?” A jolt of fear shot through me. I quickly tried to flatter him. “No way. Good-looking people are always kind.” He laughed, pulling me close until our bodies were pressed together. He bent his head and kissed me. It was my first kiss. My head was spinning. His thumb gently caressed my lips. “Go to sleep,” he murmured. “Are you scared to sleep alone?” I nodded dazedly. “Hm? Is that how you treat the person you’re with?” The upward lilt in his voice was a warning. I threw my arms around him. “I’m scared. I want you to hold me.” Satisfied, he tucked me into bed and went back outside to make another call. Half an hour later, he came back and held me as I fell asleep. For the next few days, I obsessively checked the news, but there was nothing about me. A week later, my predatory contract was terminated. Clark set me up with a new agency and a new agent. The director who had tried to assault me vanished from the industry. For three years, Clark gave me the best resources, roles that were perfect for me. I worked my way up from an unknown actress to a solid B-lister. My family’s debts were all paid off. My parents opened a small shop back home. Everything seemed to be getting better. Only I knew that things were getting worse. Because I was falling deeper and deeper for Clark. He was my benefactor, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him as my lover. I don’t know when it started. Falling in love with Clark was just too easy. 5 The next morning, I woke up to hundreds of missed calls, mostly from my agent, Claire. I had no idea what was going on. I quickly called her back, and her booming voice chased away all my drowsiness. “My dear God, you finally answered your phone! Do you have any idea what’s happening?” “What did you do last night? What is going on?” I was completely bewildered. While still on the phone, I checked the trending topics. #IvyShawAttacksCaraMiller #IvyShawGetOutOfShowbiz #IvyShawRetires A video of my fight with Cara had been leaked, but it was cleverly edited. It cut out everything before and after, showing only the few seconds where I lunged at her. I closed my eyes and explained everything to Claire, including the fact that I had broken up with Clark. After all, I didn’t have a sugar daddy to protect me anymore. Claire was silent for a long moment, then sighed. “Take a few days off. Stay off the internet. I’ll figure something out.” After hanging up, I watched the video again. It was shot from a hidden angle, clearly premeditated. Even Evelyn, who had been standing right there, was cropped out. The frame only showed me and Cara. The comments were a landslide. 【Ivy Shaw looks like such a bitch. And she actually hits people. Someone finally exposed her.】 【I heard she has a powerful sugar daddy. How else could she get so many good roles with her terrible acting?】 【Insider info: she was just a stand-in for his real love. Now that the real one is back, she’s been kicked to the curb.】 I knew from the “stand-in” comments that Cara was behind this, manipulating public opinion. But I felt strangely calm. Let them curse me. It was part of the job. As long as they left my family out of it, I could take it. As for being a stand-in, that was pure nonsense. When Clark and I first got together, he was so good to me it was almost unsettling. One time, he picked me up from a dinner party, and fueled by a bit of liquid courage, I asked him if I looked like someone he knew. He had wrapped his arms around me and flicked my forehead. “Getting a little too into your roles, are we? A stand-in? I don’t do that.” I pushed my luck and asked if there was anyone else. He scoffed. “Do I look like I have the time?” Getting that confirmation made me happy for a long time. Maybe Clark wasn’t deeply in love with me. Maybe it was the novelty, or maybe he was just too lazy to find someone new. It didn’t matter. At least while we were together, there was no one else. I could live without being loved. I could live without being his one and only. But I couldn’t live without that last shred of dignity. 6 Because of the sudden negative press, a variety show I was scheduled to appear on was canceled. Now I was stuck in my hotel room, afraid to go out. I was genuinely scared of anti-fans. Two years ago, I played a crazy, villainous character. The role was beautiful and unhinged, and I portrayed her so well that people said it didn’t seem like I was acting. I just never expected someone to confuse the character with the actor. While I was recovering from a leg injury, someone threw a hornet’s nest at me, trying to disfigure me. Thankfully, Clark arrived quickly. He set his own suit jacket on fire to drive the hornets away. A custom-made suit worth hundreds of thousands, gone just like that. I shook my head, trying to clear the thought of him. I checked my phone for missed calls and messages. Encouragement and comfort from all my friends. But nothing from Clark. Then it hit me. I had blocked him. On everything. I threw my phone down in a fit of pique. He was powerful enough. If he wanted to find me, he could. He just didn’t care. Sitting by the window, I felt so contradictory and dramatic. I knew it was impossible, but I couldn’t help but hold on to a sliver of hope. I always felt like he must like me, at least a little. After all, he was the one who came to me on New Year’s Eve, braving a snowstorm just to be with me. The first New Year I spent with him, I didn’t go home because of a tight schedule. I stayed at the penthouse. On New Year’s Eve, I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the front door open. I shot up in bed, grabbed a lamp, and crept to the door. Clark was standing in the foyer, snowflakes still clinging to his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at the lamp in my hand. “Is this how you welcome me on New Year’s?” I dropped the lamp and jumped on him. I wanted to ask him why he was here, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t want to hear that. So the words that came out were, “How is it that you appear the moment I think of you?” He carried me to the bedroom, his voice a teasing whisper in my ear. “Let me see just how much you were thinking of me.” Outside, the wind howled. Inside, the air was thick with heat. By the time he finished his shower, I was already half-asleep. In a daze, I felt him tuck a red envelope under my pillow and press a kiss to my forehead. “Happy New Year, Ivy.” The first New Year I spent without my parents, I wasn’t alone.

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Lysander tore up the marriage contract with my daughter to marry a mortal woman. He seized the dowry I had left for her. He even stole my daughter’s Celestial Core, all to grant that mortal woman immortality. On the mortal’s birthday, heedless of my daughter’s life hanging by a thread, he ripped out her Starlight Eyes and presented them as a gift. By the time I clawed my way out of the Maw, my daughter was clinging to life. Everyone in the Empyrean said the War-God was dead, fallen in the great war against the fiends. No one remembered my victories, and no one cared for a poor, orphaned girl. But those pampered celestials, fat on their leisure, had forgotten. Every ounce of their gilded honor was bought with my blood and bone. After five hundred years of being sealed in the Maw, I was finally free. The war had shattered my divine essence, my celestial frame nearly ground to dust. The fiends had thrown their entire race’s power into imprisoning me, certain I would perish. They were wrong. The thought of my daughter, my beautiful, radiant girl, was the one thing that kept me sane. I endured the soul-gnawing agony, the endless torment, and somehow, I survived. The moment I returned to the Empyrean, my only thought was to see her. But the return of a War-God shakes the celestial realm. Protocol demanded I first see the Celestial King and the assembled court. He held a grand feast in my honor, a celebration of my return. Yet, as I looked around the hall, the faces were a gallery of strained masks. There was no joy here. My eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a familiar figure in a shadowed corner. Lysander, the man my daughter had chosen herself. The Celestial King had decreed their betrothal just before I left. They were surely married by now. I walked towards him, my heart filled with a hopeful ache. “Your power has certainly grown, Lord Lysander. Where is my Elara? Why hasn’t she come to greet me?” His gaze darted away, his head bowed as he mumbled something incoherent. Was he shy, meeting his mother-in-law again? I always said he lacked backbone. The sole heir of the House of the Phoenix, yet he was shortsighted and timid. If Elara hadn’t been so utterly smitten, I would never have approved of such a match. “Lysander, I am speaking to you. You are at this feast, so why is my Elara not with you?” My brow furrowed, a killing frost creeping into my voice. Knowing Elara, she should have been the first to rush into my arms. Her absence was a cold knot of dread in my stomach. He pursed his lips, taking a long moment before answering. “Elara has a fiery temper. We argued recently, and she stormed off in a rage. I’ve sent my people to search everywhere, but there’s been no sign of her…” His words dripped with blame, painting my daughter as reckless and immature. But one thing stood out with chilling clarity: he had merely sent people to look for her. What, then, was he doing? Rage flared in my chest. I drew my blade, its ethereal light shimmering in the grand hall, and pointed the tip at his throat. “I entrusted my daughter to you. How could you let her wander off alone?” But five hundred years had passed, and Lysander had grown bold. He drew Godsbane—the very sword of the War-God, my sword—and met my gaze without a shred of guilt. “Her temper is a storm I cannot contain. She’s spoiled and cruel. If not for my respect for your final request, I would have disciplined her long ago!” “Discipline the daughter of a War-God? You dare?” My blade lunged forward. Lysander sidestepped the attack. “It is your indulgence that made her so arrogant! She torments the palace staff and was cruel to Lila. I warned her many times, but she refused to listen…” Tormenting staff? My Elara was the soul of kindness. She wouldn’t harm a fly. And cruelty to another? Utter nonsense. But that name he mentioned… Lila. It sounded like a woman’s name. “Who is Lila?” At my question, a flicker of something—guilt? unease?—crossed his face. I’ve walked this world for ten thousand years. I knew a lover’s lie when I heard one. He had found someone new and was now blaming Elara for “tormenting” her. “Lysander,” I reminded him, my voice like ice, “you swore an oath to marry my Elara and no other.” I had no more time to waste on him. Finding Elara was all that mattered. Following the faint, thrumming call of my own blood in her veins, I navigated the winding paths of the upper realms, the signal leading me far from the opulent palaces. It led me to a dilapidated hovel in the Bound Quarter, a place for outcasts and servants. Outside the crumbling door, I heard a sharp, venomous voice. “You little bitch, that War-God mother of yours is long dead! Why are you still clinging to life? Just die and get it over with. Lady Lila is tired of us having to deal with you.” War-God mother… That was me. Which meant the person inside… was my Elara. A furious inferno erupted in my soul. I kicked the door off its hinges and stormed inside. The sight that greeted me froze the very blood in my veins. My mind went blank, a roaring void, as if the entire Empyrean had just collapsed upon me. “Elara! What… what have they done to you?” I dropped to my knees, gathering the frail, skeletal figure into my arms. Her life force was a guttering candle flame. Her Celestial Core was gone, and only the single drop of my War-God’s Ichor I’d placed in her heart was keeping her tethered to this world. She lay limply on the crude bed, her face a mask of desolate, vacant despair. This was my child, but a ghost of the girl I knew. When I left, I had arranged everything for her. How had my vibrant, cherished daughter become this broken thing? “…Mother? Mother, is that you?” Elara whispered, her voice a dry rasp. Her hands reached out, fumbling blindly in the air. It was only then that I saw it. My poor, darling girl… her eyes were nothing but hollow, empty sockets. “My child! Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so late.” Tears streamed down my face—I, who had not shed a tear in ten thousand years of bloodshed, was weeping uncontrollably. “Who did this? Who did this to you?” All of Elara’s former vibrancy was gone. She collapsed into my embrace, her sobs weak and broken. Her Celestial Core had been carved out, her Starlight Eyes gouged from their sockets. The Ichor in her chest pulsed with a faint, fading light. Soon, it would be depleted. And then… she would be extinguished forever. My body trembled with a fear I had never known, a terror more profound than any I had faced on the battlefield. “Who are you? How dare you trespass in Lady Lila’s residence?” The shrill, cruel voice sounded again from behind me. Elara gasped for breath, but instead of words, a trickle of blood spilled from her lips. “I have never heard of any ‘Lady Lila’ in the Empyrean,” I snarled, gently laying Elara down and turning to face the servant. “And who gave her the right to torture the daughter of a War-God?” “Hah!” The woman spat on the ground, her face a caricature of smug disdain. “There is only one War-God in the Empyrean now, and that is my Lady Lila’s husband, the mighty Lord Lysander! You? You’re just some imposter trying to cash in on a dead name!” Footsteps sounded at the door. An older man and a younger boy entered. The old man was a vile-looking creature, his words slurring. “H-how dare you! Trespassing in the War-God’s residence! G-guards! Seize this little bitch and this lying hag!” The boy next to him nodded eagerly, puffing out his chest with borrowed arrogance. I could bear it no longer. With a wave of my hand, ropes of pure energy bound the three of them like trussed-up pigs and tossed them into a corner. I immediately turned back to Elara, pouring my divine power into her, doing everything I could to stabilize her fragile hold on life. Behind me, the wails and screams began. It turned out they were a family. “I’m Lady Lila’s own father! You’re in for it now, you old crone! My son-in-law is the War-God of the Empyrean, Lord Lysander himself!” The father’s screeching was grating. My hand flicked. A blade of pure energy shot from my fingertips and pierced his heart. He died before his body hit the floor. His wife and son stared, their eyes wide with disbelief. The boy pointed a trembling finger at me. “You… you killed him! Aren’t you afraid of what my brother-in-law, the War-God, will do to you?” Afraid? There was no one in the Empyrean who had the right to make me afraid. It all clicked into place. These were the family of the mortal, Lila, whom Lysander had mentioned. And Lysander had not only abandoned my Elara for this woman, but he had allowed Lila and her vile family to torture my daughter to the brink of death. I sent another blade of energy forward, but this time, I did not grant them a quick end. My Elara had suffered. A swift death was a mercy they didn’t deserve. “Shut your mouths,” I commanded, my voice low and seething as the killing intent from a thousand battlefields washed over them. “One more sound, and I will unmake you.” The two of them froze, petrified. A dark stain spread across the floor beneath them as their bladders gave way. With a single, sweeping gesture, I obliterated the wretched hovel. I stuffed the whimpering mother and son into a bestiary pouch and, cradling the barely conscious Elara, returned to the Aegis Hall—our home. But as I approached the grand entrance, I stopped, a bitter, mirthless laugh escaping my lips. The place had a new master. The two lanterns crafted from the bones of slain fiends, my trophies, were gone. In their place hung sickly-sweet pink lanterns woven from cherry blossoms. “Where are the Bone-Fiend Lanterns of the Aegis Hall?” I asked a nearby servant, my voice tight. The servant looked me up and down, his expression disdainful. “Lady Lila is compassionate and kind. She could not bear the sight of those macabre things, so they were taken down and sent for purification rites.” He then shot a venomous glare at the girl in my arms. “That Elara tried to stop it. If Lord Lysander hadn’t struck her unconscious and destroyed the lanterns himself, she would have caused an even bigger scene. Truly, a weed that refuses to die. Why did you have to bring her back?” His voice was filled with annoyance, as if he assumed I was just another servant of the hall. The rage that had been simmering within me finally boiled over. My poor Elara, beaten for trying to protect my legacy. I had told her those lanterns were a symbol of my trial to become the War-God. Of course she would defend them. And this Lila… to hell with her compassion. Where was her compassion when the fiends were slaughtering innocents across the realms? “You dare call my daughter a weed?” My voice dropped to a lethal whisper as I advanced on him. I seized him by the throat, my fingers like iron bands. “It is vermin like you who should be stamped out first.” He choked and sputtered, his life slowly crushed out of him by my power. I kicked open the doors of the Aegis Hall, ready to bring my daughter home. But an invisible barrier, a ward, blocked my path. “Since when does my own hall have wards placed against me?” With a contemptuous sweep of my hand, I shattered the shimmering barrier into a thousand pieces. From within the hall, a woman of exquisite, fragile beauty emerged. She was followed by a phalanx of divine guards, who immediately surrounded Elara and me. One of them recognized me. “Aethel… Lady Aethel? Is that you?” Lady Aethel. So, with Lysander now the “War-God,” my old subordinates no longer dared to call me by my true title. “What is this?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Have you come to bar my way?” The guards exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them stepped back. Marcus, a man I had personally raised from a beaten servant to my second-in-command, stepped forward. “My lady, times have changed. This is now the residence of Lord Lysander, the War-God. You were my benefactor, and I don’t wish for this to be ugly. I must ask you to leave.” The breath I was holding finally tore from my lungs in a ragged gasp, and I tasted blood. “In the Great War,” I began, my voice trembling with betrayal, “I stood alone to defend this realm so that all of you could live. You knelt behind me then, swearing oaths to protect Elara with your lives…” I gestured to my broken child. “Now my daughter has been nearly murdered, and you stand here as accomplices to her tormentors?” Marcus’s face was a mask of conflict. He clenched his fists. “Lady Elara’s fate is of her own making. You yourself taught us: we serve justice, not family. If she hadn’t been so arrogant, so cruel to Lady Lila, none of this would have happened…” “Fine,” I snarled, the word ripping from my throat. “Fine. A fine lesson in justice.” Since they all believed us to be the villains, I would show them what true villainy looked like. I unleashed only a fraction of my power, but it was enough. The self-righteous guards who once served me were thrown back, broken and gasping, left with just enough life to feel their failure. “Learn this lesson well,” I spat at their crumpled forms. “This is what it means to throw your weight around.” With them neutralized, I turned my attention to the delicate, tear-streaked beauty before me. This had to be Lila. She did have a face that inspired pity. “Your eyes,” I said with a slow, chilling smile as I stepped toward her and lifted her chin with my fingers. “They are quite captivating. Tell me, do the Celestial Core and Starlight Eyes of a War-God’s daughter sit well within you?” I had felt it the moment I saw her. Within her body pulsed the divine power that belonged to my daughter. She didn’t speak, only let two perfect streams of tears roll down her cheeks before sinking to her knees in a graceful heap. “Lila greets Aunt Aethel,” she whispered, her voice trembling beautifully. “I never asked for the Celestial Core or the Starlight Eyes. If they displease you, Aunt, you may take them back for Sister Elara this very moment. These last few days, I have been tormented by guilt, unable to sleep, for I never wished to take what belonged to my sister… Thank the heavens you have returned. Please, take them back. It would be a release for me…” She closed her eyes, a flawless performance of a martyr awaiting her fate. I was not some fool to be swayed by such a pathetic, calculated display. But just as I reached out to reclaim what was stolen, Lysander appeared. “Stop! Get your hands off Lila!” he roared, his face contorted with fury as he rushed to shield her. “Aethel, you go too far! The Empyrean is no longer your personal fiefdom. I suggest you learn some restraint.” My fiefdom? The absurdity was breathtaking. When the celestial realms were weak and faltering, I was the only one who could lead their armies. A woman, fighting for ten thousand years, who single-handedly drove back the fiends and secured a hundred-thousand-year truce. And now that peace reigned, my sacrifice was twisted into tyranny? There was nothing left to say. Elara needed to be healed. I drew my power, ready for battle. “Lysander, you conspired with others to harm my daughter, to nearly extinguish her life. Today, as her mother, I will claim justice for her!” “Watch your words, Aethel,” he retorted, parrying my initial assault. “I never harmed Elara. Your accusations are baseless.” A coward who wouldn’t even admit to his own deeds. I allowed a sliver of Elara’s fading life force to flare out from my arms. “Look! Look what you have done to my child, and you still dare to deny it?” Lysander faltered for a second, a flicker of shock on his face, and my energy blade scored a deep cut across his shoulder. “How… How could Elara’s life force be so faint? Who did this to you? Who hurt you?” “Oh, spare me the act,” I sneered, my voice dripping with contempt. “I rescued my daughter from a squalid hovel owned by your new War-Godship. It seems the dogs you keep have learned to bite.” My eyes blazed with a murderous light. I wanted to tear him limb from limb. Lysander’s expression hardened. “What hovel?” he demanded coldly. And there it was. He didn’t know. He had no idea that the precious Lila he protected with his life had tried to murder my Elara.

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1 Every year, in the isolated hollow of Blackwood Creek, a girl of age is chosen to be the Patron’s Bride. The chosen one must enter the sacred cavern to lie with the Patron, a mysterious entity the town has worshipped for generations. If she emerges alive, she becomes a revered Matriarch, and any child conceived from the union is said to be blessed with a life of fortune. If she dies… well, the town simply waits for the next year’s Bride. The “blessing” of her sacrifice is then said to pass to her family. But no one ever wanted to be chosen. Families fled the valley, pulling their daughters out of school, anything to escape the selection. Except for me. I volunteered. Because I had a hunger. A desperate, gnawing curiosity to know what a god felt like. The day before the spring equinox, I was sprawled on my bed, scrolling through my phone, when a crowd of people flooded into our yard. Elder Hawthorne, the town’s de facto leader, was at the forefront. “Elara,” he boomed, a grin stretching across his weathered face. “We’ve come to give you the good news!” I shot up from my bed. “Elder Hawthorne, does this mean… I’ve been chosen? Can I be the Patron’s Bride?” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “Your sister Clara was the Bride just last year, so your name wasn’t meant to be in the running. But since you insisted so fiercely, we had no choice but to open the Sanctum and ask the founders.” “We cast the stones three times,” he continued, his voice dropping to a solemn tone, “and three times, the founders gave their consent. It is settled.” “Yes!” I practically leaped into the air with joy. “Calm yourself, child,” the Elder said, handing me a list. “Here is what you will need to prepare. We will escort you from your home at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I’ve asked a few of the more experienced women to help you get ready. You can ask them anything you don’t understand.” “Oh, thank you, thank you! I’m… well, I’m not very experienced. What exactly will I need to do… in the cavern?” I asked, trying to sound shy. Martha, my neighbor and one of the town’s older women, frowned. “We’ll instruct you on that tonight. For now, we must prepare your ceremonial gown.” I dashed into my room and returned a moment later, clutching a full ensemble—a deep crimson gown, hand-embroidered with ancient symbols, and an ornate headpiece. “I’ve always dreamed of marrying the Patron,” I announced breathlessly. “I’ve had this ready for a long time.” Our town had fallen on hard times. More and more people were leaving for the cities to find work, leaving Blackwood Creek to rot. I was the last unmarried woman of a certain age left. That’s why, even at twenty-eight, I was still considered a candidate. As someone who had supposedly dreamed of this day my entire life, I had prepared for it meticulously. As soon as the Elder and the other men left, I eagerly turned to the women. “So, how do I please the Patron?” Martha followed me into my bedroom. Her eyes immediately fell on the collection of objects scattered across my bed. Her face went pale. “Elara,” she whispered, her voice tight. “Tell me true. Are you… untouched?” “Of course, I am.” “Then what are these?” she asked, gesturing at the mess. With a flourish, I gathered the items and began to explain. “This is my secret weapon. For years, none of the Brides have conceived the Patron’s child, have they? It’s because the women themselves aren’t prepared. So, I consulted a wise woman, a seer, and she told me I needed to use these. With their help,” I declared, “I can have as many of his children as he desires.” Martha took one of the objects from me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and intrigue. “This… this thing is that powerful?” “It is. If you like them, I can give you one each. I have plenty.” I opened a drawer and pulled out several brand-new, still-in-the-box items, handing one to each of the wide-eyed women. Each was worth a small fortune, and just like that, they were bought. They not only taught me the secret words to whisper to the Patron, but they also impressed upon me one critical rule: no matter what happens in the cavern, I must not, under any circumstances, open my eyes. Filled with a rush of excitement, I decided to share my most precious secret. “Martha,” I began, leaning in conspiratorially, “the seer who advised me… she said I have a blessed womb. She said I’m like fertile soil—if someone tills the land, a forest is sure to grow.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “That’s why I’ve kept myself pure for so long. No man is worthy of this body, except for the Patron.” Clatter. The device in Martha’s hand slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. When she saw me looking, she forced a smile back onto her face. “That’s wonderful, dear. The future of our town rests on your shoulders.” 2 To be certain, after I had fasted and bathed as instructed, they laid me down on the bed to perform the final check. Two of Martha’s fingers probed, struggling to find any purchase. Finally, she sighed with relief. “You are pure, Elara. The Patron will be pleased,” she said, her voice softening. “Now listen closely. What I’m about to tell you is the key to winning his favor. You cannot make a single mistake.” They drilled me until midnight, going over every last detail until I was dizzy with instructions. The next morning at eight, I was brought to the Sanctum. It stood in the heart of the village, a grim, windowless building that only men were permitted to enter. Women were forbidden from even kneeling at its door. The only exception was the Patron’s Bride. As I stepped over the threshold, a wave of vertigo washed over me. It felt like I’d seen this all before in a dream, a scene I couldn’t quite grasp, the details slipping through my fingers like sand. “Don’t just stand there daydreaming,” Martha hissed. “Kneel and pray to the founders for their blessing.” “Yes, of course.” Half an hour of tedious rituals later, I was finally led to the courtyard behind the Sanctum. They intended to change me into the ceremonial gown right there, out in the open sun. I clutched the front of my simple dress, hesitant. “Here? But… the men from the neighboring houses can see. My body is for the Patron alone. They are not worthy.” Martha’s eyes flashed with impatience. “Those men are the ones who inspect you for the Patron. Only if you pass their examination will you be worthy of ascending the mountain.” I fell silent and let my hands drop. No matter how many X-rated films you’ve watched, nothing prepares you for the hot blush that creeps up your neck when the last piece of your clothing falls away in front of strangers. Another half hour passed. Dressed in the magnificent crimson gown and ornate headdress, I emerged from the back of the Sanctum. As I looked up, I saw several of the town’s elder men staring, their eyes bloodshot, their throats working as they swallowed. Elder Hawthorne nodded, satisfied. “Let’s begin.” At his signal, music began to swell from unseen players. Unlike the joyous tunes of a normal wedding, the music for the Patron was a somber, ancient dirge. Its melody was both grand and unsettling, its notes seeming to bore into your very soul. My head grew fuzzy, and I forgot everything, my feet moving automatically, following the procession out of the Sanctum. Halfway down the path, my left foot caught on my right. I pitched forward, crying out as I fell to my knees. My palms scraped violently across the rough stone path, leaving a smear of blood in my wake. “To see blood on such an auspicious day! This is a terrible omen!” Elder Hawthorne’s face darkened with anger. I quickly pulled a small charm from a hidden pocket in my gown. “Elder, don’t worry! The seer gave me this lucky charm. It ensures my success in all things,” I said, my voice bright and confident. “Besides, she foretold that my day would begin with sorrow but end in joy. This bleeding only proves that everything from this moment on will go perfectly!” My words seemed to placate him and the other elders, and the procession continued. But for some reason, the cuts on my hands wouldn’t stop bleeding, leaving a faint, crimson trail behind us. The stinging pain made it impossible to focus on the hypnotic music. As we reached the trailhead leading up the mountain, a black cloth was tied over my eyes. The Patron desires purity in his Bride’s gaze, the Elder had explained. I was not to look upon the wild spirits of the mountain, lest he find me tainted. With my vision gone, my other senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. I could feel the uneven ground beneath my feet, the path turning from worn stone to dirt and roots. The music behind me seemed to intensify, crawling under my skin, inescapable. The air changed, too, losing the smoky scent of the village and taking on a cold, clean fragrance. I instinctively clenched my fists, and the pain in my palms flared. I don’t know how long we walked, but I could feel the sun beating down directly overhead when they finally allowed me to remove the blindfold. Before me was a winding, narrow path. It ended at a yawning cavern, a mouth leading into endless shadow. Beside it stood a colossal tree, its branches reaching for the sky. The intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air, so thick you could almost taste it. The villagers claimed this tree had fed on the essence of countless Brides, which was how it grew so tall, so fragrant. Ten yards from the cavern’s entrance, the procession came to a sudden halt. Elder Hawthorne’s small, cloudy eyes fixed on me. “Are you certain you want to go in?” 3 My cheeks flushed, a blush of what I hoped looked like shy anticipation. I gazed at the dark maw of the cavern. “I am.” “The Patron is said to be tall and handsome, a match beyond compare,” I said, my voice thick with feigned desire. “I’m not getting any younger, and I’ve never known the touch of a man.” My crude words made the men around me frown. Even Elder Hawthorne seemed displeased. But I had passed all their tests that morning. And I was, by my own declaration, the fertile vessel they so desperately wanted. No matter how much he disliked me, he had to let me go. “The village has no other unmarried girls, Elara. This difficult duty falls to you,” he said, his tone grim. “When you are in there, think of your parents. You’re the only child they have left.” My face grew even redder. “Don’t you worry, Elder. I promise I’ll come out with the Patron’s child. My parents will have a grandchild to dote on, and our village will prosper!” No one but me was allowed to set foot in the Patron’s domain. They could only escort me this far. Under their watchful eyes, I walked quickly down the narrow path and stepped into the cavern. The scent of jasmine and the warmth of the sun vanished behind me, replaced by the damp, cloying smell of rot and decay. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. And then I saw him. At the end of the passage, a powerfully built man sat on a throne carved from stone. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. “Are you… the Patron?” The man didn’t move. He made no sound. As I drew closer, I could see his head was tilted back slightly, his chest rising and falling in the shallowest of breaths. Following Martha’s instructions, I knelt and bowed my head to the ground. “Your Bride is here to present her gift,” I murmured. “I am Elara of the House of Croft. I am twenty-eight years of age. After tonight, I am your woman.” Martha had said the Patron would not unwrap his gift himself. I had to offer myself to him. As a woman of my age, though I had no real experience, I’d done my research. I knew the steps. With every step I took, another piece of my ceremonial gown fell away. By the time I stood before him, I wore nothing but my most delicate underthings. The air in the cave was frigid, and a shiver wracked my body. Martha’s words echoed in my mind: The Patron will not move, but his body is warm. You must press yourself against him, use his heat to warm yourself. Otherwise, you won’t survive two days in the cold. I reached out and unfastened his clothes. His skin was warm to the touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, and my legs went weak. I practically melted into his arms. “Patron…” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. “You’re so warm. Won’t you hold me?” “I never knew you’d be so handsome,” I purred. “If I’d known how good it was to be the Patron’s Bride, I never would have let my sister come here last year. She was useless, you know. Only lasted three days before she died. Don’t you worry,” I whispered, my voice turning husky, “I’m much stronger than she was. I’m sure I can take whatever you dish out.” I thought his body felt… pliant. Not stiff and unmoving like Martha had described. Was it because the day was so warm? According to the rules, it was time to proceed to the next step. I pulled his expensive clothes from his body, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Soon, he was as bare as I was. In the dim light filtering from the cave entrance, I could make out the hard planes of his stomach. I couldn’t resist pressing my cheek against his eight-pack. “Did my sister touch you here, Patron?” My fingers trailed slowly, deliberately, downwards. “What about here? Did the other Brides touch you here? Did they tell you how… impressive you are?” Was it my imagination, or did I feel a faint tremor run through his body? No, Martha said the Patron never moved. It was up to the Bride to do all the work if she wanted to conceive his child. I took a deep breath, positioned myself over his hips, and lowered myself down. His body bucked upwards in a sharp, involuntary thrust. I was still reeling from the shock of his movement when, in the next instant, the cavern was suddenly filled with people…

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My wife melted my parents’ gold memorial busts and gave the gold to a college student she sponsored. He posed with the gold bars, flashing a finger heart and a sickly sweet smile: “Got a golden gift! Kisses to my favorite angel investor~” I called Catherine, my voice icy. “You melted my parents’ memorials. Explain.” She replied flatly, “They’ve been dead for decades. The gold was better spent on Leo’s research than wasted on the dead.” I clenched the phone. “Return their ashes in ten minutes.” She scoffed. “That trash? I threw it out.” Ten minutes later, police arrested Leo for grand larceny, and he was expelled. Meanwhile, Cross Group’s stock crashed, wiping out billions. If she wanted to cross every line, I’d play her game—my way. 1 When my security team dragged Leo out, his handsome face was already a bruised, swollen mess, a smear of crimson staining the corner of his mouth. His bloodied fingers were still desperately clutching the last gold bar to his chest. The next second, my leather shoe ground down on his trembling hand. Taking the gold bar from my bodyguard, I studied the audacious college kid before me. “Adrian Blackwood! What the hell is wrong with you?” he howled, his eyes spitting defiance even as his body trembled uncontrollably. A choked scream escaped him. I crouched down, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. The venomous hatred in his eyes was crystal clear. “Catherine gave these to me! What right do you have to take them?” he shrieked, struggling against my grip. A faint, tell-tale love bite was still visible on his throat. I tapped his pale cheek with the corner of the gold bar. “Yours?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm. “It seems Catherine forgot to mention who the real owner of these gold bars is.” The blood-streaked ingot landed in the safe with a heavy thud, the sound making him flinch. He still didn’t seem to understand that some things can’t be acquired just by being young and handsome. Things like this pile of gold. Things like… Catherine. Leo’s gaze faltered for a moment, but he quickly tilted his chin up again. “Catherine said she was giving them to me, so they’re mine! She always keeps her word!” he declared. “You just wait. She’ll make you pay for this!” I instantly lost interest. Wasting my breath on- a low-life fool like this was pointless. I turned away from him and gave a cold command to my bodyguards. “Take him downstairs. It’s time he sobered up.” They moved at once, seizing Leo without a word. “What are you doing? Get off me!” Leo yelled, his struggles futile. “Catherine! Help me!” My men remained impassive as they delivered another round of brutal punches and kicks. Before he could even process the pain, one of them grabbed him by the hair and dragged him before me like a sack of dead weight, forcing him to his knees. His face was ashen, no different from a cornered sewer rat. All the smug swagger from his social media post had vanished. “Stop!” A familiar female voice cut through the air. Catherine was rushing toward us, her stilettos clicking furiously on the pavement. Her perfectly applied makeup couldn’t hide the panic and rage on her face. She carefully helped Leo to his feet, then spun to face me, her eyes blazing. “Adrian, are you insane?” she seethed. “It’s just a pile of gold! You’re not short on cash. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” A pile of gold? That “pile of gold” contained the remains of my parents. She had desecrated their remains, and now she had the audacity to call me petty? It seemed lust had truly rotted her brain. I didn’t mind reminding her of a few things. “Catherine, it seems I’ve been far too lenient with you. You knew exactly what was inside those memorials, yet you dared to give them away,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “You’ve completely forgotten my rules.” My tone was even, but Catherine’s face instantly went pale. Yet Leo, the fool, was still running his mouth. “What woman doesn’t love a handsome, caring guy?” he sneered. “You’re just pissed that Catherine likes me. You’re jealous!” My gaze turned glacial as I looked at Catherine. “You know what I’m capable of. Do I need to remind you again?” “The ashes,” Catherine stammered, her face tight with a fear I knew well. “I’ll return them to you immediately.” There was a story she knew. A cocky trust-fund kid once mouthed off to me. The next day, his body was found at the bottom of a ravine. “Leo, apologize. Now,” she commanded, her fists clenched. “But Catherine—” “I said, apologize!” The reality of the situation finally seemed to dawn on Leo. The powerful woman he saw as his protector was nothing more than an ant in my eyes. He finally bowed his head, his voice a sullen mumble. “Mr. Blackwood, I’m… sorry.” I let out a cold laugh and climbed into the waiting Cayenne. Through the window, I saw Catherine gently tending to Leo’s wounds, dabbing at them with a handkerchief. The look of tender concern in her eyes was one she once reserved only for me. Five years ago, the Cross Group had gone bankrupt. Her parents, facing ruin and prosecution, had taken their own lives, leaving behind a mountain of debt. Catherine had waited for me for three days and nights in a blinding snowstorm, her tears freezing on her face. “Mr. Blackwood, I’ll give you everything I have. Just please, save me.” In that moment, she had moved me. Not just with her tenacity, but with her rare and desperate courage. I offered her a deal: marry me. She accepted without hesitation. In the five years since, I had poured my resources and energy into rebuilding the Cross Group, transforming it into an industry titan and placing it at the top of the financial world. Catherine, in turn, had grown from a timid, broken girl into a formidable powerhouse in the business world. I had believed our bond was unbreakable. Until today. Until she crossed the ultimate line for another man. 2 When I arrived home, the ceramic urns containing my parents’ ashes were sitting on my desk. My fingertips gently traced the cool, smooth surface. Ultimately, I sent the unfiled lawsuit documents to Catherine’s email. If she had any sense left, she’d know what to do. It was my final warning. Five years of marriage. I was willing to give her one last chance to choose. All she had to do was come to her senses, cut her losses, and get rid of that repulsive boy. Everything could go back to the way it was. But she seemed determined to walk straight off a cliff. The next morning, my assistant knocked frantically on my office door. “Mr. Blackwood, the board just appointed Leo as the new Chief Technology Officer…” I stared at the arrogant eyes in the resume photo, and a chill spread across my face. In his headshot, Leo wore an ill-fitting designer suit, a provocative smirk on his lips. His resume was even more brazen: Expelled in junior year of university. Zero work experience. Position sought: CTO. The absurdity was staggering. The previous CTO was a company veteran, a top talent in the industry whom I had personally headhunted with a massive salary. And now he was being replaced by this… waste of space? A cold smile touched my lips. “Notify the board,” I said, my voice sharp. “Effective immediately, Catherine Cross is no longer the CEO of the Cross Group.” My assistant hesitated. “Sir, if you act so decisively, Mrs. Blackwood will be furious…” “Just do it,” I cut him off. As I stepped out of my office, I could hear Leo’s voice booming down the hall. “So what if I got expelled? I’ve got Catherine in my corner! She’s all the backing I need!” Someone immediately chimed in with fawning agreement. “The last guy was one of Mr. Blackwood’s handpicked men, and she still fired him for you! That’s never happened before!” another voice added. “She dotes on you. You’d better take good care of her…” Leo chuckled. “Of course. What woman could resist a perfect man like me?” My steps faltered. The look in my eyes turned to ice. Noticing my change in demeanor, my assistant strode forward and sent Leo sprawling with a swift kick. “Where did this piece of trash crawl out from?” Leo scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of disbelief. “I’m with the CEO! Do you want me to have her fire you right now?” I walked slowly towards him, looking down from my full height. “The CEO, you say?” I drawled. “As long as I’m here, she calls none of the shots.” His face drained of all color. “Adrian Blackwood, what gives you the right?!” “The fact that I own 80% of the Cross Group’s shares.” His eyes burned with impotent rage, but all he could do was bite his lip and glare at me. Just then, Catherine rushed out of her office. “Adrian, what is the meaning of this?” “I should be asking you that,” I replied coolly. “The lawsuit I sent you yesterday. Were you blind, or are you intentionally defying me?” She bit her lip, softening her tone. “Darling, Leo is still so young. If he gets caught up in a lawsuit, what will happen to his future? He was just being impulsive, he didn’t mean what he said. Don’t hold it against him.” She reached for my arm, her eyes pleading. “There’s nothing going on between us, I swear. You have to believe me.” I pulled my arm away, a humorless smile on my face. “Catherine, you swore to me once that you would always listen to me. And now, for this… thing… you’re going to fight me?” Her face went white, her lips trembling as she struggled for words. I turned to my assistant. “Release a public statement. Leo is terminated, effective immediately,” I commanded, my voice sharp as a razor’s edge. “And let it be known that any company in this city that hires him is making an enemy of Adrian Blackwood.” Leo’s eyes suddenly welled with tears. He lifted his chin defiantly, his voice thick with emotion. “Catherine, it’s all my fault. I hate that I have no power, no way to stay by your side and protect you,” he choked out. “Since Mr. Blackwood dislikes me so much, I’ll leave right away. Please, don’t let me come between you…” Seeing Leo, with his tear-streaked face, still trying to “protect” her, was the final straw. Catherine snapped like a cornered animal. She spun around, shielding Leo behind her. “Adrian! Do you have to be so cruel?” I turned and walked toward the conference room without a backward glance, my voice as cold as ice. “I gave you a choice, Catherine.” 3 A week passed, and Leo was still parading around the company. Catherine seemed to be deliberately provoking me. Not only did she give Leo another promotion, but she also transferred 5% of the company’s shares to him. Since she was so insistent on challenging my authority, I saw no reason to show her any more mercy. At the auction, the room erupted in applause as I signed the final share transfer agreement. Just then, Catherine burst in, her face a thunderous mask of rage. “The Cross Group is my family’s company! What right do you have to auction off all the shares?” she demanded. “Adrian, is this still about those damn ashes? Are you that jealous? Haven’t you made enough of a scene?” She took a breath, her voice dropping to a low threat. “If you keep this up, don’t blame me when I walk away for good.” I slowly raised my eyes, the coldness in them deepening. It seemed that over the years, I had truly spoiled her. Spoiled her so much that she’d forgotten what lines should never be crossed. “Catherine, my patience has its limits.” My voice was quiet, but each word was a dagger. “I gave you plenty of chances. You’re the one who threw them away.” Leo, who had been trailing behind her, suddenly rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of me, his voice choked with sobs. “Mr. Blackwood, you can look down on me, you can humiliate me, I can take it. I’m just a nobody with no background. But Catherine is your wife! How can you be so cruel to her?” He cried as if his heart was breaking, yet he kept his head held high, a perfect portrait of defiance against tyranny. What a masterful performance. His act ignited the room. Flashbulbs went off like fireworks, and reporters shoved their microphones in my face. “Mr. Blackwood, do you admit to using your power to bully others?” “Is it true, as the rumors say, that you view ordinary people as ants to be crushed?!” The scene descended into chaos. Amid the pandemonium, I caught a glimpse of Leo. His head was bowed, but a triumphant smirk played on his lips. My assistant immediately had security clear the room. As the last reporter was escorted out, the heavy doors of the conference room closed with a solid boom. I turned slowly, my gaze piercing Catherine. “Three strikes, Catherine. This is the last one.” “Make your choice. Cut all ties with him, and you can remain the CEO of the Cross Group. Or, you can take your pet and get out of my sight.” Catherine flinched, but then a raw hatred I had never seen before flared in her eyes. “Adrian, you think I’m afraid of you? I know all your dirty little secrets! If you dare to touch Leo again, I can’t guarantee what might slip out.” I laughed. This little woman, who once trembled in my arms, was now baring her fangs at me for a pretty boy. “Are you threatening me?” I tapped my fingers on the table, a contemptuous smile on my face. “Catherine, do you really think that scares me?” “You!” she sputtered, her chest heaving with rage. But under my cold, unyielding stare, she finally broke. Grabbing Leo’s hand, she fled the room. BAM! The heavy oak door slammed shut. The sound was like a sledgehammer, shattering the last remnants of our five-year relationship. Fine, Catherine. If you choose to burn everything down for him, then don’t blame me for being the one to light the match.

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