Category: English

1 At my mother’s funeral, Mr. Davies, our family butler, suddenly received evidence of my fiancé’s infidelity. “Miss White, Mr. Harrington’s mistress has given birth to a child!” Nate Harrington offered no explanation, merely stating in a clipped, indifferent tone, “Just focus on the funeral for now.” The next day, he didn’t attend the wake. He simply called. “I’ve been at the luxury postpartum retreat, looking after her. I won’t make it to the funeral.” When I remained silent, he sighed. “Don’t worry, she and I were just an accident. She has no intention of disrupting the alliance between the Harrington and White families. She just wants to keep the child as a remembrance.” He paused, then continued, “But I am, after all, the father. I can’t just abandon the child. After we’re married, I’ll stay at her place on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays to care for the baby. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, I’ll be back at the Harrington Estate.” I clenched my fists so tight my palms ached, a bitter laugh bubbling up, hot tears stinging my eyes. “Nate Harrington, we’re done. The engagement is off.” He scoffed. “Your mother just passed. Don’t throw a tantrum.” I ended the call abruptly, then turned, walking straight up to Nate Harrington’s sworn rival. “Marry me. Help me take down the Harringtons. Interested?” At the funeral, a flicker of astonishment crossed Chris Walker’s eyes. His stern face slowly flushed a faint red as he stammered, “Our family tradition dictates one wife for life. Marry me, and you’re mine, forever.” Seeing his hesitation, I turned to leave in disappointment, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist. His usually untamed eyes were now earnest, his gaze intense. “Anna White, think this through. Once we’re married, there’s no going back.” A faint smile touched my lips, and I nodded with certainty. “Good. No going back.” Chris Walker was, in fact, the fiancé my mother had chosen for me years ago. His character, family background, and upbringing were all impeccable. If I hadn’t made the mistake of falling for Nate Harrington back then, I would have married Chris. The funeral arrangements were complex, and Chris spent a solid two weeks helping me manage all the affairs, tirelessly handling every detail. During that entire time, Nate Harrington didn’t make a single call. For those two weeks, every time I scrolled through my social media feed, I’d see intimate photos of him and Scarlett Vance. They were always beaming, holding the baby, making a heart shape with their hands. The caption: “Our dearest, most beloved family.” I sneered, a sharp pang of envy twisting in my gut. Just then, his call came through, his voice laced with a lazy indifference. “Funeral’s over, right? Want to come to the postpartum retreat to see the kid?” I gazed at my haggard reflection in the rearview mirror, my voice flat. “Nate Harrington, we’re already broken up.” A moment of silence on the other end, then he nonchalantly replied, “Good. Scarlett’s been a little depressed postpartum. Seeing you might upset her.” The tears I’d held back for half a month finally spilled. My eyes burned, and I laughed, a self-deprecating sound. “Nate, I said we’re broken up. Are you deaf?” He paused, then scoffed. “Anna, you’ve been with me for five years. I’m practically bored of you. Who else would want you once I’m done? I told you, the kid was just an accident. Why are you so stubborn?” Before I could retort, the sound of shattering porcelain echoed from his end of the line. He sneered. “Fine, if you want to break up, break up. I’ll be waiting to see you crawl back and beg me.” The call ended abruptly, the dial tone a rude assault. I returned to the Harrington Estate, only to find the entry code had been changed. Nate Harrington’s calls went straight to voicemail, so I found a random hotel to stay the night. The next morning, a social media notification popped up: a live stream from the postpartum retreat. Scarlett Vance was animatedly interacting with the camera, while Nate Harrington sat beside her, his gaze doting. That tender look… I’d once believed it belonged only to me. The stream had been going for nearly five hours. Fans flooded the comments: “So jealous of the streamer, living in a half-million-dollar-a-month retreat with her husband constantly by her side!” “So blessed! I want a perfect husband like that!” Before inheriting Harrington Corp, Nate Harrington had been a decorated military officer, notoriously averse to public appearances. In the past, I’d begged him for a single photo together, and he’d always refused with a cold expression. Yet now, for Scarlett Vance, he was making an exception, openly flaunting their affection live for the entire nation. Scarlett beamed. “He’s just so thoughtful~” Thoughtful? A searing pain, like a knife twisting in my gut, ripped through my chest. I smiled, wiping away the tears in the corner of my eye. For me, Nate Harrington had never once done anything thoughtful. I remembered begging him to watch a movie with me, relentlessly nagging him until he finally agreed. But during the two-hour film, he’d slept for an hour and a half, then woken up, rubbing his temples, and disdainfully remarked, “Spending time with you is a waste of time.” He wasn’t incapable of caring; he just chose not to care for me. Nate must have recognized my social media account. He called again. “You have thirty minutes. Come to the postpartum retreat to pick up your mother’s belongings.” By the time I arrived, the live stream was over. Scarlett Vance greeted me with a syrupy sweet smile. “Anna, you came to see us!” I walked straight to Nate Harrington, holding out my hand. “Give them to me.” His previously upturned lips instantly tightened, his face darkening. “Scarlett spoke to you. Are you deaf?” I forced a smile, turning to Scarlett. “Congratulations, Ms. Vance, on getting what you wanted and bearing a child out of wedlock. What’s next? Using the baby to climb the social ladder?” “Crack!” A stinging slap landed hard across my face. Nate Harrington smashed the teacup in his hand to the floor. “If you can’t say anything decent, shut up!” Scarlett suddenly clutched her stomach, crying out in pain, tears splashing onto the floor. Nate instantly tensed. “Scarlett, what is it? Where does it hurt?” She bit her lip, her eyes red and tearful as she looked at me. “Anna, I didn’t want to ruin things between you and Mr. Harrington, but the doctor said this might be my only chance to be a mother. Don’t worry, I’ll leave as soon as I’ve recovered from childbirth. I promise I won’t cling to him.” She then looked at the baby in the cradle. “Mommy is so sorry, my little one. You were born without a father, but Mommy didn’t mean to. I hope you can forgive Mommy…” She dissolved into wrenching sobs, appearing utterly consumed by pain and sorrow. Nate’s gaze at me turned venomous, his entire demeanor chilling. “Are you happy now, making her cry?” I scoffed. “Such amateur dramatics. Only you’d be so entertained.” My attitude infuriated Nate Harrington. He tore the pocket watch — my mother’s heirloom — from around his neck, raising it high, about to smash it to the ground. My pupils constricted. “No! Don’t!” He didn’t stop. He flung the watch with brute force, sending it crashing to the ground. The watch face shattered, fragments scattering across the floor. I stumbled over the sharp corner of a table, my bone cracking against it. A searing pain shot through me, making me hiss through clenched teeth. Nate Harrington sneered. “That’s what you get for being disrespectful.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now get out. Don’t bother trying to play victim here.” Scarlett Vance cast a look of feigned concern my way. “Anna, please get up. Mr. Harrington saw you faking a fall…” I gritted my teeth, shooting her a frigid glare. Seeing me dare to glare at Scarlett, Nate yanked me from the floor. “Scarlett has a lot of soiled clothes from postpartum care. Go wash them. Make sure you handwash them all before you leave.” I yanked my arm away. “Why should I?” “Because you just bullied Scarlett!” Nate Harrington’s face was terrifyingly dark. “You owe her an apology!” I endured the piercing pain in my foot, straightening my back. “Dream on!” Nate’s eyes turned to ice. He shoved me into the bathroom. “Bang!” He locked the door from the outside. “You’re not coming out until they’re spotless!” “Nate Harrington, this is kidnapping!” I rattled the doorknob with all my might, screaming, “Let me out!” The door vibrated from my pounding, but outside, an eerie silence had fallen. My hands burned, and my foot throbbed with excruciating pain. The room reeked of sour milk and vomit. I collapsed, kneeling weakly on the floor. Through the door, I heard Scarlett’s saccharine voice. “Mr. Harrington, won’t Anna be angry when she comes out if you treat her like this?” Nate scoffed softly. “So what if she’s angry? I can always smooth things over later. Besides, this is her fault. If she doesn’t get rid of that spoiled princess attitude, who’s going to put up with her when she marries into the Harrington family?” “The Harrington family has a history of military service. If there weren’t so few heirs to Harrington Corp, my mother wouldn’t have let me marry a socialite heiress. She’s useless, except for spending money.” Scarlett feigned worry. “Mr. Harrington, if you say that about Anna, won’t she break up with you?” Silence fell outside the room. After a long pause, Nate Harrington’s cold, arrogant voice returned. “She won’t.” “She’s a socialite with no inheritance rights. The Harrington family is her best option. Besides, she loves me to death. If I told her to die, she’d probably do it.” I clutched my chest, refusing to believe I was hearing such words from Nate Harrington. 2 Our family, the Whites, had always been in business, and we were often targeted by underworld figures. Six years ago, my mother and I were traveling abroad when she was ambushed by thugs. They held a gun to her temple. I screamed myself hoarse, convinced I was about to lose her. At that critical moment, a rushing sound cut through the air. The thugs dropped dead instantly. Nate Harrington stood there, gun in hand, dressed in his military uniform—broad-shouldered, lean-waisted, and decisive. He saved my mother and me with swift precision. I saw his face clearly in the army’s SUV: exquisite features, a proud, sharp nose. It was love at first sight. For an entire year, I relentlessly pursued him, until he finally agreed to date me. For five years, I was completely devoted to him, obeying his every word. This was the gratitude my genuine love received. It was laughable. The bathroom door opened. Nate saw me huddled on the floor, pale, and unhappily pulled me to my feet. “I only told you to wash some clothes. Why are you squatting here, playing the victim for show?” Acid churned in my stomach, rising to my throat. I forced it down, fighting the urge to vomit as I searched for my mother’s belongings. The pocket watch was utterly shattered, broken into countless pieces. I picked them up, one by one. Nate’s voice came from behind me. “Once Scarlett recovers from childbirth, we’ll get married. And after the wedding, Scarlett will move in with us.” Scarlett cast a grateful look my way. “Anna, thank you for accepting me and the baby. I’ll be so grateful to you…” I ignored her empty words, turning to Nate. “No need. We won’t be living together. I’m taking my mother’s belongings. Give me the house code, and I’ll have movers pick up my things.” Nate rattled off a string of numbers, watching me with disdain. “Going to all this trouble, only to move back in eventually.” Scarlett tugged at his sleeve, speaking timidly. “Mr. Harrington, the room…” Nate’s eyes flashed, and he took Scarlett’s hand, leading her into my car. “I’ll come back with you, just to make sure you don’t take anything by mistake.” When we arrived at the house, I finally understood why Nate had insisted on coming back with me. On the sofa, adult novelty items were scattered. On the dining table, sensual candles sat. The bedroom exuded a tempting, illicit allure, with handcuffs attached to both the headboard and footboard of the bed. These past few days, I had been consumed by my mother’s funeral arrangements. I hadn’t been home much. Nate and Scarlett, it seemed, had made full use of their freedom. I walked into my dressing room and found my jewelry scattered everywhere. Several Hermes bags were also missing from their shelves. Scarlett followed behind me, a triumphant, subtle smile playing on her lips. “Anna, is anything missing?” She was desperate to see me explode. But I simply smiled faintly. “A mistress is just a mistress. Always resorting to petty theft.” “You!” Scarlett gasped, her eyes flashing with malice. She cried out, clutching her stomach, and sank to the floor. “Anna, I just had a baby! How… how could you hit me…?” Nate stormed in, helping Scarlett to her feet. He was furious, his hand lashing out, delivering a hard slap to my face. “Anna White, I see you’ve been a socialite heiress for too long—arrogant and domineering!” Nate didn’t hold back. My face swelled immediately. My temples throbbed with rage, and I nearly lost control. “I didn’t hit her!” He didn’t believe me. He yanked me out of the dressing room and flung me to the floor. “Get out. Go back to your White family. Don’t come back until you’ve learned your lesson!” My burning anger slowly turned into a desperate sense of injustice. Infuriated, I surged forward and slapped Scarlett hard across the face. “Smack!” Nate, enraged, raised his hand to strike me again. I bit my lip, staring him down. “That one? That was from me.” I turned and walked away, once again, undignified, tears welling in my eyes. Outside the door, rain poured down, soaking me to the bone. I curled up on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. After a long time, I realized the rain had stopped hitting me. I looked up. Chris Walker had arrived, I didn’t know when, holding an umbrella, shielding me the entire time. 3 He extended a hand to me, his voice laced with unconcealed tenderness. “Anna, I’ll take you home.” Back at the Walker family estate, I gazed at the familiar courtyard, the familiar housekeeper, Aunt Mae, and couldn’t help but think of the past. Chris’s mother and mine had been best friends since childhood. They had arranged our childhood engagement years ago. But back then, my mother and I often argued, and by extension, I didn’t care for Aunt Mae or little Chris. After middle school, I went to Milan to study art. Chris was sent to England to study business administration. Our reunion, more than ten years later, was at my mother’s funeral. Lost in thought, Chris’s mother, Aunt Mae, approached me with a bowl of ginger tea. She anxiously, tenderly, pulled me into a hug. “That rascal Chris! Letting you get caught in such a downpour! I’ll give him a talking-to for you!” “Mom?” I asked, confused. Chris looked away awkwardly, clearing his throat. “I’ll go get you some dry clothes.” After Chris left, Aunt Mae smiled as she handed me the ginger tea. “Chris already told us. You two are getting married very soon. You have to call me ‘Mom,’ dear.” She chuckled. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long. Let’s set the date for the wedding—the one your mother chose before she passed. We won’t change it.” My mother had chosen a date for next month. It was supposed to be my wedding to Nate Harrington. The ginger tea in my mouth slowly warmed my body. At that moment, my eyes couldn’t help but well up. The next day, Chris presented me with all the necessary wedding arrangements, asking me to review each one. I had originally thought that with such short notice, I wouldn’t have time to prepare, perhaps even having to reuse the previous wedding planner’s designs. But Chris had everything perfectly arranged, needing no input from me at all. It showed how much he cared. And Nate Harrington… after five years of dating, if I didn’t press him about marriage, he wouldn’t even have wanted to get married. All the big and small details of our wedding had been handled solely by me. Love or its absence was truly so obvious. Thinking of this, I called my former wedding planning team and canceled the wedding. The next second, my phone rang. It was Nate Harrington’s mother. “Anna White, has your brain turned to mush? How can you be so capricious, canceling the wedding just like that?” Her voice was sharp. “What did Nate do to upset you this time? Can’t you just put up with it? A socialite heiress with such a temper all the time—only our Nate would have you.” No one in the Harrington family ever truly liked me. I used to think Nate’s mother was just tough on the outside, but kindhearted. Not until I heard Nate’s words at the postpartum retreat. Remembering that, I spoke calmly. “Aunt Harrington, Nate and I have broken up. The wedding, naturally, should be canceled.” “Broken up? Did you anger Nate again? Then apologize! You’re a girl; if you don’t know how to charm your husband, later…” I didn’t want to hear her scorn any longer. I hung up. The next day, Chris and I went to a bridal boutique to try on wedding dresses. He took a conference call midway, telling me to go ahead and try them on. I slipped into the gown Chris had specially flown in from Italy and smiled, admiring myself in the mirror. A sound came from behind me. I turned, still smiling, and blurted out, “How do I look?” A flash of stunned admiration crossed Nate Harrington’s eyes. I quickly suppressed my smile, then saw Scarlett Vance emerge from another changing room. Nate’s face darkened instantly. He reached out and roughly tore off my veil. “Oh, so this is it, Anna White! You say you don’t want to get married, but here you are, secretly trying on wedding dresses. Playing hard to get, are we? Enjoying your little game?” His movements were brutal, ripping it off in a second. The sharp pin holding the veil to my hair sliced my face, drawing blood that welled up and dripped onto the million-dollar wedding dress, blooming into a crimson stain. I winced, a gasp of pain escaping me. “Nate Harrington, I’m not here for you!” Beside him, Scarlett’s eyes instantly welled up, and she added fuel to the fire. “Anna, I really didn’t mean to marry Mr. Harrington. I just wanted to take some wedding photos to keep as a memory.” Nate sneered. “Why bother explaining to this kind of woman? Anna, I used to think you were just a bit dramatic, and I indulged you because I loved you. But I never imagined you’d be so reckless, even with our wedding. Fine, then! Let’s just call this wedding off!” With that, he reached out, trying to rip off my wedding dress and throw me out of the boutique. I struggled with all my might. Just as he pinned my waist, preparing to strip me of my gown in front of everyone— Chris Walker arrived just in time. He tripped Nate, sending him sprawling, and swiftly caught me, his hands firm at my waist. “My wife is trying on her wedding dress. You, a so-called ex who should be dead to us, really have some nerve to act like this.”

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1 The day Julian Blackwood rode into Veridia marked the day of my funeral. At the mouth of Everglen Lane, our two processions, one triumphant, one somber, collided. From afar, I saw the young man I had waited five years for. He had finally returned. He had returned alive. In that moment, I almost forgot I was merely a spirit, an ethereal whisper of my former self. I yearned to rush through the mourning crowd and reach him. Behind me, I heard the frantic pleas of our family’s butler. “Your Grace, we’ve made a terrible mistake! We didn’t know His Majesty would pass this way today!” Phoenix Boulevard led directly to the Royal Citadel, yet Julian’s retinue had inexplicably turned into Everglen Lane. “Does His Majesty need to specially notify you which road he chooses to travel?” “N-no, I wouldn’t dare…” Thwack! A heavy blow struck someone’s spine. “To obstruct His Majesty’s sacred procession with a coffin! You deserve to die!” I rushed back, only to see several City Guards swinging their sword scabbards, lashing out at my family. My father, Lord Shaw, was forced to his knees in front, his eyes glazed over, devoid of all light. The scabbards struck him repeatedly, but his expression remained unchanged. It was as if only an empty shell remained. He had been like this so often since I passed. “Father!” I rushed to embrace him, attempting to shield him from their brutality, but the scabbards passed through my spectral form again and again. “What’s happening here?” The procession ahead paused. Julian, from his mount, suddenly looked our way. 2 The people blocking his path dropped to their knees in unison, and a coffin was swiftly exposed to their view. My family held their breath, their heads bowed even lower, terrified that Julian might recognize my father. Five years ago, the Blackwood family’s Queen Consort, Julian’s mother, was implicated in a plot of treason. Julian, as her son, was stripped of his titles by imperial decree and exiled, reduced to a commoner. It was at his lowest point that I betrayed our engagement, turning instead to marry his rival, Lord Frederick. I still remember it vividly. He knelt at the gates of Shaw Manor, and my father and brothers “rewarded” him with a brutal beating. Yet, he refused to give up, dragging his bloody wounds, rejecting any medical aid, insisting I give him an answer. That day, snow fell heavily, and the wind howled. His knees, already injured from saving me once, were battered. Our family physician had warned that if he continued to kneel, he might lose the use of his legs entirely. I picked up a basin of icy water and poured it over his head. “This,” I said, my voice cutting through the wind, “is my answer.” He looked up at me, his eyes like two dark, bottomless abysses. “Fine. I understand.” “Evelyn Shaw, I hope you never regret this!” He rose shakily, his back staggering, nearly falling several times. My nails dug into my palms, but I felt no pain. “Good! I’ll wait for you! I’ll wait for you to return and exact your revenge! Just don’t you dare die out there!” Those were the last words I spoke to him. Almost instantly, his stumbling figure straightened, like a resilient fir tree in the snow. He turned his cold gaze back, his voice slicing through the air: “This day’s humiliation will be repaid! I await the day you kneel and beg me!” 3 Everyone knew the story. Now, he had returned… Everyone said Julian’s first target upon entering the capital would be the Shaw family. He sat high on his horse, looking down on the ants before him with the disdain of a king. My family dared not even breathe, until his gaze settled on my father for one, two… long seconds. My heart felt as if it were gripped by an unseen hand. I feared he would recognize Father and condemn him on the spot. Just then, the curtain of his royal carriage swayed, and a delicate hand emerged. “Julian, why the delay?” A woman’s voice, like a nightingale’s song, drifted out. My thoughts momentarily blurred, and I saw Julian turn, a flicker of tenderness gracing his stern face. “Are you tired, my dear? We’ll be at the Royal Palace soon, just a little longer.” That warmth, that tenderness, he had finally given it to someone else. I instinctively pressed a hand to my chest. Here, it seemed, it no longer hurt. “The common folk have suffered enough. Don’t make it harder for them.” Julian spoke with an air of magnanimity, then raised a hand, and his procession moved forward towards the Royal Palace. The Shaw family’s servants breathed a collective sigh of relief, grateful he hadn’t recognized my father. But in the end, my coffin still couldn’t be transported for burial. At the city gates, the City Guard once again blocked us. Their reason: fear that the Emperor’s enemies might use the opportunity to flee the city. When we returned to Shaw Manor, the white funeral banners had been torn down, the mourning hall desecrated. A commanding officer warned us, his voice laced with sneering amusement: “With the new Emperor’s ascension, all funeral observances are suspended. Of course, if you wish to bury her hastily, right here on your grounds, no one will stop you.” The eldest daughter of the Grand Chancellor’s House, once Lady Frederick—how could she be buried like a pauper? This was an insult! Even the servants understood that someone was deliberately targeting the Shaw family, targeting me. But Father seemed oblivious. He merely patted my coffin, trying to soothe me. “Evelyn, don’t be afraid. Father is here. No one can humiliate you!” The City Guard captain scoffed dismissively and left. I leaned against my father’s shoulder, a ghost weeping silently. “I’m sorry, Father. I’ve been an unfilial daughter…” 4 I still stole into the Royal Palace, seeking the man I had waited five years for. The Imperial City glowed with a thousand lights. My spirit passed unhindered through the Royal Guards, over towering palace gates, until I found the one I longed to see. In The Radiant Hall, Julian stood tall and elegant, gazing at the moon through the window. A wind chime by the window swayed, its clear, delicate sound ringing through the air. “He still kept that wind chime…” My lips curved into an unconscious smile. “That wind chime is truly beautiful.” A woman in palace attire slowly approached. I recognized the voice; she was the woman Julian had brought back with him. Her name was Sylvie, and she had been Julian’s sole companion these past five years. “You like it?” Julian turned, a gentle smile on his face. Sylvie nodded. Julian casually plucked the wind chime from its hook and offered it to her. The woman looked overwhelmed with delight. “Are you sure?” Julian’s smile was tender. “It’s just a trinket.” My heart clenched violently, the pain so sharp it made my very soul tremble. That day, returning from the Royal Palace, I felt my spirit grow significantly fainter, as if it truly was on the verge of dissipating. I remembered those final days, when the pain had become unbearable. Father had stopped my life-sustaining herbal concoctions, holding my hand and saying, “Evelyn, if it hurts too much, just sleep. Once you’re asleep, it won’t hurt anymore.” That day, Father smiled at me more gently than he ever had before. But a burning liquid fell on my hand—his tears. No father willingly sends his own daughter on her way. That day, I watched as all his hair turned white… I think I had an obsession with Julian. I held on for five years, just to see him win. I just wanted to see him one last time. In a pain that seeped into my very bones, I held on for a long time, but in the end, I couldn’t live to see him. But now, I had seen him, and I should be content. For my last moments, I only wanted to stay with my father. 5 Julian’s official coronation as Emperor took place on his third day in Veridia, sparking three days of national celebration. “Just three more days, just three more days…” Father stroked my coffin with a look of profound relief, as if the end of his ordeal was finally in sight. He likely believed that in three days, I would finally be laid to rest. But Shaw Manor’s supply of ice was gone. In the scorching summer heat, Father couldn’t bear the thought of my body decaying in the house. Our butler reported that he had searched the entire city, but no one was willing to sell a single block of ice to the Shaw family. Driven by desperation, Father rallied his spirits and went to seek out his most accomplished student, Sir Arthur, now a high-ranking minister. Sir Arthur had come from humble beginnings, unable even to afford schooling in his youth. He had often secretly eavesdropped on lessons from outside the academy, getting caught and beaten several times. Father had happened upon him once, saving him from a beating, and had supported him on his path to success ever since. It was the first time Father had ever had to ask a favor of a student. Sir Arthur ordered all the ice from his icehouse to be brought out. A rare look of satisfaction touched Father’s face, but the next second, Sir Arthur raised a hand, and his attendants pushed all the ice into a pond, leaving not a single block. Sir Arthur then knelt, bowing deeply. His posture was as firm and unyielding as it had been when Father first helped him. Father’s parched lips tightened, but he didn’t utter a single word of reproach. As he turned to leave, his figure seemed to stoop a little more. “Master!” Sir Arthur scrambled forward a few steps on his knees, his eyes red-rimmed. Father looked back and smiled faintly, waving a hand. “Serve the realm well. Don’t forget your aspiration to speak for the people.” Sir Arthur bowed again. Returning home, Father retrieved his most treasured chest. These past few years, spent establishing connections and building influence, almost all of our family’s valuables had been given away. Only a few precious calligraphies and paintings remained, which Father had always been reluctant to part with. Father took out all the artworks and went to his old rival, Lord Griffith, the Chancellor of the Grand Secretariat. “One painting, one day of ice. Pick whatever you like.” But the Chancellor only chose one painting. For the first time, Father lost his composure before his rival. “That ‘Galloping Horses’ painting, and the ‘Cold Cicada’ painting—haven’t you always wanted them?” Lord Griffith watched him silently. Father finally sighed in defeat, took his ice, and left. Lord Griffith stood on the veranda, his voice carrying after him: “What cannot be kept will not be kept, old Shaw. The living are more important!” Father paused, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. “My family lived honorably and will die gloriously. Why should we be forced to bury her in secret, like a common criminal?” Lord Griffith cursed under his breath, “Old scholar,” but in the end, could only shake his head helplessly. “Father, I’m so sorry…” I watched my father’s back, bent under the weight of his troubles, my eyes reddening, but not a single tear could fall. When Father returned with a cart of ice, two more carts of ice arrived. The butler from Lord Griffith’s estate bowed deeply to Father, then turned and left. Father smiled, his eyes red-rimmed with emotion. Many had benefited from the Shaw family’s kindness, but in the end, only this old rival had been willing to offer aid when the Shaw family was broken and ruined. 6 On the second day of his reign, Julian Blackwood hosted a grand Royal Banquet, specifically decreeing that all members of the royal family must attend, especially Lord and Lady Frederick. Few knew of my passing. Even within the royal family, some still believed I was Lady Frederick, eager to witness my downfall. I worried for Julian’s safety and entered the palace once more. I watched as Julian and Sylvie sat side-by-side at the head table, their imperial robes magnificent and perfectly matched. This scene, I had envisioned countless times over the past five years. Yet, in the end, it wasn’t me who sat beside him. Lord Frederick arrived late, with his new Lady Frederick in tow. Julian’s gaze immediately fixated on him. “My dear cousin, long time no see.” Julian’s voice was as gentle as a spring breeze, yet almost everyone present understood he was about to settle old scores with Lord Frederick, especially the infamous betrayal of his engagement. Cold sweat trickled down Lord Frederick’s forehead. He hastily bowed. “I wouldn’t dare presume to trouble Your Majesty with my trivial affairs.” Julian’s gaze deliberately fell on the new Lady Frederick. “My cousin’s luck with women is truly enviable. Another new face, I see?” This time, Lord Frederick nearly collapsed to his knees. A man’s honor, especially a betrayal of engagement—what man could swallow such an insult? Lord Frederick frantically wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. “Your Majesty jests. Truth be told, I was manipulated by Evelyn Shaw into marrying her. Thankfully, Your Majesty conquered Veridia, and the Shaw family lost their influence. Only then could I escape their control. That vile woman, she deliberately sought to ruin our brotherly bond. She deserves a thousand cuts, to be torn limb from limb…” CRACK! The sharp sound of a shattered wine glass made Lord Frederick choke, and the entire palace fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Julian nonchalantly tossed the broken goblet from his hand, his expression still as mild as a spring breeze. “This goblet is truly fragile, crumbling at a mere touch. Bring me silver chalices instead.” Lord Frederick involuntarily shivered. I, meanwhile, felt a flicker of relief as I watched Julian take up the silver chalice. But as Lord Frederick and his new Lady Frederick came to offer a toast, I watched Lord Frederick’s every move, terrified he might try to tamper with the wine, just as he had five years ago. Thankfully, this time, without the support of the old regime, he didn’t dare act recklessly.

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I saw Nathan Reed again at my best friend Amy’s wedding. The man who had vanished five years ago. He was the groom, and I was a bridesmaid. Amy practically bounced over, her face alight, eager to tell me their love story. “You know, he was in that car accident, and I was the one who saved him,” she whispered conspiratorially, though her voice still carried. “I heard he had a fiancée back then, but I spirited him out of the country overnight for treatment.” She nudged me with her elbow, a wide, triumphant grin stretching across her face. “Pretty brilliant move, right, girl?” 1 Amy was still giddily rattling on about something, but I couldn’t make out a single word. My ears were filled with a piercing, unbearable buzz. Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. The man I loved most in this world had been hidden away for five long years by my best friend. I bent over, gasping for air, my body trembling uncontrollably. Amy, noticing my ashen face, quickly ushered me into the dressing room. She hovered, her voice laced with cautious concern. “Elara, what’s wrong? Is it your depression acting up again?” For the past five years, I’d scoured countless places, questioned endless strangers, plastered missing person posters, and even bought trending searches, all in a desperate bid to find Nathan. Even his own family had given up, but I stubbornly pressed on. In countless dark nights, I’d stood by the roadside, contemplating an end to this despair that threatened to swallow me whole. Now, it all felt like a cruel, elaborate joke. I gazed at the countless scars, a roadmap of jagged lines and healed skin, etched into my right wrist. My eyes burned, and my heart felt as if it were being ripped apart, piece by agonizing piece. Amy sighed, a weary note in her voice. “Are you thinking about your fiancé again? Stop looking, Elara. It’s been so long. He’s probably… he’s probably gone.” Then, as if an idea had just sparked, she brightened. “Tell you what, I’ll set you up with one of Nathan’s good friends sometime. I’ll throw a party.” The words were still hanging in the air when Nathan walked in. He was clad in a sharp black suit, his silhouette tall and impeccably tailored, exactly as I remembered him five years ago. Our eyes met across the room. He merely gave me a flat, indifferent glance before stepping toward Amy to adjust her wedding dress. Behind him followed his groomsmen, familiar faces, most of whom I’d known for years. Their eyes, when they met mine, were filled with unspoken words, a flicker of something close to pity. A moment ago, I might have tried to comfort myself, to rationalize that perhaps he’d lost his memory and that’s why he didn’t recognize me. But the expressions on his friends’ faces told a different story. They were telling me he hadn’t forgotten. He remembered everything. He just didn’t love me anymore. Amy beamed, looping her arm through Nathan’s. “Honey, tell your friends to stick around tonight, okay? We’re going to have a blast!” She shot me a conspiratorial wink. Nathan simply nodded, a casual gesture, without sparing me another glance. It was as if we’d never met, never shared a moment, never been anything to each other. Slowly, I closed my eyes, my heart seized in a vice-like grip, then brutally torn out and cast into a raging inferno. Never had I felt such profound agony. I desperately needed an outlet, a way to release the frantic, clawing despair within me. I stumbled to my feet and rushed into the restroom, slamming my forehead against the wall. A dull thud echoed in the small space, and instantly, warm blood bloomed across my skin. My body swayed precariously, my vision blurring at the edges. I barely managed to slide down the wall, sinking to the floor, a searing pain drilling through my very core. Again and again, I rammed the back of my head against the cold tile, as if only this self-inflicted torment could bring a fleeting moment of relief. It hurt. God, it truly hurt. I curled into a ball, a dizzying wave of exquisite pain washing over my chest. Then, a hollow, mirthless laugh escaped my lips. “Nathan,” I whispered into the silence, “you really don’t want me anymore…” 2 When I finally emerged from the restroom, the wedding ceremony was already underway. Amy, understanding my fragile state, had found someone else to step in as bridesmaid. I stood at the very back, watching Amy on stage, her face radiant with a sweet smile as she uttered, “I do.” Nathan knelt, a solemn gesture, and slipped a ring onto her left hand. A sharp pang of jealousy, cold and venomous, pierced through me. I wanted to rush forward, to tear them apart, to shout at Amy, demanding to know why she’d stolen my fiancé, why she’d hidden him away for five years, why she’d left me searching in a bottomless void. And I yearned to scream at Nathan, to ask why he pretended not to know me, why he hadn’t come back to me, why everyone had kept the truth hidden. I wanted to smash that wedding to pieces. But I didn’t. I merely sat in the corner, and when they finished their vows, I was the first to clap. My hands came together with a fierce, resounding clap that echoed through the hall, drawing curious glances from those around me. I paid them no mind. But as Nathan’s gaze drifted in my direction, I met it head-on. Our eyes locked. My nose stung, and the tears I’d been desperately holding back immediately spilled over. Nathan’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly, then he calmly averted his gaze, his deep, dark eyes devoid of any emotion. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I truly believed I was losing my mind. I fumbled for my phone and typed a message, sending it to him: Nathan, I refuse to wish you a happy wedding. I curse you. I curse you to a lifetime of never getting what you truly desire. The next second, I scoffed at my own foolishness. The woman he loved had already married him. My curse was utterly powerless. I didn’t wait for the reception to end. I fled the venue and went straight home. I knew if I stayed a moment longer, I’d completely unravel. Three years ago, when all news of Nathan had abruptly ceased again, I’d tried to end it all. Tragically, I’d failed. My neighbor had found me and rushed me to the hospital. When I awoke, Mrs. Reed, Nathan’s mother, had clutched my hand, her eyes swimming with tears, begging me to live, to live for him. But a world without Nathan felt impossibly bitter. We’d met when we were six, started dating in high school, and just after college graduation, we’d picked a date to get our marriage license. But he’d been in a car accident on his way to meet me, and then he simply vanished. I’d gone to the police station countless times, questioned every stranger at the accident site, but to no avail. No one had seen him. Now he was back, but he no longer loved me. 3 I drifted into a fitful sleep, only to wake and check my phone. There were missed calls from Amy, soothing texts from Mrs. Reed, and then one stark, chilling reply from Nathan. It was just one cold, hard word: Get lost. A bitter laugh escaped me. My self-proclaimed devotion, my agonizing search, was nothing more than a pathetic joke in his eyes. I retreated entirely into myself, plagued by sleepless nights. My hair began to fall out in clumps, and I didn’t leave the apartment for ten days, rapidly wasting away. My already slender frame seemed to consist of nothing but bone. Then, Amy, unable to reach me by phone, showed up at my door. Nathan was right behind her. I hadn’t showered in ten days, and a faint, stale odor clung to me. But Amy didn’t seem to notice. She rushed forward and wrapped me in a tight hug, then practically dragged me towards the hospital. I knew what she was afraid of. My expression was detached as I gently pulled away from her, my voice polite but distant. “I’m fine, thank you.” I didn’t know how to face Amy. Should I resent her, or wish her well? I thought, I couldn’t do either, so instinctively, I just wanted to be away from her. She didn’t seem bothered by my sudden aloofness, simply attributing it to my mood. Amy let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Elara, can you please answer your phone? Did you buy it just to display it? Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Her voice brightened. “Starting today, my husband and I are moving in with you. We’ll take care of you until you’re better.” She shook her head playfully, a determined glint in her eye. “No objections! Nuh-uh, no backsies!” Her expression was earnest, her tone firm. She was bright, outgoing, and kind-hearted, the kind of person it was hard not to love. So, I supposed, it was no wonder Nathan had fallen for her. I looked at the figure standing behind her. His eyes were cold, a pair of dark, narrowed slits, as if he were looking at a complete stranger. Even though he was as distant as ice, miles away from me, I still craved a flicker of his warmth. Even if it wasn’t meant for me. Just to see him for one more day, one more minute, even one more second. I didn’t know if it was my inability to resist Amy’s overwhelming concern, or perhaps my own selfish desire, but I let them move in. This apartment, once, was supposed to be Nathan’s and my marital home, our dream space. After he vanished, I’d decorated it exactly to his tastes. Every piece of furniture, every placement, echoed his style. Amy’s eyes widened as she took in the space. “Whoa, Elara, your taste is… certainly unique! Why is everything so dark and dreary? So much black and gray, no color at all!” Because the light had gone out of my world. I spoke softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because my fiancé liked it this way. So, I decorated it according to his preferences.” 4 “Well, you should have some opinions of your own!” Amy huffed, clearly displeased. “Why go along with everything he wants? My husband, he lets me pick all the decor. Our place is so cozy! And I make him sleep on pink sheets every day!” I lowered my gaze, a hazy memory surfacing. When we’d first moved in together, I’d loved pink too. Pink sheets, pink mugs, pink toothbrushes, pink bowls. I’d even bought him pink underwear, but he’d never once worn it. As for the sheets, he’d rather sleep on the couch than in the bed. Eventually, I’d given up and changed the color, and only then did he return to sleeping in the bed. A moment of stiff silence passed before I asked, almost masochistically, “Is that so? Would he sleep on the couch if you made him?” Amy scoffed, shooting a sideways glance at Nathan. “He wouldn’t dare!” She grinned. “He even wears pink underwear now.” Nathan’s expression flashed with a hint of embarrassment. He lightly patted her head, trying to silence her. “What’s wrong with pink sheets?” Amy continued, unfazed. “If your fiancé would sleep on the couch just because of that, it only proves he doesn’t love you enough. And after all those years you spent looking for him? What a jerk!” After a long silence, I found myself agreeing with her words. “You’re right,” I murmured. “Maybe he truly didn’t love me enough.” As I spoke those words, I distinctly felt Nathan’s gaze linger on me for a fleeting moment. His voice, when it came, was thin and cold. “If that’s the case, Miss James, you should know when to step aside. Don’t disturb other people’s lives. If possible, it’s best if you disappear from his sight entirely.” He leaned forward slightly, his words like daggers. “Self-pitying delusion only breeds disgust in others.” Nathan’s words were raw, ugly, and merciless. Self-pitying delusion. So that’s what he thought. All my desperate longing, all my agonizing years, were just a pathetic, self-indulgent fantasy. My eyes immediately filled with tears, my voice trembling. “You understand him so well… is it because you’re both the same kind of person?” I choked out, a wave of bitter anger rising. “Someone who likes to vanish, who likes to make others wait, then drain all their hope without so much as an apology? And then to turn around and call them ‘self-pitying’? I just wanted an explanation! Does my five years just… just vanish into thin air?” At my words, Nathan’s brows furrowed, and a flicker of anger ignited in his own eyes. “No one forced you to wait, Elara. Love and hate are voluntary. Since you chose to wait, shouldn’t you bear the consequences alone?” His voice rose, laced with sharp contempt. “Or do you think because you waited five years, I owe you eternal gratitude and should marry you?”

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After winning a staggering eighty million dollars in the lottery, I immediately withdrew from the National Online Fiction Competition. When Cassius Blackwood, a fellow student, found out, he slapped me across the face. “Running away like a coward on the eve of battle, do you really think you’re honoring our professor’s guidance and your friends’ hopes?” he sneered, his voice dripping with accusation. “Or is it that your submission is flawed, and you’re just scared the judges will discover it?” In my previous life, Cassius’s competition entry was identical to mine. I’d begged Victoria, my editor and the source of my novel’s inspiration, and Chloe, my childhood friend who I’d spent every day with, to help clear my name. But they’d released apology statements instead, practically begging the judges to overlook my “youthful indiscretion” and grant me a second chance. The internet, however, was merciless, roaring its condemnation and branding me a “shameless plagiarist.” Unable to prove my innocence, I bore the stigma, expelled from school and facing crippling penalties. My mother, desperate to clear my name, tirelessly fought for justice, only to be cyberbullied herself, falling gravely ill overnight. The relentless blows shattered my spirit. To spare my family further burden, I leapt from the hospital rooftop, plunging into the abyss. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back exactly one week before the competition. … “Ethan, I made your favorite braised ribs. Have some before you write, okay?” Victoria, my sister, five years my senior, signed, her face etched with a familiar tenderness. I jolted, nearly toppling from my chair, a wave of shock washing over me. Just then, Chloe pushed open the door. She offered me a small box, her voice laced with concern. “I heard your shoulder’s been bothering you lately. This massage device might help you relax.” This scene was terrifyingly familiar. In my previous life, I truly believed I was the luckiest person alive. My sister, Victoria, had always cared for me with unwavering devotion. Chloe, my childhood friend, was more like family than mere kin. But this rebirth… it had chilled me to the bone. In that former life, when the National Online Fiction Competition submission that bore my name turned out to be identical to Cassius Blackwood’s, the judges immediately took notice. As an author with multiple accolades, I’d had every hope of clinching first place. But with that scandal, I was plunged into a maelstrom of public outcry. I desperately reached out to Victoria, my editor and the one who provided my writing inspiration, and to Chloe, my ever-present childhood friend, begging them to clarify the truth. To my horror, they refused. My sister, Victoria, even issued an apology statement without my consent, pleading with the competition organizers to show leniency, given my “tender age,” and grant me a chance to atone. The internet exploded. “No wonder he dared to plagiarize in such a huge competition! Turns out he has an editor for a sister to cover his tracks. The whole family’s rotten to the core!” “Exactly! An apology and he gets a second chance? Who are they kidding? If apologies fixed everything, what would we need the police for?” “Still ‘tender age’? He’s at least eighteen, isn’t he? If he wants to be a man-child, he can stay home and be one. Don’t come out here and disgust people!” Under the immense pressure of public opinion, the competition organizers rejected Victoria’s plea. The truth was, I’d entered that competition for the first-place prize money of thirty thousand dollars. Victoria had lost her voice due to an illness, unable to utter a sound. I wanted that money to pay for her vocal cord restoration surgery. Yet, after the competition, not only did I fail to win the prize, I was slapped with crippling breach-of-contract penalties. Meanwhile, Cassius Blackwood, with no prior writing experience, inexplicably won first place. His competition entry was hailed as the most outstanding short story in years, even bought by a film studio and slated for adaptation. Just like that, he became an overnight sensation, a literary golden boy. And I, became a reviled plagiarist. The plagiarism scandal’s devastating impact led to my expulsion from university. To pay the astronomical fines, I, without a degree, resorted to working as a delivery driver. But when customers recognized me, they deliberately gave me poor reviews, nullifying a day’s hard work. My mother, desperate to clear my name, ran herself ragged, only to be cyberbullied until she fell ill overnight and ended up in the ICU. To cover the exorbitant medical bills, I took a job hauling cement at a construction site. After only a few days, the foreman fired me, withholding all my wages. Then, the hospital called. They told me my mother’s condition was deteriorating, and I should prepare myself. That final thread of hope snapped. I completely lost the will to live. One late night, I climbed to the hospital rooftop and leapt. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back exactly one week before the writing competition. Looking at my sister and childhood friend, who were so meticulously caring for me, my heart felt a strange, cold mix of emotions. “Ethan, this is some writing material I got through internal channels. If you follow this, you’re guaranteed to win first place.” Victoria signed, placing a file before me. Chloe chuckled playfully. “Ethan, you have to get first place! I’m counting on your prize money to treat us to a lavish meal!” I knew she was joking, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. Victoria was my own sister; she couldn’t possibly betray me. And Chloe, my childhood friend, sharp-tongued perhaps, but always fiercely protective. So, it couldn’t be them. What on earth was going wrong? In elementary school, I’d won first prize in a children’s writing competition. Later, in college, I frequently published stories in literary magazines. My beloved Professor Caldwell always said my skill made winning this competition a walk in the park. So, when the plagiarism scandal broke, he believed in me. What’s more, my serialized novel had been published and sold well. There was no reason for me to copy Cassius. Just then, Cassius suddenly released screenshots showing the submission times for our entries. His was dated an hour before mine. And a week before the competition, he’d posted his writing inspiration and novel outline on his social media. Instantly, the internet’s curses threatened to drown me. “It must be Ethan who copied Cassius, the evidence is undeniable, yet he still tries to argue!” “I heard Ethan even published a book before, it must have been plagiarized too, just never caught!” “Good thing his own sister and childhood friend had a change of heart and didn’t shield him, otherwise, the original creator would have been unjustly ruined.” The discussion spiraled, trending across all platforms. The competition organizers, taking it seriously, immediately verified the evidence Cassius presented. After careful review, all evidence was deemed authentic, with no signs of manipulation. Their final conclusion: I had plagiarized Cassius. I was stunned. That competition entry, I’d written it based on the inspiration my sister gave me. How could it be plagiarism? But I had no evidence to prove my innocence. And I couldn’t understand why Cassius’s entry would be identical to mine. Had my sister given Cassius the same material? Yet, Victoria and Chloe seemed utterly normal. I had to start with Cassius’s social media. By my calculations, he should have already shared his novel inspiration and outline. But with someone constantly watching me, I quickly jotted down a superficial outline to appease them. Then, feigning a sudden stomachache, I claimed I needed to use the restroom. A flicker of annoyance crossed Chloe’s eyes. “Always so high-maintenance, aren’t you? Victoria has already given you the inspiration and material, and you’re still trying to slack off!” Victoria quickly signed, attempting to smooth things over. “The competition is still a week away. Don’t rush Ethan; there’s still plenty of time. If he follows my advice, he’s guaranteed to win first place!” But the time I had to uncover the truth was running out. I locked myself in the restroom and immediately opened Cassius’s social media. I’d heard his father was a senior executive at a major corporation and his mother a university professor. He had many followers because of his good looks. But I didn’t know him well. However, Victoria’s job required her to interact with Cassius’s mother, so they must have known each other. Once, I’d overheard her signing to Chloe, saying Cassius was sophisticated and refined, unlike me, a total bumpkin. She even told Chloe that she should find a husband like Cassius – handsome and from a good family. I’d thought she was joking. Now, it all sounded like the honest truth. But I simply couldn’t fathom why someone like Cassius, a wealthy, handsome socialite, would want to harm me. Just then, I found his latest post. It was where he’d shared his writing inspiration and novel outline. I stared, stunned. Wasn’t this the exact same material Victoria had just given me? Even his novel outline was identical to the one I’d just casually jotted down. The comments section was full of praise: “Such a unique novel structure! First time I’ve seen something like this. The online fiction world is finally saved!” “Seriously, start writing, blogger! I have a feeling you’re guaranteed to win first place!” An accidental clash of inspiration was understandable. But why was his novel outline also identical to mine? Only Victoria and Chloe had been in my study. Could it really be them? A chill ran down my spine. But why would they do this? Could blood ties and years of friendship truly be worth less than Cassius, someone they barely knew? I stayed in the restroom for an hour, making a bold decision. In my previous life, my competition entry had been in the fantasy genre, my strongest suit. Although I’d won first place, it had felt like old wine in a new bottle, lacking true innovation. This time, I decided to write a mystery thriller. If they claimed I plagiarized last time, I would write something entirely new. Whatever the outcome, at least it would clear my name. That would be enough. Tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep due to the last-minute genre change, I quietly slipped out early the next morning and went to Professor Caldwell’s house. He was my mentor, the first person who ever encouraged me to write. He had placed great hopes on me for this competition. Seeing me, he beamed, pressing a steaming pastry into my hand. “Ethan, you haven’t had breakfast yet, have you?” Noticing my troubled expression, he quickly asked, “Is something wrong? Tell your old professor.” I forced a smile. “Professor, if I don’t win first place in this competition, will you be very disappointed?” Professor Caldwell ruffled my hair, smiling gently. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t win first place. I know your abilities. You can always try harder next time. As long as you’re happy, that’s what’s most important.” His words solidified my resolve. After leaving his house, I received a message from Victoria. “Ethan, where did you run off to? Chloe brought you breakfast, couldn’t find you, and she’s furious.” I replied, “Went out to buy some writing materials. Heading back now.” I didn’t plan to use the inspiration and material Victoria had given me. Nor did I tell her or Chloe about changing my competition genre. After all, they were the prime suspects. I decided to head to the university library to re-outline my competition entry. I stayed there until nightfall, finally finishing my novel outline. I stretched, ready for a break, and decided to check Cassius’s social media. Unexpectedly, Victoria and Chloe showed up. I was confused; how did they know I was here? Victoria then placed a steaming lunchbox on the table, signing, “Afraid you’d forget to eat while writing, so I brought you some food.” Chloe handed me a thermos. “This is chicken broth I simmered all afternoon, to help you recover.” They both looked so sincere. They didn’t seem like people who would stab me in the back. Had I been overthinking things? But if not them, then who? My mind a jumble, I managed a strained smile. “You two came at the perfect time. I’m starving. I’ll just wash my hands and dig in.” With my phone in hand, I headed to the restroom. I didn’t go into the men’s room but opened Cassius’s social media by the sinks. He had indeed posted a new update. “How can someone be so shameless? I kindly shared my inspiration and outline, and someone just took it without permission? What’s the difference between that and a thief? No choice but to rewrite it now.” The post included a photo of a guy studying in the library, his back to the camera. Anyone who knew me would recognize it as me. But who took the picture? The comments section had fans worrying about Cassius, asking if he’d have enough time to rewrite his entry. Cassius replied that he planned to write a mystery thriller this time, and had already outlined it. A jolt went through me. I hadn’t told anyone about changing genres. Why had our chosen genres clashed again? There had to be a spy close to me. Was it Victoria or Chloe? But what could they possibly gain from this? Just then, someone tapped my shoulder. “Ethan, what are you spacing out about?” I jumped, startled. It was Victoria and Chloe. They’d come looking for me when I didn’t return. Still shaken, my eyes darted nervously. “Sis, why don’t you two go back first? I’ll eat later.” I wondered if they’d seen me scrolling through Cassius’s post. The words had barely left my mouth when Chloe exploded. “Ethan, Victoria and I brought you food out of kindness, and that’s your attitude? Don’t think I haven’t noticed, you’ve been avoiding us these past few days. You really are an ungrateful wretch!” Victoria quickly pulled her back, signing, “Chloe has a sharp tongue but a kind heart. Don’t take her words to heart. We were just worried you were overworking yourself.” I quickly replied, “Sis, I know what I’m doing. If it’s too much trouble, I’ll just stay in the dorms these next few days, so you two don’t have to worry.” Chloe scoffed. “Whatever. I can’t be bothered with you!” With that, she dragged Victoria out of the study room. I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

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During a video call with shareholders, my long-dormant high school group chat suddenly blew up. Someone kept tagging me: “Audrey Vance! Lana’s getting married today—why aren’t you there?” Scrolling through the messages, I realized it was Lana Hayes, our former queen bee. Our entire class had gathered for her wedding. “Sorry, my company’s been swamped,” I replied professionally. The group instantly attacked: “Too busy? You never post online—must be failing!” “Just admit you’re embarrassed!” Lana tagged me: “Remember our bet? That my husband would outshine yours?” “I don’t recall,” I answered honestly. The others mocked: “Lana’s husband is a Fortune 500 CEO! He sent 100 luxury cars to her hometown!” “Too ashamed to compare? Or too broke to afford a gift?” Lana then posted a wedding photo—and my blood ran cold. Her groom was Brandon Hayes. My husband. “I’ll be there,” I typed, my fingers steady. “Wouldn’t miss your ‘happy moment’ for the world.” 1 No sooner had I replied to Lana than I received a text from Brandon: “Wife, I’m going back to my hometown to see my parents today. I’ve already made your food and put it in the fridge. Just heat it up when you’re ready to eat.” It ended with: “Darling, I’ll love you forever.” Brandon had been my husband for three years, a man who had moved into my home with nothing to his name. He always took care of my every need, anticipating everything. Even when he left, he never forgot to prepare for my daily necessities. I used to be touched by these thoughtful gestures. But now, they only struck me as laughable. I abruptly ended my video conference and, following the wedding location Lana had shared in the group, drove toward her hometown. From a distance, I could see a colossal red banner hanging above Lana’s family home: “A Warm Welcome to Mr. Brandon Hayes, CEO of Evergreen Group, for the Wedding Procession!” Beneath the banner, Lana stood in a pristine, custom-designed wedding gown, eagerly awaiting her groom. Around her clustered our old high school classmates. “Lana, you kept this so quiet! To think your man is the CEO of the Evergreen Group, and you only let us know on your wedding day!” “Seriously! Mr. Hayes is a renowned entrepreneur. You’re so clever, Lana, to marry such an outstanding, high-caliber man!” “Lana, you’re about to become a wealthy socialite. Don’t forget us old classmates when you’re rich and famous!” Even our old high school teacher fawned over Lana: “Lana, the moment I first saw you, I knew you’d achieve great things. That’s why I never scolded you, even when your grades weren’t great. I knew you were destined for wealth, you didn’t need grades to speak for you!” Amidst the chorus of praise, Lana’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, her eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction. Brandon, who had moved into my home years ago, had always seemed somewhat idle. To give him purpose and experience, I had entrusted him with the management of Evergreen Group, my smallest company. It never occurred to me that this would become the very source of Lana’s inflated ego. As I arrived, the classmates, who had been so eager to flatter, instantly frowned, their gazes filled with disdain. One of Lana’s closest sidekicks, spotting the car behind me, immediately rushed over, sneering: “Audrey Vance, you are so vain! You actually rented a Bentley just to come to Lana’s wedding and put on airs?” Hearing this, others joined in, their voices dripping with contempt: “No wonder she dared to show up. So, she just wanted to show off? That car rental must cost at least three months of your salary!” “Some people just love to live beyond their means. No matter how much you pretend to be rich, can you really be richer than Lana’s husband?!” “Exactly! Is it so hard to admit someone’s better than you? Why go to all the trouble of renting a car just to show off your petty jealousy?” Facing their denigration, my expression remained unchanged. “This is my car.” No sooner had the words left my lips than Lana suddenly walked up to me. She lashed out, a stinging slap across my face. “Your car? This is clearly my husband’s car! I’ve suspected for a while that my husband was keeping a mistress, and I can’t believe it’s you, you cheap tramp! You shameless wretch, how dare you drive my husband’s car to my wedding to provoke me, his rightful wife?” 2 Lana’s outburst made our classmates’ eyes widen in shock. “Lana, this is your husband’s car? Seriously?” Lana’s face was full of haughty pride. “Of course it is! How could it be fake?” She then pulled out her phone and displayed several photos of her and Brandon. Some showed them intimately close in the car, others lounging on the hood, leaning against each other. The car’s interior details and license plate were clearly visible in the pictures. It was identical to my car. At this, the crowd buzzed with confirmation. “It really is Lana’s husband’s car. So, Audrey is definitely the mistress!” Lana’s eyebrows shot up in fury, and she spat, her voice sharp and cold: “No wonder you haven’t posted on social media in years. Turns out you’ve been busy playing mistress.” Hearing this, others glared at me. “I never would’ve thought it! Audrey Vance looks so respectable on the surface, but she’s actually engaging in such despicable affairs.” “Seriously! I even thought she was some cool, aloof scholar in high school and wrote her a love letter. Thinking about it now makes me sick!” “Some people act so high and mighty and innocent, but behind closed doors, who knows how loose they are? The moment they see a rich man, they go wild, practically begging for attention!” “And she even dares to drive her sugar daddy’s car right in front of the rightful wife to provoke her! I think she’s just jealous that Lana married well and came here deliberately to ruin the wedding!” Even our high school teacher looked at me with disdain, declaring, “Audrey Vance, from now on, when you’re out there, never say you were my student. I certainly never taught a student with such moral depravity!” The crowd’s incessant chatter and condemnation drew many onlookers, who pointed and whispered about me. Some even pulled out their phones to take pictures and videos, and a few even spat in my direction. I calmly removed my jacket, worth tens of thousands, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then, I faced Lana directly. “I advise you to ask Brandon Hayes very clearly: who exactly is the mistress, and who is the rightful wife?” No sooner had the words left my lips than Lana swung again, slapping me across the face. “You need to ask? Can’t you see it’s Brandon and my wedding day?” She then looked at the car behind me, angrily cursing, “I detest mistresses! Every mistress in the world deserves to die!” With that, she pulled out a key and savagely scratched several large letters onto the side of my car: “Mistress Dies!” I glanced at the stark, ugly words, my voice chillingly clear. “You’ll realize very soon just how ironic those four words are.” My words only enraged Lana further. “You wretched tramp! You steal my man and then you have the nerve to mock me with your sneering sarcasm? The thought of my husband’s car being driven by a filthy hussy like you makes me sick!” With that, she picked up a brick from the roadside and began to violently smash my car. The windows, the headlights, the hood – nothing was spared. “Lana is going to be the CEO’s wife of the Evergreen Group! We can’t let her be bullied by a low-class mistress like Audrey!” someone in the crowd of classmates yelled. Instantly, everyone else began grabbing whatever they could find – rocks, sticks, bottles – and threw themselves into smashing my car. After they shattered the windows, they even climbed inside, wildly slashing at the car seats and interior. The once pristine luxury car was transformed into a pile of mangled scrap metal in mere moments. I watched these frenzied people, my gaze icy. “I hope you’ll be just as happy and enthusiastic when it comes time for compensation.” No one paid any attention to my warning; they treated me as if I were invisible. Just then, one of Lana’s cronies smashed open the trunk and gasped, “Everyone, look! She’s got a lot of good stuff hidden in her trunk!” Lana walked over, pulled out a painting, and scoffed. “A cheap woman who sells her body for money, pretending to be a collector, putting on airs of elegance?” Seeing this, I couldn’t help but warn them. “These things are worth far more than my car, especially that painting and calligraphy. I advise you not to mess with them.” The items in the trunk were collectibles I had acquired from auctions but hadn’t yet found a place for. Lana’s fury only intensified at my words. “This painting is a desecration being collected by a wretch like you! Trash like you only deserves trash!” With that, she tore the painting to shreds right in front of me. After ripping it, she threw it on the ground and stomped on it with her foot. Our high school teacher, upon closer inspection of the painting, gasped: “This painting… it looks like a genuine Qi Baishi! I heard the starting bid at auction was over three hundred million!” Lana retorted indignantly, “So what if it’s three hundred million? It’s all my husband’s money anyway! My husband’s money is my money. What’s wrong with me smashing my own property?” Her words left me speechless. Not only was Brandon a man who had married into my family with nothing, but even after I put him in charge of Evergreen Group, his incompetence had caused the company’s market value to drop by nearly half. If he weren’t my husband, I would have fired him long ago. Yet, Lana and these old classmates saw him as a formidable CEO, idolizing him. With Lana leading the charge in tearing up the painting, the other classmates, unwilling to be outdone, also began smashing and ripping apart the collectibles in my trunk. Good advice falls on deaf ears when dealing with those bent on self-destruction. Since they were consumed by their frenzy, I saw no point in saying anything further. I simply pulled out my phone, intending to call the police. Just as my finger touched the dial screen, Lana rushed over, snatched my phone, and slammed it to the ground. “Still trying to call the police? You’re just a mistress who only knows how to seduce men. What nerve do you have?” As she spoke, her gaze suddenly fell upon my neck, and her eyes lit up. “That jade pendant necklace you’re wearing doesn’t look cheap. Did you buy it with my husband’s money too?” With that, she yanked hard, tearing the necklace from my neck. Lana’s movements were so swift and violent, I had no time to react. The necklace was in her hand in an instant. Seeing this, my face paled. “Give me back my necklace!” 3 Seeing my sudden panic, Lana sneered at me. “So agitated? Looks like this necklace is worth a fortune, huh?” I panicked even more. “It’s not valuable in terms of money, but it’s incredibly important to me! Give it back!” As I spoke, I reached out to snatch it back. This jade pendant necklace was a protective charm my mother had risked her life to obtain for me. I had been frail and sickly since childhood. At four years old, I was hospitalized, critically ill and unconscious. Even the doctors told my parents to prepare for the worst. My mother couldn’t accept it, so she went to a temple to pray for me. To show her sincerity, she walked barefoot, kowtowing every step of the way, from the foot of the mountain to the summit, in the scorching heat of a 40-degree Celsius summer. She knelt until her knees bled and bone showed through, until her head was broken and bleeding, her consciousness fading, before finally obtaining this jade pendant necklace. Perhaps heaven itself was moved by my mother’s devotion. I, who had been in a coma, miraculously awoke. But my mother fell ill from that day and never recovered. Before she died, she placed the necklace in my hand, strictly instructing me to keep it safe. I cherished this necklace immensely, carrying it with me everywhere since childhood. It was something my mother had given her life for, and it was my absolute untouchable line. I would never allow anyone to damage it! “The more you want it, the more I’ll destroy it!” Before I could even touch it, Lana threw the necklace forcefully to the ground. With a sharp crack, the jade pendant shattered, breaking into countless fragments, scattering everywhere. “No!” Watching the only thing my mother had given her life for shatter like that, my heart twisted in agony. I couldn’t breathe. “You’re an animal!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I slapped Lana across the face. “You filthy tramp, you dare hit me?” Lana clutched her face, screaming hysterically. “Teach this wretch a lesson, a severe one! Whoever satisfies me the most, I’ll give them a million dollars!” At her words, the classmates, who already disliked me, immediately started punching and kicking me. “How dare you hit Lana? She’s the future wife of the CEO of Evergreen Group! Do you even deserve to breathe the same air as her?!” “Exactly! So what if she broke your necklace? You probably earned it by sleeping around anyway. Just go serve a few more men, problem solved! Why are you so dramatic?” “Shameless mistress! Seducing other people’s husbands is bad enough, but daring to hit the legitimate wife? Do you really think us old classmates are pushovers?” Even the teacher couldn’t resist sneaking in a few kicks. I was beaten to the ground, trembling with rage, gritting my teeth. “You’ll regret this!” At my words, the group of classmates erupted in laughter, as if they’d heard the funniest joke imaginable. “Laughing my ass off! Do you still think this is high school? Still think you’re superior because you were a straight-A student?” “Exactly! You’re nothing but trash discarded by society now! You’re already making money by sleeping around, and you still dare to threaten us?” “A mistress should know her place! When you get hit, you stand at attention!” “You shameless hussy! You’re so desperate to steal another woman’s man, even from an old classmate. Aren’t you embarrassed? If I were you, I’d just smash my head into a wall and die!” They held me down, relentlessly mocking and humiliating me. The onlookers also freely criticized me, spitting at me repeatedly. Lana, emboldened by the crowd’s support, stepped forward and placed her foot on my face. “Regret?” she crowed wildly. “I’ve never regretted anything in my life! I’m just waiting to see how you, you wretched mistress, could possibly make me regret this!” No sooner had the words left her lips than a hundred luxury cars roared into view, screeching to a halt before the crowd. Then, Brandon Hayes emerged from one of them, accompanied by a retinue of men in sharp suits… 4 The sudden, grand, and overwhelming display brought the chaotic scene to an abrupt, deafening silence. All eyes were drawn to the arriving procession. Those who had been holding me down immediately released me, straightened up, and stared. Lana, too, quickly removed her foot, adopting an air of gentle, demure grace. Brandon, with his handsome features and impeccable tailored suit, exuded an extraordinary presence. His arrival instantly commanded the attention of everyone present. “Is that Mr. Hayes from Evergreen Group?” “Yes, that’s him! He truly is a CEO, isn’t he? What an extravagant display for a wedding pickup!” “It’s so magnificent! I wouldn’t even dare to dream of so many luxury cars!” “And he’s so handsome too! Rich and attractive, no wonder that wretched Ms. Vance would stoop to being his mistress.” “Lana is truly blessed, marrying so well. I’m dying of envy!” Amidst everyone’s envious praises, Lana beamed, proudly stepping forward to link her arm through Brandon’s. “Darling, you’re finally here! I couldn’t wait to marry you.” Brandon gave Lana a doting smile and pulled her into a warm embrace. “My clingy little thing. I just love how you can’t be without me, my sweet bride.” Seeing this, the old classmates swarmed forward, their faces twisted into fawning smiles. “Mr. Hayes, it’s an honor. I own a small advertising company. If Evergreen Group ever has advertising needs, could you perhaps consider us first? Here’s my business card.” “Mr. Hayes, this is a new product our company developed. It’s complimentary for you to try. If you like it, please give us some feedback!” “Mr. Hayes, it’s a pleasure. I was Lana’s classmate for three years in high school. I’ve long admired your reputation. Do you think Evergreen Group has any suitable open positions? I’m willing to learn anything!” “Mr. Hayes…” In an instant, all the former classmates jostled and squeezed around Brandon, vying for his attention, using every conceivable method to promote themselves. Watching my former peers grovel and fawn over Brandon, Lana’s smile widened even further. She reveled in this feeling of superiority. Brandon, meanwhile, merely instructed his assistant to take all the business cards and samples, seemingly accustomed to such displays. Just then, Lana’s mother stepped forward, smiling at Brandon. “My dear son-in-law, we’ve specially prepared some fine tea for you. Please come inside and have a rest.” Brandon glanced at his watch. “Perhaps not. It’s getting late. I’ve already booked the hotel and banquet hall. With all these cars, there should be enough room for everyone to go together.” “Yes, yes, of course, let’s head over then.” The crowd nodded eagerly, heading towards the gleaming luxury cars. The thought of riding in such opulent vehicles to attend the wedding of the Evergreen Group CEO ignited sparks of excitement in their eyes. It was as if they had already reached the pinnacle of their lives. However, just as everyone was about to get into the cars, the piercing wail of police sirens rapidly approached from the distance. Immediately after, a group of police officers quickly disembarked from their vehicles, their voices stern: “Freeze! We’ve received a report of a public disturbance and assault here!”

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My twin sister, Genevieve, and I were both daughters of Lord Chancellor Hawthorne. Though our faces were identical, Mother only favored Genevieve, always praising her composure and grace. So, when the royal decree named me Queen, Mother wasn’t merely indifferent; she accused me of blocking Genevieve’s path to the throne. Driven by a chilling ruthlessness, and risking our family’s ruin, she brutally disfigured me with a blade, then orchestrated my death, ensuring my body would never be found. Afterward, she sent Genevieve to the palace, masquerading as me, to claim the crown. While my remains vanished without a trace, Genevieve birthed the Crown Prince and eventually ascended to the Queen Mother’s throne. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the very day Lord Chamberlain Thomas came to the Chancellor’s estate, bearing the royal decree. I secretly slipped a hundred gold coins into his palm, urging him to inform His Majesty that the true Elara possessed a distinctive crimson mole just behind her ear. “Mother,” Genevieve fretted, tugging at Lady Eleanor’s sleeve, her voice a delicate whine. “I heard portraits of all the noble daughters are now at court. With so many beautiful ladies, what if the Queen Mother and King Julian don’t choose me?” Lady Eleanor gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Genevieve’s forehead, her gaze soft and reassuring. “They wouldn’t dare, my darling. Our Genevieve is radiant, and accomplished in needlework, music, languages, and the arts. Who could possibly look upon you and not be captivated?” But Genevieve remained unconvinced, a petulant pout on her lips. “If I’m not chosen as Queen, I swear I’ll just die!” Mother shot her a sharp look, though no real anger flickered in her eyes. “Nonsense! If you die, what becomes of your mother? Now, now, darling, just days ago, I spoke with Queen Mother Isolde herself. She spoke of you at length, her interest clear. Rest assured, the crown will be yours, and yours alone. I won’t allow anyone to stand in your way.” I sat quietly to the side, my face carefully blank. Yet, hidden beneath the folds of my sleeve, my hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into my palms until the skin broke. But that meager physical ache was nothing compared to the searing pain in my heart. For in Mother’s words, “anyone” included me, her own flesh and blood. In my past life, the scene unfolded identically, the same whispered assurances, the same anxious pleas. To soothe Genevieve’s nerves, I, in my naive kindness, offered her a cup of steaming tea. But as she rose, she bumped into me, and a splash of hot liquid landed on her sleeve. Without a word, she shoved me to the ground, then pointed a trembling finger at my face. “Elara, was that deliberate? You’re trying to scald me, disfigure me, so you can go to the palace yourself and become Queen, aren’t you?” Before I could utter a single word of explanation, Mother’s hand connected with my cheek in a resounding slap. “Elara, how could I have such a wicked daughter? Genevieve is your own sister! To try and ruin her face!” I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, tears blurring my vision as I gazed at Mother. “Mother, I didn’t!” But she wouldn’t hear it. “Silence! Go back to your rooms. You’ll have no supper tonight!” Heartbroken, I retreated to my chambers. From the moment Genevieve and I were born, Mother’s heart had been biased. Simply because Genevieve appeared a little frailer, Mother poured the vast majority of her affection into her. I was taught from childhood that I must always defer to Genevieve. Anything Genevieve desired, I wasn’t even allowed to touch. As we grew, Genevieve’s sweet words and mastery of all refined arts further cemented her place in Mother’s affections. I, on the other hand, found no interest in such pursuits, preferring horsemanship and fencing. Mother saw me as a disgrace, and the meager scrap of motherly love she once offered me was entirely transferred to Genevieve. She cherished Genevieve like a precious jewel, fulfilling her every whim. But for me, there was only harsh words and blows. I once tried to emulate Genevieve, to win Mother’s favor. Yet, the more I tried, the deeper Mother’s disdain became. Eventually, I stopped seeking their company, striving instead to become an invisible presence within our own home. In my past life, when Mother learned I was to be Queen, she repeatedly questioned the Lord Chamberlain, asking if a mistake had been made. When he confirmed the decree, she still refused to believe it. She changed into her finest silks and hurried to the Queen Mother. But the answer remained the same. Genevieve, unable to accept that I would be Queen, attempted to hang herself. That very night, Mother had me bound and dragged to the forgotten storeroom. She disfigured me with a blade, then, to erase all traces of her cruelty, she orchestrated my death, ensuring my body would never be found. Afterward, she sent Genevieve to the palace, masquerading as me, to claim the crown. Even after Genevieve smoothly ascended to the throne, Mother feared I might still be a threat to her darling. So, to ensure no loose ends remained, she had me strangled. To my dying breath, I couldn’t comprehend why, as her own daughter, Mother could be so utterly ruthless. But now, given a second chance, I wouldn’t allow myself to repeat the past, to be Genevieve’s stepping stone. This time, I offered Genevieve no tea, no water. And so, her clothes remained dry. But that didn’t stop Mother from finding fault with me. “Elara, what are you doing just sitting there? Go back to your rooms! Your very presence vexes me!” Hearing Mother’s baseless accusations and undisguised loathing, this time, I felt no sorrow, no regret. Instead, I spoke with a quiet resolve. “Mother, I too wish to see which noble daughter will be named our kingdom’s new Queen.” Mother scoffed, her voice growing colder. “You ungrateful wretch! The Queen’s throne belongs to your sister, and no one else!” I glanced at Genevieve, who sat fidgeting, her anxiety palpable. I said no more. But that single glance was enough for Genevieve. She immediately rushed to my side, her voice rising to a shrill shriek. “Elara, what was that look? Do you doubt I’ll be chosen as Queen? I’m your own sister! How can you be so cold-hearted? If I become Queen, you’ll benefit too, find a good match! Mother’s right, you’re nothing but a viper, ungrateful to the bone!” Hearing Genevieve’s outburst, Mother’s anger flared. She slapped the side table, the sharp crack echoing through the room, about to launch into another tirade against me, when the butler burst in, his face beaming with excitement. “Lady Eleanor, young miss, Lord Chamberlain Thomas from the Queen Mother’s court has arrived! He carries a royal decree!” Genevieve’s face lit up. She assumed it was her proclamation of queenship, and without a second thought, she dashed outside. Mother, too, forgot her anger at me, quickly instructing the butler to prepare a generous gratuity for Lord Chamberlain Thomas. I squeezed the pouch of gold coins I had already prepared, a cold smile touching my lips. In my previous life, when she heard I was to be Queen, she’d given Lord Chamberlain Thomas no gratuity, not even a pleasant expression. Since she wouldn’t pay, I would prepare my own. In the reception hall, when Lord Chamberlain Thomas saw both Genevieve and me, his eyes widened in astonishment. “I’ve long heard tales of the Lord Chancellor’s daughters, beauties blessed by the heavens themselves. To think you are identical twins!” Before Mother could speak, I interjected, “Lord Chamberlain Thomas, my sister and I aren’t entirely identical. I—” Mother shot me a venomous glare, cutting me off abruptly. “Ill-mannered child! Lord Chamberlain Thomas wasn’t speaking to you. You have no business interjecting!” She then forced a saccharine smile as she turned back to him. “Lord Chamberlain, my younger daughter is quite spoiled, I’m afraid. She has no concept of proper etiquette. My elder daughter, Genevieve, is far more sensible!” But Lord Chamberlain Thomas waved a dismissive hand, approaching me with a beaming smile. “You must be Miss Elara, the second daughter?” “Yes, Lord Chamberlain!” He immediately bowed to me. “Congratulations, Miss Elara! His Majesty and the Queen Mother have personally chosen you to be our kingdom’s new Queen!” Silence descended upon the hall. Then, Mother, forgetting all decorum, grabbed Lord Chamberlain Thomas’s sleeve. “Lord Chamberlain, surely there’s been a mistake? I didn’t even send Elara’s portrait to the palace. How could she possibly be Queen?” Hearing Mother’s agitated questioning, Lord Chamberlain Thomas paused, slightly bewildered. By all rights, any daughter being named Queen should be a source of immense pride and honor. But the Lord Chancellor’s wife before him seemed not only displeased but outright furious. Clearly, this new Queen was not held in high regard at home. Subtly, Lord Chamberlain Thomas distanced himself from Mother, the smile on his face fading. “Lady Eleanor, I’m not privy to the matters of portraits. However, the royal writ clearly states that the second daughter of the Lord Chancellor, Elara, is to be crowned Queen. If I, of all people, were mistaken about the identity of our future Queen, I would have no choice but to beg for death. If you still doubt me, Lady Eleanor, please examine the decree yourself.” Mother snatched the writ. Indeed, the name “Elara” was clearly inscribed. Her face contorted with a mixture of disbelief and fury. Seeing this, the butler hesitated, unsure whether to present the gratuity to Lord Chamberlain Thomas. He glanced at Mother, only to meet her chilling, enraged eyes, and quickly shrank back to his original spot. Mother took a deep, shaky breath, then, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, addressed Lord Chamberlain Thomas. “Thank you for your trouble, Lord Chamberlain. I know your duties keep you busy, so we shan’t keep you for a meal.” The Lord Chamberlain, perceptive as he was, immediately understood the dismissal. His jovial demeanor vanished, replaced by a steely expression. He let out a barely perceptible snort and turned to leave. I watched Mother, a chilling realization dawning on me. Lord Chamberlain Thomas was the Queen Mother’s trusted confidant, a man accorded deference by everyone. Mother’s blatant disrespect was clearly an attempt to make my life in the palace unbearable. While Mother was still trying to comfort a distraught Genevieve, I quietly slipped out of the reception hall. “Lord Chamberlain Thomas, please wait.” I hurried after him. “Mother’s attitude was… regrettable. I hope you’ll be magnanimous enough to overlook it.” As I spoke, I discreetly pressed the prepared money pouch into his hand. It contained almost all my accumulated savings. Lord Chamberlain Thomas weighed the pouch, and his grim expression softened considerably. “Miss Elara, you possess a keen mind and a kind heart. No wonder the Queen Mother and His Majesty hold you in such high regard.” I offered a small smile, leaning in slightly. “Lord Chamberlain, my sister and I bear a striking resemblance. It would be… unfortunate if there were any confusion once I enter the palace. So, I would be deeply grateful if you could inform the Queen Mother and His Majesty of the subtle difference between us…” Lord Chamberlain Thomas bowed respectfully. “Thank you for the thoughtful reminder, young mistress. I shall certainly convey this information to the Queen Mother and His Majesty.” After seeing Lord Chamberlain Thomas off, I returned to the reception hall. Before I even entered, I heard Genevieve’s tearful wails. “Mother, you promised the crown would be mine! Why is it Elara who’s to be Queen? If she ascends the throne, she’ll lord over me! I’d rather die! I don’t care, I must be Queen! If all else fails, just let me take her place. We look so alike!” Mother knew that attempting to substitute the Queen was an act of treason punishable by death for the entire family. So, she didn’t immediately agree to Genevieve’s outrageous suggestion. Yet, her expression softened, a hint of temptation in her eyes. Seeing this, Genevieve pressed her advantage. “Mother, do you truly believe Elara’s temperament is fit to be Queen? If she brings shame upon the crown in the palace, it’s our entire family’s reputation that will be ruined! You yourself said I was blessed by the heavens, while Elara was cursed from birth. If she truly enters the palace, she might bring ruin upon our entire lineage! Mother, you always doted on Genevieve! Please, help me!” Mother gently stroked Genevieve’s face, her eyes filled with boundless affection. “Genevieve, I told you, no one will stand in your way. I will seek an audience with the Queen Mother first. If… if it truly proves impossible to change the decree, then you shall indeed take Elara’s place in the palace. It would be a great sacrifice for my darling Genevieve!” At these words, Genevieve buried her face in Mother’s embrace, her tears transforming into a radiant smile. Standing outside the door, I clenched my fists until my knuckles shone white. A sacrifice? To take my place as Queen was considered a sacrifice for Genevieve? I suppressed the bitter ache in my chest, closed my eyes for a moment, then turned and walked back to my rooms. When Mother returned from the palace, her face remained grim. Not long after, frantic shouts from the maids echoed from Genevieve’s courtyard. Genevieve had tried to hang herself! But she was far too fond of life to truly take her own. This was merely a calculated act to push Mother to make a final, desperate decision. Sure enough, that very night, two burly women burst into my private chambers. They clapped a hand over my mouth, bound me tightly, and dragged me to the dank storeroom. Mother stood before my disheveled form, her gaze devoid of any warmth. “Elara, if you agree to swap places with Genevieve, I will spare you, for old times’ sake. After all, you have no grace, no talent for the arts. You’d only bring shame to the palace. Only a refined lady like Genevieve is fit to be a Queen.” My face set, I challenged her. “Mother, I am your daughter too! How can you be so cruel to me?” Without a word, she slapped me again. “Stop your whining. Just tell me, do you agree or not! I should have strangled you at birth, then we wouldn’t have this trouble today!” My eyes burned, a glacial anger creeping into their depths as I stared at the ruthless woman before me. Yet, I stubbornly refused to agree. At that moment, Mother suddenly drew a dagger from her sleeve and advanced on me, step by chilling step. “If you don’t agree now, I’ll carve up your face with this blade!” The cold, sharp steel pressed against my skin, and my skin prickled with dread. The excruciating pain of a blade tearing through flesh, so vividly remembered from my past life, replayed in my mind, making my body tremble. When Genevieve and I had our fifth birthday, an old seer suddenly appeared at the Chancellor’s estate. He claimed that one of us was marked for greatness, a destined queen, while the other was a cursed soul, a harbinger of ill fortune. Mother, already biased towards Genevieve, and disappointed that I couldn’t excel at the lessons she arranged for me, quickly decided I was the cursed one. From that day forward, my life in the Chancellor’s estate became increasingly difficult. But I never believed I had done anything wrong, nor did I believe I was a curse. So, in my previous life, even as my face was marred and I was beaten to death by Mother, I never agreed to swap places with Genevieve. This time, as the blade hovered precariously close to my skin, I cried out, tears streaming down my face. “Mother, I was wrong! I’ll agree to swap places with my sister!” Mother finally moved the dagger away from my face. She glared at me, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “Good. You’re finally being sensible.” She then swept out, taking her maids with her. She was no doubt eager to share the ‘good news’ with Genevieve. I, meanwhile, was left in the stifling darkness of the storeroom.

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The day she was found, the true daughter demanded to become CEO of the company. Considering her elementary school education and lack of experience, I refused. But she felt I was humiliating her, and turned to leave with her adoptive parents, vanishing without a trace. Under my leadership, the company soared, going public, and my adoptive parents became billionaires. On my thirtieth birthday, my husband and adoptive parents drugged me and sold me into an overseas compound. My adoptive parents and husband stood beside the facility’s manager, their faces twisted in malice. “This viperous woman is all yours.” I desperately demanded to know why they did this to me. My husband kicked me in the stomach, and my adoptive parents each slapped me across the face. “If you hadn’t been so vain, so greedy for our family’s wealth, refusing to give it up, Eva wouldn’t have been tricked and sold into that compound, tortured to death.” I couldn’t bear the torment and bit my tongue, bleeding out. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day the true daughter demanded to take over the company. … “Pathy, dear, since I’ve come home, could you please give the company back to me? I want to take on my rightful responsibilities.” Hearing those familiar words, my body stiffened. I glanced at the clock on the wall, and in that instant, I realized I had been reborn. Mrs. Thorne, tears welling in her eyes, embraced Eva and looked at me. “Audrey, it’s been so many years, and we’re so grateful for your hard work with the company. But Eva is our biological daughter. Please, draw up a contract later and transfer the company shares to her.” In my previous life, when I heard Eva and my adoptive mother’s words, I immediately refused them. I explained that the company was in the midst of going public, and a change in leadership at such a critical time would cause chaos. Moreover, Eva had only an elementary school education and no work experience; she understood nothing about the company. It wasn’t suitable for her to take over now. Instead, I suggested she could work as my secretary first, learn the ropes, and then assume control later. My adoptive parents agreed to my suggestion. But Eva instantly panicked. She claimed that being a secretary meant merely serving me, fetching tea and water like a slave, and that I was deliberately humiliating her. She turned and ran out, leaving with her adoptive parents, and I never heard from her again. Under my leadership, the company successfully went public, and the Thorne family became the richest in Star Harbor City. On my thirtieth birthday, my adoptive parents and my husband took me on a trip abroad. They drugged me, and when I woke up, I was in a predatory compound. My hands and feet were severed, and I was tied to a bed, left to be tormented and defiled by anyone. My adoptive parents and my husband, however, stood with the compound’s manager. I desperately demanded to know why. My adoptive parents each slapped me, and my husband kicked me in my three-month pregnant belly. “If you hadn’t been so vain, so greedy for the company, deliberately humiliating Eva, she wouldn’t have died! This is all what you owe Eva!” It turned out that after Eva left, she went to a foreign country looking for work, was tricked, and ended up in one of those compounds, where she suffered endless humiliation and eventually died. That’s why they hated me so deeply. In the end, unable to bear the endless degradation, I bit my tongue and bled to death. Recalling the torture I endured in my previous life, I clenched my fists, seething with anger. I looked at Eva with cold eyes, letting out a mocking laugh. “Back for just a day and already wanting the company, huh?” Eva’s eyes immediately reddened, and she started to cry. “Pathy, I just want to do something for the family. I knew I shouldn’t have come back. Please don’t be angry, Pathy. I’ll leave right now. I promise I won’t disturb your family anymore.” With that, Eva made a show of pushing Mrs. Thorne away, as if to leave. Mrs. Thorne immediately wrapped her arms around Eva, holding her tightly, her face filled with pain. “Eva, this is your home. You’re not the one who should leave.” The next second, Mrs. Thorne slapped me across the face, pointing at me and screaming abuses. “Audrey Bellwether! We kindly took you in and raised you, and now you want to steal our family’s property and force our biological daughter away? How utterly wicked can you be?” Mr. Thorne also looked at me, his face displeased. “Audrey, the company belongs to our family. Isn’t it only right for us to give it to our biological daughter? What right do you have to drive my daughter away?” I let out a bitter laugh. They had forgotten. It was Grandpa Thorne who adopted me. After Grandpa Thorne passed away, he entrusted the company to me. At that time, the company was on the brink of bankruptcy, more than a hundred million in debt. It was I who spent every day pleading with banks and investors, pouring all my energy into saving the company. For that, I developed chronic health issues. The Thorne parents, knowing they lacked the ability to manage the company, had washed their hands of it, simply dumping it on me. And yet, I still gave them fifty million a month, letting them indulge in their leisure. Moreover, most of the company shares were acquired by me. I only kept the Thorne name out of gratitude to Grandpa Thorne. How dare they have the audacity to demand the company back? I looked at Mr. Thorne, letting out a cold scoff. “Three years ago, when the company was on the verge of bankruptcy, you threw me to the ruthless creditors, telling them I was the company owner, telling them to demand their money from me. Now the company is about to go public, and you want to give it to your daughter? Where do you get the nerve to say such a thing?” Mr. Thorne’s face flushed crimson from my words. He balled his fist and swung at me. “You little bastard! We Thorness raised you! It’s your duty to manage the company for us! The company can only belong to my daughter! You’re just working for my daughter!” I swiftly grabbed Mr. Thorne’s arm, twisting it back. He cried out in pain. In the business world, there was no shortage of dirty tricks and dangerous ploys. For that, I had studied Tae Kwon Do for three years. Mr. Thorne, who knew nothing but living a life of leisure, was no match for me. Mrs. Thorne rushed forward, preparing to slap me again. I blocked her hand and shoved her to the ground. Mrs. Thorne pointed at me, her hand trembling with rage. “Audrey Bellwether, you heartless wretch! You actually laid hands on us? You’re utterly depraved!” Eva hurried forward, helping the Thorne parents up, then knelt before me. “Pathy, it’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have come back and disturbed your family! Please, don’t hit Mom and Dad anymore! I’ll leave right now and never appear before you again!” Mr. and Mrs. Thorne immediately embraced Eva, glaring at me with cold eyes. “Audrey, you’re the one who should get out!” I rolled my eyes at them, then looked at Eva. “In that case, I won’t disturb your family reunion. I’ll have a lawyer draft a disownment agreement.” With that, without waiting for their reaction, I turned and left the Thorne mansion. Three days later, I was in a company meeting when my assistant rushed in. “Ms. Bellwether, Mr. and Mrs. Thorne are downstairs with your sister, making a scene and demanding to see you.” I frowned slightly, then followed her downstairs. Mr. Thorne saw me and immediately confronted me. “Audrey, this is our family’s company! What right do you have to keep us out?” At his words, I let out a bitter laugh. “If you had bothered to visit the company more than a few times, the security guards wouldn’t have stopped you.” Mrs. Thorne walked up to me, her voice deeply earnest. “Audrey, considering your years of dedicated service to the company, you may continue to work here. However, the company’s owner can only be Eva.” Mr. Thorne shoved me aside, pulling Eva forward and pushing her into the center. “From today on, the company will be taken over by my biological daughter. Audrey will assist my daughter in managing the company.” Eva walked to my side. “Thank you for your hard work all these years, Sister Pathy. I will work with you to manage the company from now on.” I let out a dismissive scoff. “And you are… what exactly? Do you truly believe anyone can be the company’s owner just by wanting it? By the rules, the company owner must have absolute majority shares.” Mr. and Mrs. Thorne immediately began shouting. “You’re utterly depraved! We Thorness raised you, and now you want to seize our family’s assets and bully our daughter! How can a person like you be fit to be the company’s owner?” My fiancé, Julian Hayes, also stepped forward. “Audrey, the Thorne family has been kind to you. You can’t be so selfish. Just give the company back to Eva. After we get married, you can stay home, raise our family, and I’ll support you.” Hearing his words, I curled my lips. “Julian, your engagement is with the Thorne heiress. Now that Eva is back, she is your fiancée. You and I have no connection whatsoever. And who exactly are you, to point fingers at me? Do you even have the right?” Julian’s face instantly flushed crimson with anger. Eva suddenly knelt before me. “Pathy, dear, I truly didn’t mean to take Julian from you. I just want to reclaim what belongs to me.” Julian’s heart ached. He immediately pulled Eva into his embrace, then threatened me. “Audrey, you have such a wicked heart! So utterly ruthless just to seize the company! How can a person like you be fit to marry me? If you don’t return the company to Eva, we’ll cancel the engagement!” I was tired of their theatrics. “So, you just want the company, right? I can give it back to you, but I have two conditions.” Julian thought I had been frightened into submission, and he smiled with satisfaction. “As long as you give the company back to Eva, we’ll get married right away. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I suppressed the urge to strike him and looked at the Thorne parents. “First, sign the disownment agreement. From this day forward, I will have no connection to the Thorne family.” I continued, “The company shares I hold were acquired by me. So, if you want them, you’ll have to buy them at market price.” The Thorne parents’ faces fell. “This is our Thorne family company! And you want us to pay for shares?” I replied indifferently, “When the Thorne family company went bankrupt, you sold all your shares. The shares I hold now are mine, and they have nothing to do with you. You don’t have to buy them if you don’t want to. The company is about to go public. When that happens, the stock price will multiply several times. There will be plenty of people who want to acquire them.” The Thorne parents gritted their teeth, then huddled with Julian for a long time. Finally, they agreed to pay a billion dollars for my shares. After signing the disownment and share transfer agreements, Julian embraced Eva, looking at me with a mocking smirk. “Audrey, since you want to be so ruthless, then get out of this company right now. From now on, this is Eva’s company.” Eva looked at me provocatively, nestling into Julian’s embrace. “Sister Pathy, I heard the company is going to partner with the Remington Group, the richest family in the country! The stock price will increase tenfold, easily! Thank you, Sister Pathy, for giving me such a wonderful opportunity!” My adoptive parents also looked smug. “Audrey, this is all your own doing. Even if you regret it now, it’s useless. But, out of consideration for our past relationship, if you’re willing to be Eva’s secretary and help her manage the company, we can give you a salary of fifteen hundred a month. At least you won’t starve to death. How does that sound?” I scoffed. Fifteen hundred a month for me to work like a dog for them? They truly thought I was an idiot. “No, thank you. I will have no connection to this company or to any of you from now on.” With that, I turned to leave. Julian angrily called out, “Audrey, don’t come crying to us when you’re starving on the streets!” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Who gave them the confidence to think that with a billion dollars, I would ever starve and beg them for anything? After leaving the company, I called Aunt Victoria, CEO of the Remington Group. “Auntie, please cancel the Remington Group’s partnership with the Thorne family.” After getting her confirmation, I called the Thorne family’s remaining shareholders, telling them to dump all their shares. A massive sell-off would undoubtedly destabilize the Thorne company, causing its stock price to plummet. And this was just the beginning.

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My father was the most renowned chef in the surrounding towns and villages, his Succulent Roast Lamb legendary for its golden-crisp skin and melt-in-your-mouth tenderness, a dish everyone craved. Lady Meredith, the favored companion of Duke Alaric, heard tales of its exquisite taste. She summoned my father to Alaric Manor, specifically requesting his famous roast lamb. When they threw him out, his flesh was scorched and charred, a grotesque mockery of the dish he was known for. It turned out Lady Meredith had a sudden, cruel whim: she wanted a roast lamb that tasted of absolutely nothing like lamb. My mother, when she knew, didn’t shed a single tear. But three months later, she set up a large cauldron outside Alaric Manor and began selling lamb broth. 1 The second month after my father died, my mother took the last of our meager savings to Granny Willow’s small cottage in the quiet alleyway. Granny Willow was a peculiar woman, rumored to possess a knack for restoring a woman’s youthful radiance, making them appear as if untouched by time or trouble. Though they said the process was agonizingly painful; one young lady was said to have screamed all night, nearly losing her life. But Mother, when she returned, didn’t utter a single cry of pain. Only her face was a little pale. She called me to her side. “Alice,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “from now on, you must call me sister, not mother. Do you understand why?” I nodded. “I understand.” Mother smiled, praising my understanding. She took me to Kingsport, finding a dilapidated old townhouse to settle into. Then, on the grand thoroughfare in front of the formidable Alaric Manor, she set up her large cauldron and began selling lamb broth. 2 My mother learned her way with lamb from my father. He was the most celebrated chef in the entire county, and his masterpiece was his Succulent Roast Lamb. Though others roasted lamb, my father’s always had a flavor that sank deeper, a crispy skin and meat so tender it melted on the tongue, rich and aromatic without a trace of gaminess. Even those who swore they disliked lamb would find themselves taking bite after delicious bite, unable to stop. When my father cooked, my mother would quietly assist him in the back. Most tavern owners’ wives would be out front, greeting customers and drumming up business, but my mother never showed her face. I knew why: my mother was simply too beautiful, her beauty a magnet for trouble. And we were just common folk, without influence or protection in this world; we could only hope to avoid trouble, never confront it. My father’s only moment of public renown came when word of his unmatched roast lamb reached the Duke’s Estate. They invited him to cook for Duke Alaric. My father beamed, telling my mother, “The reward money for this will be substantial! I’ll buy you a few new gowns in Kingsport, and even have a pair of pure gold rabbit charms made for Alice’s dowry.” I adored little rabbits, so I immediately threw my arms around my father. “Rabbits! I want rabbits!” My father chuckled, scooping me onto his back and galloping around the house. My mother followed, laughing as she tried to stop him. “Careful now! Don’t drop the child!” Those days felt like a dream now. If only I had known, I wouldn’t have asked for the rabbits. I would have just asked for my father. … My father was thrown out of the back gate of Alaric Manor by the Duke’s servants. The busy street was filled with people coming and going, yet not a single soul dared to approach him. For he was already a charred husk, his skin black and peeling, blood and pus oozing from the raw, gaping wounds. Finally, a kind old neighbor, Silas, found him under the cover of night and brought him back on a simple cart. Silas wept as he cursed, “It was Lady Meredith! All her doing…” Meredith. What a lovely name. She was Duke Alaric’s newest favored companion, renowned as Kingsport’s most beautiful woman. When this beauty heard of my father’s skill with roast lamb, she asked him, “I hear you can roast lamb until it has not a hint of gaminess?” My father answered truthfully, “Lady Meredith can rest assured, the lamb will be perfectly savory, with no gaminess at all.” Meredith’s smile suddenly vanished. “Then can it taste of nothing like lamb?” she asked. My father offered a placating smile. “But if it is roast lamb, how can it taste of nothing like lamb?” Meredith gripped her lace handkerchief, her voice chillingly cold. “Who says it can’t? Today, I shall prepare a roast lamb with no taste of lamb at all, shall I?” She ordered her men to gag my father, tie him like a beast, and hoist him over the fire. Flames roared around him. Meredith covered her mouth with her handkerchief, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. “Isn’t this, then, a roast lamb with no taste of lamb at all?” Finally, she gazed at my father, his skin blistered and torn, her eyes filled with venomous malice. “I told him I would never be a mere mistress, and even the Duke agreed! What are you, a common peasant, to speak to me as if I’m some common tart?” 3 Lady Meredith detested being called a mistress. She was an orphan, without family, brought back by Alaric from the desolate Frostfangs battlefield. They had faced death together, exchanged their lives for each other, and their bond ran deep. But Alaric’s estate already had a Duchess, Eleanor, a wife he had taken at his parents’ command. Eleanor hailed from an ancient aristocratic lineage, and though Alaric held little affection for her, divorcing her was out of the question. Therefore, the only official title available to Meredith was that of a favored companion, a lesser status. But she refused to acknowledge it. “My Alaric and I faced death together on the Frostfangs, swearing to be one love, one life, with the snowy peaks as our witness! And now you want me to be a mistress? Never!” She preferred to remain by Alaric’s side without a formal title, telling him, “I care not what the world thinks of me, so long as you treat me as your only wife.” Alaric was both moved and guilt-ridden. Moved by Meredith’s ardent devotion, and ashamed that he had indeed concealed his marriage from her in the beginning. He could only treat her with even greater indulgence. If Meredith so much as hinted she craved fresh seafood, Alaric would immediately dispatch men on horseback, sending them hundreds of miles to the Verdant Shores to bring back the freshest fish and shrimp. If she suffered a headache or a chill, Alaric would cancel his court duties and remain by her side. As for her, in a fit of pique, publicly roasting an innocent commoner alive—to Alaric, though it caused him some annoyance, it wasn’t a truly grave matter. He merely sighed. “Very well. Meredith is so sensitive about her status, and that rustic fellow spoke out of turn. Since no one actually died, simply have the steward pay him a generous sum for his injuries.” … My mother listened to Silas’s relayed words. She said nothing, merely held a spoon, gently trying to offer my father water. He could no longer swallow. A casual word from a powerful man—”pay for his injuries”—could make it seem as if nothing had happened. But how could one heal a man with six or seven tenths of his skin blackened and festering? Several physicians had examined him, shaking their heads, declaring him beyond cure. He could only watch himself rot away, then die. In truth, my father should have passed sooner, but he held on to his last breath, for he had something to tell my mother. Struggling to open his mouth, my father used his final strength to whisper, “Lily, you must not… not…” “I know,” my mother murmured, tenderly holding his hand. “Don’t seek revenge. You needn’t worry, I would never put myself in such danger. That is Duke Alaric; even the King respects him. How many lives do I, a common woman, have to avenge you? I’ll just take Alice and live our lives well. You’ve saved enough money, anyway. I’ll close the shop, and Alice and I will go picnicking in spring, admire the lilies in summer, bake spiced apple tarts in autumn, and build snowmen in winter…” My father relaxed. He closed his eyes peacefully, a single tear escaping the corner. My mother wiped it away, so lightly, so gently, as if fearing she might hurt him. “Sleep well, my love. When you wake, I’ll still be your wife.” After speaking, Mother picked up the silver locket he’d given her when they first pledged their love. With eyes closed, she steadied her hand, aimed the locket at his charred throat, and plunged it in. … After my father’s funeral, I found a pair of tiny gold rabbit charms in his satchel. I clutched them tightly to my chest. My tears washed away the faint bloodstains on the little rabbits. I wiped my eyes and said, “Sister, I want to go to Kingsport.” My mother looked at the fluttering white paper money covering the ground, silent for a long moment, then softly said, “Of course. We must go to Kingsport.” 4 People said Kingsport was expensive, a hard place to make a living. But for my mother and me, it didn’t seem so difficult. My mother’s cooking skill was exceptional. Once her cauldron was set up, everyone would come, drawn by the intoxicating aroma. I was quick and nimble, helping at the stall, taking orders and handling money. “Here’s your lamb broth, sir! Come again if it pleases you!” The lamb broth was thick and milky white, garnished with fresh green chives, incredibly savory. Our business boomed. Until one day, just as I was handing over a bowl of soup, a sudden kick to my lower back sent me sprawling. “Alice!” my mother cried out. She tried to rush to me, but the large cauldron was immediately kicked over, sending Mother tumbling too. Half a pot of boiling hot lamb broth spilled onto her skirt. Standing before us were the Duke’s household guards. Behind a line of burly, barrel-chested men stood a beautiful woman in a delicate lemon-yellow gown. Lady Meredith frowned, her face a mask of displeasure. “Smash their stall!” “Yes, Lady Meredith!” As the guards moved forward, I rushed to protect the cauldron, screaming desperately, “Help! Help!” One guard reached for me, and I bit down hard on his hand. He howled in pain and raised his hand to strike me. In the midst of the chaos, a clear, cool voice cut through the air. “What is all this commotion?” The crowd, which had gathered at a distance, instinctively parted, making way for a tall, elegant man in a dark, flowing robe. He was not dressed lavishly, and he had only one attendant with him. Yet, as soon as the guards saw him, they immediately dropped to their knees. “Greetings, My Lord!” It was Duke Alaric, the King’s own uncle. He walked forward, his expression displeased. “In broad daylight, in the heart of Kingsport, you create a scene as if you mean to commit murder and arson. What kind of spectacle is this?” Lady Meredith immediately stepped forward, linking her arm through Alaric’s, her lip trembling piteously. “My dearest Alaric, you know I can’t bear the smell of lamb. I simply wanted to discuss with them if they could move their stall further away, but this little ruffian immediately bit my man! That’s why my men accidentally knocked over their cauldron…” The guard immediately held up his hand, which was bleeding profusely from my bite, confirming Meredith’s story. Alaric sighed. “Very well. Then have someone clear their stall away.” “Yes, My Lord!” Two guards immediately stepped forward to grab my mother. Mother struggled to rise but fell back, her skirt splaying, revealing a pair of calves scalded to a vivid crimson. As they tugged, her veil fell from her head, revealing her face. It is said that unadorned beauty, though simply dressed, cannot hide its splendor. For a moment, the two guards who were pulling her froze. Even Alaric himself paused, ever so slightly. And a beautiful woman with tears glistening in her eyes only became more exquisitely pitiful. My mother, suppressing her tears, slowly rose and curtsied to Alaric. “Forgive this humble servant, My Lord, for causing such a disturbance. I shall move my stall to a more distant location at once, and ensure I never appear before Your Grace again.” With that, my mother, leaning on my arm, painstakingly stood up and went to lift the heavy cauldron. Her legs were freshly scalded, and the cauldron was heavy. My mother swayed, looking incredibly fragile and pathetic. For a split second, I noticed Alaric instinctively reach out, as if to help her. But he quickly withdrew his hand. This scene did not escape Lady Meredith’s eyes. She stood behind Alaric, her gaze fixed on us, filled with bitter malice. 5 Mother and I moved to Westside, renting a small storefront for a temporary stay. It was a secluded spot, with few customers, and we barely earned a few coins each day. I went to the nearby hills to gather medicinal herbs, hoping to make a poultice for Mother’s burns to ease her pain. Mother kissed my forehead, but then tossed the herbs into the brazier. “Can’t apply them,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. I understood her meaning, but my eyes still welled up with tears. My father had always doted on Mother; if she even scraped a knee, he would make a fuss. Seeing her scalded like this, how heartbroken he would have been. But Mother looked at her injured leg and quietly said, “This is likely not even one-thousandth of the pain he suffered.” Mother’s words had barely faded when the sound of crashing pots, pans, and dishes erupted from the front room. I ran to the front and saw Lady Meredith. She had arrived with a dozen maids and servants. Those maids were overturning the tables and chairs we had so painstakingly acquired, and smashing our cooking utensils to the floor. “What are you doing! What are you doing!” I rushed forward, trying to stop them, but it was useless. Lady Meredith, leisurely cracking sunflower seeds, asked, “Where is that harlot who tried to ensnare the Duke?” My mother was dragged out from the back. Her injuries still unhealed, she could barely walk, her scalded legs scraping against the rough floor. Her skirt quickly became stained with blood. Meredith ordered her men to throw Mother to the ground, then she walked up, pinched my mother’s face with her sharp fingernails, and spat a sunflower seed shell onto her cheek. “You brazen harlot! You think I don’t see your pathetic attempts to charm the Duke with your innocent act? If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll never give up your ambition to climb into his bed.” Two stout servants held my mother down, one on each side. Meredith pulled a sharp silver letter opener from her sleeve, ready to slash my mother’s face. “No!” I threw myself forward, shielding my mother with my body, crying out at the top of my lungs, “My Lady, please, I beg you! My sister has never done anything wrong! Please, if you must kill, kill me! Don’t kill my sister…” Meredith flew into a rage, and the silver letter opener plunged towards my body. A porcelain plate flew across the room, striking the letter opener. The plate shattered, and the letter opener flew from Meredith’s hand. She cried out, clutching her wrist. I was tightly shielded in my mother’s arms. When I looked up again, I saw a tall figure standing in the doorway. It was Alaric. In the faint light, his face was ashen with fury. 6 The shattered porcelain cut Meredith’s skin. She clutched her wrist, her eyes wide. “Alaric, you…!” Disbelief swiftly turned into a roaring inferno of anger. She pointed at my mother. “You actually struck me, for the sake of this low-born harlot? Why? Is it because she has a pretty face that appeals to men?” Meredith was beyond reason. She lunged forward, intent on tearing my mother’s face to shreds. Alaric strode forward, grabbing Meredith’s wrist. “How long will you carry on this childish tantrum?” he reprimanded in a low voice. “If I don’t stop you, you’ll cause a scandal that will rock the very foundations of Kingsport!” Their argument raged, fierce and bitter. By the end, Alaric was pale with anger, and he blurted out, “The women of Kingsport, put together, are not half as shrewish as you!” Meredith froze, stunned. Her eyes immediately turned crimson, and large tears began to fall. “Yes,” Meredith said with a bitter laugh. “No woman in the world is as shrewish as I am. But who else but me would have carried you, step by agonizing step, from the depths of the snow-covered Frostfangs when you were gravely wounded? Who else would have given her own blood as medicine to heal you? Who else would have been willing to die to protect you? Now it seems I should have died in the Frostfangs then. At least you would have remembered me forever, rather than leaving me to suffer such indignity for a common harlot!” Meredith glared viciously at my mother, then ripped the keepsake locket from her neck, flung it to the ground, and ran off. The maids and servants knelt in terror. The boldest among them picked up the keepsake locket and held it above their heads. “My Lord, Lady Meredith grew up in the harsh lands of the Frostfangs, unlike the refined ladies of Kingsport. But her devotion to you is truly unwavering. A maiden’s heart, once shattered, is so terribly difficult to mend.” “Indeed, My Lord,” another added. “Please, hurry and follow Lady Meredith! She knows no one in Kingsport; what if she encounters danger wandering alone?” Alaric picked up the locket. Then he turned, his gaze falling upon my mother. My mother knelt on the ground, her head bowed. From Alaric’s angle, he could only see the delicate curve of her pale, slender neck. She clearly felt his gaze, but she did not raise her head to meet his eyes. Alaric closed his eyes for a moment. In the end, he gripped the keepsake locket and went after Meredith.

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After my husband’s affair, I gave him and his mother a taste of their own medicine—They threw the first punch, after all. 1 In the two months before I discovered his infidelity, Mark, who never cared for grooming, began secretly spraying cologne. A woman’s innate intuition told me he might be having an affair. Just a week prior, he had come home utterly intoxicated. I watched him, insensible with drink, and quickly helped him to bed, then brewed him a sobering broth. It was then that his phone screen suddenly lit up. A message appeared on the display: [I’m pregnant, Mark! You’re going to be a father! Aren’t you happy?] I unlocked his phone. A torrent of explicit messages and brazen flirtations unfurled before my eyes. I couldn’t believe these words, exchanged with another woman, came from Mark—the husband who had shared my life, who supposedly cherished our child, our home, and me. My hands trembled as I held the phone, reading each piercing word. Tears streamed from my eyes, large drops splattering onto the screen. I clapped a hand over my mouth, terrified my sobs would awaken Mark. I couldn’t fathom that the husband who, to outsiders, appeared utterly devoted and loving, was in fact this kind of man. Finally, I understood why Mark, who had once adored me, had recently grown so critical, his eyes betraying faint disdain and disgust. He had, it seemed, already found a cherished paramour outside our home! I forcefully wiped away my tears, took a deep breath, and compelled myself to calm down quickly. Then, I pulled out my own phone, saving their chat logs, as well as the mistress’s personal information and address. Afterward, I placed Mark’s phone back where it belonged, pretending as if nothing had happened. The next morning, Mark, as usual, sprayed his cologne, preparing to leave for work. I stood by the doorway, holding our son, and asked him: “Will you be home for dinner tonight?” Mark lowered his head, continuing to put on his shoes. He remained silent for a moment. I pressed on: “Tonight’s our son’s birthday. Please come home for dinner!” Mark finally straightened up, merely grunting, “Hm,” without turning, and then left. I watched Mark’s retreating back, my heart turning to ice. That evening, the table was laden with an array of exquisite dishes. Mark sat at the table, holding our son, clapping and singing “Happy Birthday.” I raised the wine glass before me, observing this charade of a devoted father. Mark glanced at me, his face showing impatience, and urged me to begin the meal. “All you’re good for is cooking. And your looks are mediocre at best. Now, after childbirth, you’ve gotten fat and even uglier. You can’t even earn a penny. Tell me, what use are you?” Mark’s words stunned me so completely that I couldn’t react for a long moment. I couldn’t believe those words had come from his mouth. Every past memory, every tender moment, now felt like a performance. At this moment, I finally erupted! I slammed the glass onto the table, pointing at Mark’s nose. “Regretting it now? Did you feed your eyes to the dogs back then?” “Evelyn, please understand your place. Don’t bark orders at me, and certainly don’t point your finger! You’re no longer the pampered lady you once were! If it weren’t for me, you’d be out on the streets, scraping for scraps. This house? Only my word counts here! You do what I say. Otherwise, you can get out!” “Mark, have you forgotten something? This is my house! My parents bought this property for me! What right do you have to tell me to get out?!” “Yours? What do you mean ‘yours’?! Don’t forget, when your family went bankrupt, it was my money that bailed you out! Now you can’t pay it back, so the house is collateral! If it weren’t for you giving the Thorne family a healthy son, I’d have thrown you out long ago!” “You’re utterly shameless! What do you mean ‘your money’? That was my dowry from my parents! After we married, you clung to me like a leech, starving yourself for three days, subtly coercing me into entrusting the money to you! Now it’s ‘your’ money again? You want us to repay a debt, do you? No chance!” Mark’s words at that moment made me want to tear him apart. I had never imagined he could be this kind of person, completely unlike the Mark I once knew. The man before me was utterly despicable and cruel! Mark was about to continue arguing with me, but our son’s frightened cries interrupted him. I quickly snatched our son from his arms, soothing him as I turned and entered the nursery. Looking at my sleeping son in my arms, an idea suddenly sparked in my mind! I would divorce Mark, and I would repay all the hurt and pain he had inflicted on me tenfold, hundredfold, a thousandfold! I would make him suffer dearly! Every night, Mark habitually ate an apple before sleeping. So, under the pretense of slicing his apple, I also prepared a bowl of warm porridge. This was no ordinary porridge; it was a special blend I had concocted. Upon entering the master bedroom, I feigned an apology to Mark, humbling myself and flattering him in various ways. Under my coaxing, he finished the specially prepared porridge. After eating, Mark contentedly licked the corners of his lips, praising my cooking profusely, and asking me to prepare a separate bowl for him every morning. 2 And so, following Mark’s request, I prepared a bowl of my ‘special’ porridge for him every morning. However, beneath my outwardly amiable and gentle demeanor, my plan was unfolding. After Mark left for work, I took our son to my parents’ home. I recounted everything that had happened recently to my mother, Martha. Martha said nothing, but turned into the kitchen, retrieved a packet of fox nuts and water chestnuts, and handed them to me. She said: “Since he’s so fond of other women, you, as his wife, mustn’t be ignorant. It’s just a man; let her have him. Remember, when you go home, don’t argue with him. Just brew these fox nuts and water chestnuts into a broth for him. It will help him ‘strengthen his constitution.’” With that, Martha firmly patted my hand several times, deliberately emphasizing the words “strengthen his constitution.” I understood her subtle meaning and accepted the fox nuts and water chestnuts. After lunch, I left my son at my parents’ house and took a carriage alone to a Muay Thai training hall far from home. That’s right, I enrolled in Muay Thai. Like Mark, I also needed to ‘strengthen my constitution,’ just in a different way. Every day, I shuttled between my home, my parents’ house, and the Muay Thai hall. And I never forgot to prepare the fox nut and water chestnut broth for Mark every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. One day, as I passed by the study, I heard Mark on the phone with his mother, Agnes. He was saying that his mistress was four months pregnant, and he wanted Agnes to come to the city to care for his future daughter-in-law. He also asked Agnes to hold onto the deed to the house for him. On the other end of the line, Agnes’s voice immediately rose several octaves upon hearing “house deed.” She happily agreed. I peered through the crack in the door, seeing Mark about to exit the study. I pretended to be just passing by. Mark saw me approaching and called out. “What is it?! Something wrong?” I asked. “My mother is coming to stay in the city for a while. You can go stay at your parents’ house then!” I looked at him with utter bewilderment. He must have thought I hadn’t understood, so he repeated himself. Before he could finish, I snapped at him loudly, “Why should I go back to my parents’ house? Your mother can come if she wants. Is she some blushing maiden who can’t be seen? This house is enormous, with so many rooms; isn’t that enough for just her? Does she need me to move out too? Is she an octopus, needing a room for each leg?!” I no longer spoke to him with my former meekness. “Oh, what way is that to speak?! I just thought you two wouldn’t get along, alright? What if I go to work and you two start fighting at home?!” “I’m not insane. As long as she doesn’t cause trouble, I won’t do anything to her!” Seeing that I was being difficult, Mark found himself with no recourse and had to let me have my way. Two days later, Agnes, Mark’s mother, arrived at our house, laden with heavy bags, looking travel-worn. The moment she stepped inside, she tried to assert her dominance. Agnes stood at the doorway, extending her dust-laden shoe, subtly indicating that I should bend down to remove it for her. I pointed to the slippers on the floor and said: “Mother-in-law, the slippers are right there. You can change into them yourself.” “I’m old, I can’t bend down.” “Old? Then why are you carrying such heavy bags all the way from the village?” Agnes was momentarily speechless, choked by my retort. I quickly added more fuel to the fire: “If you can’t even bend down to put on shoes, I wonder what Mark was thinking, asking you to come help with the child. I’ll have to speak with him later; he’s truly unfilial!” “Nonsense!” Agnes was flustered, quickly coming to her son’s defense. “Mark… Mark is not unfilial? Mark is the most filial and accomplished child in our village! My Mark, he is the most devoted to me! He promised to buy a grand house and bring me here to live, and hasn’t he done just that?!” The moment she mentioned the house, I immediately flared up. “Mother-in-law, please understand that this house was bought by my parents for me. Mark’s name was added as a mere formality. Under current law, Mark didn’t contribute a single penny; this house has absolutely nothing to do with him.” “How can it have nothing to do with him? What do you, a woman, know! What’s yours is my Mark’s! Husband and wife shouldn’t differentiate between ‘yours’ and ‘mine.’ Besides, what does a woman need so many houses for? In our village, a woman’s words don’t count for much. At home, everything must be decided by the man.” “Yes, Mother-in-law. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Elder Mr. Davies’s house in our village and tell him to marry you quickly! That way, you won’t feel like your words don’t count for much in the village anymore, and you’ll have a man at home to keep you in line.” I retaliated with biting sarcasm. Elder Mr. Davies was an old bachelor in Mark’s village. Ever since Mark’s father passed away, The two of them had often exchanged suggestive glances. Elder Mr. Davies would frequently come under the guise of bringing food to the “widow and orphan,” but secretly, he and Agnes had started an affair. When Mark found out, he chased Elder Mr. Davies for miles with a knife, intent on harming him. After that incident, Elder Mr. Davies never dared to associate with Agnes again. This was a piece of gossip I had overheard when I last returned to Mark’s village. Agnes, after hearing my words, seemed to recall something. She glared at me, and in an instant, her face turned crimson with embarrassment. 3 One day, when I returned from the Muay Thai training hall, I heard sounds of pleasure emanating from the bedroom. I tiptoed to the bedroom door, pressing the doorknob, and quietly opened the door a crack. Peering through the gap, I saw two naked bodies entwined. It was Mark and a woman with long, curly hair, both stark naked, engaged in unspeakable acts. Watching the two of them performing such lewd acts on the bed, I trembled with rage. Just as I was about to burst in and slap them both silly, I remembered my mother’s recent advice: always have evidence. With irrefutable proof, he wouldn’t be able to deny it! I suppressed my disgust, pulled out my phone, and began recording the shameless pair, securing my evidence. Just then, the woman on the bed suddenly asked in a sickeningly sweet voice: “Darling, what’s wrong now? Why are you not performing? You used to last at least half an hour, and now you can’t even make it twenty minutes! Tell me, are you seeing other women while I’m not looking?” “Oh, my little darling, how could I dare mess around behind your back! You’re pregnant now, aren’t you? We have to be careful for the baby’s sake!” “Hmph! Even if I gave you ten times the courage, you wouldn’t dare mess around behind my back! And, have you found that woman’s house deed? You promised me that after I joined you, you’d move me into a house even bigger than this one. Don’t tell me that when the baby’s born, we’ll not only lack a big house, but you’ll make my child and me sleep on the streets!” “Don’t you worry! My little darling, tomorrow I’ll make my mother force her to hand over the house deed. I refuse to believe I can’t handle that old hag!” Hearing Mark and his mistress’s conversation, I finally fully understood that for all these years, he had married me solely for my family’s fortune. Now that my family was bankrupt, he was setting his sights on this house. This house was bought by my parents for me when Mark and I got engaged. At the time, it cost over 400,000 Crowns. Its location was excellent, and if sold now, it would be worth at least 800,000 Crowns. I closed the door, then turned and rushed straight to the attic, where I found the house deed. Mark would never in a million years guess I’d put the deed in the attic. Before the wedding, my mother had warned me to be clever in all things, saying Mark was no easy man to deal with. At the time, I foolishly believed Mark loved me, and that once married, there would be no secrets between us. But fortune is fickle, and I was too naive back then. I never imagined Mark would cheat. Ever since I found out about his infidelity, I became more cautious and secretly hid the house deed in the attic. I took the house deed back to my parents’ home and gave it to my mother, Martha, who hid it in the most secure place in our house. Three days later, I was hanging clothes on the balcony. Agnes, Mark’s mother, approached me with a fawning expression, calling, “Daughter-in-law, daughter-in-law.” I glanced at her, asking coldly, “What is it? Why so affectionate? Our relationship isn’t usually this warm, is it?” “Oh, look at you! We’re family now, what’s all this about good or bad relationships?” “Do you need something?” Agnes pretended to smooth a sheet I had just hung, then said, “Oh, your mother-in-law doesn’t have much to say, just wanted to ask you, you’ve been married to my son for so long, who manages the money?” “Why do you ask?” “No reason, Mother-in-law was just asking. I was chatting with the ladies in the neighborhood, and they said women in the city manage the money, don’t they? So you manage Mark’s money too?” “Not at all. I’m not as fortunate as them. I can’t manage your son’s meager funds.” Hearing this, Agnes’s face grew even more smug. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said: “Actually, your mother-in-law has wanted to say this for a long time. It seems you have some self-awareness. I also think you’re unlucky. Your family went bankrupt just a few years after you married. Your parents should have had a son back then, why a daughter? She’ll just be a money-losing commodity when she marries! Look how lucky my son is! He’s a general manager at a young age, and lives in such a grand house!” “Your son is lucky, but whether he can afford such a grand house depends entirely on the blessing of this ‘money-losing commodity’! Otherwise, for a country boy like him, he’d work his whole life and never afford such a grand house!” “You…” Agnes, furious, was about to retort, when she suddenly remembered something and instantly changed her demeanor. “Yes, yes, Evelyn, you’re right. My Mark owes all his success today to your blessing. If it weren’t for you, my Mark wouldn’t even have a wife by now.” “Mother-in-law, just say what you want directly! No need for all these twists and turns, beating around the bush.” “Then your mother-in-law will be direct, alright? It’s about the house deed, you have it, don’t you?” “Yes, I do! What about it?” “It’s nothing much, just that I see you work hard with the child. Such a valuable thing as a house deed should be entrusted to your mother-in-law for safekeeping!” “What? Did I hear that right! Mother-in-law! Why should I entrust the house deed to you! You didn’t pay for the house, and besides, wouldn’t it be safer somewhere else than in your hands?!” “Hmph, what way is that to speak, girl! You’re refusing a toast and asking for a penalty, are you? Since you married into our family, you must obey your in-laws, obey your man! Your man is your sky! And you dare not defy the sky, or you will be struck by lightning!” “Oh, so I married into your family to suffer tribulation, did I? And be struck by lightning? If your son is so powerful, tell him to try and strike me down!” Agnes’s face turned beet red with rage. She grabbed the clothes hanger, intending to strike me, muttering furiously, “You little wretch, are you rebelling now? If you upset me, tomorrow I’ll tell Mark to divorce you!” “Divorce then! Divorce! If we divorce, this house won’t have a single penny to do with him! Go ahead and hit me. After you’re done, I’ll immediately get a medical report and call the Royal Bailiff to have you arrested, and you can rot in jail for life!” Agnes flinched when she heard me threaten to call the authorities. She immediately stopped her movements. She certainly didn’t want to end up in the jailhouse just for trying to get a house deed. She quickly forced a yellow-toothed smile and said, “Mother-in-law was just scaring you, dear. How could I ever hit you! Look how precious you city girls are, a mere scare and you want to send your mother-in-law to jail! If people in our village found out, wouldn’t they laugh at the wife our old Thorne family married?!” “Good that you know. This is a lawful society now, not your village where you can just hit people as you please. Hitting someone will cost you money and a jail sentence!” I glared at Agnes, snatched the clothes hanger, and turned to leave. 4 That evening, Mark called to say he wouldn’t be back for dinner; he was meeting with a client. I simply said, “Oh,” and hung up. After dinner, I received a call from Lady Eleanor, inviting me to a tavern. I left my son with Agnes, changed my clothes, and went out. Upon arriving at the tavern, I spotted a man whose back resembled Mark’s. I quietly approached and, indeed, it was him! He stood near the entrance, chatting merrily with a few other men. I trailed them. After watching them enter a private room, I discreetly noted the room number. Half an hour later, estimating the time, I found an excuse to tell Lady Eleanor I needed to step out for a moment. When I reached Mark’s private room, I pushed open a crack in the door, observing the suggestive atmosphere inside. A woman was wrapped around Mark’s neck, sitting on his lap, her hands roving over his body. In a short while, the woman and Mark were openly engaged in intimate acts in front of everyone. Seeing this, the others in the room also followed suit. I pulled out my phone and recorded the entire scene. “Hello! Is this the Royal Bailiff? I want to report a public disturbance at The Golden Bell Tavern, room number 111. There’s an illicit gathering in progress.” I hid in the darkest corner of the stairwell, watching as the Royal Bailiff burst into the room and took Mark and the others away. I handed a tip to a tavern servant, asking him to call the mistress and inform her to collect him from the precinct.

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My husband’s long-lost love was finally getting married. To make her regret leaving him, he abandoned Blackwood Manor and me, volunteering to serve in the desolate Frostbourne Marches. I wrote ninety-nine letters, each sent with a flicker of hope, but not a single reply ever came. By the third year, I had stopped writing. I was on my daybed, elegantly sipping the rich, restorative swallow’s nest soup sent from the royal kitchens, when the door creaked open. Then, suddenly, General Godfrey returned. His gaze, cold and hard as flint, landed on my six-month pregnant belly. His teeth clenched, the sound almost audible. “Three years of marriage, Evelyn, and you never once thought to visit me at the border. Whose child is that you’re carrying?” I merely shrugged, a faint, almost dismissive smile playing on my lips. “If you refuse to treat your wife with proper regard, Godfrey, then surely someone else will step up to the task, won’t they?” … Godfrey’s hand shot out, a blur of motion, yanking me roughly from the daybed. His eyes, usually a steely blue, were now hawk-like, brimming with a chilling, murderous intent. “You harlot! I leave for a mere three years, and you can’t even contain your wanton desires? You dared to get yourself pregnant!” His voice rose to a furious roar. “Tell me now, who is the scoundrel? The father of this bastard child?!” The delicate porcelain bowl of swallow’s nest soup slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the polished stone floor with a sharp, sickening crack. Just then, Lady Beatrice, Godfrey’s mother, rushed into the room, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of Godfrey’s iron grip on my arm. “Godfrey, stop! Don’t touch her! She’s carrying…” Her words were cut short by Godfrey’s enraged bellow, echoing through the manor. “Evelyn! I’m asking you a question!” My eardrums throbbed with the sheer volume, and a slow, simmering rage began to boil within me. I yanked my arm free, my voice tight with indignation. “You abandoned me for three whole years, Godfrey! You left me with a crumbling estate, bleeding money, and vanished without a trace! According to the old statutes of abandonment, a husband who forsakes his home for a year without cause allows for annulment. You and I are no longer bound as husband and wife!” Godfrey’s face flushed a mottled crimson, his anger a visible, suffocating cloud around him. Without another word, he seized my arm again, dragging me relentlessly towards the door. “You dare to lie, you adulteress? You dare to accuse me after defiling my name? I’ll drag you into the streets right now and let the good people of Aethelburg see what kind of depraved woman you truly are!” Weakened by my pregnancy, I was no match for his strength. I struggled, but it was futile. Lady Beatrice, her eyes welling with tears, rushed forward, trying to block our path. “Son, please, listen to your mother! Let go of Evelyn, immediately…” But her plea only seemed to fuel Godfrey’s fury. He roared, his hand lashing out in a brutal, open-handed slap across my face. My head snapped back, a sharp sting exploding across my cheek, and the coppery taste of blood instantly filled my mouth. His voice, thick with menace, thundered in my ears. “You’d even corrupt my own mother? Force her to defend your debauchery in her old age? Today, I will personally deal with you, you wretched creature!” Lady Beatrice froze, her body rigid with terror, not daring to take another step. She feared that her continued intervention would only incite Godfrey to greater violence, and if the child were harmed, how would she ever forgive herself, or him? I was dragged, raw and bleeding, to the grand gates of Blackwood Manor. There, standing poised and pristine in a gown of pure white, was the woman Godfrey had pined for: Aveline. Three years ago, when Godfrey had left, she too had vanished without a trace. Now, it was chillingly clear where she had been – playing the devoted wife at the border. Seeing my humiliated state, Aveline couldn’t suppress a mocking snicker, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. “Well, isn’t this convenient? You’ve proven yourself so utterly depraved, Evelyn. It seems I won’t have to lift a finger to make my case.” Before I could utter a single word, Godfrey shoved me forward, directly into the gawking crowd of townspeople. He bellowed, his voice carrying far and wide, “Evelyn! I acknowledge you guarded this manor for three years. So, I’ll offer you a choice: humble yourself, become a mistress, and yield your place as Lady of Blackwood Manor to Aveline. I will grant you a corner to live out your days!” His eyes gleamed with a chilling satisfaction. “Otherwise…” Godfrey sneered, a cold, ruthless smile stretching his lips, and drew the heavy, battle-scarred sword from his scabbard. “Otherwise, I will cut down this harlot right here, right now!” His words struck me with a bitter, hollow irony. I remembered his parting promise, three years ago – that upon his return, with military honors, he would help my mother secure justice. That promise, a flimsy thread of hope, was why I had endured the snickers and whispers of Aethelburg, why I had poured my entire dowry into propping up Blackwood Manor. Yet, my mother had wasted away, tormented by my father’s mistress, and he had never returned. No wonder he hadn’t immediately executed me in the house; he feared public backlash. He wanted me to yield my position myself. The servants and townspeople buzzed with gossip. “I knew it! The General hasn’t been home in years, how could the Lady be with child?” “And Lady Beatrice has been caring for her so diligently, I almost thought—” “Enough!” Lady Beatrice, unable to bear it any longer, suddenly burst through the crowd. She rushed to my side, supporting me, her brow furrowed in a fierce scowl directed at Aveline. “I know whose child Evelyn carries, better than anyone! And this child is no bastard!” Godfrey looked at his mother, baffled. “Mother, this harlot never sought me out at the border! How could it possibly be my child?” Lady Beatrice stood firm, her voice ringing with conviction. “This child is legitimate! Anyone who dares to utter another word will face the stocks!” Aveline clutched Godfrey’s sleeve, her voice trembling with feigned sobs. “Oh, Godfrey, surely your mother has been deceived! What mother would condone her daughter-in-law’s infidelity? I heard whispers of certain potions, substances that control minds… Lady Beatrice’s face looks so much paler than before. Could it be…?” Godfrey’s hands clenched into fists, his rage suddenly redirected. He spun, pulling his sword again. “Evelyn, you seek death!” I retorted, my voice hoarse, “Lady Beatrice is frail and pale, Godfrey, because of you! How could you not know the anguish your own mother suffered, son, when you vanished for three years without a single word?” Godfrey was about to speak, when Aveline suddenly shoved me with surprising force. “You venomous hag! How dare you slander Godfrey, your own husband?!” A searing pain exploded at the back of my head. My vision instantly blurred, swimming with black spots. The heavy iron door-studs of the manor gate gouged a deep wound into my scalp, leaving a dark, rapidly spreading stain of blood on the stone. My strength evaporated, and I collapsed to the ground, a sharp, twisting pain erupting in my lower abdomen. Lady Beatrice let out a piercing shriek. “Call for the Royal Physician, quickly!” Several maids and retainers moved to obey, but Godfrey’s guards immediately blocked their path. Seeing this, Lady Beatrice bellowed, “Are you truly defying your own mother’s command now, Godfrey?!” Aveline sneered, utterly merciless. “The Royal Physician attends only to the nobility within the palace walls! Do you truly believe a harlot like this could ever command such a presence?” Godfrey’s voice was low and dangerous. “Guards! Protect my mother! Do not let her be swayed by this villainess’s deceit!” At his words, a burly soldier, easily eight feet tall, seized Lady Beatrice. She stared at him, incredulous. “I am your mother!” She struggled, twisting against his grip, but the soldier simply twisted her arm, forcing it back. Lady Beatrice cried out in agony, but Godfrey remained unmoved, his face a mask of cold indifference. “Godfrey, have you gone mad?!” I cried out, struggling to push myself up, my hands protectively cupped over my belly. “If you don’t want to die, then release us immediately! This child… this child is not one you can afford to harm!” Godfrey said nothing. He simply drew a long, vicious-looking whip from his belt. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he brought it down, the air whistling with the brutal force of it. A searing, fiery pain exploded across my knees. I crashed heavily to the ground, the raw wounds on my knees instantly grinding into the dirty cobblestones, the pain biting deep into my very bones. Godfrey’s voice rang out, clear and resonant. “Such a wanton woman in Blackwood Manor! I, Godfrey, must impose the strictest family law!” He smirked, his eyes devoid of mercy. “Evelyn, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. If you refuse to cast out this bastard, then I will do it myself!” I ignored the fresh blood soaking my knees, my only thought to protect my child. “What are you doing…?” Godfrey advanced, step by deliberate step. “The whip, of course! A hundred lashes for your infidelity, for your poisoning of my mother’s mind! Today, I will make an example of you before everyone!” My breath hitched in my throat. My eyes instinctively darted to the brutal length of the whip in his hand. That whip had ridden with Godfrey into countless battles; it was stained with the blood of countless enemies. A single strike could mean my death. What then of the child within me? Amidst the jeers and calls for punishment from the crowd, Godfrey raised the whip again. It descended with terrifying speed. I could only curl inward, protecting my belly with my arms, squeezing my eyes shut. The pain, however, never came. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. A Shadow Guard stood directly in front of me, his hand clamped firmly around the whip, halting its deadly descent. “General,” the Shadow Guard said, his voice calm, “Lady Evelyn is in a delicate state. You cannot harm her. I urge you to reconsider.” It was the first time anyone had dared to defy Godfrey, to intercept his wrath. His eyes narrowed, sizing up the guard. “Who are you? What business is it of yours to interfere with how I discipline my wife?” The Shadow Guard remained unyielding. “If the General wishes to know the full truth, he must first move this conversation elsewhere—” The next second, Godfrey sneered, yanking his whip free and lashing out at the Shadow Guard. “I’d like to see who dares to covet what belongs to my General!” The Shadow Guard reacted too slowly. The whip tore across half his face, ripping skin and flesh apart. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving. The more timid onlookers shrieked in unison. Lady Beatrice, witnessing the brutality, fainted dead away and was immediately carried off, placed under strict supervision. There was truly no one left to save me. My face went ashen, drained of all color. Godfrey, meanwhile, had murder in his eyes. “Evelyn, I thought you’d ensnared some powerful figure, but it’s only a pathetic, disgraced guard who dares to tempt you into betraying me?” At this point, I no longer cared for appearances or consequences. “This child is… is—” My words were swallowed by a blinding flash of pain as the whip, whistling through the air, struck my abdomen.

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