Category: English

I basically bought my brother’s dirt-poor driver. He didn’t have much money, but he had a killer tight waist and a perky ass. Standing still, he looked like a professional male model; moving, he was pure energy. Only problem? He was a total show-off, always buying knock-off luxury goods, stuff he claimed was worth millions. One day, I had him tied to the headboard, giving him a piece of my mind, when my brother suddenly called: “Weren’t you gonna ‘hire’ my driver? How come you haven’t hit him up yet?” I froze. Then who the hell was this guy in front of me? 1 My brother became nouveau riche overnight thanks to his viral TikTok dances. And me, his totally dependent little sister, rode his coattails right into the New York City socialite scene. But they always made fun of me, saying my clothes were tacky, my taste in food was basic, and I wouldn’t even dare hit on male models at clubs. I got so mad, I swore I’d find someone even hotter than a male model, someone who’d blow everyone away. My brother’s advice? “Then go for my driver. Saw him at the urinal once, dude’s packing.” If my brother said he was packing, it had to be true. After all, back in our small town, all the girls called him “The Stud.” 2 To save face, I immediately rushed to my brother’s company to find his driver. As soon as I got to the parking garage, I saw a tall, handsome guy standing in front of a luxury car. In front of him was an elegant woman, crying and tugging at his arm: “Ethan Vance, it’s just adding some girl’s contact info, why are you so against it!” Ethan Vance? Isn’t that my brother’s driver? My brother told me his driver, “Ethan,” had a rough childhood—abusive alcoholic dad, and his mom even tried to make him escort to pay off her debts. Sure enough, I heard “Ethan Vance” reply coldly, “I said no. I’m not interested in that kind of thing.” “You’re trying to kill me with anger!” His mother started hitting him. I saw red. Such a great body, what a waste if it got damaged! I rushed forward, got between them, and snapped: “Ma’am, you’re out of line! “Take this hundred grand and leave my Lily Chen’s man alone!” With that, I pulled out the check I’d prepared and shoved it at his mother, then told security to escort her out. His mother was still yelling, “Who dares touch me? Do you know who the Vance family is in NYC…” I completely ignored her. After all, only incompetent people resort to empty threats. After my heroic rescue, I figured “Ethan Vance” behind me must be totally smitten. Maybe he’d even throw himself at me and confess his love right then and there? 3 Turns out, the poorer they are, the prouder they get. When I turned around, blushing, I met “Ethan Vance’s” cold, handsome face. He looked anything but grateful, his thick brows furrowed, his sharp gaze fixed on me. The moment our eyes met, a shiver ran down my spine—painful, yet exhilarating. I finally understood why club models didn’t do it for me. Their eyes were too tame, they didn’t ignite my desire to conquer. But him? He was all thorns. And I loved it. I felt like I could make him fall head over heels for me. I cleared my throat, trying to sound composed. “Ethan, right? Hi, I’m Mr. Chen’s sister.” “Ethan?” He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the pressure was intense. My legs felt like jelly. What the hell! I’m the one who just dropped a hundred grand! I’m the sugar mommy here! I was about to toughen up, but then I glanced at his tight waist and perky ass. Instantly, I softened, my voice gentle: “Ethan, you don’t have to be strong in front of me. It’s okay to cry, really. “My brother told me all about your family situation.” He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “My family situation?” he asked, his voice icy. Still playing tough. Seeing him pretend to be strong now, thinking about him possibly crying alone at night, my heart ached. “Wasn’t your mom just forcing you to add that woman’s contact? “Instead of getting pawed by old ladies at those clubs and maybe catching something, why not be with me? I’m healthy, I can wolf down two huge steaks in one sitting. “You won’t have to drive for my brother anymore. Just… keep me company in bed. “My brother pays you, what, ten grand a month? I’ll give you five times that—fifty thousand! “If you don’t want people to know I’m keeping you, just say we’re dating. When it’s over, you can say you dumped me.” After I said all that, I was moved by my own “generosity.” I wasn’t just a sugar mommy; I was a freaking savior! But his face grew colder, and then he turned to leave. That tall back of his looked exactly like mine when I pretend to walk away after a failed haggle at the market. I knew I should wait for him to turn back first. But his beauty had addled my brain. I grit my teeth, hurried forward, and grabbed his hand. “Eighty thousand! Eighty thousand, okay? “If you walk out now and your mom comes looking for trouble again, I’m not getting involved!” That stopped him. 4 I felt like the sugar baby arrangement hadn’t even started, and this man already had my heart in a vise. Just five minutes ago, he’d turned around, his long fingers tilting my chin up, his cold eyes scrutinizing me. His gaze was like a sharp blade, so cutting, so fierce… yet it thrilled me. My heart pounded like a drum, my mouth was dry, and my whole body felt hot. I felt like if he just called me “baby” right then, I’d turn feral, pin him against the wall, and give him my life. So, this was what love felt like! But he only let me bask in it for three minutes before pulling his hand away with a smirk and a “tsk.” “Fine. “If my mom shows up and harasses me again, you deal with her.” He agreed! I immediately whipped out my phone, added him on a messaging app, and transferred the eighty thousand dollar “sponsorship” fee. His profile pic showed him in a racing suit, leaning casually against a race car, devastatingly handsome. But I could tell with one glance it was Photoshopped. That car was worth nearly a hundred million, supposedly belonging to the heir of the Vance family, one of NYC’s top dogs. My brother said his driver, Ethan, was a nice guy but very flashy, loved to act rich. Sure enough, he didn’t accept the eighty thousand immediately. He just gave it a lazy glance, as if he couldn’t care less. I had to admit, he played the part well. But I knew, with his leeching parents, he’d probably never seen so much money in his life. He must be freaking out inside. I tentatively reached out and successfully took his hand. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at me with an excited glint in his eyes. “Nervous?” I said no, but I couldn’t help swallowing hard. He chuckled. “Nervous just holding hands, and you’re trying to play sugar mommy?” I got angry. “What are you talking about! Is that any way to talk to your benefactor!” 5 Pissing off your sugar mommy has serious consequences. But my little toyboy didn’t seem to get that. On the way, I put on an angry face, but he just casually scrolled through his phone, ignoring me. I silently cursed myself for paying him the full amount too quickly. If I’d only fronted him forty thousand, maybe his attitude would be better. Rookie mistake! When we got to my apartment, I planned to keep giving him the cold shoulder, to show him who was boss. But he didn’t even look at me, just took off his clothes and went into the bathroom. Listening to the water running, I felt like I was the driver, escorting the prince home for his bath. I’m the sugar mommy here! If he’s showering, he should be showering for me to watch! With that thought, I felt bold and swaggered over to the bathroom door, flinging it open. He was standing with his back to me under the showerhead, frowning at me as I barged in. “Out.” 6 It was steamy, but his Captain America butt was still faintly visible. This successfully inflated my lusty courage. “Insolent! What do you mean, ‘out’! “This is my house, and you’re the man I’m keeping!” I strutted in, hands on my hips, right in front of him. “I want to watch you shower now, inspect the goods. Can’t I do that? “I need to see if the merchandise is… up to par, right?” He looked like I’d amused him. Suddenly, he turned around magnanimously. “Sure, if you’ve got the guts to stare. Don’t get so flustered you faint.” Water droplets covered his full, sexy pecs, trickling down, past his V-taper and Adonis belt… My gaze traveled lower. My first reaction wasn’t about whether it was as big as my brother said. Instead, I blurted out, “It’s so ugly.” His previously amused expression suddenly changed, then quickly darkened. His icy tone had a hint of gritted teeth. “Lily Chen, say that again?” “You dare call your sugar mommy by her first name! “I’m saying you’re all show and no go! So ugly I don’t even want to use it!” Actually, my face was about to explode from blushing. I didn’t dare take a second look. I finished speaking and turned to run. But he grabbed me, pinned me against the wet tiles, his large hand pressing my head down… “Lily Chen, look again and then tell me!” I was forced to look very clearly. It was like standing on a mountaintop, watching a giant dragon soaring through a jungle. I suddenly understood why my ex-sister-in-law said she didn’t like big ones. Just looking at it gave me a phantom pain, like it could touch my tonsils. Pain, so much pain! 7 But I couldn’t lose my sugar mommy dignity, or how would I manage my future harem? So, I grit my teeth and insisted: “S-say what! “This thing… it’s clearly not the real deal, all talk no action! It’s been ages and it’s not even… started. Are you useless or something!” He seemed to laugh out of anger. Suddenly, he bent down, scooped up my butt, and lifted me. In my fantasies, I’d be like a tigress, wild and seductive, ready to clamp down on him in minutes. But in reality, I was like a modern-day college student: all dirty talk online, but a virgin in real life. When his handsome face got close, my brain short-circuited. My limbs went stiff, like a zombie. He bent his head, his beautiful thin lips pressing hard against mine. “Am I giving you CPR?” he frowned. “Stick your tongue out.” I immediately stuck my tongue out. He stared at me, tongue out like a lizard, his face extremely dark. He raised a hand and just… tossed me. I landed on the toilet, my butt almost getting stuck. He looked down at me, then suddenly smirked. “Need help peeing, kiddo?” Ah! He’s so handsome when he smiles! Wait, he dared to call me a kiddo! 8 I thought after getting a toyboy, I’d be carried around, called “baby,” and bubbling with happiness. But the reality was, I was covered in soap bubbles, looking like an idiot. And “Ethan” had just put on his clothes and slammed the door on his way out. Even an emperor returning unwanted goods would have eunuchs wrap them up and carry them away. But me, the sugar mommy, I almost got stuck in the toilet! My wallet hurt, my heart hurt. Full of resentment, I called my brother, ready to play the victim. My brother said, “I’m out of town doing a livestream, I dunno! But I heard from people at my company that driver Ethan’s over there bawling his eyes out.” I paused. “Why is he crying?” “Ethan said he met a girl he likes today, wanted to act cool, but messed it up and thinks he made her angry. “Oh man, that guy, he was crying a river!” Hearing that, my anger vanished. So, that’s what he was thinking. My heart felt warm and sweet. That damn man, why try to act cool with his sugar mommy? Was he afraid I’d get tired of him quickly? Sigh, whatever. As long as he’s willing to put in some effort for me, that’s enough. 9 I sent “Ethan” a text, asking where he was. He didn’t reply. I was worried he was so heartbroken he’d jumped into a river. Then I saw someone in the socialite group chat post a photo. The background looked like NYC’s most exclusive club. A bunch of rich kids were drinking and showing off. And my toyboy, Ethan, was standing right in the middle, knocking back a shot of something strong. The socialites around him were like vultures, their eyes practically glued to him. Great. Here I was worried about him, and he was out moonlighting, entertaining rich women! I hauled ass to the club. When I pushed open the door, a socialite was bending over to hand him a drink, her tone even more fawning than mine: “Mr. Vance, I was wondering if it would be convenient for me to visit your home tomorrow…” It was the same socialite who once laughed at me for not daring to grope male models! I strode forward, snatched the drink, and pulled “Ethan” behind me. “Stay away from him! He’s my man now!” Afraid I wasn’t convincing enough, I turned, wrapped my arms around his neck, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him hard. Luckily, I’d crammed on kissing techniques on the way over. Now, my tongue was like an eel, knew exactly where to go. “Ethan” seemed very satisfied with my improved kissing skills. His arm wrapped around my waist, deepening the kiss. He took the lead, his assault powerful, kissing me until my face was flushed and I almost lost myself in it. After the kiss, I wiped a string of saliva from my lips and said to the socialite: “See? My man. V-taper, Captain America butt, and way bigger than any male model’s.” I think when I said that, my aura must have been incredibly powerful and dominan. Otherwise, why would all the rich kids in the room be stunned? The way they looked at me—shock, fear, but mostly admiration. Like a deep, heartfelt admiration. I thought, this must be it: a confident woman is the most beautiful. 10 I said my piece and dragged “Ethan” out. Before leaving, he turned back to the room and said, “Nothing happened here tonight.” I was a little touched. He was clearly there working a side gig, but to protect me, he dared to talk to clients like that. But after we left the club, I still told him earnestly: “You shouldn’t talk to them like that in the future. They’re ruthless, and their bodyguards will beat people up. “They were too scared to move just now because they were afraid of me. If I weren’t there, you’d definitely have been beaten up! “Got it?” Seeing his lazy, calm expression, I got angry and jumped up to pinch his ear. “Hey! Did you hear me! I’m talking to you!” He finally looked down at me, but his gaze landed on my lips. Suddenly, he said, “Pretty soft. Let’s kiss again.” “Wh-what?” Before I could react, he tilted my chin up with his fingers and kissed me. More intense, wilder than the kiss in the private room. He seemed addicted, his lips and tongue chasing mine, tangling with them. I don’t even know how I got home. It was only when I was pressed onto the bed that I realized, “The car we were in just now, was that a Rolls-Royce?!” He was busy unbuttoning my shirt. “Oh, just picked one up from the dealership.” “I only give you eighty grand, and you immediately go rent a car to show off! You spendthrift! “If you keep this up, I’m halving your allowance! Let’s see you try to act rich then!” I was furious. I tried to flip over and straddle him, to poke his pecs and give him a stern lesson. But he pulled off my jeans and pressed me back into the covers.

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My wealthy roommate, Brittany, despised me for being from a small town, And rallied her clique to ostracize me. Loudly, she’d announce to the dorm that she was inviting everyone to her favorite pop star’s concert. When someone asked if I should come along, She’d sneer: “Look at the clothes she wears, clearly from some discount online store.” “Taking someone like that to my idol’s concert? How embarrassing!” Later, her secret crush wore the very same T-shirt I bought from that discount online store, and confessed his feelings for me at the campus singing competition. 1 “Brittany, you and Ethan are just perfect together!” It was 9PM. I hadn’t even reached the door yet, but I could already hear my roommates’ excited chatter from afar. The moment I opened the door, Brittany’s expression was as if she’d seen something unclean. She immediately hid her poster, scrambled onto her top bunk, clutched her nose, and peered over the edge of her bed, looking at me with undisguised disdain. “Cassie, you stink!” I had just finished my shift at a busy diner, so I probably did have a bit of a scent clinging to me, but I’d already changed into fresh clothes and even brought them bubble tea. “Sorry, Brittany. I’ll shower right away. Here’s the bubble tea I brought for you all.” Olivia, one of my roommates, happily took her tea, murmuring thanks. “Hmph. Such cheap bubble tea. Even a dog wouldn’t drink it.” Brittany said this with her lips curled downwards, looking utterly repulsed. My roommates, seeing her sour expression, quietly returned the bubble tea to me. “Oh, sorry, Cassie! I’m on a diet lately.” “I can’t sleep if I drink bubble tea.” I made $15 an hour from my part-time job, and each bubble tea cost $13. I’d bought three for them, not even indulging myself. I bit back my tears, forced a faint smile, set the bubble tea aside, and headed for the shower. “Her poverty stench is disgusting me. Does anyone have an air freshener?” Listening to their blatant insults, watching my belongings carelessly tossed aside, I hid in the bathroom, crying silently. It had been a year. I had tried to fit in, as my Dean of Students advised. But all I got in return was increasingly aggressive ostracism. Brittany had bought the washing machine, so I understood why she forbade me from using it. But why couldn’t I even hang my clothes on the dorm balcony? They always took half an hour or more to shower, yet they would frantically rush me if I took more than ten minutes. Every night, they’d blast their pop star videos until two or three in the morning, then complain the next day that my early morning class woke them up. … Grin and bear it, and you’ll just get sick. I decided to reject mental self-sabotage. If there was trouble, I’d just go wild. 2 The next day, they skipped all their afternoon classes to get ready for the concert that night. I returned to the dorm after my classes to find my belongings completely ransacked and scattered everywhere. “Cassie, you little thief, give me back my necklace!” Before I could even lose it, Brittany rushed at me like a madwoman. “What necklace?” I looked utterly confused. “Cassie, don’t play innocent! In this dorm, besides you, who would steal something?” Brittany’s loud voice immediately drew the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’ve never seen any necklace of yours, much less stolen it.” The three of them always went everywhere together, never including me. I had no idea she even owned such a thing. The onlookers, eager for drama, all asked what the necklace looked like, curious if anyone had seen it. “It’s a necklace endorsed by Jax, my idol! I bought it specially for tonight’s concert.” Brittany cried as she pulled out her phone, opening her photo gallery. “Brittany, without any proof, don’t keep accusing me of stealing.” I knew I was innocent, but I feared she’d twist the truth and damage my reputation for future scholarship applications. “You’re always secretly using my skincare products when we’re not around, don’t think I don’t know.” Brittany’s baseless accusation infuriated me. Her things were often scattered, and sometimes she didn’t even know if something was lost or misplaced, but whenever she couldn’t find something, she’d imply in the dorm that I had stolen it. “Seriously? Who’d want to use your skincare products? Anyone who uses them ends up with terrible breakouts, okay?” “Fine! Let’s see who ends up with a ruined face from using whose!” As Brittany started railing at me, her clique joined in, launching a full-scale assault. “Cassie, have some boundaries, okay?” “Yeah, it’s disgusting living with someone who’s always shoplifting like you.” “Oh really? Well, today I’m going to see who truly has no boundaries.” With that, I walked straight to their desks and began searching. “Brittany, is this the Fenty eyeshadow palette you accused me of stealing?” “Is this your NARS blush?” “Is this your Dior lipstick?” I placed each found item in front of Brittany, her eyes wide with disbelief. Because she knew, Olivia and Sophia weren’t much better off than me, just regular girls. “Brittany, don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to frame us.” “Yeah, Brittany. She’s just jealous that you’re friends with us and not with her.” Seeing their lies exposed, the two quickly moved to Brittany’s side, gripping her hands. “Brittany, you’re not stupid, are you? Didn’t you ever suspect anything about the makeup they usually wear?” I stood to the side, fanning the flames, thoroughly enjoying the show. “Uh, Brittany, that necklace on your phone… I think I’ve seen Cassie wear something similar.” Harper, a student from the next dorm, catching a glimpse of the photo on Brittany’s phone, suddenly blurted out. 3 “Cassie, it was you after all! A thief crying thief!” Brittany snapped back to reality, yelling that she would tell the Dean of Students. The surrounding students all urged her not to blow things out of proportion. “Cassie, if you took it, just give it back!” “Yeah! If the Dean finds out, you might get a demerit!” “I didn’t.” I stood my ground, unmoving. “You didn’t? Do you dare open your drawer right now, in front of all these students?” Brittany’s makeup was streaked from crying, a clear sign she wasn’t going to let me off easy today. I didn’t argue. I pulled the key from my bag and unlocked my drawer. Brittany roughly shoved me aside and started rummaging through it herself. “What are you doing? Those are my things.” I was about to stop her, but her clique held me back. “What’s this?” After emptying the cabinet, she finally found a necklace and dangled it in front of me. “That’s mine.” I stepped forward, trying to snatch it back, but she sidestepped, making me miss. “You say it’s yours, so tell me, where did you buy it? Do you have the order number? A receipt?” Her questions left me speechless. In reality, someone had forced it around my neck, and I had completely forgotten about it. “What, speechless now? Did I hit a nerve? Feeling guilty?” Brittany laughed triumphantly, like a victor. “Someone gave it to me. I don’t have a receipt, and I don’t have an order number.” “Hmph, then call him out! I’d like to see what kind of person would be interested in you, dressed in cheap discount store clothes.” Brittany’s challenging glare shot straight at me, making me deeply uncomfortable. “He’s busy today, not on campus.” Although a certain someone would drop everything for me, and even wanted me to publicly acknowledge our relationship, I didn’t want to drag him into this and make him witness such ugliness. “Hahahaha, Cassie, do you even hear yourself?!” The surrounding students looked at me with suspicion, tacitly assuming I was the thief, whispering and pointing. Brittany watched my humiliation, her eyes gleaming with cunning and triumph. I seized an opportune moment when she wasn’t paying attention, snatched the necklace back, and held it high, allowing the code on the back of the pendant to clearly show in the light. “This necklace, each one is unique. The code hidden in the pendant contains a vow of love. Just check it, and you’ll know if I’m lying.” “I’ve seen interviews with Jax, and I think there’s something like that.” A few students stepped forward, confirming my statement. “Hmph, I’d like to see what tricks you can pull!” Brittany opened the official website, entered her ID number, and looked up the necklace’s code. Everyone leaned in, their eyes focused on the necklace and the phone. “They really are different, wow.” Brittany’s face instantly changed. She quickly snatched back her phone. “So what if it’s different? That doesn’t mean she didn’t steal it, does it?” “My necklace has a three-digit code. Do you think I’d even care about your eight-digit junk necklace?!” The fewer digits in this necklace’s code, the purer and more exclusive the love it represented; eight-digit codes were for regular, non-limited editions. Luckily, a certain someone’s cheesy romantic lines had some effect. “Could she be… kept? Otherwise, where would a country girl like you get the money to buy something like that?” Brittany’s passive-aggressive tone made me want to punch her. “Does spreading rumors make you feel accomplished? Believe it or not, I’ll call the police right now and charge you with defamation.” “You…” Brittany’s face flushed crimson with anger, and she was speechless. “Brittany, I’m telling you. If you don’t apologize to me, pack up my things, and compensate me for my losses, this isn’t over between us.” Brittany was about to continue arguing, but Olivia pulled her aside. “Brittany, your last disciplinary action hasn’t been lifted yet. It’s not good to blow things up.” “Yeah, if we keep arguing, we’ll be late for the concert too.” Brittany, after a moment of hesitation and thought, took out her phone and transferred ten thousand dollars to me on her banking app. “Cassie, I won’t touch your things, and I won’t apologize to you. Just be smart, take the money, and shut your mouth.” I took out my phone and looked, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. I’m quite fond of money, and since I had the moral high ground, I certainly wouldn’t turn it down. “Thanks! If you have too much money you don’t know what to do with, feel free to pull a few more stunts. I’m more than happy to see them through.” That night, they returned to the dorm after the concert, constantly eyeing me with strange expressions. Brittany deliberately pushed Olivia towards me, subtly trying to get information. “Cassie! What’s your relationship with Noah?” 4 Noah is the heartthrob of the Computer Science department, and also Brittany’s secret crush. “Is something wrong?” After the afternoon’s commotion, the atmosphere in the dorm had become noticeably awkward. “Well, we saw him downstairs near the dorm earlier, and he asked if we knew you. He wanted us to bring you some late-night snacks.” Brittany sat in her chair, occasionally sneaking glances at me, clearly eager for my answer. “Oh, really? So, where are the snacks?” I casually tidied my desk, a little distracted. “Brittany said she didn’t know you, so she didn’t take them.” Olivia scratched her head, looking a bit embarrassed. I shrugged, feigning indifference. “So, what’s your relationship with him?” Olivia, under Brittany’s intimidating gaze, nervously pressed on. “Guess.” I let a slight, playful smile play on my lips. “Guess what? How could Noah even like her? A country bumpkin, utterly tasteless.” Brittany leaped from her chair, her face etched with impatience. “No need to guess. The truth is exactly what you’re imagining.” I said this, a faint smile playing on my lips, making it sound like a joke. They stared at me blankly, clearly not believing a word I said. “No, it’s not a joke!” I dropped my playful expression, turning serious. “Hmph! You say it is, then it is? If you’re so brave, video call him right now!” Seeing Brittany’s half-skeptical, half-challenging look, I almost burst out laughing. “Why should I listen to you?” Brittany’s lips pressed into a thin line, her teeth grinding audibly. “Noah is my idol, he’s my guy. I won’t allow you to fabricate a relationship with him.” Watching Brittany seethe with frustration was incredibly satisfying. “In that case, why don’t you ask him?” I paused for a moment, then pursed my lips into a smile, continuing. “Could it be… you don’t even have his number? Oh, how sad.” Brittany, hit by my words, glared at me fiercely, her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with strain. “Though, you did say you didn’t know me when you were in front of him earlier. Otherwise, I would’ve given you his number.” A subtle, mocking smile played on my lips. Brittany finally couldn’t take it anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes, eventually spilling down her cheeks in crystal drops.

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Five years ago, Summer Peterson, the younger sister of a mutual friend, fell for Daniel Stone at first sight. Everyone laughed, telling me, “She’s just a middle schooler. What does she know about love?” Daniel himself repeatedly stated he only saw her as a child. But the young girl remained undeterred, constantly encouraging herself. On the night of her eighteenth birthday, she confessed her feelings to Daniel once more. That night, Daniel smiled, a mix of helplessness and indulgence. “Kid, I guess I’m really stuck with you.” Watching Daniel, usually so reserved, speak so softly and tenderly to the girl he had practically watched grow up, I suddenly felt exhausted. I chose an ordinary day and personally handed him the divorce papers. I sat opposite Daniel, my demeanor as calm as if we were discussing a business deal. “Our son is yours. I’m giving up custody.” “You can keep living in this house. I’ll pack up tomorrow and move out.” His hands clasped together, his gaze fixed on me, heavy and unwavering. He clearly didn’t understand why I was suddenly making such a “whimsical” decision. “Claire,” his eyes held a faint, distant emotion, “if this is about Summer, I apologize. But you know I only see her as a child.” He patiently explained, still convinced I was overreacting. I remembered the night my blood sugar dropped. Daniel, having finished work, sat at his desk, constantly glancing at his phone as if waiting for a message. As I stumbled and collapsed by the sofa, he was listening to Summer on the phone, talking about her period cramps. Before, our marriage, while not passionate, was at least respectful. But at that moment, he pulled his gaze away from me, gently instructing the voice on the other end: “Have someone at home brew you some warm herbal tea.” And our son, Ethan, seeing his father’s lack of reaction, casually pushed me with his foot from where he lay sprawled on the sofa: “Mom, can you move? You’re blocking my blocks.” It turned out, in their eyes, I, who always gave without question, wasn’t even worth a single word of concern, less important than a toy. Eight years of marriage ended abruptly, with nothing more than two signatures. As I packed my bags, Daniel methodically outlined the property division. I barely listened—my lawyer would handle it more professionally. As I dragged my suitcase out the door, he called out from behind me, his eyes deep: “Claire, you still have a lot of things. No need to rush moving out.” The house was filled with my belongings, but my suitcase only held a few seasonal clothes. He probably misunderstood, thinking I intended to leave with nothing. “I’m not planning to abandon everything,” I said. “Just have the housekeeper organize my things and ship them to me later.” Marriage was, at its core, a partnership of interests. I didn’t need to prove anything by walking away empty-handed, especially since I was not at fault. Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it, saying nothing more. He followed me out. As I stepped through the main door, he suddenly reached out to stop me: “Are you going back to your parents’ place? How are you going to tell them?” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. They won’t bother you.” In my peripheral vision, Ethan peeked out from the doorway, watching me silently. His gaze tugged at my heart—after all, he was the child I had carried for ten months, soothed countless times through sleepless nights. I wanted to say “I’m sorry” to him, to offer a few words of caution, so I put down my suitcase and turned. But then I heard him ask Daniel, “Dad, when is Summer going to take me to see the race cars?” That faint pull in my heart instantly vanished. I said nothing more, turning to leave. “I’ll have the driver take you.” “No need.” I refused curtly, not bothering to look back at the calm, indifferent father and son. I bought a train ticket to a quiet coastal town in the Pacific Northwest. Outside the window, a fine mist clung to the mountains and water, like an ink painting. Daniel’s and my marriage began as a family arrangement. In the first few years, I was content with our respectful, almost formal, relationship. I had never seen his gentle side until Summer appeared. She showed me that he could be attentive and caring, like a warm older brother. For these past five years, everyone had told me, “She’s just a young girl, don’t take it to heart.” “What does a middle schooler know about love?” “It’s normal for high schoolers to idolize someone. It’ll fade in a while.” “You’ve been married for so many years. Why are you competing with a young girl?” As if any slight dissatisfaction I showed towards Summer was irrational. So I constantly told myself, “Claire, don’t be so petty.” But Summer still, little by little, permeated Daniel’s and my life— Her handwriting began to mirror his stroke, he remembered her period cycle clearly, her name was constantly on Ethan’s lips. There were no overt boundary crossings, it was just… like this. Oh, right. The night I collapsed from low blood sugar was also the “100-Day Video Anniversary” between Summer and him. 4. After settling into the Pacific Northwest, My best friend, Harper, and I explored many places. Blue tiled roofs peeked over white walls, small bridges arched over winding streams, and moss clung to cobblestone paths. Every corner exuded a sense of boundless freedom. We never tired of it. But on the third night, Harper’s emotions erupted, and she poured herself drink after drink. Tears streaming down her face, she asked me, “You still haven’t answered why men are so obsessed with their idealized first loves.” Harper was different from me. She and Liam had been together for seven years, starting in college, a true love story that led to marriage. By all accounts, they should have been blissfully happy. But Liam had a high school ex-girlfriend, a girl he had romanticized into his “white moonlight” over those seven years. The night I filed for divorce, Harper’s marriage also shattered. That night, Liam brought his ex back home, right into their bedroom. Harper calmly waited for them to get dressed, then proposed divorce. I thought carefully about her question. Suddenly, the whole “white moonlight” concept felt like a false premise. The moon doesn’t emit light; it merely reflects the sun’s rays, fabricating its own brilliance. Adorned with stolen glory, how could it possibly remain bright, forever hanging high in one’s heart? So——”A ‘white moonlight’ is nothing more than a trite excuse for them to hide their sordid intentions.” Harper didn’t seem to need my answer. She buried her head in her knees, already sobbing uncontrollably. For a fleeting moment, I felt that marriage was utterly dreadful. When Daniel’s call came, I felt as if I were still lost in a heartbreak-induced dream. He seemed to have been drinking, his voice low and hoarse. “Claire, where are the hangover pills at home? And the stomach medicine?” I paused, then replied, “The stomach medicine is in the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in the study.” Daniel moved a few steps, and I heard rustling on the phone, faintly laced with impatience. I waited a moment, then asked, “Did you find it?” The rustling stopped. “Found the stomach medicine.” He paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I usually don’t pay attention, so I didn’t know where it was.” I hummed in acknowledgment, then instructed him, “Next time, if you need anything, you can ask the housekeeper. She knows everything. Don’t call me to bother me.” He was silent for a long moment, then mumbled, “Okay.” There were no hangover pills at home, only the hangover soup I always prepared in advance. In the past, when it came to Daniel and Ethan, I never let anyone else handle things. I enjoyed doing everything for them, as if that was how I found my worth. Later, I realized I was wrong. Thankfully, “Even at dusk, the sky is still full of fiery clouds.” 5. A night of heavy drinking, sometimes lucid, sometimes muddled. I was caught in a bizarre, fragmented dream. There was the 800-meter race, finished with gritted teeth. There was the joy of standing on stage, dreams realized, only to be met with a painful slap backstage. There was the park where Daniel and I walked hand-in-hand, the sunset vibrant. A jumble of good and bad, ultimately coalescing into a jarring ringtone. I jolted awake, disoriented. I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table. It was an unknown number. I pressed answer, and the voice, which had haunted me like a nightmare for five years, returned. “Claire, Ethan invited me to their school’s model race car exhibition next week. Do you have any photos of your old handicrafts? Could you send them to me? I’m worried if I make something too good, the style will be too different from what you made before.” I closed my eyes. “My old pieces are in the display cabinet at home. You can go…” “The housekeeper cleared out the house, and those things were thrown away as trash,” she added, “Ethan told her to.” My fingertips grew cold, a sense of utter helplessness washing over me. I looked at the morning light streaming through the window, my voice very faint: “Ms. Peterson, I think you’re more concerned with the future, so whether it’s the style of the work, or Daniel, or Ethan, just do as you please.” “You don’t need to specifically inform me of anything. I never stopped you from interfering in another family’s life before, and I certainly won’t now.” “As for Ethan’s name, I wish you all the best. Once you reach legal age, you can personally change it for him in your capacity as his stepmother.” “Buddy” was the nickname Summer gave Ethan; she found “Ethan” too old-fashioned. Perhaps out of resentment, I had never adopted that name. The purpose of this call was clear to both of us. I was no longer eighteen, so I wasn’t interested in playing games of veiled words. But an eighteen-year-old girl’s pride is thin, after all. Her stuttered rebuttal was cut short by me: “Is Ethan with you?” A rustling noise came from the phone, followed by faint breathing. I thought he was probably waiting for me to speak. I sighed: “Ethan, you know I’m not your mom anymore. I won’t be looking after you from now on, so you don’t need to use others to upset me.” The call probably served different purposes for each of us. But it no longer concerned me. With that, I lifted my hand and hung up. 6. I was far from as composed as I appeared; a bitter sadness swelled within me. I can’t even pinpoint when Ethan started favoring Summer. In the beginning, Daniel wasn’t willing to marry me. Our marriage, before it began, was preceded by many acts of rebellion. There was me secretly entering competitions, dreaming of overnight stardom, hoping to bring prestige to our family. There was Daniel, in a cold war with his family over his girlfriend, trying to run away time and again. There was me, kneeling before my parents, begging repeatedly. There was Daniel, after countless acts of defiance, attempting to take his own life. I finally caved under the phrase, “You’ve enjoyed every privilege, so you should create value for the family.” As for why Daniel compromised, I had no way of knowing. Actually, later, in a hazy memory, I recalled seeing another side of him. The original Daniel was an open book, a talkative, cheerful young man. It was through our repeated interactions that he slowly became quiet and reserved, masking all his emotions. Later, as if completing a necessary ritual, we got married. Three years into the marriage, Ethan was born. In the fifth year, Summer appeared. Summer was fifteen then, a bright-eyed middle schooler, cheerful and constantly chattering around Daniel. Daniel, of course, wouldn’t take a fifteen-year-old seriously, just as others told me, “What does a middle schooler know about love?” He simply used Summer as an outlet, a way to express the other side of himself that he kept hidden. So, two extremes emerged. The calm and aloof Daniel in front of me became a gentle, smiling older brother in front of that young girl. And a child’s development is always a reflection of their upbringing and learned behavior. They are adept at learning; a father’s attitude toward the mother determines the child’s attitude toward the mother. As Ethan grew, he became increasingly distant towards me. He resented my strictness and preferred to bond with Daniel and Summer. He would unhappily say, “You only know how to control me. Summer isn’t like that.” He would also innocently ask, “Mommy, how can you not even know this? Summer is so much better than you.” Children, in fact, are far smarter than we give them credit for. Ethan discovered that every time he said things like that, I would silently turn away. He started using Summer more and more to hurt me. I had told him that it was wrong. But his father hadn’t. Daniel continued to subtly tell him, “Well done!” through his actions. So, inviting Summer and destroying the handicrafts I had helped him with, It was just Ethan, in what he believed was a perfectly natural way, intentionally trying to upset me. 7. Harper said the blues in Tromsø, Norway, were beautiful. We immediately bought tickets for the next day. Hiking along the snowy mountains, as we were about to reach the summit, I received another call from Daniel. I didn’t know if he couldn’t find something again. But we had already made things clear last time. I didn’t answer; I just hung up. After reaching the summit, Harper and I were awestruck by the incredible stillness and power of the landscape. In that silence, she suddenly burst into tears. It was as if this hike was her journey of self-redemption. Strangers who had hiked alongside us offered kind words of comfort. Harper wiped her tears. “It’s nothing, I just feel like I’ve been ripped off these past few years!” “Hey, little sister, the road ahead is long. It’s never too late to find your way back.” I had intended to wipe away a tear myself, to fit the mood, but I ended up laughing at the kind accent and philosophical words of a local hiker. As we all chatted, my phone in my bag rang. I pulled it out and glanced at it. It was a video from Ethan. Daniel I could ignore, but Ethan was different. From both a legal and a blood perspective, I couldn’t completely sever ties with him. So I opened it. The moment the video started, my blood instantly froze. I stared blankly at the playing screen, utterly frozen. Harper, seeing my stillness, leaned closer. Then her face suddenly changed. She snatched my phone, frantically pressing delete.

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1 Because my wife refused to accompany a business partner for drinks, I put her in the hospital. I did it because, in my previous life, trying to shield her from the endless toasts, I’d ended up passed out cold. The next day, I woke to find myself branded a monster—a drunk who’d abused his own daughter and driven her to her death by suicide. Before she jumped, my daughter left a suicide note, claiming she couldn’t bear my long-term abuse. But I’d always cherished her, loved her more than life itself. I would never abuse her, especially not in a drunken rage, let alone systematically! I fought to prove my innocence, but the surveillance footage showed me abusing my daughter! My wife, who had always claimed to love me, publicly exposed me, branding me a twisted sadist who regularly beat both her and our daughter. My mother, sobbing, clutched my daughter’s lifeless body and cursed me: “You beast! How could you lay a hand on your own flesh and blood? I don’t have a son like you!” My father, overwhelmed by fury, suffered a heart attack and died on the spot. I was speechless, left to rot in jail, and eventually, I was beaten to death by angry inmates. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back on the night my wife pleaded with me to drink in her place. … “Darling, my stomach isn’t feeling well. Could you drink for me?” Susan Miller’s eyes were wide with a pitiful plea, making Mr. Thompson, the business partner, frown in displeasure. “Ms. Miller, bringing someone else to drink on your behalf? That’s not very sincere, is it?” “We’re a team, my husband and I. It’s the same no matter who drinks, right, darling?” In my last life, Susan used the exact same words. And Mr. Thompson, claiming double the drinks for a proxy, had poured me into unconsciousness. That’s how I ended up being framed for drunkenly abusing my daughter. But I’ve always held my liquor well. Drunk, I just pass out. I’ve never been a belligerent drunk. Besides, I have only one daughter. I cherished her, afraid even a harsh word would hurt her. How could I abuse her?! Yet, when the crowd was whipped into a frenzy, Susan had cried, exposing bruises all over her body, accusing me of being a sadistic brute who had secretly abused her and our daughter for years. She even produced surveillance footage, inciting everyone to curse my name. Remembering the injustice and my miserable death in the previous life, I grabbed a bottle and slammed it, hard, into Susan Miller. “Useless piece of trash! Mr. Thompson offering you a drink is a compliment! Who are you to pretend to be so pure?!” “Ah!” The bottle shattered against her head. Everyone gasped, stunned. “Whoa, easy there, buddy! If you don’t wanna drink, don’t drink, but don’t get violent!” I ignored Mr. Thompson and the others. I grabbed more bottles from the table, smashing them, one after another, onto Susan as she cowered, clutching her head. This time, I’d strike first. Let’s see how she frames me now! After Susan was rushed to the hospital, I voluntarily went to the police station to confess. Due to surveillance footage and witnesses like Mr. Thompson, I was detained on the spot. After I was locked up, Mom rushed to see me, her face etched with worry: “Son, you and Susan have always been so loving. What made you suddenly beat her like that? Did something happen?” “If she did something to wrong you, Mom supports you divorcing her, but you can’t lay a hand on her!” I looked at my white-haired mother, asking the question I’d wanted to ask in my previous life: “Mom, do you believe me?” “Of course, I do! You’re my only son, how could I not believe you!” Getting the answer I needed, I breathed a sigh of relief. In my previous life, she had seen the “evidence” and heard Susan’s accusations before she spoke of disowning me. This time, as long as I had enough proof, Mom would definitely be on my side! Thinking this, I squeezed her hand, asking anxiously: “Audrey, how is she?” Mom paused, said Audrey was home asleep, and asked why I was suddenly so tense. I earnestly pleaded with her to protect Audrey, to make sure nothing happened to her. Also, not to tell Dad about this. Mom nodded: “Silly child, even if you didn’t ask, I’d take good care of Audrey! Your dad has a bad heart. Before I came, I told him Audrey missed me. I didn’t dare mention anything else.” My heart felt a great peace. I gave her a few more instructions, then urged her to rush home to be with our daughter. Remembering my daughter’s tragic death in the previous life, my heart ached. Why would the daughter cherished by our entire family be covered in wounds and jump to her death? Had Susan coerced and harmed her? This time, I had to uncover the truth! 2 At four in the morning, Susan Miller rushed to the police station, seeking to bail me out. I heard she had come looking for me the moment she regained consciousness. “Darling, yesterday was my fault. I’ve been so busy with work lately, no time for you and Audrey. It’s normal for you to feel resentful and want to vent. I’ve pushed that collaboration away. From now on, I’ll spend more time with you and Audrey, okay?” Her head and arm were wrapped in bandages, blood seeping through. Yet she spoke softly, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she were truly the one in the wrong. If not for her public defamation of me in my previous life, I almost would have believed her. In my last life, she had deliberately inflicted those wounds on herself, claiming they were the work of me, her “monster” husband. If I let her bail me out, I’d surely be branded a “violent psychopath” again! Thinking this, I coldly refused her. “No need. Hitting you was indeed wrong of me. It’s only right to face punishment for my mistakes. You don’t need to bail me out.” Seeing my unyielding stance, Susan trembled with fury, but no matter what she said, I insisted on staying in detention. Finally, Mom arrived and took her home to recover. As she left, Mom said Audrey had slept soundly all night and had already gone to school this morning. In my last life, my daughter hadn’t gone to school; she had jumped to her death from the rooftop that morning. My heart settled. It seemed I had finally changed the trajectory of my previous life. Audrey wouldn’t jump to her death! After a sleepless day and night, I finally couldn’t hold on any longer and drifted into unconsciousness. At three in the afternoon, I was woken by my daughter’s voice. “Daddy, I came to see you!” My daughter, who had tragically jumped to her death in my previous life, was now alive and vibrant before me. I was so overwhelmed I nearly cried aloud. “Daddy, why are you crying? Mommy said you got locked up because you beat up bad guys to save her.” “Daddy, you’re a big hero! Don’t cry!” My daughter’s words made me pause. Susan, behind her, gave me a subtle wink. “Darling, Audrey kept begging to see you today. She thought you didn’t like her anymore, and that’s why you weren’t picking her up or dropping her off at school.” Mom also came in. “Audrey, now do you believe Grandma and Mommy?” My daughter nodded, her small hand gripping the iron bars, her voice innocent: “Daddy, Audrey made a little red flower to give to you, my big hero!” My eyes stung. I gripped her small hand. Looking at her innocent, adorable face, I suddenly remembered her bruised corpse from my previous life. Many of those were old wounds, clearly from years of beatings. Thinking this, I abruptly pulled up her sleeve. Her smooth, tender arm showed no crisscrossing whip marks. So, what had gone wrong in my previous life? My daughter couldn’t have developed so many old injuries overnight! Thinking this, I turned her around and pulled up her shirt from behind. Still soft and smooth, not a single scar. Perhaps my gaze was too fierce; my daughter looked a little scared. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” “Audrey, has anyone been bullying you lately?” My daughter paused. “No, why?” “Mommy hasn’t hit you, has she? Don’t be scared. This is the police station. Tell the truth, and the police officers will protect you!” My daughter continued to shake her head. “Mommy loves me so much. Why would she hit me?” Susan covered her face and began to cry. “Darling, you actually suspect me of mistreating our daughter? If that were true, why would I tell her all that? I was just afraid she’d know the truth and hate you!” Mom also sighed: “Son, you’re in the wrong here. We’ve seen what Susan is like all these years. You really shouldn’t misunderstand her!” Just then, the guard came in and said visiting hours were over. Susan picked up Audrey and left crying. Mom muttered, sounding exasperated: “Son, you went too far this time! Susan is a good wife. You shouldn’t have beaten her like that over a mere suspicion!” Watching them leave, I was confused. Was everything from my last life just a nightmare I had? Sweat soaked the little red flower in my hand. I lowered my head and looked at it. My heart nearly stopped. My past life wasn’t a dream! It was real! 3 That night, against the walls of my detention cell, I replayed every detail of my previous life. Since my rebirth, I’d asked myself countless times. Why would my daughter, whom I loved to my very core, write such a suicide note accusing me before she died? Why, when I had done nothing wrong, did I wake up branded a monster, reviled by everyone? Why would Susan, who had always loved me, suddenly turn on me, exposing her wounds and accusing me of being a twisted abuser? One by one, the unsolved mysteries gave me a pounding headache. I could only desperately recall every detail of my previous life, trying to catch any clue. Until I clearly saw the little red flower my daughter had given me, all the fog began to lift. Instead of waiting to be crushed, I’d strike first! As soon as dawn broke, I had someone call Susan, telling her I had come to my senses and wanted to be released. I even apologized to her, saying I shouldn’t have hit her that night. Susan sobbed, saying she didn’t blame me, and immediately wrote a letter of understanding, bailing me out. I resumed picking up and dropping off my daughter at school. After seeing her into the school building, I called a private investigator. His efficiency was remarkable. In less than half a day, he had investigated all my questions. Looking at the report on my phone, I was so filled with hatred I nearly crushed the device. Turns out, there were secrets in there I hadn’t even guessed! I spoke in a low voice, giving instructions: “I also need you to do one more thing for me. Make it quick. Absolutely no one must find out!” Two days later, it was my daughter’s birthday. Susan, true to her word, cancelled all her work and hosted a lavish birthday party. Despite the hot weather, she wore a wide-brimmed hat and a long-sleeved gown, basking in everyone’s admiration. My daughter, dressed as a magnificent little princess, thanked everyone for their gifts. Finally, my daughter smiled, took my hand, and happily said: “Thank you, Daddy, for always spoiling me. I have a gift I want to give to Daddy too.” With that, she took my hand, leading me upstairs to see it. She wouldn’t allow anyone else to follow, standing with her hands on her hips, saying it was a gift just for Daddy. Everyone was amused by her innocent, adorable demeanor. I smiled faintly, letting her lead me onto the rooftop. “Daddy, cover your eyes and count down from ten. No peeking~” She tied a black blindfold over my eyes, and I listened as she counted down. When she reached “1,” there was a loud “Thud!” from the yard. It was then I realized my daughter, who had just been standing on the rooftop, was gone. Gasps of horror rose from the yard. When I went down, I saw my daughter lying face down, dead. Her death was as tragic as in my previous life. On the rooftop, another suicide note lay. In the note, just like in the last life, my daughter’s words were blood and tears, accusing me of being an animal of a father. She couldn’t bear my long-term abuse and was terrified of being alone with me, so she no longer wanted to live. Susan rushed to her, clutching my daughter’s bloody corpse, crying hysterically as in my previous life. “Ethan, I thought you only abused me, but you still loved our daughter. But I never imagined you could be such a monster!” With that, she took off her hat. She pulled off the sleeves of her gown, revealing arms and head covered in scars. “You asked why I was so heavily covered, didn’t you? It’s because of these wounds he inflicted!” Everyone gasped. Then, Susan, sobbing uncontrollably, recounted years of my abusive beatings as a twisted sadist. Hearing that I had dared to hit her with a bottle in front of business partners, sending her to the hospital, everyone erupted in fury. Mr. Thompson stepped out of the crowd, slammed his glass, and cursed me. “Ms. Miller asked us to cut you some slack, but I never imagined you were such a demon!” “He beat Ms. Miller in front of us and sent her to the hospital. We all saw it with our own eyes!” “I never imagined this demon not only beats his wife but his daughter too!” Suddenly, everyone started cursing me. Susan cried so hard she almost fainted. “Audrey, it was Mom’s tolerance that killed you!” Mom rushed over, grabbing my hand and yelling: “Son, I don’t believe you’re this kind of person! You’ve always been so kind, since you were a child. Tell me you didn’t do these things!” I impassively pulled my hand free and stated calmly: “I did it.” 4 Everyone exploded. Some called the police, others pulled out their phones to start livestreaming. “The heir to Hayes Enterprises just publicly admitted to years of violently abusing his wife and daughter! His daughter just left a suicide note and jumped to her death!” Instantly, the comments section blew up. [OMG, I thought he was just a worthless good-for-nothing who relied on his wife to secure the company. Turns out he’s also a super-violent murderer!] [His wife is so good, all these years she’s given him a child, secured all sorts of collaborations. How could he have the heart to abuse her so brutally?] [I bet his daughter didn’t jump to her death; she was probably pushed by him! They need a thorough investigation!] [+1! Didn’t they say this beast was alone with his daughter on the rooftop? Maybe he really did push her!] Mom shrieked, protesting these accusations, threatening to sue them for defamation. But Susan set down her daughter’s body and slowly rose. “Our house has rooftop surveillance cameras, and I… I also put a tracker on Audrey.” “Because three years ago, I noticed that whenever he came back from a business trip, Audrey would have new scars. But when I asked her, she said she fell while practicing horseback riding.” “I thought about the abuse Ethan inflicted on me, and I was so afraid Audrey would be treated the same way. So, I gathered my courage and warned him.” Susan’s voice choked as she spoke. “While he was asleep, I held a knife to his throat.” “I told him, if you want to hit someone, hitting me is enough. Don’t lay a hand on our daughter again, or I’ll drag you to hell with me!” “At the time, Ethan was truly scared. He promised he wouldn’t hurt Audrey again, so I let him go.” “But I never imagined he would switch to a method of abuse that I couldn’t detect…” With that, Susan opened the projection screen in the yard and cast the video from her phone onto it. The footage showed me in a car, my face contorted, brutally stabbing my daughter with a fine needle. My daughter wept, pleading softly. “Daddy, I’m in so much pain. Please stop stabbing me…” “Damn it, what a monster!” In the crowd, someone couldn’t hold back any longer, picking up a stone and throwing it at me. I was struck, my head bleeding, but Susan operated her phone again. The scene shifted. The camera moved to the rooftop. My daughter blindfolded me, then counted down to the last second. “Daddy, my gift, is trading this life for your arrest.” She stood on the edge of the rooftop, tears in her eyes, saying softly. With that, she dropped a suicide note and jumped, without looking back. At that moment, Mom could no longer side with me. “You beast! I truly wasted all these years raising you!” She violently threw her phone at my face. A hot stream of blood immediately gushed from my nose. Then, she rushed over and clutched my daughter’s bloody corpse. “Audrey, my sweet granddaughter, it’s the beast I gave birth to who harmed you!” Susan, her voice choked with tears, shrieked at me, heartbroken. “In the detention center, I thought your apology meant you understood your wrong, and I was soft-hearted enough to bail you out.” “But I never imagined you would actually force my daughter to her death! If you had something to vent, take it out on me! Why force my daughter to die?!” I, however, smiled cruelly. “She jumped to her death herself. How can you blame me?” That single sentence enraged everyone. “Monster! A person like you doesn’t deserve to be a father! You should be shot!” Countless bottles and pebbles rained down on me, and some even spat in my face. I was bruised and swollen, covered in blood, yet I laughed even louder. Because only by blowing things up would the truth be seen. “Stop it, everyone! The real killer of Audrey Hayes is not him!” Hearing that voice, I knew. The person I was waiting for had finally arrived. The show was about to begin!

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

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

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

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “392683”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

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

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

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

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