Category: English

In 1983, Liam Reynolds came to live with us. He stood out among his peers, and my heart had already secretly fallen for him. But I had a pronounced limp, and my insecurity kept me from expressing my feelings. The year of my high school finals, Dad lost the use of his legs, and our family was struggling to put food on the table. My parents considered sending Liam away. Instead, Liam got down on his knees before them, begging for help to finish his education, promising to return and marry me once he’d succeeded. I was overjoyed. I willingly gave up my own studies, working odd jobs to earn money for his tuition, just waiting for him to graduate and marry me. I endured from eighteen to twenty-eight. First, he pursued his Master’s, then his Doctorate, and finally, he was going to study abroad. I wanted to see him one last time before he left, but instead, I saw him and Tiffany Chen acting intimately, laughing and talking. They had been married six years ago, sucking our family dry, spending our money, and now they were going to leave the country together. The truth hit me like a physical blow. Overcome with shock and rage, I collapsed in the street, my heart giving out. When I opened my eyes again, I heard Liam making promises to Dad. “Please don’t send me back! Just let me finish school! When I come back, I’ll marry Anya! We’ll take care of both of you for the rest of your lives!” I cut off Liam’s desperate plea. “Who wants you to marry them! You’re not the only one in this family who can study!” 1 Liam stared at me in surprise. I emphasized it again, louder. “Our family is barely getting by right now! Even when I’m resting, I’m out doing farm chores! How can you have the nerve to ask our whole family to pay for your education?” “And marry me? You didn’t even ask if I was willing!” Mom and Dad were also surprised by my attitude. In my past life, they had seen how deeply I felt about Liam. Liam’s family was poor, with twelve brothers. He was the ninth, and at home, they starved more often than not. Getting an education was a luxury. Our family also had the Lin surname, and I was their only child, with a limp. Liam’s parents had actively sought to have him adopted by our family. I was two years younger than Liam and always clung to him when we were little, but I knew he didn’t like me. At least, whenever we were alone, he always kept his distance. But as long as my parents were home, he would sweetly call me “Anya, my little sister.” From a young age, he knew how to charm my parents, eagerly volunteering for chores and farm work. When it was time to actually do them, he’d call me over for help. Then he’d quietly slip away and go wild playing with the other kids in the hills. I bore no resentment because I’d loved him since I was a child. But he used my love as a tool. His grades were already below mine, and after Dad injured his leg, our family fell into hard times. He didn’t think about helping out; instead, he pushed for our whole family to support his studies. I was foolish back then, voluntarily dropping out of school and giving up on my finals to go out and earn money. But with my limp and not even a high school diploma, what factory would hire me? I hobbled with my limp, carrying sandbags at construction sites, picking up discarded vegetables at the market, and gathering coal cinders for warmth and fire, all just to save a few pennies to send to him for his education. All of this, just for that one sentence he uttered: “When I’ve achieved success, I’ll marry Anya!” Over ten years, I’d lost my youthful figure. My parents also suffered greatly and passed away one after another. Liam didn’t even make it back for their funerals. The villagers laughed at me, and some even urged me to stop waiting. He returned three days after my parents were buried. His first words were: “Did your mom and dad leave you anything valuable? My expenses outside were high, and I’m out of money.” Foolishly, I pulled out the four hundred dollars we’d received as funeral gifts. He took the money and left. I didn’t even have time to ask, “Liam, when are you coming back to marry me?” I secretly went to the state capital to find him, only to discover he hadn’t even finished college. His Master’s, Doctorate, and study abroad were all lies he used to extract money from our family. Six years ago, he took the money and quietly married Tiffany Chen from our village. And the so-called “study abroad” was just an excuse for them to go overseas and make a fortune. Overcome with shock and rage, I collapsed in the street and died. In this life, I was going to make Liam Reynolds live my life. 2 “Anya, didn’t you… like me?” Liam Reynolds looked at me in disbelief. “I’m only 18! What do I know about liking or not liking anyone! Don’t you dare spread rumors! The most important thing right now is to get my dad’s leg treated!” In my previous life, my biggest regret was Dad’s leg. It could have been cured, but the untrained village medic messed it up. “Your dad’s leg… the village medic said it couldn’t be fixed.” I snapped at Liam: “Does what some quack says even count? Mom, Dad’s leg can’t wait; we have to go to a real hospital! I’m going to Mayor Thompson’s place right now to borrow his truck!” Mom and Dad hesitated. Ignoring Liam’s attempts to stop me, I rushed Dad to the big hospital. The treatment would cost nearly a thousand dollars, which our family absolutely couldn’t afford. Dad wanted to give up, but I comforted him. “Dad! If we don’t have enough money, I’ll borrow it. At worst, Liam and I can work for a year, and we can still take our finals next year.” Liam, feeling the spotlight on him, also chimed in: “That’s right, Mr. Lin! The doctor said if you rest well for a year, you’ll be just like anyone else. I’ll take care of all the farm work this year!” Mom wiped away tears of relief, praising us both as good kids. Mom stayed in the city to take care of Dad. Liam and I rushed back home. On the way back, Liam asked me: “Are you really going to borrow money? Really going to drop out to work?” “Not just me, it’s us! If you’re not willing to get through this tough time together, then go back to your own family!” Liam fell silent, not answering. His original family was a sore spot for him: a violent father, a silent mother, and a bunch of brothers who fought over food. Just like in my previous life, I went to school to discuss taking a leave of absence, but this time, I brought Liam with me. The teacher’s first reaction was to object. When he heard it was for my father’s treatment, he suggested organizing a fundraiser. In my previous life, Liam handled my leave of absence, and I actually missed out on this fundraiser. My father was always a kind man in our town. Even Mayor Thompson wanted to help our family out. Before long, we had collected over $800. After borrowing a little more from relatives, we wouldn’t even need to take a leave of absence. Helping out around town more often would also allow us to scrape by this year. I was about to call Liam to go to the hospital and deliver the money when I saw him with Tiffany Chen. “Liam! Why are you taking a leave of absence too?” “Anya, that girl, it’s like she’s a different person. If I quit now, I’ll definitely be sent home, and you know what my family’s situation is like.” “Oh, Liam, if my family had fewer brothers, or if you could’ve lived with us back then, you wouldn’t have had to suffer at Anya Lin’s house.” Tiffany sniffled and cried, and Liam tenderly pulled her into a hug. “How can I blame you? But I heard Anya’s doing a fundraiser, probably four or five hundred at least. I’ll steal the money then, and we can run away together.” I stared at the two of them, kissing, my hand gripping the money bag tightly. He knew exactly what that money was for… As soon as Liam got back, he asked me how much I’d collected. I happily told him: “A thousand! Not only is it enough for Dad’s medical bills, but it’s also enough for both of us to keep studying!” Liam eagerly spread his arms to hug me, but I recoiled in disgust. His arms hung in the air for a moment, then dropped heavily. “Anya, give me the money, I’ll take it to Uncle Lin!” “Give it to you? What’s wrong?” His impatience was truly ridiculous. I pointed out the window. “It’s already dark, how are you going to go?” Only then did he realize it was well past nightfall. “Then give me the money, I don’t feel safe with a young girl like you carrying it.” I pulled out a red cloth bundle from under my pillow. I’d sewn it myself, layer upon layer, at least seven or eight layers thick. “Be careful, don’t open it. I’ve sewn it all up tight!” His hand trembled as he took the money, muttering about going to the hospital first thing in the morning. Then he quietly slipped out of the house. 3 Liam Reynolds went straight to Tiffany Chen. Tiffany’s family had three older brothers; she was the only daughter. While not wealthy, her whole family valued her highly, dressing her in good clothes and providing her with nice things. The fact that they sent her to school showed her status in the household. “Are we leaving now?” “Yes! We’ll walk to town and catch the earliest train tomorrow! Didn’t you say you wanted to go to the beach? I’ll take you!” “Wait for me! I’ll pack some clothes!” “Why bother packing? I have money!” Liam rattled the red cloth bundle in his hand. The two of them kissed passionately by the door until a noise came from Tiffany’s house. They panicked and fled. I walked to the spot they had just left and picked up Tiffany’s red hair clip. Knock knock on Tiffany’s family door. “Who is it! So late at night!” It was Tiffany’s mom who opened the door. When she saw it was me, she looked impatient. “What now? I already donated money to your family! Are you here to borrow more? We don’t have any!” I put my hand on the door, preventing her from closing it, my expression anxious. “Auntie! I’m not here to borrow money! Liam’s missing! And all the money from the fundraiser is gone too!” “I found this hair clip in Liam’s room! Take a look, is it Tiffany’s!” There were only a few hair clips like this in the whole school. Tiffany’s mom snatched it, examined it repeatedly, then turned and rushed inside, frantically calling for Tiffany. The entire Chen household was roused. Tiffany’s mom rushed back to the door, asking me: “Anya, when did you say Liam went missing?” “About an hour ago.” Tiffany’s brothers started talking over each other. “That kid’s been too close to our Tiffany! I knew something wasn’t right!” “Stealing the donations? Did they run away together!” “What are we waiting for! Let’s go find them!” The Chen family was a prominent family in our town. In no time, lights went on all over the neighborhood. Mayor Thompson asked me what happened, and I sobbed uncontrollably. “Mayor! I gave all the money to my brother! And my brother ran off with it! Tiffany Chen is missing too, what am I going to do? My dad’s waiting for that money for his surgery!” With just a few words, I linked the money directly to them both. The Mayor tried to comfort me. “Don’t worry, don’t worry! How much did you collect in total?” “Including what the school gave and what I borrowed, it was over a thousand dollars.” A thousand dollars, in that era, was enough for a family to live on for a year! It was no small sum. “Found them! They’re at the edge of town! They were indeed trying to leave!” I hurried along with Tiffany’s mom. The two of them were surrounded. From their expressions, they didn’t know what was happening. Until Tiffany’s mom appeared, grabbing her daughter by the ear. “What are you doing here with this boy so late at night!” “Mom! Mom! We were just taking a walk!” “A walk? Then why were you running! We were calling you to run!” Tiffany’s brothers were panting. “We really were just taking a walk!” Both of them were still stubbornly denying it. I walked out from behind the crowd. Liam looked at me in surprise. “Liam, why did you run off with Dad’s life-saving money?” He looked flustered. “I didn’t run off! I was just taking a walk!” “You were taking a walk with Tiffany Chen so late at night? Do you like her?” Liam didn’t expect me to ask so directly, and he blurted out, “Yes.” Tiffany smiled with satisfaction, while her brothers glared unhappily at Liam. I continued to ask: “Then what did you mean a few days ago, when you proposed to my dad to marry me?” Liam was speechless for a moment, while Tiffany looked utterly shocked. After a long pause, Tiffany suddenly yelled: “Didn’t you say you loved me!” Tiffany’s mom slapped her hand over her mouth, stopping her from talking nonsense. She clearly didn’t think highly of Liam. I had no time for romantic dramas. I held out my hand: “Give me Dad’s life-saving money!” “What life-saving money? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I smiled. He thought he could get away with denial. I turned to Tiffany: “I refused his offer to live with us, and that’s why he came to you. You were just his backup.” Tiffany was still young and couldn’t handle such provocation. She pushed her mother’s hand away, pointing at Liam. “Who do you actually like! Why did you ask me to run away with you!” The word “run away” caused the nearby villagers to gasp collectively. 4 Tiffany Chen’s family immediately dragged her away, forbidding her from saying anything more. Liam Reynolds hadn’t expected Tiffany to be so useless in this situation. I held out my hand again. “Give me the money! If you didn’t have money, how would you dare to run away? That’s my dad’s life-saving money!” “What money! I don’t understand what you’re saying!” He was still being stubborn. I immediately began to sob, recounting all the good things Dad had done for him. Some of the villagers couldn’t stand it and stepped forward to search him. “If you really didn’t take it, let a few of us search you. This isn’t a small sum.” He couldn’t resist and was held down by the crowd. They searched him repeatedly. And found nothing. Liam mumbled as he put on his jacket. “I don’t know what money you’re talking about! You probably lost it yourself and want to blame it on me!” “I do like Tiffany Chen, and I’m just dating her. We’re both adults, dating is perfectly normal!” At this point, the villagers all looked at me, and I could see a sly smile on Liam’s lips. “Fine! Liam Reynolds, you clearly took the money! I wrapped that money in red cloth seven or eight layers thick, and the cloth I borrowed from Mayor Thompson! Do you dare to swear on it?” Liam froze for half a second. He didn’t swear, but he continued to deny it. I knelt on the ground, bowing my head deeply several times to the crowd. “I’ve troubled you all recently, and I ask all you villagers to bear witness! This Liam Reynolds refuses to admit he stole the money! This money is crucial for my father’s life! I have no desire to be related to such an ungrateful parasite any longer! From today onwards, Liam Reynolds is not allowed to enter my house! My family will have no further ties with Liam Reynolds!” Every word I spoke was filled with grief, and I bowed my head several more times, hard enough to draw blood from my forehead. The villagers rushed forward to help me up. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding! Do you really have to be so absolute?” I pointed at Liam, my forehead still bearing a blood mark, my voice firm: “This is my dad’s life-saving money! If you don’t return it to me, you will never set foot in my house again!” I bowed to each villager who had donated to my dad, thanking them. Liam stood by, silent. Only after everyone had left did Liam speak. “Are you really going to kick me out?” I extended my hand again. “Give me the money! This is my last chance for you!” He smiled and shrugged. It was the same in this life as in the last: always a self-serving opportunist. “Don’t blame me! A thousand dollars is enough for four years of tuition! I can get away from that family, I can start my own life.” As expected, he never intended to return the money. “Anya, I’ve noticed you’re different from before, but you’re still not smart enough. You came looking for me so openly, did you think I wouldn’t be prepared?” He lifted his chin, his posture like a victor. “I know your family took me in back then because they wanted me to marry into your family. To put it nicely, you have a limp. To put it harshly, you’re disabled. I truly don’t like you~” He spoke cutting words, completely disregarding my feelings, then slowly walked to a tree and pulled out a red cloth bundle from behind it. He triumphantly waved it at me. “You want this, right?” I frowned, and he continued. “Why make things so ugly~ What if you need something from me in the future? You’re really burning bridges~” “Since you’re kicking me out~ then consider this compensation for all the years I ‘suffered’ at your house.” His silhouette vanished into the night. At that moment, I touched the money in my pocket. Every single cent.

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“Does it feel good… my husband has never made me feel like this…” In the dim room, the young woman knelt on the bed, looking back at me. Her breathing grew more ragged, her hazy eyes seemed to melt anyone she gazed upon. Just a day ago, I would never have dreamed of conquering Ms. Davies, my alluring English professor, and having her beneath me. My name is Alex Stone, a college freshman. Perhaps it was genetic, but I was born with an abundance of male hormones, leading to my, well, equipment developing at twice the rate of my peers. By the time I turned eighteen, it was truly something else. Not only did its length and girth grow exponentially, but due to an excessive amount of testosterone, my libido became incredibly potent. I needed to find a way to relieve myself twice a day, otherwise, I’d feel restless and uncomfortable all over. That day, I went to the office to ask for a leave of absence. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Ms. Davies wiping away tears. “Professor, what’s wrong?” Ms. Davies turned, forcing a calm demeanor. “Nothing, Alex. I was just tired, gave a big yawn.” “Oh… then I’ll go.” Since she didn’t want to say, I placed my leave request on her desk and turned to leave. But, as luck would have it, a sweep of my hand knocked over her thermos. Hot, steaming water splashed all over my lower abdomen and groin. For a moment, I thought I was ruined. I hopped around, clutching my crotch, wincing in pain. Ms. Davies panicked. “Where did it get you? Let me see!” I hesitated, a little awkward. Seeing my discomfort, Ms. Davies quickly grabbed my waistband, ready to pull down my pants. But just as she was about to pull, she paused. “Can you walk?” she asked, her brows furrowed. “Hiss… Kinda, kinda.” It was after school hours then, so there weren weren’t many people outside. Ms. Davies carefully but quickly helped me up to the fifth floor. She pulled out a key and opened the door to a small room opposite the storage closet. I looked around, noticing a desk and a bed inside. A few silk stockings were haphazardly tossed on the bed—it looked like her usual resting spot. Once inside, Ms. Davies helped me sit on the bed and then reached down to pull off my pants. “It was easy for someone to walk in the office earlier. Are you in pain? If the burn is serious, we have to go to the hospital!” Actually, I was almost fine by then. Though the water in the thermos was hot, it wasn’t boiling. It was more a fright than an actual burn. But lust often emboldens a man, especially with my heightened sex drive. Watching Ms. Davies kneel on the soft pad beside the bed, her captivating, beautiful face only eight inches from my groin, her luscious hourglass figure, magnified by the angle, was incredibly impactful. Her full breasts, encased in a black bra, trembled enticingly beneath her neckline, shining blindingly white. I couldn’t help but react. As my boxers slid down to my knees, my ‘member’ sprang out with a distinct thwack, like a giant snake. “Oh!” Ms. Davies hadn’t expected me to be so… gifted. She almost got hit in the face. She was visibly startled, covering her mouth with a soft gasp. Her eyes darted away. “You… quickly check… how is it?” “It just hurts…” My lifelong sexual happiness was at stake, so I naturally wouldn’t be careless. I lowered my head and inspected closely. I was relieved to find I wasn’t burned, only slightly red. The pain wasn’t from a burn, but more like a throbbing sensation from being overly aroused. Ms. Davies avoided my gaze, turning to grab a clean towel from the clothes rack. She moistened it and gently dabbed my lower abdomen. The warm breath she exhaled sprayed onto my skin, sending shivers through me. From the mirror behind her, it looked almost as if she were kneeling, attending to me. Recalling scenes from some novels, I deliberately arched my hips upward, bringing my ‘big treasure’ closer to Ms. Davies’s face. “Behave yourself…” Ms. Davies raised a hand and lightly smacked me. Then she suddenly burst out laughing. “No wonder… your nickname is ‘The Big Donkey’…” “Professor, how did you know?” “Your ex-girlfriend mentioned in the dorms that your ‘thing’ was especially big, and it just spread… Hahaha.” I awkwardly chuckled, pulling my abdomen back. Ms. Davies, seeing my expression ease, simply draped the towel over my ‘treasure’ and asked, “Are you okay now?” “Doesn’t hurt anymore, it feels warm,” I grinned foolishly. “That’s good. Don’t tell anyone about today, alright?” Ms. Davies advised, looking a little embarrassed. “Mmm-hmm, I know. It’s our little secret.” Hearing my words, Ms. Davies’s face flushed even deeper, a beautiful crimson that spread down her neck. Even though she was a mature woman, she could still display such girlish shyness. My unruly body stiffened again, and a fresh wave of desire flared within me. “You… what are you doing…” Ms. Davies froze, staring at the towel slowly rising from my erection. Her cherry-red lips parted in surprise. For a moment, the entire room was filled with an illicit tension. “I… I can’t control myself…” “I know, you’re at that age when your blood runs hot…” Ms. Davies seemed to conjure unspeakable images in her mind, her small tongue unconsciously licking her red lips, swallowing hard. “Prof—Professor…” I summoned my courage. “I’ve always liked you. Every time I see you, I get like this…” Ms. Davies stared at me blankly. After a long moment, she finally spoke. “You’re in puberty, it’s normal to have fantasies about the opposite sex. But it should be with girls your own age, not me…” “I can’t control it. And once it’s like this, it takes a long time to go down.” “Then you…” Ms. Davies actually looked a little abashed. “You… just take care of it yourself… just not too often, it’s bad for your health…” “Professor, can you… help me?” At that moment, I don’t know what I was thinking. I suddenly had a crazy impulse. I pulled the towel off, exposing my manhood, and blurted out the question. Ms. Davies froze. When she reacted, her face instantly flooded with crimson. She fiercely pinched my leg. “You dare tease your professor? You’re out of control…” Seeing her seem somewhat flustered and annoyed, I quickly stood up to appease her. But due to overexertion and my pants still being down, I immediately fell again. To make matters worse, my excited ‘member’ directly hit the corner of the desk, a painful blow. “Ah, it hurts so bad…” I writhed on the floor like a worm, clutching my groin. “What happened to you?” Seeing my distorted expression, Ms. Davies quickly kneeled over me, fumbling to see how badly I was hurt. “I… I went limp.” “What nonsense are you talking about?!” “But you’re so close to me… and it’s not reacting at all.” Ms. Davies looked at me in astonishment. I nodded helplessly. She, too, worried that I might actually be injured. She patted my back to comfort me. “Maybe you’re just too nervous. It’ll be fine in a moment.” Hearing that, I did calm down. Ms. Davies knelt on the bed, lost in thought. A few minutes later, she blushed again and leaned closer to ask, “Do you… feel anything now?” Actually, I was pretty much okay by then, but feeling Ms. Davies’s soft body pressing against my leg, that desire in my heart stirred back to life. I couldn’t help but turn my head and kiss her lips. “Hmm?” Ms. Davies blinked, seemingly not registering what had happened. After a moment, she finally spoke. “Some child is very bold, indeed.” “You still think I’m a child?” Looking at her captivating and alluring face, I steeled my heart and simply pressed her down onto the bed. “Ah!” Ms. Davies gasped, trying to shield her chest with her arms, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You… what are you doing?!” “Taking you.” Like a wild animal, I peeled back her hands and pulled them above her head, pinning them down. My other hand slipped under her skirt, pushing Ms. Davies’s underwear down below her neck, then settling over her exquisite, soft breasts. “Alex!” Ms. Davies became shy, calling my name directly. I didn’t answer. I leaned in and devoured her lips, while my right hand, using the same trick, moved downwards, boldly rubbing her buttocks hard a few times, getting my fill of what I’d dreamed of for so long. Then I tugged at the hem of her skirt, rolling it up to her waist. “Let… let me go…” Ms. Davies’s breathing was rapid and erratic. Beads of sparkling sweat glistened on her forehead, and strands of beautiful hair clung to her face, which was flushed like a peach blossom. Her half-closed eyes brimmed with unspoken passion. I kissed wildly downwards, raining kisses on her chest, lower abdomen, and thighs. Ms. Davies twisted even more fiercely, her fair legs flailing, her hands reaching out to pull at my hair. “No… we can’t…”

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Ethan Miller’s executive assistant sent me a screenshot from social media. His new secretary had posted a picture of a bento box, filled with exquisite dishes. It was the lunch I’d prepared for Ethan. The caption read: “My cold, brooding CEO Knight vanquished the Ramen Demon, saving his Bellyache Princess.” At the same time, Ethan Miller, who almost never posted on social media, updated his own status. The photo was of a cup of instant noodles, spicy beef flavored. The caption read: “A familiar taste I’ve missed.” I was grinding my teeth in fury when my mother-in-law’s call came through. “Didn’t you see him eating instant noodles? Why didn’t you prepare him lunch? He can’t eat spicy food!” I immediately contacted a major supermarket chain. “One hundred cases of spicy beef ramen, deliver them to Miller Corp.” He liked nostalgia, did he? Well, I’d give him all the nostalgia he could handle! I had barely stepped through the front door when Jack Sterling, Ethan’s executive assistant, sent me a message. It was an Instagram screenshot. Chloe Adams, Ethan Miller’s new secretary, had posted a photo of a bento box. The dishes inside were beautifully arranged, with meat, vegetables, and fish, all nutritionally balanced. It was clear someone had put a lot of care into it. Chloe’s caption read: “My cold, brooding CEO Knight vanquished the Ramen Demon, saving his Bellyache Princess.” I frowned, confused. Why was the bento box I’d prepared for Ethan in his secretary’s hands? Before I could react, Jack sent another message: “Check your feed.” I opened Instagram, and my blood immediately began to boil. Ethan Miller, who probably posted once a year if that, had actually updated his status. The picture showed a cup of spicy beef instant noodles and a hand holding a plastic fork. The caption read: “A familiar taste I’ve missed.” That bastard Ethan! He ignored the elaborate bento box I’d carefully prepared for him, gave it to his secretary, and then went and ate instant noodles himself. I was about to call him and demand an explanation when my mother-in-law’s call came through. I pressed answer, and before I could even bring the phone to my ear, a barrage of complaints erupted from the other end. “Olivia, what’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you prepare lunch for Ethan today?” “Don’t you know he has a sensitive stomach and can’t handle spicy food? How could you let him eat that garbage, instant noodles?” “Mom, I made him lunch…” “You made him lunch? If you made him lunch, how could he be eating instant noodles?” My mother-in-law cut me off. “I just called Ethan. He said you went shopping today and forgot to prepare his lunch.” “You don’t do anything all day, you don’t even go to the company. Can’t you even get one meal right?” Too fed up to argue, I hung up. Then, I immediately sent her Chloe Adams’s Instagram screenshot. “See? Your son fed the meal I slaved over to a dog.” Silence from my mother-in-law’s end. My chest tightened with frustration. At that moment, I just wanted to see some blood. That asshole Ethan! Not only did he give the lunch I prepared to his secretary, he also posted on Instagram, clearly responding to that woman. To top it all off, he lied to his mother and said I hadn’t made him anything at all. He’s playing games with his secretary at the company, and I’m the one getting blamed? He knows perfectly well spicy food gives him a stomach ache, but he just had to eat that bowl of instant noodles. Why? Because he knows every time he gets a stomach ache, I’ll be there, waiting on him hand and foot. If he loved that “familiar taste” so much, then I’d grant his wish! 2 That afternoon, a supermarket delivery truck pulled up right in front of Miller Corp.’s main entrance. The unloaders opened the cargo bay and started stacking cases of instant ramen right there in the company lobby. The young receptionist at the front desk rushed over. “Stop, stop! Did you deliver to the wrong address?” I walked out from behind the truck. The receptionist, seeing me, quickly bowed. “Mrs. Miller!” “No mistake, it’s supposed to be here.” I pointed to the pile of instant noodles, which was quickly forming a small mountain. “Later, find someone to deliver all one hundred cases of these instant noodles to the CEO’s office.” With that, I strode directly into the elevator. In his office, Ethan’s face was ashen as he watched case after case of ramen being brought in. “Olivia, can you please stop this childish behavior?” “I just saw she had a stomach ache and was eating instant noodles, so I gave her the meal you made for me.” “She and I have a purely professional relationship. There’s nothing going on between us.” “Ethan Miller, you don’t have to be sleeping with someone for it to count as cheating. You know what you’re thinking deep down.” “You’re enjoying this ambiguous atmosphere right now. You’re enjoying that worshipful look she gives you.” “With so many people in the company, would you give the meal I made to anyone else who had a stomach ache?” “We’ve been married for so long. You don’t seriously think I don’t know exactly what kind of person you are, do you?” “Your mother started lecturing me right after you posted that Instagram photo. Tell me, what did you tell your mom?” The office door swung open. Chloe Adams, wearing a little white dress and white canvas shoes, walked in carrying a coffee cup. She was sickeningly innocent, exactly the type I couldn’t stand. “Ms. Jenkins, your coffee.” I picked up the coffee cup and, without hesitation, splashed it all over her. Chloe gasped. Her steps, which should have taken her backward to dodge, instead faltered, sending her tumbling towards Ethan. Ethan reached out and caught Chloe. His face was visibly alight with anger. “Olivia Hayes, are you seriously not done with this?” “This is the company, not our home. No one here is going to pamper you!” I sneered, looking at the little shrinking violet on the verge of tears in his arms. “Hold her tighter. Press a little harder. Your CEO Knight might just divorce me and let his Bellyache Princess take my place.” At my words, both their faces flushed, and they quickly separated. I pointed at Chloe, who was now covered in coffee. “Ethan Miller, you still have the nerve to say you don’t play favorites?” “What did she just call me when she walked in? Ms. Jenkins? Am I not married to you? Or am I some shady mistress?” “Is the ‘Ms. Jenkins’ title something you’ve silently approved? Are you planning to divorce me?” “All the female employees here wear business suits and skirts. Black stockings and heels are mandatory, even for me. What’s up with her outfit? Is this your new fetish?” Ethan’s eyes flickered with embarrassment, like a student caught cheating with a cheat sheet by a strict proctor. “What are you talking about? She just hasn’t had time to buy suitable clothes, so I let her wear her own clothes to work. Don’t overthink it.” “Ethan Miller, she’s been working here for almost a month! What kind of clothes take a month to buy? Even a pig would have found clothes by now!” “I’m done with this. You handle it yourself.” I pointed to the instant noodles in the hallway. “Starting tomorrow, I won’t be making you meals. Whenever you’ve eaten your fill of those hundred cases of instant ramen, that’s when I’ll consider cooking for you again. You don’t like my cooking, do you? From now on, you can live with these instant noodles.” Ethan’s face grew impatient. “Can you stop being so unreasonable? When did I ever say I didn’t like your cooking?” “So, you do like it, then?” I pulled a bento box from my bag, opened the lid, and set it in front of him. “Eat up. You said you liked it, didn’t you?” Ethan slammed his hand on the table. “Olivia Hayes, are you insane? What do you mean by putting dog food in my bento box?” “It’s the meal I prepared for you. You like feeding my food to dogs, don’t you?” My gaze fell on Chloe Adams, standing nearby. “Bellyache Princess, this is the supper your loyal servant specially prepared for you.” “Eat up. What are you waiting for?” 3 Chloe Adams, stained with coffee, stood behind Ethan, head bowed. Tears flowed like a broken faucet, hitting the floor with a rhythmic pitter-patter. Anyone walking in would think the CEO had installed a new sprinkler system in his office. “Chloe Adams, if you harbor ambitions of becoming the CEO’s wife, you should know that these pathetic men might like delicate little hothouse flowers like you, but they would never let a whiny, crying waste of space become their partner.” “If you only want to be a rich man’s plaything or an illegitimate mistress for life, then keep crying. See if your CEO Knight will actually marry his Bellyache Princess.” “If you want to kick me out and take my place, then show some of the guts a mistress needs to become the wife.” I pushed the bento box filled with dog food closer. “Eat it. If you eat it, Ethan will a hundred percent side with you against this old hag. Then you’ll be one step closer to becoming Mrs. Miller.” “You want to be a wealthy socialite, but you’re too afraid to lose face? Then you’re destined to be nothing more than a template and a trophy for rich men.” Chloe Adams clearly hadn’t heard a word I said. Her tears flowed even more profusely. “Ms. Jenkins, I’m just a secretary, but that doesn’t mean I have no dignity. You’re insulting my character.” “Mr. Miller and I have never crossed a line. You’re just speculating with your malice!” “Insulting your character? You don’t have a mirror, but you must have a phone camera, right? Why don’t you take a look at yourself?” I scoffed. “Never crossed a line? You really have the nerve to say that?” “As a secretary, you can’t even dress appropriately. Does that outfit look like a secretary’s attire? If you went out with the boss to negotiate a deal looking like that, do you think people would see you as his secretary or a toy he brought along to show off?” “A secretary eats her boss’s lunch and feels smug about it. As a secretary, you’re supposed to solve problems for your boss, not create them.” “If you truly had any dignity, you’d proudly resign and leave right now, instead of standing here whining and playing weak, begging for your CEO Knight’s protection.” “Enough!” Ethan kicked the bento box with dog food across the room. “Olivia Hayes, don’t push your luck!” “This is the company. This is my private secretary. What right do you have to treat my staff like that?” Dog food scattered everywhere. I stood there like a statue, letting the kibble hit me, unmoving. “Ethan Miller, I’m giving you two choices right now.” “One: you keep your Bellyache Princess, and we get a divorce.” “Two: you fire her. I can pretend none of this ever happened, and I won’t bring it up again.” “One or two, you choose.” “Impossible!” Ethan answered without hesitation. “The company has its rules and regulations. No one has the right to fire an employee without cause.” I nodded. “Alright, I understand.” With that, I stood up and walked straight out. Ethan rushed after me, grabbing my arm. “Olivia, can you please stop acting out?” “Let go!” I shook his hand off. “Ethan Miller, you made your choice. Why are you clinging to me now?” “It’s the twenty-first century. Don’t tell me you’re planning on building a harem.” “Are you going to elevate her to a co-wife, or make her your concubine?” “Olivia, can you just listen to me—” “Get lost!”

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“I can’t take it… You’re too good at this…” On the silent practice field, I lay prostrate on the ground, my rear hiked high, letting him roughly pull my ponytail, allowing him to do whatever he pleased with me. In a haze, I felt myself slipping into a strange state, an intensifying hunger for even rougher treatment… My name is Riley Miller, a freshman at the Performing Arts College, specializing in dance. Because of my looks and figure, many guys saw me as an untouchable, aloof goddess, too intimidated to ask me out. But they had no idea that since puberty, a powerful urge for intimacy had awakened within me. I’d even… more than once fantasized about being completely overpowered and taken by multiple strong men. And it all started that one night. My parents were always busy with work, often not getting home until after midnight. These late hours were my absolute free time. As usual, I’d snuck into their master bedroom and opened their computer, planning to play some games. Instead, I found a string of blush-inducing titles in the playback history: “Prime Housewife Cheating on Husband with 5 Alpha Males.” “Innocent Campus Queen’s Passionate Bout with Black Men.” “…” The content of these videos was invariably the same: several powerful, muscular men surrounding a beautiful, naked woman, manipulating her luscious body as they pleased. A fierce wave of shame made me want to retreat. Yet, my eyes were completely beyond my control, mesmerized, fixated on the screen as the woman was left breathless, writhing in ecstasy, biting the sheets and rolling her eyes back. Growing up, my mom’s strict upbringing and my dance training had taught me to always maintain a ladylike poise and discretion. I was to avoid sitting immodestly in skirts at all times. No talking to boys, no staying out past curfew, and definitely no early relationships. So that was my first time seeing an adult man’s naked body. And it was my first time realizing that men could be as wild and untamed as bulls. And that a woman could, apparently, accommodate so many men at once. Under such intense stimulation, my breathing grew more ragged, and I involuntarily slipped my hand under my nightgown, exploring gently. From that day on, every night I would hide under my covers, fantasizing about being roughly handled by several strong men, while soothing my own body. Only when my strength was completely drained could I finally fall asleep peacefully. I had been distressed, unsure how to manage my seemingly bottomless desires. But on the very first day of freshman orientation camp, I finally got a taste of that intoxicating sensation. That day, I was in a dream, being tossed and turned by two burly men, when I was suddenly roused by my roommate from the bunk below. “Riley, wake up! Formation call!” “What?! Why didn’t my alarm go off?” Being late for orientation was a serious offense. Seeing my roommates rushing off, I didn’t even have time to change my underwear, grabbing my camouflage uniform and hurrying downstairs, pulling it on as I ran. But I was still late. A tall, powerfully built man, easily six-foot-three, stood at the stairwell, clutching a stopwatch, his face grim. His eyes were sharp, fixed on me. Seeing his stern expression, my heart sank. I didn’t even hesitate at the last two steps, jumping down directly and sneaking to the back of the line, head bowed. My ankle felt a little twisted, but I didn’t pay it any mind then. What I was concerned about was that I’d forgotten to wear a bra. Yes, my breasts were quite full, and it was obvious when I walked without a bra. After that jump, they bounced conspicuously. And the coach must have seen it because his gaze lingered on my chest for an extra few seconds. It was utterly humiliating. “My name is Ryan Thompson, and I’m your coach!” “Regarding discipline, I will emphasize only one thing: obedience!” I thought the coach had let me off the hook, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But during the marching drills, he singled me out again, claiming my kicks were off and I needed individual training. I couldn’t rejoin the squad until I perfected them, otherwise, I’d drag the whole team down. “No strength, just flimsy!” Ryan stood beside me, taking my leg and adjusting my posture. “Stand tall, don’t move.” We were at the very back of the line. The students in front were all standing at attention, no one looking back, so naturally, no one saw his hand on my leg. The uniforms issued by the school were thin, so thin I could even feel the warmth of his palm. Suddenly, I remembered my spring dream from the night before. The faces of the two super-strong men in my dream, once blurry, now began to sharpen, transforming into Ryan Thompson’s face. He peeled off my uniform, pressing me down onto the bed, riding me like a horse. His hard muscles, infinite strength, and astonishing stamina – everything about him drove me wild. Just then, Ryan’s hand gradually shifted lower, his large palm cupping half my buttock, kneading gently twice. “Tighten your glutes,” he murmured. In my dream, he had said something like: “Slut, hike that ass higher.” “Ugh…” As I thought of that unspeakable image, a ticklish, numb sensation instantly spread between my thighs, as if ants were crawling there. My buttocks involuntarily clenched inwards, and I let out a soft moan. Ryan turned his head to look at me. “Coach,” I whimpered, “I don’t feel good.” “Where do you not feel good?” “I can’t quite say.” “You’ll get used to it.” No sooner had he spoken than he pressed his entire body against my back, one hand resting on my lower abdomen, the other cupping my breast, embracing me completely. “Stomach in, chest out, hips tucked.” Besides my most intimate area, I had three other sensitive spots: my earlobes, my neck, and my chest. Just a light touch to any of these would trigger an immediate reaction. So, the moment Ryan’s hands landed on them, I felt a delicious tingle, a delightful ache that almost made me wet myself. But I didn’t feel any discomfort. In fact, I deliberately pushed my chest out, craving him to go further. I don’t know how long it lasted, just as I thought Ryan’s hand would slip under my clothes any second, he suddenly pulled away. Losing that firm contact, I felt as if a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving me hollow and intensely uncomfortable. The pleasure halted abruptly, and the emptiness multiplied. My legs went weak, and my body involuntarily swayed to the side. Thankfully, Ryan caught me. I stumbled into his broad, solid chest, my inner thigh landing squarely on his hand. Feeling Ryan’s fingers hook upward, I impulsively reached out and ran my hand across his lower abdomen. So powerful! How did he manage to stuff that monstrosity into his pants? It was even more exaggerated than in the adult films I’d watched. I wanted to devour him whole. “You…” Ryan’s words started, then abruptly stopped. I secretly glanced at him, only to see him staring intently at my crotch. A quick glance down confirmed that the camouflage pants were of terrible quality. Somehow, they’d ripped open, right at my groin, completely exposing me. “Ah…” I let out a soft gasp, quickly covering myself, and looked at him with a pout. “I have new training uniforms in my room. Come with me.” With that, Ryan dismissed the squad. Once only the two of us remained on the field, he scooped me up, carried me into the adjacent staff dormitory, set me down on a cot, and locked the door. In the confined space, he finally dropped the act. First, he smoothed my hair back, then with a quick tear, he ripped my uniform in half, revealing my smooth, unblemished skin beneath. “Same uniform, but why do you make it look so slutty?” “Coach…” I knelt on the cot, my throat dry with nerves. “Slut! You’re nothing but a slut!” He scoffed. “Not even wearing a bra, just trying to tempt men, huh?” Then, without room for refusal, he gripped my cheeks, forcing my mouth open, and inserted two fingers inside, swirling them around my tongue. In that instant, the sensation of being utterly dominated by a man reached its peak. “Mmmph mmmph…” I didn’t hesitate. Just like the women in the videos, I sucked on his fingers, looking up at him, my tongue teasing and producing wet, squelching sounds. It was incredibly shameful, yet it ignited a burning heat within me. Soon, saliva dribbled from the corner of my mouth, down my chin, and onto my chest. A surge of even greater excitement and stimulation flooded my heart, because Ryan had already pulled down his pants. The moment I’d been longing for was finally about to happen… Knock knock knock. Just then, a knock at the door suddenly echoed, shattering the atmosphere in the room. “Ryan, are you in there?”

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Ever since I can remember, my parents’ relationship was like a pile of loose sand. They argued and later, they just started living apart. Christmas, a time that should have been for family, came and went, but Mom never showed up. The next day, a lawyer knocked on our door with divorce papers. I don’t know what was written on them, but I saw Grandpa and Grandma fly into a rage over it. In the biting winter cold, they bluntly shut the door in the lawyer’s face. That polite lawyer stood in the freezing wind for ten minutes, finally just saying, “Well then, I’ll see you in court.” Those words cast a depressing shadow over the entire holiday season. I was never the favorite in this house anyway, so I just took on all the chores, treading carefully, terrified of upsetting anyone. Dad pulled a fat envelope of cash from his pocket, grinning as he handed it to my younger brother: “Ethan, Merry Christmas!” Ethan took the money and gave Dad a sweet kiss on the cheek. Dad dotingly pinched Ethan’s little face, his eyes full of love. That scene filled me with envy. After finishing the chores, my heart pounding, I pulled my report card from my backpack and handed it to Dad, hoping to see him smile. Who knew that the moment he saw it, his face would change, and he’d snatch it and rip it to shreds. He looked down at me, his voice full of reproach: “Do you know how hard I work for money? And you have the nerve to ask for Christmas money with this!” Grandma, always quick to read the room, immediately chimed in: “Just like your mother, ungrateful!” Before the words were even out, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face several times: “Hurry up and clean this mess, you little jinx, can’t even let people have a peaceful holiday!” I was dizzy from the blows and stumbled to the ground. When I came to my senses, the room was empty. I knew clearly that in this family, I was just an extra. I was eight that year, and it was also the last Christmas I spent in our old town. The day of departure drew near. Dad was taking Ethan to the city. Before leaving, Grandma shoved me into the car with a look of disgust: “Let her go take care of Ethan; someone needs to do the work around the house.” Dad hadn’t wanted to take me, but hearing that, he reluctantly agreed. Deep down, I understood. Grandma and Dad had already discussed it—after the divorce, one child each. They were determined to keep Ethan, and I was just being temporarily taken to look after him. When the time was right, I’d be dumped with Mom. I could only console myself that maybe, with Mom, things would get better. In court, my parents fought tooth and nail for custody of Ethan, while I could only sit silently on the bench, awaiting my fate. When Mom walked out of the courtroom, devastated, I knew the answer. Before the hearing, the lawyer had softly asked me, “Little girl, do you want to live with your dad, or your mom?” I looked out the window at the birds hovering in the cold winter air, as lost and alone as I was. “Who would want me?” My heart was bitter. I originally wanted to say, “I’ll go with whoever wants me,” but the reality was, it seemed no one wanted me. I wore a drab dress, just like my life, a shade of gray. That day, I went back to Dad’s place to pack my things, just as he brought some friends home. They ate, drank, and partied for a long time, finally leaving me to clean up their mess. Someone pointed at me and asked, “Whose kid is this? Haven’t seen her before.” Dad, with his arm around Ethan, glanced at me casually, “Kid from our old town. Her mom’s coming to pick her up later.” I stood frozen, the broom in my hand feeling like it weighed a ton. When the agreed time came, Dad sent me downstairs early. He uncharacteristically stuffed an envelope of money into my hand: “Don’t come back unless it’s important.” He paused, then added, “And don’t come back even if it is.” I didn’t reach for the money, not because I didn’t want it, but because it was too cold that day. My hands were already frozen stiff, and my heart had turned to ice. I stared hard at the man before me—he was clearly my father, so why did he detest me so much? He stubbornly shoved the envelope into my coat and walked into the elevator without a backward glance. The Christmas cheer hadn’t faded yet; kids on the street corner were happily setting off fireworks and firecrackers with their fathers, their laughter crisp and clear. My heart full of grievance, I slammed the envelope on the ground and stomped on it several times. I didn’t want the money; I just wanted my dad’s love. Thinking this, tears welled up, and I burst out crying, hoping so much that Dad could hear my heart. But I knew he wouldn’t turn back. Tired from crying, I stubbornly stared at the street corner, hoping Mom would come for me—I still had Mom, didn’t I? I waited alone in the cold wind, from day to night, until every house had turned off its lights and gone to sleep. Finally, a beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness, and a distant call came: “Ella?” The light shone on me, warmth chasing away the chill. I ran over, and the person’s face gradually became clear—it was Grandma, that kind-faced old woman. Mom had married far away, and Grandma rarely visited us. The last time I’d seen her was four years ago when Ethan was born. Full of anticipation, I looked behind her, about to ask about Mom. She pulled a steaming hot pastry from her pocket and stuffed it into my mouth. I had been hungry for so long, and the savory aroma filled my mouth. I wolfed it down, and then I heard her say, “You’ll stay with me for a few days. Your mom went to earn some money.” I nodded. A thought crossed my mind: Mom was having such a hard time. I had to help her take good care of Grandma. But Grandma was lying. Mom didn’t want me either. I waited for three years. My mom never came back, never even called me. At first, I would eagerly pester Grandma, “Why doesn’t Mom call me? Is Mom coming back for the holidays this year?” Grandma would mysteriously pull out a bag of snacks. “Your mom sent these. She knows you love them.” Not long after, as if by magic, she’d pull out a brand-new dress from behind her back. “Look, it’s your favorite color.” Again and again. Every so often, Grandma would pull out [a gift from Mom]. It wasn’t until later. I discovered Grandma would sneak out at night, rummaging through trash cans, picking up bottle after bottle, can after can. Her small, thin frame carried that huge bag of recyclables, moving step by step, carefully searching, afraid to miss a single one. This was her secret. That night I cried for a very, very long time. The next day, my eyes were so swollen I could barely open them. She, instead, asked me, “Are you missing your mom?” I rushed into her arms and shook my head, hugging her very, very tightly. Later on, she asked me if there was anything I liked recently; she would call my mom. My eyes instantly reddened, and I held back tears, afraid she’d notice. “There’s nothing I like, Mom… has it too hard.” I didn’t want Mom anymore; having Grandma was good enough. Even though I said that, Grandma still went out every night under the cover of darkness. Worried, I followed her from a distance. The putrid smell from the trash cans drifted on the wind, making me want to gag. When she found me, a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. “You child, coming out without wearing more clothes!” She took off her thick coat and put it on me, not forgetting to explain, “I can’t sleep at night, so I come out to move around a bit. You have school tomorrow, hurry back!” My nose tingled, my eyes welled up, and I took the bag from her hand. “Grandma, let’s go home.” “I can’t sleep without you by my side.” Grandma paused, then her face broke into a smile. When I first came to the countryside, I slept far away from her, curled up in a corner, shivering from the cold but too scared to make a sound. After that court case, when I saw her again, I was already eleven. Mom was getting remarried and came back to invite Grandma to the wedding. She pulled a few clothes out of her suitcase, saying she bought them especially for me. She pressed them into my hands, smiling, “Hurry and try them on. You’ve never seen such nice clothes, have you?” When I took the dress, the smile froze on my face. The dress had shiny sequins and cheap lace trim. Not only was it several sizes too small, but it was also something far too childish for my age. Three years apart, I had grown taller. But I forgot, she didn’t know. Or perhaps, she never knew, not then, not now. I laughed self-deprecatingly, wondering what I was even expecting. In the end, I put that dress at the very bottom of my closet, out of sight, out of mind. I went to the city with Grandma for her wedding. The scenery outside the car window flew by: paved roads, tall buildings, and at night, rows of bright streetlights. Grandma’s eyes sparkled with excitement: “If only you could study here.” I stubbornly shook my head. I just wanted to be with Grandma; even if life was a bit harder, it didn’t matter. I just needed to work hard. That night, we stayed in the city. Grandma and I felt awkward and out of place in the fancy apartment. My mom pointed at Grandma’s feet with a frown, “Mom, you’re filthy. Go wash up.” A look of embarrassment and helplessness flashed across Grandma’s face, and she quickly nodded. She had barely taken a few steps when she turned back to ask where the faucet was. My mom rolled her eyes in exasperation, sighed deeply, and said, “I shouldn’t have brought you. You’re such a bother.” I shot up, stood protectively in front of Grandma, pulled her into the bathroom, and washed her feet for her. “We’re going back tomorrow!” When I woke up, Grandma was gone. I frantically searched the entire apartment, calling her name several times, but only echoes answered me. I stood there, cold sweat breaking out all over my body. Gradually, I found it hard to breathe and collapsed weakly to the floor. Last night, Grandma told me Mom wanted me to stay in the city to study; everything in the city was the best. But I knew it was she who had begged Mom for a long time. She even took out all her savings from selling recyclables. Only then did Mom reluctantly agree. Grandma had tricked me again. This time, I decided to follow her wishes, study hard, and never disappoint her. Later, I secretly called Grandma, sobbing for a long time before I could speak: “Grandma, I’ll work hard to get into Northwood High. Will you come see me then?” Her voice thick with emotion, she answered, “Okay.” Mom’s new family was wealthy, so her status at home wasn’t very high. Taking me in to study in the city seemed to have created a rift between her and Mr. Davis. To live here peacefully, I carefully tried to please everyone. Including Gavin. Gavin was Mr. Davis’s son. When I first came to the house. I habitually tried to be nice, giving him half of the cake Mom rarely bought for me. Gavin threw it on the floor and said flatly, “Disgusting.” All I got in return was him bullying me even more. My grades couldn’t keep up with the city’s pace. During midterms, the school called for a parent-teacher conference. Mom lost face and slapped me in front of everyone in the classroom. Because I was third from the bottom, and Gavin was last. “It’s bad enough your own grades are terrible, but you’re also a bad influence on your brother!” It was clearly Gavin who had locked me in the girls’ bathroom, making me late. But she didn’t even ask why. I finally understood she was trying to suck up to the Davis family; even if it meant me getting hit, as long as Gavin was happy, it was fine. I half-covered my face, tears welling up, biting my lip to keep them from falling. In that moment, I really, really missed Grandma. I wanted to get into Northwood High, to keep my promise to Grandma, so I endured it. As soon as I got home, Gavin was kicking a tattered piece of cloth around by the door. I recognized it instantly—it was the vest Grandma had knitted for me! He wasn’t satisfied with just stomping it; he deliberately tore it. I knew he did all this on purpose, just to drive me away. I used all my strength to push him down hard, my eyes red as I screamed, “If you’re so tough, go pick on your dad! What kind of is it to bully me!” Gavin set the torn vest on the ground on fire. He glared at me: “So what if I bully you? Who asked you to come to my house! This is my house!” My feelings were the same as his; I hated this so-called blended family. Everyone faked harmony on the surface, but in reality, they all despised each other. But Gavin would only take it out on me. I looked down on him. The emotions I had suppressed for so long finally boiled over. I fought with Gavin. Mr. Davis came home from work and saw this. He picked me up and threw me hard to the side. “You dare bully my son in my house!” “I give you food, I pay for your school, and instead of being grateful, you’re this arrogant!” I got up, wincing in pain, tears uncontrollably welling in my eyes. “He started it, he’s always…” He pointed to the front door and yelled at me, “Get out of my house now, get out!” My gaze followed his pointing finger to the doorway, where my mom was standing, witnessing everything. She frowned at me without saying a word, showing no intention of speaking up for me. Clinging to hope, I pulled on my mom’s sleeve, my voice hoarse as I pleaded, “Mom, can I stay?” “Grandma is still waiting for me to get into Northwood High. I promised her.” I don’t know which words were wrong, but she slapped me across the face. “You troublesome thing, why don’t you just die? You just keep dragging me down!” This was the second time she told me to die. Even though when she gave birth to me, she had risked her life. But why give birth to me only to tell me to die? What did I do wrong? Before I could recover from my shock, she had already rushed over to Gavin, anxiously checking his injuries. I stood alone at the door, unable to go in or out. Just standing there. Watching the happy, harmonious family of three. From beginning to end, I was just an outsider. My mom threw all my things out the door, her eyes filled with disgust: “Take your trash and get out. Don’t be an eyesore here.” After saying that, she didn’t even glance at me before slamming the door shut. Shutting me out. I left the Davis house. I would never come back. That day, I don’t know how long I walked. Until my legs were sore and numb, until the soles of my shoes wore thin. With every step, a little closer to home. I don’t know how long I walked, my heels gradually aching and swelling. Until I stood before that door. Suddenly, I wanted to cry again. I took a deep breath but didn’t have the courage to knock. I was afraid to see Grandma’s worried expression, afraid to see her disappointment. In the end, I squatted by the door, quietly waiting for dawn, feeling an unprecedented sense of peace. I was home. Grandma was startled when she opened the door in the morning, surprised and overjoyed to see me. “Why are you back!” My eyes reddened, and I pursed my lips, unable to say a word. I was afraid if I spoke, I would break down crying, so I could only silently hold it in. I carefully observed the expression on her face, worried if Grandma would blame me for being difficult. She glanced at my feet and secretly wiped away a tear. I followed her gaze; my socks were soaked with blood, and the soles of my shoes were worn through. Only now did it start to hurt. “It’s good you’re back, it’s good you’re back.” Her voice was very soft. I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me or to herself.

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Willow. Her name meant grace, but her reality was anything but. A daily smoky eye, a mouth full of curses, a true rebel kid. The neighbors would say, “Just what you’d expect from a gambling addict’s spawn.” The teachers would say, “She’s ruining the school’s reputation.” Everyone called her a lost cause, mud that wouldn’t stick to a wall. Yet, she was the least of their worries. She left home to work right after high school, and at 20, married out of spite to her own father. But her luck in love was terrible. Far from living happily ever after, She got the whole package deal of misery: cruel, greedy in-laws, a selfish, deceitful husband, and a rebellious, cold daughter. She fell ill and passed away before forty, and her husband openly flirted with another woman at her funeral. It was utterly tragic. And I. I was determined to rewrite her destiny. 1 It all began when I crossed back in time to the year 2000, into the body of someone dying from an incurable illness. No, not dying. Already dead. The girl’s name was Skylar. Though terminally ill, she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth; her parents doted on her. In some ways, she was infinitely luckier than me—a person who, though perfectly healthy and full of life, had a dad who didn’t care and a mom who didn’t love her. Alright, I admit there’s a tiny bit of jealousy in that statement. Despite the unscientific event of transmigration, I could feel it: the cancer cells hadn’t slowed their invasion and destruction of this body. I died in a car crash and was reborn, but not completely. “Sky.” The hospital room door pushed open, and a beautiful woman, her face shadowed by a faint veil of sorrow, yet forcing a smile, walked in, followed by five or six household staff. The woman was the mother of the girl whose body I now inhabited. Sky was her nickname. “How are you feeling today? Anywhere uncomfortable?” Honestly, I felt uncomfortable everywhere. Since I’d arrived, it had been less than half a month, and I’d already undergone five rounds of chemotherapy. Each one felt like the agony of being flayed alive. But facing Eleanor, Skylar’s mother, at this moment, I could only put on a brave face. “I think I have a bit more energy than yesterday.” Eleanor’s eyes instantly sparkled with dazzling hope. She rushed to the bedside, scooping up my hand as if it were a fragile piece of porcelain. “Really? Oh, then, do you feel like eating anything, Sky? Mommy made your favorite mini pastries today, they’re still warm! Want a bite?” I truly had no appetite, but for the sake of a mother’s heartfelt kindness, I could manage a bite. But Eleanor still noticed my hesitation and immediately had the pastries taken away. “Sky,” Eleanor forced a smile, “Your eighteenth birthday is coming up soon. Have you thought about how you want to celebrate?” I thought for a moment, then told her what was, for both me and the original Skylar, the greatest desire so far. “Mom, I want to go to school.” 2 The year 2000, Northwood High. If this wasn’t a parallel universe, then… “Hey, hey, move it, pal! Get out of the way, will ya?” A sharp retort interrupted my thoughts, followed by a flash of a girl—her uniform jacket tied at her waist, wearing a short skirt even in the dead of winter—dashing past me. A gust of cold wind followed in her wake. “Miss! That student was so rude! Are you feeling alright? Should we go back to the doctor–” My private nurse, Ben, who was here as a chaperone, nervously rushed over, fussing with concern, afraid I couldn’t handle the sudden draft. “I’m fine.” Cutting off Ben’s incessant chatter, I looked at the distant figure who had already run off, lost in thought. Ben quietly closed his mouth, but began to watch our surroundings constantly. After that incident, he was even more on edge. Thankfully, everything went smoothly afterward. After completing the registration process at the administrative office, our homeroom teacher led us to my new classroom. Senior Year, Class 9. It was silent reading time, but a few students stood haphazardly at the classroom door, all looking utterly blasé. Among them was the girl in the short skirt I’d seen moments ago. She stood out conspicuously among the boys, leaning against the wall, head bowed, her brightly colored hair falling over her face. Seeing the nurse, the hand pushing my wheelchair instinctively tightened. “Miss, isn’t that the one from earlier…” I gave him a cool glance, and Ben immediately shut up, though his face still showed confusion. Hearing the commotion, the students at the classroom door all turned to look. Mr. Finch, the homeroom teacher, looked livid. “You lot again!” Mr. Finch’s gaze, sharp as a knife, sliced across each student, but deliberately skipped over the girl in the short skirt. The boys grinned sheepishly: “Honestly, Mr. Finch, we tried our best today, we were only one minute late!” Mr. Finch looked exasperated. “One minute? Your total tardiness for this semester has already exceeded 72 hours!” The boys wheedled and cajoled Mr. Finch, who, losing his temper, waved them into the classroom. Again, he deliberately skipped over the girl in the short skirt. 3 Perhaps because I didn’t need to study hard, Senior year was far more relaxed than I expected. Of course, arriving at school in a wheelchair, accompanied by a nurse and bodyguards, immediately piqued the curiosity of most students. They speculated about my background, gossiped about my health, and most of their words weren’t very pleasant. Once it was clear the bodyguards wouldn’t easily interfere, my classmates joined the gossip brigade. “Coming to school in a wheelchair, probably just a drama queen.” “And the nurse and bodyguards? Too many melodramatic movies, huh?” “She thinks she’s some kind of star.” A few girls huddled together, whispering. Their seats weren’t far from mine, and I could hear every word clearly. Ben intended to intervene, but I had no desire for a confrontation at school, so I held him back. But then, a second later. Bang! “Ahhh!!!” A loud crash, followed by several screams, erupted. I turned my head, startled, to see the girl in the short skirt, Willow, looking impatient. “Are your mouths permanently stuck on repeat? Non-stop chatter this early. If you love talking so much, maybe try stand-up comedy instead of school. You’d probably ace it.” The overturned desk lay on its side, its contents scattered across the floor like confetti. The girls who had been badmouthing me moments ago huddled together, looking utterly shaken. Willow frustratingly ran a hand through her hair, as if muttering to herself. “Haven’t brushed your teeth in years? Your breath stinks so bad, you’d think this classroom was a sewer.” The girls’ faces turned ashen with anger, but none dared to confront her directly. The previously noisy classroom fell silent in an instant. 4 “Pfft.” Inappropriate time, place, and atmosphere. Inappropriate laughter. The girls who had just been quivering like quail before Willow immediately glared at me, subtly but fiercely. I met their gazes unperturbed. Barely old enough to drive, their collective courage was more fragile than a soap bubble. Within seconds, the girls nervously shifted their eyes away under my cool stare. Willow scoffed, hands in her pockets, and walked out of the classroom. The girls reverted to their old habits, starting to chirp about someone again, but this time, their target was Willow. “Hmph. Deadbeat dad, and a mom who ran off with another man. No idea why she acts so high and mighty all the time!” “My mom said her dad sometimes gets drunk and hits her! On the surface, she looks fine, but she’s bruised black and blue underneath, it’s horrible!” “Serves her right! People like her are just a waste of air.” “Hey, I heard she’s also involved with some sketchy crowd outside of school, I wonder…” The girl didn’t finish her sentence. A few of them suddenly let out knowing giggles. She just stuck up for me, so I couldn’t just sit by, could I? Amidst the girls’ meaningful laughter, I raised my hand and tapped the desk in front of me, sweeping my gaze coolly across them. “Can’t you go a minute without badmouthing someone? ‘Gossip queens’ definitely suits you three.” “You!” One of them, Ruby, with straight-cut bangs, indignantly stood up, as if coming to confront me. I smirked, casually retorting. “Heard who? Your shady friends? If you were so brave, why didn’t you dare say a word earlier?” Ruby sputtered in anger: “Are you effing crazy?! We weren’t talking about you! Stop looking for trouble!” I smiled faintly. “Can’t help it. Guess I’m just a drama queen.” 5 As expected, The girls ran to Mr. Finch to complain, playing the victims. When I was called to his office, The moment I stepped inside, I saw their triumphant expressions, clearly expecting a show. I shook my head inwardly. It was time to give them a little shock. Seeing me enter, Mr. Finch immediately stood up and rushed forward, even taking over from Ben, personally pushing my wheelchair to his desk. He said nothing about the complaint, only fussing over my well-being with eager concern. The previously smug girls looked dumbfounded, standing awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or leave. I glanced at them. Mr. Finch didn’t speak, and neither did I, just leaving them hanging. After a few minutes of polite small talk, someone finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Mr. Finch, Skylar cursed at us for no reason in class! The whole class can vouch for it!” Mr. Finch’s smile instantly froze. He glared at the girl, then turned to me, gently seeking confirmation. “Skylar, is what they’re saying true?” I gave an affirmative answer. “Yes, cursing was indeed a fact.” Mr. Finch, who was clearly ready to defend me, stared blankly, his mouth half-open. The girls immediately became smug again. I chuckled inwardly, then continued: “But I didn’t curse without reason.” “How not?!” Ruby, the one with bangs, blurted out anxiously. I gave her a poker-faced glance, then, mimicking their previous tone precisely, recounted every single one of their nasty comments to Mr. Finch. “Publicly cursing is certainly wrong, but my actions can at most be considered self-defense.” 6 After hearing my recitation, Mr. Finch’s face turned green. The girls immediately started yelling. “You’re lying!” “Stop slandering us! We never talk behind our classmates’ backs!” “You’re just making things up!” It was as if their mouths could hold up the sky. Too lazy to bother with them, I addressed Mr. Finch directly: “Of course, if you don’t believe me, you can do as they say and call the other classmates to confront us face-to-face.” “No need for a confrontation!” Mr. Finch said bluntly: “Skylar, I know you wouldn’t lie about something like this.” Then, he turned to the girls: “Maliciously speculating about others, spreading harmful rumors, and then playing the victim by complaining first! Is this what you’re learning at school?!” The girls were completely dumbfounded. They had probably grown accustomed to using the same tactics against others. Now, faced with Mr. Finch’s sudden reversal, they instantly broke down. “Mr. Finch, you know us! We’ve never wronged or slandered any classmate! It’s her, she’s the one who–” “Alright, alright!” Mr. Finch waved his hand, cutting off their excuses impatiently. “In the past, I turned a blind eye a few times, considering your good grades. But now, Skylar has just transferred to our school, and she’s not well. Instead of helping and looking after a new classmate, you’re brazenly slandering her! It’s completely unacceptable!” Mr. Finch looked utterly righteous. “You three, apologize to Skylar immediately, or I’ll have to call your parents to school for a serious discussion!” “No, Mr. Finch, please don’t call our parents!” The girls cried out in panicked helplessness. The three of them glared at me resentfully. Judging by their furious expressions, they were probably wondering what magic potion I’d given Mr. Finch. Girls who were used to ruling the roost in the ivory tower of high school. This was probably their first encounter with a “pay-to-win player” like me. 7 Ultimately, the girls, unwillingly and grudgingly, were forced by Mr. Finch to apologize to me. Mr. Finch would, of course, side with me. After all, to ensure my comfortable schooling, my parents had, without a second thought, agreed to renovate the school’s athletic fields, donated two academic buildings and a science lab, and, fearing I might not eat well, even arranged for a dozen star chefs for the school cafeteria. Even the ingredient procurement had a dedicated team. Oh, and this morning before heading to school, I heard my parents discussing plans to replace all the school’s desks and chairs with more ergonomic ones. Was I a normal student? Clearly, I was the school’s cherished benefactor. Let alone the homeroom teacher, even if they complained to the grade head, the principal, or even the superintendent. Who among them would dare to say a single bad word about me? On the way back to the classroom from the office, the few girls walked distinctly on the other side. Nearing the door, Ruby suddenly stopped, her eyes fixed on me with resentment. “She must have used some underhanded trick to get Mr. Finch on her side! Just you wait, we’re not letting this go!” I shrugged, making no comment on her words. Even if she didn’t let it go, what could she do? Nothing but the usual isolation tactics. As for more severe physical bullying. I wasn’t being presumptuous, but just seeing how two sentences from Willow had silenced them, and how they only dared to complain about me, I knew that even without a nurse and bodyguards, they lacked the guts. The moment I entered the classroom, my gaze happened to meet Willow’s. She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and slumped onto her desk, clearly intending to take a nap. I gestured for Ben to push me over. Ben, though confused, strictly followed my parents’ instructions, always prioritizing me. As I reached Willow’s desk, I boldly tapped on the surface. Willow looked up, her eyes incredibly impatient, but when she saw who it was, surprise flickered across her face. But Willow, determined to maintain her rebel persona, still spoke harshly. “Got a problem?” 8 Facing Willow’s rude remark, I calmly nodded. “Yeah, why else would I be in a wheelchair?” Willow froze, completely dumbfounded. I smiled and leaned in closer: “Hey, thanks for sticking up for me earlier.” The girl, snapping out of her daze, rolled her eyes to cover her embarrassment. “What’s it got to do with you? I cursed them out purely because they were bothering my nap.” I ignored her bad temper, glancing at the English textbook on her desk. “Hey, next period is Mr. Finch’s math class. Even if you want to sleep, you should at least put out your math book, or he’ll find a reason to pick on you.” Willow’s expression grew even more impatient. She raised an eyebrow, sizing me up repeatedly. The class bell suddenly rang. Willow didn’t hesitate to dismiss me: “I’ll put out whatever book I please. No need for you to be nosy. Get lost!” Seeing the uncontrollable annoyance and embarrassment on her young, pretty face, I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. Just before Willow could lash out in fury, I gestured for Ben to push me back to my seat. On the way, passing Ruby’s desk, I overheard her nasty comment to her deskmate. “Birds of a feather, I guess. Trash belongs with trash. They’re a match made in hell!” I signaled Ben to stop, then turned to face Ruby with a blank expression. Ruby looked at me warily, warning: “What! I wasn’t talking about you! Don’t jump to conclusions!” I smiled faintly. Then, a second before Mr. Finch walked into the classroom, I quickly grabbed Ruby’s hand, twisted my body, and slammed myself onto the floor. Amidst the rising screams and gasps, I hit the ground hard. 9 For publicly assaulting a sick classmate, Ruby’s parents were called to school by Mr. Finch. Hearing I’d been bullied, Eleanor rushed to the school immediately. Upon seeing me in the infirmary, my arms and legs covered in fresh bruises, Eleanor’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “Mrs. Albright…” Bypassing the Vice Principal who was trying to schmooze her, Eleanor rushed to my side. “Skylar, Skylar, are you okay? How did you get such serious injuries? It must hurt so much, doesn’t it? Tell me, who bullied you? Mommy won’t let them off easy!” Although I had used a self-inflicted injury to get Ruby a disciplinary record and sent home to reflect, The moment I saw Eleanor’s tears, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I’m sorry, for hurting your daughter’s body. “Mom,” I gently called her, “I’m fine, please don’t be sad…” With outsiders present, Eleanor quickly composed herself. She gently patted my shoulder twice, then stood up and turned to the flustered Vice Principal, her tone sharp and serious. “Vice Principal Miller, the school personally promised me they would create a 100% safe learning environment for Skylar. And since Skylar also expressed interest in attending here, Richard and I ultimately chose to enroll her. But now, less than a week after Skylar’s enrollment, something like this has happened, making me question whether your school can truly deliver on its promises. If not, we will transfer Skylar as soon as possible!” “We can!” The Vice Principal, sweating profusely, terrified of losing the financial backing, stated unequivocally. “Mrs. Albright, I guarantee you, absolutely nothing like this will happen again from now on!” Eleanor said nothing, only giving the man before her a cold, scrutinizing look. The atmosphere in the infirmary suddenly became suffocating. The Vice Principal’s sweat flowed even faster. He frantically wiped his brow while apologizing to Eleanor, swearing repeatedly. Finally, Eleanor glanced around the infirmary and asked, “Where is the student who pushed my daughter?” The Vice Principal quickly replied. “The school has already disciplined that student! Her parents have taken her home to reflect.” Seeing Eleanor frown, he added: “Of course, if you’d like to personally meet that student, we’ll contact her parents immediately and bring her to school!” After a moment of thought, Eleanor waved her hand. “Let’s leave it at this for now. If it happens again…” “No, no, don’t worry! Absolutely it won’t happen again!” 10 After dismissing the Vice Principal, Eleanor returned to the bedside, shedding the assertive demeanor she’d maintained for outsiders. “Skylar.” She gently stroked my hair, her voice trembling with lingering fear: “Do you really have to attend school? Your father and I are so worried your body won’t be able to handle it. Your last check-up report… ” Eleanor couldn’t continue, her eyes suddenly filled with a painful redness, and her hand, as it dropped, trembled uncontrollably. Everyone knew the truth. No matter how much money the Albright family could pour in, Skylar’s body was already at its limit, like a lamp running out of oil. When I first arrived, I saw from Skylar’s memories that, because her illness was congenital, her parents had taken her to countless hospitals since childhood. Domestic and international, they traveled to so many places. But all doctors gave the same exact answer. “Given current medical technology, all we can do is extend her life by a few years.” But no matter how much they extended it, Skylar had no chance of living past 20. “Mom,” I held Eleanor’s hand, trying to speak in a tone as normal as possible: “I know my body better than anyone. Please, just consider this my lifelong wish. I truly don’t want to be confined to a small hospital room until the very end.” Although, given the Albright family’s wealth, the hospital rooms Skylar had stayed in since childhood were more spacious and comfortable than most ordinary people’s homes. But no matter how spacious or luxurious, a hospital room was still just a hospital room. Skylar had suffered from being cooped up for too long; she dreamed of stepping out and seeing the world. She was just too thoughtful, not wanting her parents to worry, so she had always endured and restrained herself, never even taking a single step outside until she finally left this world. I admit that my insistence on attending Northwood High this time was because I had something I absolutely had to accomplish. But wasn’t this also Skylar’s wish? “Mom.” Seeing Eleanor didn’t want to talk about it, I smoothly changed the subject. “I found a really interesting girl at school. I really want to be friends with her, but she doesn’t seem to like me very much.” Sure enough, Eleanor’s attention was quickly diverted, and she listened as I recounted Willow’s story. 11 Clearly, my first interaction with Willow hadn’t fully captured her attention. But I wouldn’t be deterred by that. Even after returning home to recuperate for a few days and then going back to school, I continued my persistent efforts to approach her. “What now?” Under my relentless “harassment,” Willow had finally managed to patiently exchange a few words with me. I rested my crossed arms on her desk, my chin propped up. “Willow, this Saturday is my birthday. Do you want to come to my house to celebrate?” Willow’s tightly furrowed brow looked like it could crush walnuts. She pursed her lips, exasperated. “No, seriously, I don’t think we’re that close, are we? And who gave you permission to call me that?!” To me, her behavior was no different from a kitten throwing a tantrum. So I continued boldly. “But from the time you spoke up for me, I’ve considered you my friend!” I looked at her with eyes crinkled in a smile: “If I could have a friend as smart, pretty, and cute as you, I’d be the happiest girl in the world!” Willow’s eyes widened as if she’d seen a ghost. I pretended not to notice, carefully tugging at her oversized school uniform sleeve, begging humbly. “Please, please, come celebrate my birthday!” Willow impatiently ran a hand through her messy dark hair: “Fine, fine, fine! Just stop being crazy, and I’ll do whatever you want!” She’d already said it, how could I not press my advantage? “Okay, then let’s walk home together after school tonight!” Willow: “…” Though she didn’t say anything, just by looking at her expression, I knew she was cursing up a storm. To show my sincerity, I immediately placed several types of pastries, which I’d specifically asked the household cook to make yesterday, on her desk. “Willow, try these! They’re all your favorite flavors!” Willow looked at me suspiciously: “How do you know what flavors I like?” I chuckled mischievously. “Guess! I’ll tell you a secret: I know you better than you think.” Then Willow’s gaze at me turned into: “Are you, like, a total creep?”

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1 When the Maxwell family teetered on the brink of ruin, I sought out Caleb myself, offering a lifeline, and saved their legacy. In a show of gratitude for my intervention, Caleb, known for his philandering ways, immediately underwent a vasectomy. He swore to remain pure for me, for life. He took me across every continent, through mountains and by oceans, vowing to etch our love into every landscape we touched. Three years later, he drugged me, stole my phone, and infiltrated the Thorne estate. He meticulously orchestrated a scheme that brought my family to its knees overnight. My parents, consumed by despair, took peaceful sleep pills, ending their lives together. My sister, Sarah, was dragged into a dark alley by Caleb’s men, subjected to unspeakable public humiliation, and the video footage of her degradation was then callously sold at a twisted auction for the amusement of wealthy young scions. I pleaded with Caleb to spare the Thorne family, but he merely gripped my face, forcing me to watch as my parents’ remains were cremated. “You thought your act of marrying me was so noble, didn’t you? Yes, the whole city praised the Thorne family for being a beacon in the storm, saving me from disaster! But what did they say about me?” “They said I was nothing but a dog, clinging to your coattails, Eliza Thorne!” Caleb personally destroyed my family, all to prove he was stronger than the Thornes, that he wasn’t a dog. He tore up the divorce papers and shoved them into my mouth. He wanted me to watch, firsthand, as he meticulously climbed the ladder to become the city’s veritable kingmaker, a man who could turn the tide with a flick of his wrist. To further humiliate me, he brought different women home every day, transforming the mansion into his personal playground. And I? I was their sole servant. “What’s the Thorne family worth now? Your status is perfectly suited to cooking their meals and massaging their feet.” It didn’t matter. Not really. When I’d rescued him from the avalanche years ago, a shard of rock had pierced my heart. I only had three days left to live. … I flung myself from Caleb’s villa window, desperate to retrieve my family’s last possessions. With the Thorne family bankrupt, every valuable item had been sold off, leaving only some personal effects in the mansion, things no one wanted. I worried my parents would be cold down below, that Sarah would have no clothes to wear. But before I even reached the front door, the Thorne mansion buzzed with life, Caleb’s laughter piercing my ears, instantly seizing my heart. When he saw me enter, the cigarette paused between his lips. Then he raised a hand, beckoning. “Well, well. Is the Thorne orphan interested in attending the auction of her own family’s relics?” My fists clenched, my throat tightened, unable to believe what I’d just heard. “What did you say? Caleb, those are your parents and sister too!” Caleb’s eyes turned glacial. “Your family didn’t think about me being their good son-in-law when you used the Maxwell name to boost your reputation, did you?” He draped an arm around the stunning woman beside him. “Chloe, just bid on whatever you like. I’m here.” On the stage, my mother’s earrings and comb were being auctioned. Chloe’s eyes gleamed with delight. She raised her paddle. “Five million! Mr. Maxwell, I simply adore this!” Another woman, Ivy, her eyes misty, looked over. “Sister, can you let me have it? I love it too!” Caleb roared with laughter, amused. “Alright, Chloe’s new here, Ivy, why don’t you let her have this one? The next one’s all yours, okay? Listen up, darlings, bid on whatever you want! If you can’t win it, come to me. I’ll make sure it’s yours, no matter the cost!” A wave of cheers erupted from the women, paddles flying. My mother’s and father’s jewelry and clothes were quickly auctioned off, and I could do nothing but watch. Then, Sarah’s private garment was brought out. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a rare find! The winning bid includes a scandalous private recording! Starting bid, ten million!” Wealthy young playboys eagerly raised their paddles, their hunger unconcealed. The women with Caleb, however, rolled their eyes to the heavens. “In this day and age, any person’s intimate garments can fetch a high price? No thank you! Wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole!” A flicker of triumph crossed Ivy’s face. She turned to Caleb. “Caleb, darling, why don’t you bid on this for Eliza? She’s broke now, probably won’t be able to afford new clothes soon! Better to wear her sister’s than some cheap junk, right?” Caleb’s lips curved into a sneer, his gaze on me filled with utter disdain. “Fine. As Ivy suggests. I’ll make sure it’s yours.” Caleb snagged a corner of the garment, along with a USB drive, and tossed them both onto my head. “Since you’re bankrupt, take these. Study them carefully. Might come in handy someday, when you’re trying to make a living.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I told you I was afraid of pain, and you swore to remain pure for me. How can you say such things now?” Caleb scoffed. “Are you out of your mind? I said I got a vasectomy for you because I never wanted to touch you! You disgusted me, so I found an excuse to trick you. How could you actually believe it?” The old, torn wound in my heart now throbbed with a pain so sharp I almost blacked out. It was true, heartbreak really did have a sound. I clutched my chest, my face ashen, and sank to the floor. Caleb, with his entourage, stepped over me, their laughter echoing. “Don’t play the victim. The only people in this world who ever sympathized with you are all dead.” “Wait.” I called out, stopping Caleb. “The next item. I’ll make sure it’s mine.” 2 On the stage, a stone ring lay displayed. It was crudely made, utterly plain, almost ugly. The paddles in the audience remained down. No one wanted to bid on such an unappealing item, which looked utterly worthless. Caleb peered at it for a long moment, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Isn’t that the one you gave me? The one I threw away? You actually secretly picked it up again. How pathetic.” This ring was part of my mother’s dowry to me, a stone she personally chose, and my father personally shaped for me. This unique, ancient stone was said to be a naturally rare substance, formed over millennia, worth billions, and incredibly resilient, capable of cutting through bone with ease. My parents gave me this ring as a symbol of self-preservation, a promise that no matter what, they would protect me. But when Caleb was trapped in the ice, I’d pressed this ring onto his hand, praying for all my luck to transfer to him, begging for him to survive. He did survive. But when I rescued him, I lost my footing and fell. The stone deeply gashed my chest, and the ring fell into the snow, buried beneath. “You probably don’t know this, but I deliberately scraped that ring against your chest to break it. That way, I could openly throw it away. Such an ugly ring, and from you? I wanted it even less.” My eyes stung, but my heart was numb. I repeated, “I’ll make sure it’s mine.” A few young socialites symbolically raised the price to three million dollars, the last of the money I had left. A young woman, clearly wanting to prolong the cruelty, tried to bid higher, but Caleb instinctively stopped her. He stared at my disheveled appearance, a cold smile twisting his lips. “Something I discarded, and you still cherish it like a priceless treasure? You really are my pathetic admirer. Fine, I’ll grant you this charity. Take your three million. And remember this: you are a Thorne. Remember how your family humiliated mine. Remember how I never loved you, yet you shamelessly clung to me.” With that, he lost interest and swept out, a dozen women trailing in his wake. I clutched the stone ring my parents had given me, the one I had lost and now regained. A relieved smile touched my lips. My parents were gone, but the ring was back. Did it mean they were here, protecting me? Too bad I only had three days left to live. My smile faltered, a sudden spasm in my chest. My vision blurred, and I collapsed. … The doctor urged me to stay in the hospital, assuring me that if I remained still, the stone shard lodged in my heart might not shift, giving me a few more days. I waved him off, pushing myself up and returning to Caleb’s villa. What was the point of a few more days? Just a few more days of Caleb’s torment. There was no meaning in it. Better to find release and join my parents and sister. When I arrived home, the dining table was a scene of boisterous chatter, but there was no place set for me. Caleb turned, his brow furrowed. “Still know how to come back? Look at the time! Chloe was practically in tears because you didn’t cook today! You’re not getting any food for the next few days!” I walked past the dining room without turning my head. “Whatever.” Caleb’s brow furrowed. He rushed forward in three strides, seizing my wrist and slamming me against the wall. My heart seized in a violent spasm. All my organs screamed in protest. The pain was so intense, I felt like vomiting. Caleb was about to lash out, then he noticed the crisscrossing scratches covering the wrist he held. Those were the marks I’d unconsciously made during the agonizing spasms from the stone in my heart. “You dare to self-harm?” Caleb leaned closer, his eyes burning with intense hatred. “What, I endured humiliation for three years, and you can’t handle a few days of inconvenience? Let me tell you, your Thorne family is penniless. I bought your life! You think you can die without my permission? Dream on! I’ll make sure you live a life worse than death!” I looked at the man I had loved for almost a decade, the man who had consumed my entire youth, eighty percent of my life. He looked increasingly alien. I spoke softly, repeating, “Whatever.” Caleb’s fury erupted. He ripped off my jacket, then, in front of everyone, picked me up and threw me onto the sofa. By all accounts, I should have felt humiliated, or perhaps even a perverse joy at finally giving myself to the man I loved, or perhaps a defiant challenge in my gaze towards the other women. But my heart ached too much. I felt nothing, and then I fainted from the pain. 3 When I next awoke, I was still naked on the sofa, covered only by a small blanket. Caleb was no longer home. A dozen women chattered incessantly, their voices grating. I called them into my room and opened my wardrobe. The walk-in closet was filled with clothes I’d had custom-made, every piece a unique design. The women’s eyes went wide. Fortunately, Caleb’s influence was absolute now; no one dared to raid his mansion. So these gowns, which were technically Thorne family property, along with me, remained untouched. “Pick whatever you like.” Chloe stood before me, eyeing me up and down with suspicion. “You’re being this generous? What trick are you playing now?” I shook my head, saying nothing. Once I finished packing my family’s last relics, it was time to sort through my own. Caleb hated me so much; after I died, these clothes would probably be burned, every single one. These works, which their designers took such pride in, deserved to fulfill some purpose. A few younger women, unable to contain their excitement, eagerly began picking out clothes, exclaiming, “The fabric is amazing!” Only a handful of women, around my age, remained with their arms crossed, their expressions skeptical, wondering what I was truly up to. I paid them no mind, opening drawers to reveal exquisite bags and watches, their faces illuminated by the glittering treasures. I noticed then that these women, in varying degrees, resembled me. Chloe, the newest one, was almost a mirror image, and the most favored. But it no longer mattered. Whether Caleb loved me or not, it was irrelevant. After all, I only had two days left. The roar of a sports car in the garden pierced the air. Ivy, who had been standing still, craned her neck to look out. Suddenly, she walked up to the clothes rack and picked out a dress. When Caleb opened the door, Ivy suddenly screamed, clutching the dress. The sequins had been cut halfway off at some point, and a sharp edge had sliced her delicate leg. Blood immediately gushed forth. I remembered Caleb had noticed her smooth, pale legs before, which was why he’d given her the largest guest room. Caleb’s face instantly darkened. He lunged forward, sweeping Ivy into a bridal carry, tenderly blowing on her wound. Ivy’s eyes teared up. “Ivy is so clumsy, Caleb. Eliza meant well, giving us clothes. It’s Ivy’s fault for picking the one with the razor blades.” Caleb’s gaze grew increasingly dangerous. “Eliza Thorne, I’m giving you one chance to explain.” I shrugged. “What’s there to explain? A common hussy acting like a victim. Since you won’t divorce me, I’m still your wife. What’s wrong with teaching a mistress a lesson?” “Eliza Thorne, I told you, your duty is to serve them. Who gave you permission to act like the Lady of this house and discipline my women?” My defiance enraged Caleb. He pulled out a whip and handed it to Mr. Davies, the butler. “For Ivy’s injury, I want you to pay a hundredfold.” The whip cracked against my legs, the barbs tearing at my flesh. For the first ten lashes, I felt nothing. Compared to the agony in my heart, the pain in my legs was negligible. But with the eleventh lash, the wound exposed bone. I saw the whip strike the stark white bone, and finally, tears fell. Caleb crouched down. “Does it hurt now? Kneel before the camera and bark like a dog a few times. Say, ‘Eliza Thorne and everyone in the Thorne family are Caleb Maxwell’s dogs!’ Then bow to Ivy and apologize, and I’ll let you go.” I closed my mouth, letting out a disdainful scoff from my nose. This earned me several heavy blows from Caleb himself, swung with a baseball bat, the pain excruciating. 4 Ivy covered her mouth, her eyes wide with terror as she tugged on Caleb’s sleeve. “Caleb, darling, maybe that’s enough? Eliza’s leg… I think it’s broken!” “Broken is good. A hundred days to heal. For a hundred days, she won’t be able to run, and she won’t have the strength to bully any of you.” A hundred days. That’s a long time, Caleb. You’ve planned everything, but you’ll never guess I only have one day left. Breaking all precedent, Caleb stayed at my bedside for a night. He gave me a full basic check-up, confirmed with the family doctor that it was just a bone fracture, and that I’d be fine after three months of rest. I found him irritating and was about to tell him to leave when a mouthful of blood erupted from my lips. Caleb laughed. “Keep pretending. Go on.” “Why didn’t you vomit when the doctor was here? Afraid he’d see through your act?” “Eliza Thorne, do you know why I like Ivy? Because she’s so much like you when you pretend to be innocent. You’re both the same, you treat me like a fool. But Ivy has nothing. She can only cling to me. You, on the other hand, had the Thorne family, you were so arrogant. Now the Thornes are gone, and you still refuse to bow down to me. That’s why I hate you most.” “Stop faking it. Learn how to play weak from Ivy. Your face right now, it disgusts me.” Caleb rose, as if in a fit of pique, and instructed his driver, “I’m sleeping at the office tonight. No one is to disturb me.” The women outside, having rarely been put in their place, gathered outside my room, their eyes piercing me. I coughed up another mouthful of blood. Ivy scoffed. “Eliza Thorne, Caleb’s gone. You can stop pretending now, in front of us.” I had no strength left to speak, only to breathe deeply, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Only I knew that the whips and bats had shifted the stone shard in my heart again. My heart was probably nothing but a pulpy mess now, the shard having pierced my trachea, which was why I kept coughing blood. My life was ending. Suddenly, all I wanted was a bowl of peanut soup. I struggled to sit up, maintaining the last semblance of the Thorne heiress’s dignity. “A bowl of peanut soup, please. Very rich.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “Why? Am I your servant?” With that, she turned to leave, but Chloe stopped her. The two exchanged a look. I heard Chloe whisper, “I saw her medical reports. She’s allergic to peanuts. We should just go along with it…” Ivy gasped in alarm. “Then she’ll deliberately frame us!” Chloe lifted her chin, gesturing outside. “Don’t be silly. It’s using a knife to kill without touching it.” Finally, a young woman, timidly, brought in a bowl of peanut soup. She wore my favorite dress, the one I wore the day Caleb proposed. The girl was smart; even her hairstyle was exactly like mine that day. Her eyes burned with ambition and defiance as she brought the spoon to my lips without asking. “Sister, I’ll feed you. You must drink every single drop.” I drank, spoonful by spoonful. I felt a rash erupt on my face, my throat and fingers swelled. Finally, the peanut soup, somehow, went down my windpipe, and my heart seized with excruciating pain. Then, everything before my eyes lost its color. When Caleb returned, dark circles under his eyes, he walked straight to my room. “Have you learned your lesson?” Seeing my lack of response, his displeasure deepened. “Your silence won’t work. I have all the time in the world to wear you down! I don’t believe I can’t keep you here for life and eventually get a word of submission out of you!” “Oh, right. You love to dance, don’t you? Tomorrow, come with me to a ball. I want everyone to see how the Thorne heiress, who once captivated half the city with her dance, now drags her broken legs, crawling behind me like a dog!” “Are you mute? Even dogs bark!” “Still haven’t had enough of being watched by those people? Want another round?”

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At the club, as I negotiated a business deal with a client, my wife burst in, accompanied by her male assistant, demanding our private room. She was clearly intoxicated, leaning on the assistant, their gestures oozing intimacy. But before I could even question her, she accused me of stalking her, claiming the assistant was merely a subordinate, and berating me for being petty and misunderstanding them. My client tried to defend me, only to be cursed at by her and the assistant, nearly ruining a lucrative deal. I said no more, immediately proposing a divorce. That’s when my wife’s entire family panicked.

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Mom’s heart gave out. She’d found the bride at my wedding wasn’t me, but Skylar, Asher’s business partner. A single gasp, then nothing. The moment she stopped breathing, my wedding became her funeral. Asher, though, ordered the ceremony to proceed. He even forced me to place the ring on Skylar’s finger. “Now! Put it on her! I’ll explain tonight.” I ignored his threats, cradling Mom’s body as I left the hotel. By eight that night, the “successful” wedding, with its new bride, concluded. Skylar crowed on her social media feed: “Hehe! Finally married to my guiding light today. So grateful to the third wheel who knew when to leave.” Asher followed, posting: “Some people just aren’t worthy of love.” In the chilling silence of the morgue, I ‘liked’ both their posts. My comment: “Wishing you forever.” Then I clutched Mom’s urn, ready to move out, only to find Asher locked in a passionate kiss with Skylar on the new couch I’d bought for our future. 1 Late that night, I returned home, Mom’s urn clutched to my chest, the moonlight outside as cold as ice. At the door, Skylar’s heels were brazenly placed by the entryway, as if she were the lady of the house. It wasn’t her first “visit” by a long shot. Since she became a Caldwell partner three years ago, she’d been a constant fixture, citing “work discussions.” Morning or a stormy night, didn’t matter. Asher would always tell me to “know my place.” “The company makes money, and you, idle as you are, get to enjoy it.” Now, all I had left was this feather-light urn. Pushing the door open, I found Asher and Skylar, bathed in the dim glow, in a fervent embrace on the very couch I’d picked out for our new life together. Skylar, eyes glazed with drink, draped herself over him. Seeing me enter, Asher glanced at the urn, then pushed Skylar away with a dismissive tone: “So, she really died. Not just an act. Still not done with your dramatics? Fine, I feel guilty now.” A bitter laugh escaped me. When Mom had collapsed from rage, he’d sneered, “If only she’d just die.” Now she was gone, and he paraded this flimsy “guilt”? Today should have been the happiest day of my life—marrying Asher, my childhood sweetheart of twenty years. I even had a bigger surprise planned: despite his low sperm count, a less than one-in-a-million chance of conception, I held a positive pregnancy test in my pocket. But looking at his face now, all I felt was profound disgust. “Asher, it’s over between us.” I watched his eyes widen in shock. “From this moment on, we’re strangers.” I had planned to quietly disappear, out of respect for Grandma Caldwell, but he’d already stomped past every one of my boundaries. “My guilt isn’t enough for you? Do you want me to kneel and beg?” He grabbed my wrist, his gaze frigid. “Know your place, Willow.” I yanked my hand free, intent on gathering Mom’s belongings. But Skylar sat up from the couch, feigning concern as she eyed the urn. “Oh, dear, Auntie’s gone? So sorry, Willow… Asher, I just love that urn. My dog died yesterday. Could Willow put my dog in it for me?” Asher actually reached for it. “Give it! It’s perfect for a mutt!” Seeing Mom’s urn about to be ripped from me, I bit down hard on his wrist. The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth. He roared, lashing out with a furious backhand. “Bitch!” As I fell, my only thought was to shield the urn, clutching it tight against my chest. My head, though, slammed directly into the sharp corner of the table. “Asher!” Skylar anxiously took Asher’s hand, examining it, then turned a disapproving gaze on me. “Willow, why would you bite Asher? He cares about you so much. It’s just an urn. Aren’t you worried he won’t get Auntie something better later?” Still cradling Mom’s ashes, I struggled to my feet. Blood streamed down my face, dripping onto the urn. Mom had loved me fiercely in life. But the one she loved most was Asher, standing right there. In that moment, something inside me snapped. “You care about me? Then you replace the bride at my wedding and drive my mother to her grave? Asher! Don’t you dare forget what Mom did for you! Who ran into that blazing inferno, her face disfigured by the flames, to pull out a seven-year-old you? Now all I want is to leave. Get out of my way!” “Enough!” Asher strode forward, his hand seizing my throat, slamming me against the wall. A crushing sense of suffocation stole my breath, but what truly choked me was Asher’s snarled reply. “Willow!” His grip tightened, his features contorted into a monstrous mask of rage. “How long are you going to hold this tired old favor over my head? Isn’t this life you have enough for you?!” Asher’s final words were gritted out, each syllable laced with venom: “How dare you even utter the word ‘leave’! I’ve already said I’m guilty. Don’t push your luck!” My face was turning purple from the lack of air, tears mingled with blood streaming down. I couldn’t raise my hands to fight back. Because I was terrified that if I let go, Mom’s urn would crash to the floor. Mom had suffered enough in life. In death, I wouldn’t let her feel any more pain. Just as I felt consciousness fading, Skylar approached. She didn’t stop him, only whined pitifully: “Willow, Asher still loves you. He’s marrying me because everyone thinks we’re a better match, and our union will boost the company’s stock price. But Asher told me that privately, you’ll always be Mrs. Caldwell. Asher’s doing all this, why can’t you and Auntie understand and be more considerate? Why focus on mere appearances?” As her words hung in the air, I felt Asher’s fury surge, escalating rapidly. “Willow! Why can’t you be considerate like Skylar? Why?!” His grip was so powerful, his knuckles turned stark white. “Apologize to Skylar, and I promise you, outside of public appearances, you’ll always be Mrs. Caldwell.” Just as I was on the brink of blacking out, Asher released me. He loomed over me, his gaze a mix of pity, condescension, and cold command. Rage, raw and incandescent, instantly shattered my composure, erupting from every cell in my body. “Asher! I said it! I don’t want to be Mrs. Caldwell!” I lunged into the kitchen, snatched up a carving knife, and lunged at them. “I just wanted to leave before, but now? Now I want you dead!” Just as I was about to strike, Asher exploded in a fresh burst of fury at my actions. He shielded Skylar with one arm, then lashed out, kicking me violently in the stomach. Right where his child, the one he didn’t know about, was growing. The unexpected kick sent me flying back, slamming into a bookshelf. In that instant, an agonizing, bone-deep pain tore through my abdomen. Crimson blood began to flow between my legs. My world instantly turned crimson. I collapsed into the spreading pool of blood, my entire body racked with pain, feeling as though every bone had shattered. But the worst pain was in my belly, the very place where a tiny life had been stirring. A metallic taste filled my mouth as tears blurred my vision. Clutching Mom’s urn, I gazed at Asher, who stood coldly in the distance. I tried to stand, but my body wouldn’t obey. My trembling hand moved to my stomach. Suddenly, a large mouthful of blood gushed out. Skylar gasped, her delicate face paling as she clung desperately to Asher’s arm. “Willow! What are you faking now? I barely touched you! Don’t act like you’re dying!” Asher stood above it all, his face dark and brooding. He irritably pulled out a tissue and began wiping his shoe. Skylar’s eyes welled up, glistening with tears, as she looked at me with feigned innocence: “Asher! Could she be pregnant? Look at all that blood… it’s disgusting, ugh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, bending over in a performative retch. Her act was painfully obvious, yet Asher, suddenly anxious, gently patted her shoulder. “Disgusting? Then don’t look.” He turned to me, his disgust equally blatant. “How could she be pregnant? If she really was… Hmph! She’d be screaming it from the rooftops, using it as leverage for a better life.” Asher sneered, his contempt for me filling the entire room. “That woman… she’s got layers of scheming!” The words were barely out when a searing cramp twisted my gut—a pain that drilled into my skin, pierced my bones, and seared my very soul. It felt as if every nerve ending in my body was being gripped by tiny, furious hands. The baby in my belly was screaming its rage. My insides felt like they were being ripped apart. “Cough! Cough! Cough!” I coughed violently, then, my mouth full of blood, I began to laugh, a ragged, broken sound. “Ha-ha.” “Asher! Look… what’s this?” My hand trembling, I reached into my pocket, my fingers, stained with the blood that was once my baby, clutched the pregnancy report. I pulled it out, holding it towards Asher. “Read this, then I’ll leave! I wish you both forever!” Asher! Didn’t you always want a child? Then before I leave, I’ll use this pregnancy report, like a blade, to pierce his heart. Let you know that from that kick you just delivered, your line, the Caldwell name, is doomed to end. “Willow! I don’t have time for your games!” Asher snatched the report, but didn’t even glance at it. Instead, his face a mask of fury, he crumpled it into a tight ball. And hurled it viciously into the spreading pool of my blood. “Are you deaf?! I said I’m losing my patience! Losing it!” He seized my long hair, yanking my head back, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I told you to give me the urn! I told you to apologize to Skylar! You’re still Mrs. Caldwell! Do you understand?!” A tearing pain ripped through my scalp. I bit down hard on my lip, drawing blood, refusing to utter a sound. My bloodshot eyes locked onto Asher’s. Asher looked at the urn clutched in my arms, veins bulging in his neck. “Why are you still holding it?! She’s dead! How long are you going to use her to threaten me?! Give it to me! Give it to me!” Asher ripped the urn from my grasp. Both of us screamed at the same time. One, a raw, primal rage; the other, a hysterical, desolate grief. My nails had torn Asher’s skin. He glanced at his hand, then his eyes turned suddenly, chillingly sinister. “Fine then! Take it!” He roared, then, as my bloodshot eyes widened in horror, he violently ripped open the urn’s lid and flung its contents towards the ceiling. “Mom!” I shrieked, lunging forward, desperate to catch the scattering ashes. But my head was brutally forced down by Asher, ground against the floor. “Let me go! I can’t let Mom…” Asher slapped me hard across the face, his voice a furious snarl: “Shut up! Stop faking it! You just want to use your mother’s death to extort more from me, don’t you? Asher! I’ll give you what you want!” He yanked my head to his level, then his other hand grabbed a handful of my mother’s ashes, violently smearing them across my face. “You loved that old hag so much, didn’t you? Then let her be a part of you now. Scream! Why aren’t you screaming?!” Asher gripped my head, violently slamming it against the floor. “You won’t even scream! How dare you say you love her! Scream! Let me see your devotion! Otherwise, you won’t be Mrs. Caldwell anymore!” I bit down hard, clenching my jaw, refusing to comply. But Asher kept slapping me, again and again, trying to force my mouth open. Finally, he grabbed my jaw, top and bottom, attempting to pry my mouth open with brute force. Asher’s chest heaved, his voice a thunderous roar: “Do it! If you don’t want this desecration, apologize to Skylar right now! Then beg me! Say you don’t want to leave, that you want to stay and be Mrs. Caldwell!” Pain! Excruciating pain tore at the corners of my mouth. It felt like they were ripping apart, my entire head threatening to split in two by Asher’s hands. But I stared at Asher, my bloodshot eyes, webbed with broken capillaries, locked onto him. Perhaps realizing I was truly fading, a flicker of clarity crossed Asher’s eyes. He finally released me. Gasping for air, I scrambled to the floor, reaching out to gather my mother’s ashes. Suddenly, Skylar threw open all the windows. “Asher, it’s so stuffy in here. Your lungs aren’t good; I’ll air it out for you.” As Skylar spoke, she also cranked up the central air conditioning to full blast. “No!” Ignoring the agonizing pain throughout my body, I lunged forward. But in an instant, the fierce draft from the top-floor windows combined with the powerful AC—in a mere blink—scattered my mother’s ashes. Only a few lingering bone fragments remained, skittering across the floor in the breeze. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Willow! I was just worried about Asher’s lungs, so I opened the windows. I didn’t mean to… Auntie…” She walked over, deliberately stepping on a bone fragment of my mother’s, then blinked, feigning innocence and pity. “Oops, sorry, I just scattered Auntie’s remains.” My vision turned crimson with rage. I lunged, my hands clamping around Skylar’s throat. “I’ll kill you!” I squeezed, utterly determined to drag her down with me. But Asher, who cherished her so, wouldn’t let me have my wish. Once more, I fell, landing back in that pool of blood. “Willow! I’ve had it with you! Do you really not want this Mrs. Caldwell title anymore?!” Asher roared, like a lion whose mane had been set aflame—ferocious, cruel. “If you don’t want it, then why don’t you just get out?!” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Are you deaf to reason? I am trying to leave. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me!” Asher started to lunge, but Skylar held him back. He settled for pointing at me, bellowing: “Willow! How dare you leave! What gives you the right?! If you were going to leave, why did you cling to my side like a dog all these years? Are you a masochist? Isn’t it just money you want?! When your mother saved me back then, wasn’t it because she knew I was a Caldwell, hoping to trade her worthless life for my guilt? She succeeded. Everyone demanded I treat you well. What right do you have to leave now?” Asher was in a blind rage, roaring. His eyes brimmed with disbelief. He couldn’t fathom that I would reject the esteemed Mrs. Caldwell title, when I had loved him so much before. Asher’s face was as dark as a storm cloud. Even when Skylar tried to calm him down, urging him to leave first, he remained in a furious frenzy. It was only when Skylar complained of a sore throat and difficulty breathing that he regained some semblance of control, promising to rush her to the hospital. And I, lying in the pool of my own blood, my body feeling as if countless bones were broken. The bleeding from below didn’t stop. He remained oblivious. Before leaving, he turned, his voice chillingly cold: “Don’t even think about going to my grandma, or else…” As the door slammed shut, he didn’t look back. “Don’t blame me for cutting off our last ties!” But I was too weak to stand, only able to watch them leave with a bitter, mirthless laugh. After their footsteps faded, I trembled as I gathered my mother’s bone fragments, then collapsed, weeping uncontrollably. The wind swept in through the open windows. The blood-soaked pregnancy report, crumpled and discarded, was inexplicably blown to my feet. My hand shook as I reached for it, heavy… How could the wind have moved something so weighted? Soon, my consciousness began to blur, my eyelids growing heavy. I slowly collapsed into the spreading blood, feeling my heartbeat slow, becoming fainter with each beat. Life was rapidly draining away. Before death claimed me, I managed to dial a number. Moments later, I heard the faint click of the fingerprint lock on the door. I thought it was Asher, but my eyelids, too heavy to resist, slowly closed. Yet, in my final moments, I heard… A phone ringing, drawing closer. And I saw her. Grandma Caldwell herself, the matriarch who, though she often sought solace in prayer for the family’s legacy, held absolute power over the Caldwell name, appeared before me. “…Willow!” In that instant, the prayer beads in Grandma Caldwell’s hand snapped. One by one, they scattered, rolling into the pool of blood beneath me—the blood that carried all the Caldwell family’s lost hopes. Why, just before I died, did I have to see her?

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1 My sister disappeared, and a huge monkey appeared in the basement. It was as tall as a person, and it even seemed to understand human speech. Dad had warned me, adamantly, that under no circumstances was I to go near it, except when bringing its food. Otherwise, he swore, it would eat you alive! I’d been so careful, always keeping my distance, until that day I walked past its iron cage and spotted my sister’s necklace on its neck. Through the iron bars, I clearly saw a thin necklace around its neck, with a small, familiar stone hanging from the center. That necklace was a birthday gift I had made for my sister with my own hands. I couldn’t possibly be mistaken. But my sister had been gone for half a month. How could that necklace be on this… thing? In the dim light, its eyes suddenly snapped open. The moment our gazes met, its eyes widened, and its entire body lunged against the iron cage. Its mouth opened and closed frantically, as if trying to speak, but with its tongue clearly severed, it could only emit a hoarse, guttural whimper. Even I, used to being around all sorts of animals daily, was startled. This wasn’t a normal animal’s reaction. Animals, when first brought in, would resist and recoil from humans, eventually becoming submissive and fearful. They certainly wouldn’t approach in such a pleading, desperate posture. I stood far away, watching it cautiously. “What… what do you want?” Its face was pressed against the cage’s bars, its two eyes watery and sorrowful, as if begging to convey something. Sensing no malice, I tentatively stepped closer. Just as I was about a foot away, Dad suddenly appeared. “Olivia! What are you still doing here? Didn’t I tell you to go upstairs immediately after feeding it and not linger?” My heart lurched. I quickly retreated, putting distance between myself and the cage. His face was dark, and he strode over, swinging a leather whip. Before I could explain, he struck me with it. “Next time you disobey, it won’t be just one whip!” “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m going now.” I clutched my bleeding arm and retreated to the doorway. Dad approached the iron cage, but the monkey suddenly shrank back, cowering in the furthest corner, its eyes wide with terror as it watched him. Dad seemed pleased with its reaction. “Hmph, you little brute, you think you can defy me?” “Starting next week, he’ll be performing. You’re responsible for teaching him during this time. No mistakes whatsoever.” “I’m counting on this creature to make money!” he muttered, lighting a cigarette. In the dark basement, the flickering firelight cast his face in monstrous, sinister shadows. I hunched my shoulders, glanced at the trembling monkey, and ultimately, said nothing, turning to leave. My room was directly above the basement. I could hear every sound from below with chilling clarity. Ever since that monkey arrived, I’d heard its cries every night, and tonight was no exception. Muffled, pained sounds, exceptionally loud in the dead of night. I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to ignore the noise, but then my gaze fell on the stone necklace on my bedside table—the matching one to my sister’s. Images of the monkey, desperate and pitiful, clinging to the cage, flashed through my mind. My sister and I had grown up with Dad, following him from one circus to another. Our family survived on the money our animals brought in. But a month ago, the little monkey my sister had nurtured suddenly died from food poisoning. That performance had to be canceled, and Dad lost tens of thousands of dollars. He was furious, stringing my sister up by her feet and whipping her all night. When morning came, Dad took my bruised and bleeding sister away, claiming he was selling her off to our rural homestead. There was no use keeping her, he said. I pleaded and begged, but all I got was a brutal beating. My sister was still sold. A month later, Dad returned alone, bringing with him a monkey as tall as a person. This monkey, he said, was remarkably intelligent. Indeed, the first time it saw me, it struggled to get to me, as if I were an old friend. It never ate food offered by others, only when I personally gave it to him. Each time it looked at me, its eyes seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, but I always avoided its gaze, afraid to get too close. Because an animal with a human’s consciousness, a human’s reactions – that was a terrifying thing. But then I saw that familiar necklace, and all its previous bizarre actions clicked into place. A wild, horrifying thought bloomed in my mind. Could it be… could my sister be hidden beneath that monkey’s skin? 2 A muffled clap of thunder rattled the windowpane. Rain began to fall, a steady drum against the glass. My heart began to pound, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Such a terrifying thought, a monstrous boulder, had landed squarely on my chest, crushing the air from my lungs. I slapped my throbbing head, shaking it, trying to dislodge the absurd suspicion. How could that be? How could a person be turned into a monkey? I must be overthinking things, I told myself. Monkeys were naturally intelligent. This one was so large, wasn’t it normal for it to be a little more special than the others? With that thought, my mind eased slightly, and I drifted off, clutching my pillow. At dawn, Dad and I took the monkey to the training grounds. After being trapped in the sunless basement, it finally saw daylight and squinted, raising a hand to shield its eyes from the harsh glare. In the sunlight, its fur looked soft and smooth, thick and luxuriant, unlike the coarse coats of other wild monkeys. I reached out, wanting to touch it, but Dad’s whip lashed out, striking my hand. “What are you pawing at? Don’t be clumsy and mess him up. Are you going to perform then?” I clenched my hand, where the red welt bloomed. “I’m sorry.” Dad shoved me away in disgust, spitting on the ground. “Always looking like a funeral. Just like your sister. Bad luck.” Though I was accustomed to his insults, each word still pricked my heart, making my nose ache. My sister and I had followed him since we were children, never knowing a single good day. While other kids happily went to school in groups, Dad pulled us out after elementary school, forcing us to follow him on the circus circuit, earning money to support the family. We endured his beatings and curses without a murmur, living this stifled life for so long, yet never earning a single word of praise. Was it just because we were girls? Why? A knot of resentment and fury twisted in my chest, but I had no right to express it. It was useless, and would only invite harsher punishment. I lowered my head, swallowing my anger, but caught an unintentional glimpse of the monkey beside me. Its hands were clenched tight, and the side of its body closest to me trembled uncontrollably, as if enduring immense rage. I looked at it, puzzled. What was it so angry about? Before I could ponder further, Dad barked another order. “Go start the charcoal fire. It’s time to brand him!” I suppressed my questions, heading to the corner to light the charcoal, then placing the palm-sized branding iron inside to heat. Soon, the iron glowed red-hot. I carefully removed it and carried it to the monkey. All the animals here had to be marked. He could have used paint, but Dad was a twisted psychopath. He loved using sadistic methods for fleeting excitement. The closer I got to the monkey, the more terrified it became. Its eyes were wide with horror, fixed on the branding iron in my hand, as it backed away frantically. Cornered against the wall, knowing there was no escape, it actually knelt, clasping its hands together as if begging me. But I had no say. I truly couldn’t bear it, so I turned to look at Dad. He flung his cigarette butt to the ground, glaring at me. He strode over, furious, snatching the branding iron from my hand. “Damn it, stop playing the merciful saint in front of me!” With that, he raised the branding iron and slammed it hard onto the monkey’s thigh. In an instant, thick smoke billowed from beneath the iron, and the acrid smell of burning fur permeated the air. The flesh on its leg sizzled and hissed. The monkey writhed on the ground in agony. It couldn’t make a sound, only gasping whimpers, its eyes red from the intense pain. Dad watched, a sickening smile on his face. “See? Wasn’t that easy? Doesn’t that feel just great, huh?” “If you don’t listen, this is what your daily life will be like. Understand?” The monkey lay weakly on the ground, even breathing with difficulty, its body still trembling uncontrollably. Dad seemed displeased by its silence and pressed harder. “I asked if you understood!” It seemed to comprehend his words, for it actually nodded its head several times. 3 Dad finally looked satisfied. He ripped the branding iron from its flesh with a sickening tearing sound. “That’s better. From now on, you’ll behave during training and make me good money. My life will be easier, and everyone’s life will be easier. If my life is hard, no one gets an easy day.” He tossed the branding iron at my feet and commanded, “Let him rest for a bit, then prepare for the next training session. Give him the most difficult routines. That’s what people want to see.” I looked at the large, raw, bloody patch on its upper thigh, and my heart clenched. An unspeakable pain spread through my body. I tenderly helped it to sit against the wall, using the gauze I had prepared beforehand to bandage its wound and prevent excessive blood loss. “I know it hurts, but all the animals here have to go through it. Just bear with it. It’ll be better in a few days.” It didn’t respond, its hands clenched so tight they trembled. I looked up in surprise, seeing it turns its head to stare at Dad, who lay leisurely on a chair nearby. The fury in its eyes was like a volcano about to erupt, impossible to ignore. Such intense hatred, yearning to flay him alive, poured from its gaze, unmasked. These eyes, such a look, it truly wasn’t like a monkey. I stared at it blankly, and that absurd thought from last night resurfaced. Was it really a person? And could it be my sister? I instinctively looked at the necklace around its neck, and the pressure of my hand on its wound tightened unconsciously. It whimpered in pain, looking down at me, the lingering anger in its eyes still somewhat terrifying. I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” It watched me quietly, not moving its gaze for a long time, as if deep in thought, until break time was over and Dad urged us to begin. It swayed as it stood, its back hunched, and limped towards the tightrope. Dad had taught us that when training animals, they would sometimes hesitate. At such times, you just needed to drive them forward with a whip from behind. When they felt the pain, they would obediently move forward, and over time, they would learn to go on their own. But facing it, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I tried several times to soothe it, telling it not to be afraid. I even tried to scare it with Dad’s name, but it was useless. It just huddled there, trembling, unwilling to move forward. Dad couldn’t stand it. He cursed again, walked over, grabbed the whip, and lashed at it repeatedly. It was beaten until its body was streaked with blood, and finally, it took its first step. Dad watched its trembling progress, a triumphant smirk on his face. “You little bitch,” he chuckled, “you think I don’t know how to handle you?” “No matter what you become, I’ll still bring you to heel!” I stood frozen, my heart giving a sharp lurch. In the past, he often used those very words to scold my sister and me. After my sister was sent away, they were aimed at me. But now he was using those words on a monkey! “No matter what you become?” What did that mean? What had it been like before? The more I thought about it, the more chilling it became. What if my sister hadn’t been sold at all, but had been turned into a monkey by him?

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