Category: English

In the fourth year of being Liam’s secret lover, he found his fated mate. At the party, I heard his friend ask him: “Liam, now that you’ve found your fated mate, what about Aria? Don’t you have any feelings for her at all?” Liam chuckled softly, his tone casual. “Her? She’s great as a bed partner.” “As for other feelings… none. After all, we’re just too familiar with each other. There’s no excitement left.” “But I’m planning to transfer her to the guard squad. Best to keep her far away from me, so Chloe doesn’t get jealous.” So all along, he only saw me as a bed partner. But when I truly left him and went to a new pack thousands of miles away. He followed me, begging me to look back at him just once. Aria POV The 99th time I had sex with my childhood friend Liam, he was still incredibly wild. The next morning, I was covered in kiss marks. Just moving slightly made my lower abdomen throb. The intimate atmosphere still lingered in the room. Liam’s slender hand wrapped around me as he said casually, “Tomorrow, dress formally and come with me to the 18th birthday celebration for those young pups.” Hearing this, I lifted my head in shock, my voice full of hope. “Are you finally going to… make our relationship public?” The pack held an annual celebration for members turning 18. Because 18 was a very important day for werewolves. Most of them would awaken their wolves on this day and find the mate the Moon Goddess had arranged for them. Every year’s celebration was hosted by the Alpha and Luna. Or handed over to the Alpha’s heir and his mate. Liam raised an eyebrow and glanced at me sideways. “Make what public? My fated mate might be among them. I might not be able to take care of everyone, so I’m asking you to help me maintain order at the event.” Each word fell on my ears like thunder. My heart nearly stopped beating. My entire mind went blank. “You still haven’t given up searching for your fated mate? Then what am I to you?” Liam had already gotten up to get dressed. He glanced at me lazily. “You? You’re my partner in everything. We eat together, game together, train together, and we’re also bed partners who satisfy each other’s desires.” A chill spread through my body. The color slowly drained from my face. My lips trembled lightly. Seeing my expression, the smile on Liam’s face gradually faded. He slowly leaned closer to me. “Wait, Aria, you didn’t think we’ve been mates all these years, did you?” His playful tone pierced through my heart like a sharp blade. I forced down the stinging sensation in my nose. My voice became broken and out of tune. “How, how could I? I’ll go take a shower first.” I got up in a panic and walked unsteadily into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, I felt all my strength drain away. I collapsed to the floor. Those words still echoed in my ears. I looked at the dense kiss marks Liam had left all over my body. Tears fell like rain. We’d known each other for over twenty years and grew up together. We’d drunk from the same glass of milk and flipped through the same comic books. Even at eighteen, because neither of us had found our fated mates, we drunkenly slept together. Once led to a second time, and a third time… At night our bodies were incredibly compatible. During the day, we did all the intimate things that only mates would do. Holding hands while walking in the forest, kissing when the new year arrived and promising to stay together next year… Even things that should have been handled by his mate had all been handled by me over the years. I always thought we were together, just that we hadn’t performed the official marking ceremony yet. Now Liam was telling me we weren’t mates? So this was why he refused to mark me… The pain made it impossible to breathe. I turned the water to maximum with trembling hands before I dared to cry out loud. I don’t know how long it was before my tears dried up and I finally pulled myself together enough to come out. Liam had already changed clothes and was sitting on the sofa making a phone call. “Set up a few more chairs in the dining room tomorrow. There are many young ladies and lads turning 18 this year. For the cake, get blackberry honey cake and prepare plenty of it. They’ll love it. For flowers, get moonflowers and night glow grass. Send me pictures after you’ve decorated. Then prepare a dozen formal outfits for me to choose from when I get back.” He was making such detailed and careful arrangements for his potentially appearing fated mate. Yet he didn’t care about me right beside him. The light in my eyes dimmed. The heart pain that had just stopped for a moment surged up again. It hurt so much I couldn’t hold my phone. With a bang, Liam turned around at the sound and smiled. “Done showering? Then let’s go home. Get ready… maybe that fated mate of yours who never showed up is among these guys too.” He picked up his jacket and got up to leave. Before walking out the door, he turned back to look at me once more. His eyes carried a silver light, letting me know his wolf was in control of his body at this moment. “Ari, I’ve always considered you my best friend. Don’t show me that deathly expression in the future, or I’ll think you’ve fallen in love with me. I know you inside and out, and with just one look you instantly know what I’m thinking. Don’t you think living like that is too boring? If we actually got together, it would feel like life reached its end point right away.” The voice gradually faded with the footsteps but kept echoing in my heart. I sat on the cold bed, then laughed and laughed until I cried. So all these years, this was what Liam had been thinking. I sat alone until late into the night before going downstairs to check out of the room. It was pouring rain outside, but I walked through it as if I couldn’t feel it, returning home in a daze. Seeing me drenched like a drowned rat, my parents quickly brought dry towels, their voices full of concern. “It’s raining so hard. Why didn’t you use an umbrella?” They were always like this, still treating me like a fragile little pup. But in reality, I’d had my wolf for years and hadn’t been sick in a long time. I looked at my parents numbly, my eyes lifeless, my voice hoarse. “I’m fine.” My father, William, the current Alpha’s beta, rubbed my head. “Tomorrow is the pack celebration. Get ready. Maybe your fated mate will appear at the celebration.” I hummed in response and returned to my bedroom, throwing away everything related to Liam. The thick albums of photos I’d carefully preserved for over a decade, the various necklaces he’d given me, dresses, hand-carved statues… All of it was now thrown into the trash. “Aria, all these nice things, you don’t want them anymore?” My friend Davies, who had come to invite me out, asked in surprise. Seeing the regret in Davies’ eyes, I nodded lightly, my voice flat. “I don’t want them anymore.” Not just these things. This relationship, and Liam himself—I didn’t want any of it anymore.

The next day, I was woken up by messages from Liam. He sent dozens of messages asking when I’d come over. My heart felt bitter. Liam, do you realize how cruel you’re being? With trembling hands, I simply replied: “Not feeling well today. Not going.” Soon after, my parents came knocking on my door. “Aria, even if you’re having a fight with Liam, you can’t act up at a time like this. Hurry up and change clothes to go to Liam’s house. You don’t know—Liam found his fated mate early! She’s a very smart girl. She didn’t need to receive the Moon Goddess’s blessing and help at the celebration. She awakened her wolf on her own.” “That’s right, Aria. Since Liam has found his fated mate, this year’s celebration will be assisted by her and Luna Eleanor. But she hasn’t learned how to do it yet. You need to go quickly and teach her the important things. We can’t let the pack celebration be ruined.” When I wouldn’t go, Liam actually went straight to my parents! Hearing their earnest persuasion, I could only hold back my tears and went downstairs to wash up. The two houses were close. Ten minutes later, I stood at the Alpha’s front door and opened the shoe cabinet. It was empty. I couldn’t see my favorite fuzzy slippers. I searched up and down several times before finally finding the slippers in the trash bin outside the door. Besides the shoes, there was also a water cup, toothbrush, towel, pajamas… All belonging to me. “Aria, Liam threw all these away. Please use shoe covers instead.” Looking at the trash bin, I was silent for a long time. Because Alpha Benjamin and my father beta William were close, I came over to visit almost every day and occasionally stayed overnight. Liam had specially prepared a bedroom for me and bought many daily necessities, specifically choosing styles I liked. He said this was my home and I shouldn’t be shy about it. We hid from both families, hugging and kissing at the doorway, holding hands under the dinner table, being intimate and tender in the study. Now that he’d found his fated mate, he threw away everything related to me. It took me a long time to calm down before I changed into the shoe covers. As soon as I entered, I saw Liam peeling fruit for a woman. The two of them were laughing and talking. He sat on the sofa wearing a custom satin formal outfit. His hair had been carefully styled and he wore cologne. He carried the mature handsomeness unique to Alphas. I’d often heard the pack say he looked good, that he’d be handsome even in a burlap sack, and if he dressed up more, more girls would definitely want to sleep with him. But Liam was naturally wild and unrestrained. Usually he just wore ordinary t-shirts and dress shirts. He didn’t like to dress up. So even in front of his fated mate, he would display himself like a peacock? I also knew that woman. I was the beta’s daughter and had received training from the pack’s elite warriors since childhood. So I was occasionally commissioned to go to the school and teach students some necessary combat skills. This girl was named Chloe, a school director’s daughter. She was smart and learned combat techniques quickly. I forced myself to greet them despite my sadness. The man who had been intimate with me in bed yesterday now acted like he didn’t know me. He only glanced at me once before shifting his gaze back to focus on Chloe. They chatted about hobbies, weather, work, jewelry brands, childhood stories, and school days. Watching Liam constantly finding topics and talking eloquently, I lowered my eyes in self-mockery. So in front of someone he liked, he could be this proactive. “I never thought my fated mate would be you. Many young ladies in the pack have a crush on you and fantasize about marrying you.” Hearing Chloe’s laughing teasing, I watched Liam’s reddening ears and smiled silently. So this was the charm of a fated mate? Even someone like Liam would blush. While I was lost in thought, I suddenly heard my own name. “You’re Aria, right? I took your combat class. I heard you and Liam have a very good relationship.” I froze slightly. When I looked up, I saw Chloe’s probing gaze. Before I could speak, Alpha Benjamin and Luna Eleanor cheerfully chimed in. “Pretty good indeed. The two have been inseparable since childhood. Originally we planned to let Aria and Liam…” Halfway through, Liam’s face darkened. He directly interrupted them. “Mom, Dad, don’t talk nonsense. I’d like anyone before I’d like Aria.” I lowered my eyes to hide the loss in them and forced out a smile. “Me too. I’d be with anyone before I’d be with Liam.” Hearing this, Liam’s expression froze for a moment before quickly returning to normal. He put his hand on my shoulder, looking unconcerned. “Exactly! Aria and I are just like Dad and beta William.” For a moment, the atmosphere in the living room relaxed considerably. I laughed along and vaguely heard Liam’s relieved whispered thanks. “Not bad. You even help me smooth things over now. Thanks.” I said nothing, just imperceptibly shifted a few steps to the side, distancing myself from him. Smooth things over? No. I meant what I said.

Near evening, we prepared to attend the evening celebration. Moonclaw Pack was a very large pack with extensive territory. The celebration was on the other side of the forest. Driving there would take a full half hour, so my father arranged vehicles for us. Liam, Chloe, and I—three young people—rode in one car. Throughout the journey, Liam, sitting in the middle, took meticulous care of Chloe. He adjusted the air conditioning temperature, got a blanket, helped her get water and unscrewed the bottle cap. I sat on the left, watching the two of them chat animatedly, silently turning to look at the scenery outside the window. Halfway there, a torrential rain started pouring from the sky. The road surface had poor lighting, and the car ahead turned on its high beams. James, who was driving, was blinded and couldn’t dodge in time. He crashed straight into it. The instant the danger occurred, Liam instinctively protected Chloe in his arms. Bang— The car window glass shattered and flew everywhere. I, sitting on the inside, was hit and covered in blood. Intense pain spread throughout my body. I felt like my whole body was falling apart. In my hazy consciousness, I saw the right car door open. Liam anxiously carried Chloe out of the car. It was as if he’d forgotten there was another person in the car. He paid no attention at all. The healer who rushed over urgently suggested taking the more seriously injured person for treatment first. But between me lying in a pool of blood and Chloe, who was frightened and disoriented in his arms, Liam only hesitated for a few seconds before still choosing to take Chloe to the hospital first. Watching that figure move farther and farther away, the focus in my eyes slowly dispersed. I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. So this was the relationship between fated mates. More important than my twenty-plus years of connection with him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find someone who loved me, and the person I loved didn’t love me at all. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier. That continuous tormenting pain dissipated like mist. My wolf anxiously called out to me in my mind. But my eyes went dark and I completely lost consciousness. I don’t know how long it was before I heard noisy voices. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw my mother patting her chest, her voice full of worry and relief. “Thank the Moon Goddess, Aria, you finally woke up. Luckily your wolf contacted me in time, so we could rush back to save you. Three of you were in one car. How come that girl only scraped her hand while you were hurt so badly?” My father also breathed a sigh of relief and picked up a water glass for a drink. “That’s naturally because of Liam’s protection. After all, they’re fated mates. The pull of destiny can’t be changed. Plus Chloe is strong too, which is good for the pack. I really hope she’ll become a Luna like Eleanor in the future.” I listened quietly. When they finished talking, I spoke in a hoarse voice. “Dad, Mom, I want to leave the pack.” Father froze for a moment, but he didn’t get angry at my words. Werewolves valued loyalty. My father was Alpha Benjamin’s beta and had deep loyalty to the Alpha and the pack. But at the same time, he also loved his daughter—me. “Sweetheart, why? What happened?” Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I hugged my mother and told them everything about Liam and me. After hearing everything, Father couldn’t believe such things had happened. “How could he do such a thing? We all know we must remain loyal to our mates… He dared to treat you like this! I’m going to find him…” “No, Dad, don’t go. I don’t want others to know this happened.” Mom held me. “My daughter, how could you experience something like this?” “Mom, I want to leave here.” I didn’t want to make things difficult for them. If it were an ordinary werewolf who had played with my feelings, my father would definitely beat them up. But Liam was the Alpha’s son, the next Alpha. They couldn’t betray the Alpha and the pack for me. “Maybe if I leave here, I can find my fated mate and forget Liam.” I couldn’t. I was deceiving myself. Even if I met my fated mate and was drawn to him by destiny, I could never forget Liam. He and I grew up together. I’d admired him from a very young age. “Baby, listen to me.” Mother held me. “I won’t abandon you. We can tell Alpha Benjamin you don’t want to see Liam and have him transfer us to other positions…” “No, Mom. As long as I’m still in the pack, I’ll always see him. Liam is the next Alpha. We can’t possibly never see him. Mom, let me leave alone.” “Aria.” My father stood up. His eyes held sadness and determination. “If we leave, it doesn’t necessarily mean betraying the pack. Liam found his fated mate. Soon he’ll be crowned as the new Alpha with that woman as Luna. They’ll appoint a new beta. At that time, my mission will be over. You remember, Alpha King once invited me to be a trainer at the kingdom’s school… Alpha William will agree.” I hesitated for a while, then nodded in agreement. Father and Mother went to discuss this matter with the Alpha and Luna. The injuries on my body had mostly healed. Thanks to my wolf, she was always working hard to heal me. I left the hospital just in time to catch the end of the celebration. Surrounded by young werewolves, Liam was holding a large bouquet of roses and confessing to Chloe. “Chloe, my fated mate, I’ve searched for you for many years. Are you willing to come to my side, become my mate, and belong only to me?” After hearing Chloe say “I do,” I smiled softly and turned to leave the celebration venue. The moment I turned around, enthusiastic applause erupted from the crowd of onlookers. Hearing the sound, Liam turned his head and saw my lonely, solitary figure. The smile on his face froze. An odd feeling arose in his heart. This slight discomfort only lasted an instant before being quickly drowned by overwhelming joy. He reached out his hand, openly and generously. He pulled Chloe into his arms.

That night, my parents came to see me at the hospital. They also handled my discharge procedures. Luna Eleanor personally rushed over to express her apology to me. “Dear, I didn’t know this would happen. In fact, we truly expected you to become Liam’s mate more.” She held my hand. “Even if you can’t be together, you shouldn’t have been hurt by him.” I was very grateful for this. “Can’t you really stay? You could become captain of the guard squad. Your abilities are sufficient for this position.” “No.” I shook my head. “Liam and I were once secret lovers. If Chloe finds out about this, she’ll be angry too. I must leave here. You know that.” I didn’t want to become a third party. Luna Eleanor sighed and eventually nodded. She could understand what I meant. If it were her, she also couldn’t accept Alpha Benjamin keeping some lover around him. “I’ll personally write a letter to the Luna Queen to express your wishes.” After saying this, Luna Eleanor looked at me with guilt. I knew she wouldn’t reveal what Liam had done to me. That was fine. I wouldn’t resent her for it. Luna Eleanor had just left when Liam arrived with Chloe. “Aria, I have good news for you. In a while, Chloe and I will hold our marking ceremony. You’re the first person I’m telling.” Looking at their tightly clasped hands, I nodded, my tone flat. “Congratulations.” Chloe’s eyes overflowed with happiness. She smiled shyly. “Thank you for your blessing. Beta William said you were seriously hurt. Are you feeling better now? I brought fish soup. Have some.” As she spoke, she had Liam hurry and serve the soup. Seeing him obediently comply, I was stunned for a moment before reacting. “Thank you, but I don’t need the fish soup.” Hearing this, Liam’s face immediately turned cold. He looked at me with displeasure. “This is soup Chloe personally cooked. I didn’t want to give it to you in the first place. Chloe was concerned about your injury, so I reluctantly agreed to bring you a serving. How can you be so ungrateful?” As he spoke, he poured a bowl and shoved it into my hands, insisting I drink it right now. I tried to explain, but he grabbed my wrist. In the struggle, the bowl was knocked over and hot soup spilled all over my wound. “Ah!” The pain made cold sweat break out on my forehead. My whole face crumpled. I was as pale as paper. Chloe was startled and pulled out tissues to help wipe it, her face full of guilt. Liam was afraid she’d get burned, so he quickly protected her behind him. “Chloe, this has nothing to do with you. She’s been rough and tough since childhood. It’s not a big deal. Don’t blame yourself.” My hand holding the tissue trembled several times. My heart constricted. The next second, my father pushed the door open. Seeing my wound starting to bleed again, he was so frightened he quickly called for a nurse. My mother was heartbroken, but she still patiently put away the fish soup and explained to Chloe. “Chloe, Aria is allergic to seafood. She can’t have fish soup. We appreciate your thoughtfulness. Thank you.” Liam stood frozen in place, his expression becoming unnatural. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Looking at the gauze stained red with blood, my heart was full of bitterness. Before, he always remembered my dietary restrictions. Every time we went to a restaurant, he would emphasize repeatedly to the servers: no peanut butter, no seafood. But now with Chloe, his heart and eyes were full of her. Naturally he wouldn’t remember such small things. A person’s heart is only so big. It can only hold one person. The one they love most. After a long silence, I smiled and answered him. “You didn’t give me a chance to speak.” The hospital room fell into dead silence. Chloe looked like she was about to cry from guilt. Liam felt sorry for her. Without saying anything, he left with her. I originally thought the wound suddenly bled because it hadn’t fully healed yet and had been pulled open. But when the healer came to examine me, they told me there seemed to be some silver seeping into the wound, which caused the bleeding again. I was stunned for a moment but ultimately only told the healer it was an accident. Even though I had my suspicions. After applying more herbal medicine and the wound healed again, I went home with my parents. The kingdom school had already sent Father an invitation. Alpha Benjamin and Luna Eleanor also agreed to let our family leave. They had already chosen a new beta and gamma for Liam. Upon receiving the notice, the family immediately started packing. My parents couldn’t spare the time, so they prepared a generous gift and had me make a trip to the Alpha’s house. As soon as I entered, Luna Eleanor pulled me aside again and kept apologizing. “Ari, I’m so sorry. After all these years of connection between you and Liam, in such a dangerous situation like the car accident, he only protected Chloe and ignored you, causing you such serious injury. I feel terrible about it. We’ll definitely make him apologize to you.” I shook my head and gently comforted them. “Chloe is Liam’s fated mate. He searched for her for so long. It’s right that he focused on protecting her. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” I didn’t tell them about the “silver” matter. Seeing I didn’t take it to heart, Alpha Benjamin and Luna Eleanor finally let go of their guilt. The three of us exchanged pleasantries for a while before I brought up the real business, telling them the specific timeline for our family’s departure. Alpha Benjamin sighed. “So soon?” I apologetically answered, “I think perhaps leaving Liam as soon as possible is the best choice for all of us.” Longtime old friends were leaving. Alpha Benjamin and Luna Eleanor felt sad, their voices full of reluctance. “Perhaps in the future, you can still come back to visit.” I smiled. My voice was especially clear in the quiet living room. “Once I leave this time, I won’t come back again.” Liam, who had just returned, pushed open the door and frowned as he looked over. “Who’s not coming back?”

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When I was born, my father asked someone to give me the name Mia. The fortune teller said that with this name, I would surely become rich and prosperous in the future. But unexpectedly, my Second Uncle overheard and stole the name, giving it to my cousin instead. What Second Uncle didn’t know was that my cousin couldn’t use this name. Because the fortune teller told me with certainty: “You were born with the protagonist’s halo. What belongs to you, no one can take away.” “If she uses your name, she’ll have to bear the misfortune meant for you instead, and live an unfortunate life.” “Fortune teller, can you look at the names we’ve chosen and see which one is better?” My dad took out a piece of paper with several names written neatly on it. Mia, Claire, Olivia, Sophia. The fortune teller looked at me in my father’s arms. I gave the fortune teller an innocent smile. I was too young to remember this myself—my dad told me about it later. When I smiled, the fortune teller couldn’t help but smile along with me. He pointed his finger at the name Mia on the paper. “Choose this name. Your daughter suits this name. With it, I guarantee your daughter will have a life of great wealth and prosperity, with smooth fortune.” My dad got the guidance and wanted to register my name, but before he could move, he heard a sound at the door. My dad asked, “Who’s there?” He handed me to the fortune teller to hold and went to the door himself, only to see Second Uncle’s hurried retreating figure. For some reason, my dad had a bad feeling, and unease gripped his heart. When he returned to the room, he saw the fortune teller playing with me. Just as Dad was about to take me from the fortune teller’s arms, he heard the fortune teller speak: “Your daughter is blessed. She has a connection with me—why not let her recognize me as her godfather? In the future, she can learn my skills too.” My dad was overjoyed to hear this. Because the fortune teller—no, my godfather—was famously accurate in this area. So that day, my dad didn’t immediately take me to register my name. Instead, he bought some gifts and took me to formally recognize my godfather. Before leaving, the fortune teller put a crystal necklace around my neck and wrote a small note on paper for my dad. “Daniel, if the name Mia becomes unavailable, give my goddaughter the name Olivia instead.” My dad scratched his head awkwardly. “How could I not be able to register a name? It’s just a name.” My godfather smiled mysteriously and shook his head. “Not so, not so.” “When the time comes, I’ll return to teach my goddaughter myself. If you can’t register the name Mia, open the note I left you.” With that, he got up and left. My dad stood there for a few seconds before holding me and chasing out the door, but there was no trace of my godfather outside. Unable to find him, Dad carried me—still playing with the crystal necklace around my neck—back inside. My mom, who had been busy in the kitchen, just brought out the last dish. She casually wiped her hands on her apron and told Dad to invite my godfather to eat. Dad shook his head, saying godfather had vanished in the blink of an eye. During the meal, my mom fed me milk while marveling at how skilled my godfather was. Early the next morning, just as my parents were about to take me to register my name, Second Uncle called us to the old family house. When we arrived, quite a few people had gathered. Second Uncle stood among the crowd, proudly raising his head as he held three-year-old cousin Mia by the hand, announcing: “I did some calculations for my kid and changed her name to Mia—M-I-A.” My dad, holding me, widened his eyes. When Second Uncle looked over at Dad with triumphant eyes, Dad immediately understood—Second Uncle had heard everything that day. Other family members complained: “Making such a big deal out of nothing, calling the whole family together for this.” Second Uncle said smugly: “My daughter’s name isn’t simple—it’s very lucky!” He pulled a lottery ticket from his pocket: “After changing her name, I bought this lottery ticket. Guess what? I won ten thousand dollars!” The impatient looks on everyone’s faces instantly turned to surprise and flattery. Second Uncle basked in everyone’s praise, while my dad took me home to find godfather’s note. My mom took me from Dad’s arms, and watched as Dad carefully opened the note godfather had left. As soon as he opened it, Dad’s furrowed brow immediately relaxed, and he even laughed out loud. The note read: 【Name stolen, name stolen. The one who stole the name will bear disasters for my goddaughter. When I return, everything owed to little Olivia will be returned.】

My dad touched my little head and laughed heartily: “My daughter is blessed. When your godfather comes back, we’ll enjoy great fortune.” I thought Dad was playing with me. Seeing him laugh, I giggled along. That afternoon, my parents registered my name as Olivia. At my hundred-day celebration, Dad held me and teased: “Little Olivia, little Olivia, choose one.” In front of me were various ceremony items—a little abacus, a brush, books, Mom’s gold ring… I giggled and kept clutching the little crystal necklace godfather gave me, refusing to let go. Dad had no choice. Holding me, he tapped my little nose. “You just love your godfather, don’t you?” But he said this very quietly, so no one else could hear. After the choosing ceremony, friends and relatives attending the hundred-day celebration began giving gifts. Others gave small presents or dolls to amuse me. When Second Uncle arrived, he wore an ill-fitting suit with a thin gold chain around his neck. My cousin Mia wore a princess dress, holding her head high like a proud swan. My dad looked at Second Uncle with some hostility. Second Uncle pretended not to notice. Having made a little money, he was no different from a nouveau riche. Second Uncle clutched a briefcase, pulling out a small stack of money and handing it to my dad. “This is just a little something to celebrate my niece. After all, I owe my current success entirely to my little niece. So I wish my niece great wealth and prosperity, peace and smooth fortune.” Those eight words of blessing—Second Uncle emphasized each syllable heavily, his expression of petty triumph utterly punchable. But the note godfather left gave my dad tremendous confidence. Dad shot back without hesitation: “Of course! My daughter is blessed. She’ll definitely have great wealth and prosperity, peace and smooth fortune in this life. Thank you for your blessing.” But having already tasted success, Second Uncle just thought Dad was being stubborn. He smiled indifferently and left with Mia. “This place is a bit shabby. Don’t bother inviting me next time.” Second Uncle’s voice reached everyone’s ears without restraint, making some people look embarrassed. Dad just pretended not to hear, warmly greeting friends and relatives to eat and drink well, all smiles. From that day on, Second Uncle’s family got better and better, as if truly fulfilling godfather’s words. Second Uncle won quite a bit of money buying lottery tickets. Though he never won first prize, all those small prizes added up enough to allow his originally poor family to achieve a major turnaround. Later, Second Uncle’s house was demolished for development, and every project he invested in became explosively popular without exception. Our family remained lukewarm, not much different from before. Until I skipped grades and entered seventh grade, Mia—only three years older than me—had become a school bully thanks to Second Uncle’s success. Because I was good at school, at family gatherings Mia and I—close in age—were always compared. One had average family circumstances but excellent grades; the other had great family circumstances but a brain that wouldn’t open up. Gossipy relatives would always say that even though Second Uncle’s family had money, if the child wasn’t good it was useless—maybe Olivia would get into an Ivy League school and lead the whole family to prosperity? This caused Second Uncle’s family, who had looked down on us, to develop other thoughts. On the first day of school, Mia wore her uniform loose and sloppy, with earrings and heavy makeup, looking disdainful. Several similarly dressed female students followed behind her. They surrounded me and pressed me to the ground. Mia crossed her arms, stepped on my shoulder with one foot, and leaned down close to me. “Well, well, if it isn’t my academically excellent little cousin who skipped grades to my territory?” Mia finished speaking and laughed to herself, her laughter unrestrained. Her little followers laughed along. Others who saw this scene were briefed by those who knew the situation, their gazes falling on me—some sympathetic, some enjoying the show. Mia enjoyed the attention. After all, her dad had become someone with status and influence in South City these past two years, and most people didn’t want to offend her. So when Mia stepped on my shoulder and said, “This person has a grudge against me. Whoever befriends her will…” All threats remained unspoken, but combined with Mia’s standard mean-girl image, everyone dispersed. Mia looked at all this with satisfaction, but seeing my completely unmoved expression, she found it boring. I brushed the dust off my shoulder and watched Mia’s retreating back. “It’s fine. Everything will end soon.”

No one was willing to go against Mia’s wishes to approach me. But there were plenty of people who insulted and toyed with me to please Mia. My notebook was drawn on with ghost faces, my chair had various colored drinks spilled on it, and bugs would be pulled out from time to time. This was actually a novel experience. I kept a straight face, wiped away the water, and crushed the bugs to death with tissue paper. Holding the corpses, I walked toward the boys laughing the hardest. “Is this yours?” My innocent voice and words combined with my cold face—they stopped laughing, their eyes evasive. After that, fewer people bullied me, but the isolation became more severe. I sat alone by the back door. Because every one of my deskmates had been threatened or bribed by Mia. At the end of the first semester of seventh grade, during the New Year family gathering, my first-place ranking for the whole grade was praised by relatives one after another. Only I was paying attention to Mia. She had originally been praised as noble as a little princess, but my first place stole all the compliments. Mia was only thirteen, but her malicious gaze stared at me like a venomous snake. I met her gaze without evasion. This move was tantamount to provoking her. So Mia’s abrupt voice rang out. “Olivia’s studies are quite good, but she’s not really a good person. I heard that Olivia offended the entire class by herself, and no one wants to sit with her.” Every word revealed undisguised malice toward me. My dad had a bad temper and his face already showed anger. I patted Dad’s hand soothingly. “Dad, it’s New Year’s. Don’t get angry just because a stray dog barks a few times. It doesn’t look good.” Hearing me call her a stray dog, if looks could kill, I probably would have died under her knife-like gaze long ago. “As for cousin, I think you know the reason behind why I’m isolated better than I do.” The tension between us and Second Uncle’s family was palpable. A few relatives tried to smooth things over: “It’s New Year’s, let’s not talk about these things. Come, have some candy.” As soon as the New Year’s dinner was over, Mia and Second Uncle got in their private car, gave us a disdainful look, and drove off. Back home, my hot-tempered dad criticized Second Uncle’s family’s current attitude. My mom tried to calm Dad down on the side. I touched the somewhat hot crystal necklace, lost in thought. The next second, the doorbell suddenly rang. As if sensing something, I quickly got up to open the door.

I opened the door to a man covered in snow. I tilted my head and looked at the person before me, asking with confusion: “Who are you?” Though I didn’t yet know who this person was, the increasingly hot crystal necklace revealed his identity. Before the person could speak, my dad and mom, who had heard the door open and come over, saw him. Dad reached past me and grabbed the man’s hand. “Fortune teller, you’re finally back.” It really was my godfather. I held the crystal necklace and poked Dad with my other hand: “Dad, quickly bring godfather inside. He’s covered in snow and must be cold.” Dad came to his senses and hurried to lead godfather inside. Hearing me so tactfully call him godfather, godfather ruffled my head hard as he passed me. After everyone sat down, godfather—who had seemed mysterious and like a big boss behind the scenes—suddenly hugged me and started wailing. “My poor goddaughter, you’ve suffered these ten years. Wuwuwu, it’s all godfather’s fault for being useless.” I froze. Dad hadn’t told me godfather was like this. I looked pleadingly at Dad and Mom, but they were as bewildered as I was, indicating they couldn’t help. I raised my hand with difficulty and patted godfather’s back. “Godfather, *cough cough*, let go of me. *Cough cough* You’re holding too tight.” Hearing my strained voice, godfather quickly released me. Only then could I see his appearance clearly. Quite handsome—sword-like brows and starry eyes, with tears on his face he hadn’t wiped away. His thin lips parted as the whole family’s attention focused on him. Then godfather loudly blew his nose and said awkwardly to my dad: “Could you give me two tissues? I need to blow my nose.” The whole family was stunned by this awkwardness. Though tissues were clearly on the table, Dad pretended not to see them. “Oh my, we’re out of tissues. I remember there are new ones in the bedroom. Wait, I’ll go get them for you right away.” Dad escaped into his and Mom’s bedroom like fleeing. Mom awkwardly picked at her fingers on the spot, then suddenly remembered something and pulled me up to scold me. “Who told you to say that unlucky word just now? It’s New Year’s, how inauspicious. Quick, spit it out, spit it out.” I numbly thought this must all be an illusion, following Mom’s instructions and spitting repeatedly… After godfather blew his nose and went to the bathroom to wash his face, the four of us sat together. I felt that if shoes weren’t blocking us, our three-bedroom, one-living-room home could instantly become fifteen bedrooms and five living rooms. After all, everyone gets their own fantasy three-bedroom apartment. Finally, godfather broke the silence, touching my head. “Oh my, you’ve grown so big. I still came back too late, missing so many years of my precious daughter’s life, letting my daughter suffer.” My dad also said politely: “Not at all, not at all. We’ve been doing well.” Then the two men looked at each other and laughed awkwardly. Just then, Dad’s phone rang, breaking the atmosphere. Dad glanced at the caller ID, and his expression immediately changed.

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One year after menopause, my period came back. My best friend said this wasn’t normal and told me to get to the hospital immediately. The test results were covered in dense data I couldn’t understand. The doctor stared at the report for a long time, then suddenly looked up and asked me, “Is your husband here?” I said he was waiting outside. The doctor said, “Have him come in. There are some things I need to tell him directly.” I panicked. “Doctor, is it some kind of disease? You can just tell me.” The doctor shook her head. “This matter—he needs to know.” After my husband went in, the door closed. I pressed my ear against it and heard the doctor’s first sentence: “Your wife’s condition is very unusual…” 0 I’m forty-five years old. I’ve always been healthy. One year after menopause, I started bleeding again. Not much, but bright red. My heart sank. My best friend Lily said this was called postmenopausal bleeding, and it wasn’t good. She told me to get to the hospital right away. I didn’t dare delay. The next day, I had my husband Marcus accompany me to City First Hospital. I got an appointment with a specialist. After a series of tests, it was already afternoon. I sat in the gynecology director’s office holding a stack of reports, my heart pounding with anxiety. The smell of disinfectant in the office was so strong it was suffocating. Marcus sat next to me, his hand gripping mine. His palm was hot and sweaty. I knew he was even more nervous than I was. The doctor was a woman in her fifties, Director Wilson. She took my test reports and examined them one by one, extremely slowly and carefully. Her brow was furrowed from the start. My heart sank along with her expression, bit by bit. Was it some terrible disease? Cancer? I didn’t dare think about it. My son had just started college. I hadn’t seen him settle down yet. If I died, what would happen to this family? Marcus felt my trembling and squeezed my hand hard. “Don’t be scared. It’ll be okay,” he said in a low voice. His words didn’t help. My fear was like vines, growing wildly from the bottom of my heart and up, wrapping around my throat. Finally, Director Wilson put down the reports. She pushed up her glasses and looked past me at Marcus. “You’re her husband?” Marcus nodded quickly. “Yes, I am.” Director Wilson’s expression was complicated—sympathetic and grave. “You—come with me for a moment.” She pointed to the inner office. I froze. Marcus froze too. “Doctor,” I spoke first, my voice trembling, “is my illness very serious? Just tell me directly. I can handle it.” Director Wilson shook her head. Her gaze remained fixed on Marcus’s face. “There are some things I need to discuss with your husband first.” “Why?” I grew anxious. “It’s my own body. Why can’t I know?” Marcus also said, “Director Wilson, just say what you need to say. We’re husband and wife. There’s nothing we can’t hear together.” Director Wilson’s expression didn’t soften at all. She stood up, her tone brooking no argument. “You come in first.” She walked into the inner office first, leaving the door slightly ajar. Marcus glanced at me, his eyes full of reassurance. “Don’t worry. I’ll go in and ask. It’s probably just some things men need to pay attention to… about cooperating with treatment.” He stood up and followed her in. The office door closed in front of me with a soft click. My heart was shut into an airtight box along with that soft sound. Fear and anxiety grew wildly in the darkness. What kind of illness was it that they couldn’t tell me directly? Why did they need to tell my husband first, to prepare him mentally? I couldn’t sit still anymore. I walked to that door and pressed my ear against it. The door was thick with good soundproofing. I couldn’t hear anything clearly. I could only hear Director Wilson’s muffled voice, as if through a layer of water. I was anxious like an ant on a hot pan, sweating all over. I pressed my ear closer, straining with all my might to make out the words. Suddenly, Director Wilson’s tone seemed to rise a little. One fragmented sentence, like a needle, pierced through the door and into my ear. “…your wife’s condition… is very unusual…” Unusual? What did that mean? My mind went blank with a buzzing sound. All kinds of terrible guesses flooded in like a tide. Had I contracted some extremely rare terminal illness? Before I could process that sentence, the office door suddenly opened from inside. I stumbled and nearly fell. Marcus stood in the doorway, his face deathly pale, his eyes hollow. He looked at me like I was a stranger. I had never seen that look before. It wasn’t concern or worry, but a mix of shock, absurdity, and… a trace of indescribable resentment. His look made my skin crawl. “Marcus, what did the doctor say? What’s wrong with me?” I grabbed his arm and asked urgently. He didn’t answer. He just looked at me, his lips moving but making no sound. His arm was rigid. Director Wilson came out from behind him, glanced at me, and sighed. “Your husband will tell you.” “Go home.” Marcus seemed to have lost his soul, turning mechanically. He grabbed my wrist with surprising force. “Let’s go.” Just one word, cold and stiff. He dragged me out, making me stumble. My mind was completely in chaos. This wasn’t how a husband should react after learning his wife had a serious illness. What was going on? 0

The drive home from the hospital felt extraordinarily long. Marcus didn’t say a word. He drove with his eyes fixed straight ahead. The street scenes outside the window flew backward rapidly, like a silent movie. The air in the car was so oppressive it felt like it was solidifying. I sat in the passenger seat, wanting to speak several times but swallowing the words back. His profile was tense, his jawline rigid like stone. I’d known him for over twenty years and had never seen him like this. We’d been together since college, through marriage, and our son was already eighteen. He’d always been a gentle, responsible man. No matter how serious the problem, he would shoulder it himself and never let me worry. But today, he was completely abnormal. That coldness that emanated from his bones made me feel cold to my core. “Marcus,” I finally couldn’t help it and called to him softly. No response, as if he hadn’t heard. “What exactly did the doctor tell you?” I raised my voice. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. “Nothing.” He said. His voice sounded like it was squeezed through his teeth. “Nothing?” I raised my volume. “Then why did she call you in alone? Why do you look like that?” “Why are you looking at me like I’m your enemy?” A series of questions shot at him like bullets. The car suddenly swerved. He seemed to have hit the brake, then quickly released it. “Diana,” he called me by my full name. “Can you just be quiet for a moment?” My heart was pierced by those words. In all our years of marriage, he’d never called me that. He always called me “Di” or “honey.” “Marcus, you have to tell me,” my attitude hardened too. “It’s my body. I have the right to know.” He took a deep breath, as if trying desperately to suppress something. “The doctor said it’s just ordinary hormonal imbalance.” “Bleeding after menopause is a common phenomenon. Nothing serious.” “Just rest and don’t overthink things.” He spoke quickly and smoothly, as if reciting lines he’d prepared beforehand. I didn’t believe him. Not a single word. If it was just hormones, why would Director Wilson be so grave? Why would she need to call him in alone and say the “condition was unusual”? He was treating me like a fool. “You’re lying,” I said coldly. He suddenly turned his head and looked at me. That glance was full of anger and irritation. “I’m lying?” “Diana, do you think your life is too peaceful? Do you have to create drama?” “The doctor said nothing’s wrong. What more do you want?” His yelling stunned me. Tears welled up despite my efforts to hold them back. I wasn’t creating drama. I was just scared. I just wanted to know the truth. But he treated my fear as unreasonable nonsense. My heart turned completely cold in that instant. I turned my head to look out the window and said nothing more. Tears silently slid down my cheeks. The rest of the drive was deathly silent. When we got home, he threw his car keys on the entryway table and walked straight into the study. With a bang, he shut the door. I stood alone in the empty living room, feeling ice cold all over. This home where I’d lived for twenty years suddenly felt utterly foreign. That evening, I made dinner. All his favorite dishes. I waited at the dining table for a long time, but he never came out of the study. I knocked on the door. “Marcus, dinner’s ready.” “Not eating. No appetite.” His voice came through the door, muffled and impatient. My hand stopped on the doorknob and stayed there for a long time. That night, we slept in separate rooms. This was the first time we’d slept apart since our marriage, aside from business trips. I lay on the big empty bed, eyes open, sleepless all night. 0

I replayed everything that had happened that day over and over. Director Wilson’s expression. Marcus’s look. That closed door. That phrase “very unusual.” Everything told me that things were far from simple. Marcus was lying to me. He was hiding a huge secret. What was this secret? Late at night, just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard the master bedroom door open. I immediately held my breath and closed my eyes. I felt Marcus walk in and stand by the bed. He stood there for a very long time. I could feel his gaze scanning my face like a searchlight. That gaze no longer held its usual warmth, only scrutiny and coldness. My heart pounded so fast it was about to leap from my chest. What was he looking at? What did he want to do? Finally, he turned and left. I heard the balcony door being pulled open softly. After a while, I quietly got out of bed and walked to the bedroom door, looking out through the crack. Marcus stood on the balcony with his back to me. He was on the phone. The night was quiet, and though his voice was low, I could still hear. He seemed to be arguing with someone, his tone full of irritation and helplessness. “…How was I supposed to know this would happen?” “…” “Don’t panic!” “…” “I said, let me figure something out!” “…” Suddenly, as if he couldn’t take it anymore, he growled quietly. “How could she at this time…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but those unfinished words were like a sledgehammer, pounding hard on my heart. She? Which “she”? Who was this “she” Marcus was talking about? That sentence was like a poisoned thorn lodged in my heart, festering all night. The next morning when Marcus got up, I was already sitting on the living room sofa. I hadn’t slept all night. My eyes were full of bloodshot veins. When he saw me, he froze, his eyes somewhat evasive. “Up so early?” He walked over, seeming to want to say something. I ignored him and walked straight into the bathroom. In the mirror, I looked haggard with dark circles under my eyes, like a ghost. In just one day, I’d been tormented into this state. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face over and over. I needed to be clearheaded. I couldn’t just sit and wait anymore. I couldn’t let him keep brushing me off with lies. I had to find the answers myself. Coming out of the bathroom, Marcus had already changed and was preparing to leave. “I have an early meeting at the office today.” He picked up his briefcase, didn’t even look at me, and hurriedly changed his shoes. “Wait a minute,” I called out to him. He stopped and looked back at me. “Who were you calling on the balcony last night?” I asked point-blank. His expression changed instantly. A flash of panic crossed his eyes but was quickly covered up. “Work stuff,” he said. “A project ran into some problems.” “Really?” I stared into his eyes. “Which project manager is named ‘she’?” Marcus froze completely. His lips moved but couldn’t form a sentence. “Diana,” he finally spoke, his tone carrying a hint of pleading, “can you stop asking?” “I’m begging you.” “Some things are better not knowing.” That sentence completely confirmed my suspicions. He was having an affair. That so-called “she” was his mistress. Something was wrong with my body—I might have a serious illness—so he was anxious to cut ties with his mistress? Or was my illness related to that woman? In an instant, countless melodramatic scenarios played out in my mind. My heart felt like it was soaked in ice water, both cold and painful. “Marcus,” I looked at him and said word by word, “we’re done.” With that, I stopped looking at him, turned and walked back to the bedroom, and closed the door. 0

I heard him stand outside the door for a while, then came a heavy sigh and the sound of the door closing as he left. I was alone in the house again. This time, I didn’t cry. Tears couldn’t solve any problems. I needed evidence. I needed to know what had really happened. My gaze fell on the nightstand. There lay Marcus’s backup phone. He had two phones, one for work and one personal. He never left his work phone behind, but he didn’t use this personal one much and sometimes forgot it at home. My heartbeat began to accelerate. This was an opportunity. I picked up that phone. It had a password. A four-digit pattern lock. I took a deep breath and started trying. Our wedding anniversary? No. His birthday? No. My birthday? No. Our son’s birthday? I traced our son’s birthdate on the screen with my finger. Click—the phone unlocked. My heart raced. I opened the call log. Recent calls were all from friends and family. He must have used his work phone for last night’s call. I opened his Snapchat. His Snapchat was clean without many chat logs. No pinned contacts, no suspicious female profile pictures. Had I guessed wrong? Unwilling to give up, I opened the browser. Search history. When I saw the recent search entries, my breathing stopped instantly. My fingers began to tremble uncontrollably. There, several lines were clearly displayed: “Can a man who had a vasectomy still get a woman pregnant?” “What’s the success rate of vasectomy reversal?” “If a wife gets pregnant after a husband’s vasectomy, whose child is it?” “What materials are needed for a paternity test?” “How does the law handle illegitimate children?” One after another, sentence after sentence, like sharp knives stabbing into my eyes. Vasectomy? Pregnancy? Paternity test? Marcus had gotten a vasectomy over ten years ago, after our son was born. It was our joint decision. He said he felt bad for me and didn’t want me to suffer through childbirth again. I was moved to tears at the time, thinking I’d married the best man in the world. For all these years, we’d been careful about contraception. But now… My hand involuntarily moved to my lower abdomen. Postmenopausal bleeding… Director Wilson’s grave expression… That phrase “very unusual”… Marcus’s pale face and resentful look… An absurd thought that I didn’t dare believe sprouted in my mind like a seed, growing wildly.

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I was with Lucas for five years. I gave birth to a daughter for him. On the day of our daughter’s first-month celebration. I had just finished breastfeeding in the lounge. The moment I came downstairs holding my daughter, a shrill scream rang out in the banquet hall: “Someone help! She stole my baby!” I jerked my head up to see a strange woman rushing toward me, eyes brimming with tears. And my husband stood right beside her, his eyes ice-cold. He shielded the woman and barked orders at the security guards: “Grab her! Don’t let this child trafficker get away!” I desperately tried to explain, desperately called his name, telling him the child was mine. But the family photos, birth certificate, postpartum care center records, pictures with friends and family—in every piece of evidence, the mother wasn’t me. Even the people closest to me said I had never been married, let alone given birth to a child. In the end, I was beaten to death at my daughter’s first-month celebration, branded as a child trafficker trying to kidnap someone else’s baby. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right after I finished breastfeeding. Outside the door, the sound of guests’ laughter filled the hall. **1** That day was my daughter’s first-month celebration. Until I walked into the hall holding her, everyone pointed at my nose and called me a child trafficker. The banquet hall was filled with clinking glasses and elegantly dressed guests at the celebration. Outside, I had just finished nursing my daughter in the lounge, my heart full of joy, ready to receive everyone’s blessings. I had been with Lucas for five years. To give birth to this daughter, I had nearly left half my life on the delivery table. I still clearly remembered that night—my water broke early and the massive hemorrhaging left my entire body ice-cold. Lucas burst into the delivery room despite the doctor’s attempts to stop him, and fell to his knees beside the hospital bed with a thud. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands gripping my freezing fingers so tightly, his tears scalding hot as they fell onto the back of my hand. “Honey, don’t fall asleep! As long as you pull through, I swear on my life I’ll protect you and our child! Even if I have to give up everything else, all I want is for you and our daughter to be safe!” That was the only belief that kept me going through that brush with death. But on the day of the celebration, that belief was viciously torn to shreds. The moment I pushed open the banquet hall door, the glaring crystal chandelier light made me squint. Before I could even manage a smile, a shrill female voice suddenly exploded across the entire venue. “Someone help! Stop her! She stole my baby—!” I jerked my head up. A woman in an elaborate designer gown pushed through the crowd like a madwoman, rushing toward me. Her eyes were bloodshot. And my husband—Lucas, the man who swore to protect me with his life—was holding her shoulders tightly, shielding her by his side. The look he gave me held nothing but disgust. “Where’s security? Are you all dead?” Lucas pointed at me. “Hold her down! Don’t let this child trafficker escape and hurt my daughter!” I froze in place, my brain instantly crashing. I desperately protected my daughter in my arms as she started crying from fright, screaming at him with everything I had. “Lucas! Have you lost your mind? Look carefully—it’s me, Jade! I’m the one who gave birth to this child!” But what happened in the next half hour became a hell I would never forget. The family photos displayed on the celebration’s big screen showed that strange woman as the mother. The birth certificate pulled from City Hospital clearly printed “Lena Young” in the mother’s column. Even the top-tier postpartum care center where I had stayed for a month had her listed as the VIP client in their system. Like a lunatic, I dialed my mother’s number. The voice on the other end was cold and guarded. “Are you some kind of scammer? My daughter Jade is a workaholic who doesn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone a child. Call again and I’m reporting you to the police!” So I was labeled as a mentally disturbed child trafficker. Enraged guests surrounded me. I don’t know who kicked me first, followed by the brutal blows from security guards’ batons. I curled up tightly on the ground, using my back to shield my daughter in my arms. In the chaos, a leather shoe kicked me hard in the temple. My head slammed into a sharp table corner with a “bang.” Blood blurred my vision. In the final second before my sight went completely dark, I saw Lucas holding my daughter, gently comforting her, while that woman named Lena leaned against him, watching me die in a pool of blood. “Bzzzz—” A sudden ringing filled my ears, followed by a warm, soft sensation in my arms that made my entire body shudder. I snapped my eyes open. I was sitting on a leather sofa. My daughter in my arms had her eyes closed, her tiny pink mouth still making little sucking motions, smelling of milk. Outside the door, I could faintly hear the cheerful chatter and laughter of the gathered guests. My entire body turned cold. Cold sweat instantly soaked through the clothes on my back, my fingers trembling violently. I had been reborn. Back to ten minutes before the celebration began, right after I finished nursing. This time, I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood, confirming this wasn’t a dream. I would absolutely never again carry my daughter into that slaughterhouse that wanted my life. **2** I had to preserve ironclad evidence. I held my daughter tightly, my chest heaving violently, forcibly suppressing the trembling that seemed to carry the phantom pain throughout my body. I couldn’t panic. I absolutely couldn’t rush out to confront them directly. That would be suicide. “Creak—” The lounge door handle was gently pressed down. Every muscle in my body instantly tensed as I stared fixedly at the door. Lucas walked in wearing that perfectly tailored pure black designer suit. The light fell on his chiseled profile. His eyes were as tender as always, tender enough to drown in. He walked softly to my side and naturally reached out to straighten my slightly disheveled collar. Then he lowered his head, his lips gently touching our baby’s forehead, his tone indulgent. “Honey, you worked so hard. It’s chaotic with all those people outside, so don’t rush. I’ll go handle things first. You can rest, and we’ll go downstairs together when you’re ready.” He then walked over to the water dispenser, skillfully filled half a cup of warm water, tested the temperature against the side of the cup, and brought it to my lips. “Here, breastfeeding takes a lot out of you. Drink some warm water, and be careful not to catch a chill.” Looking at this face I knew all too well, seeing the love that seemed ready to overflow from his eyes, a trace of doubt arose in my heart. His attentiveness toward me was too real. Every bowl of hot soup, every embrace over these five years—could it all have been an act? Could I have just had a nightmare caused by postpartum depression? But the instant he turned to grab a tissue, I clearly caught a flash of impatience at the corner of his mouth. In that second, the excruciating pain from my shattered skull in my previous life shot through my entire body like an electric current. It wasn’t a dream! Today was the day they wanted my life! I forced myself to pull out a weak smile and accepted the water cup. “Honey, I got up too fast and feel a bit dizzy. Let me sit for five more minutes to recover.” Lucas didn’t suspect anything and gently ruffled my hair. “Okay, I’ll tell the staff not to disturb you. I’ll wait for you both downstairs.” The door closed. The instant the lock clicked into place, the weakness on my face vanished completely. I didn’t trust people’s hearts. I only trusted evidence! I immediately pulled out my phone, opened the front camera, and framed both myself and my sleeping daughter in the shot. Suppressing the tremor in my voice, I spoke clearly to the camera. “My name is Jade Chen. Today is April 8th, 2026. The location is the third-floor lounge of the InterContinental Hotel. The child in my arms is the biological daughter of Lucas and me.” I then zoomed in the camera, focusing on the birth certificate. After recording the video, I didn’t save it locally. Lucas had built his fortune in IT. He had countless ways to destroy the data on my phone. I quickly logged into my backup email, packaged the video with a detailed explanation, set it to send automatically in ten minutes, with the recipient being my most trusted best friend, Nina Lee. Then I picked up the Polaroid camera on the table, originally meant for taking commemorative photos for guests. I held it close to my daughter’s little face, with the data I’d sent to my friend visible in the background. “Click.” The photo slid out, the image gradually developing. The picture of mother and daughter nestled close together was crystal clear. I looked around, my gaze locking on the gap in the sofa. I folded that Polaroid tightly and forced it deep into the crevice with all my strength. After finishing all this, I tucked the folded birth certificate against my skin inside my bra and took a deep breath. With this ironclad evidence, let’s see how you can cover the sky with one hand today! I held my daughter tight and walked toward the banquet hall. The moment I stepped out of the hallway and my hand touched the banquet hall door handle, a voice I could never forget even in death came from inside. “Stop her! She stole my baby!” **3** I took a deep breath and yanked the door open. The woman named Lena from my previous life was pointing at me, crying out shrilly. Everything was replaying according to my previous life’s script. Lucas almost instantly stepped forward and pulled Lena into his embrace. The moment he turned to look at me, the deep affection from the lounge vanished without a trace. “Security! Lock the doors! Hold her down!” The hundreds of guests in the venue instantly erupted in commotion. The music cut off abruptly, and countless pairs of eyes fixed on me. “I stole a child?” I stood firmly in place, let out a cold laugh, held the baby with one hand, and pulled out my phone with the other. “Lucas, you can eat whatever you want, but you can’t just say whatever you want. Whether or not I’m a child trafficker, the video will prove it!” My fingertip quickly tapped open my gallery, moving toward the high-definition video I had just recorded. But the instant my finger touched the screen, it flashed violently and the video image turned into a blinding snowstorm. File corrupted. My heart sank heavily. Local network interception! I immediately switched to my email backend to check the scheduled email to Nina. Sent box—completely empty. Drafts—completely empty. “Can’t produce evidence now? Child traffickers these days are so brazen they dare show up at a celebration to cause trouble after stealing a baby!” My mother-in-law charged forward like a protective mother tiger, pointing at my nose and cursing. “You shameless crazy woman! My daughter-in-law Lena has been on stage the whole time. The baby you’re holding is clearly my family’s precious grandchild!” I gritted my teeth and looked toward the nanny, Mrs. Zhang, who had been hiding behind my mother-in-law—the woman who had taken care of me for an entire month. “Mrs. Zhang!” I stared directly into her eyes. “You made me different postpartum meals every day. You’re the one who applied medicine to my C-section wound daily! Tell everyone here—am I or am I not this child’s biological mother!” Mrs. Zhang’s whole body shuddered. She didn’t dare meet my eyes at all. Her face deathly pale, she cowered and took a step back, her voice shaking like a sieve. “Miss… I think you’ve got the wrong person… I’ve been taking care of Mrs. Lena Young on stage this whole month.” The hotel’s general manager also immediately stepped forward, presenting a thick contract. “Security, do something! This woman clearly has mental problems. The person who booked the venue, coordinated the process, and paid the final bill has always been Mr. Lucas and Miss Young. We’ve never seen her!” I watched helplessly as the digital evidence I had thought foolproof was erased into thin air, as the people who had spent day and night with me betrayed me in public without hesitation. The surrounding guests had already started whispering, their eyes shifting from watching a spectacle to wariness and contempt. Security guards’ riot forks were already pressed against my shoulders. This suffocating feeling of being isolated by the entire world, of having my identity stripped away, hit even more fiercely than in my previous life. I shielded my daughter, who had started sobbing from fright, bit through the tip of my tongue, letting the metallic taste spread through my mouth to maintain my last shred of clarity. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice piercing through the entire hall. “Fine! You’ve all conspired together, is that it? Call the police! Call them right now! Let the police investigate! I don’t believe even the public security system and the hospital’s internal network can help you maintain this lie!” **4** The shrill sound of police sirens soon rang out downstairs at the hotel. Ten minutes later, four police officers sealed off the scene. I looked at the lead officer. “Officer, this is my husband Lucas. This child is the one I carried for ten months and risked my life to deliver! They’re conspiring to kidnap my child and even fabricating evidence!” Before the police could speak, Lucas had already stepped forward in his tailored suit, handing over his business card. “Hello, Officer. I’m Lucas, CEO of StarPath Technology. I don’t know this woman. She suddenly barged into my daughter’s first-month celebration, not only attempting to kidnap the child but also spouting complete nonsense. I suspect she has serious delusional disorder.” The officer frowned. “Miss, since you claim the child is yours, do you have concrete evidence? We can’t go on words alone. We need to verify hospital records immediately.” “Check it!” I didn’t hesitate, my eyes bloodshot as I stared at Lucas. “City Central Maternity Hospital, last month on the 8th at 2 AM, VIP Operating Room 3, C-section! Check the real records in the system!” The officer immediately signaled his colleague to contact headquarters for verification. The wait felt exceptionally long. When the officer who went to verify came back, his eyes held a trace of wariness as he looked at me. “Officer, what did you find?” I asked urgently. The lead officer looked at the file screenshot sent to his phone, his expression completely darkening. “The files from City Maternity Hospital show that the woman who gave birth in VIP Operating Room 3 on the 8th of last month was named Lena Young. The mother on the medical birth certificate is Lena Young, and the family member who signed as birth companion was Lucas.” He pointed at the band on my daughter’s ankle. “Even this anti-swap ankle band number 89757 that you keep emphasizing—when scanned in the system, the corresponding mother is still Lena Young. Miss, how do you explain this?” In my previous life, my mind would have gone completely blank at this point, driven to a complete breakdown. But now, I let out a cold laugh, yanked open my jacket zipper, and pulled out the birth certificate I’d kept close to my body inside my bra. This time, let’s see what they have to say! The officer paused, quickly taking the paper. It clearly stated: Mother: Jade Chen. Just when I thought everything was settled. The next second, the officer let out a surprised “Huh.” “Miss, this birth certificate of yours is fake.” I stood there frozen. How could this be! This birth certificate clearly was… Boom—. An ominous premonition swept through my entire body. I turned to look at Lucas. He smirked and gave me a challenging smile. “No, no, no! I still have evidence!” In my previous life, I called my mother, but she denied everything about me. In this life, I could only count on my best friend Nina. I dialed Nina’s number, but what she said next made my heart turn cold. “Lucas? I’ve never heard of him. Jade has always been single.” “That’s impossible! I sent you all the evidence. Why are you lying!” Seeing my agitation, the police stepped forward, afraid I might hurt someone. The panic made me feel somewhat lost. Why was this happening? Had my memory really become confused? No, that’s not right. I still had one more piece of evidence. “Officer, please, I have one more piece of evidence! Please come with me to see it.” With that, I led the police and guests back to the lounge. Even if the birth certificate had been fake from the start, that Polaroid might give me a sliver of hope. Everyone watched as I frantically searched the sofa crevice, their doubts growing louder. “Still lying. This person is terrifying.” “Oh my God, she’s really crazy…” “Delusional, right? Running to someone else’s celebration to have a breakdown, forging all this evidence—this was clearly premeditated!” “Hurry up and send her to a psychiatric hospital. Don’t let her hurt the baby!” The doubting voices around me made me frantic, but no matter how I searched, I couldn’t find that Polaroid. But I clearly put it right here! Just as I was growing more and more desperate. The police completely lost their patience too. Ambulance 120 personnel arrived. Two male orderlies carrying restraint straps and sedatives walked toward me. The shadow of my previous life—being pinned down as a lunatic, beaten to death by a mob—like a massive black tsunami, instantly shattered my rationality. Was I going to die here again? Be completely erased by them again? Just as my whole body trembled, on the verge of complete collapse, my peripheral vision suddenly caught Lucas raising his hand, lowering his head to adjust his French cuff. In that instant, as if a thunderbolt split open my chaotic mind. I jerked my head up, staring at Lucas. I finally understood why he had painstakingly laid this net over five years, finally knew why he absolutely had to make me give birth to this child.

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I was the pampered secret Norman Lancaster held in the palm of his hand. When his obsession with me was at its peak, even the most arrogant old-money socialites in Manhattan had to treat me with respect. That was until one day, at twenty-eight years old, I was personally decorating a private table at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Hudson River for our ninth anniversary. My phone buzzed with a text from him. “I am getting engaged today… I was worried you might find out and cause a scene.” “Be a good girl. I will come home later and explain.” The silver fork in my hand clattered against the plate. I froze, paralyzed. It felt like the floor had opened up, swallowing me into an endless abyss. Tears spilled over my lashes before I could even blink. “Then all these years… what was I to you?” I hit send. The chat screen remained dead, met with an agonizing, suffocating silence. 1 The dawn sky was a stifling, cinematic gray, making the faint flush of warmth in the bedroom feel even more intense. I had just rolled over. My gaze collided straight into the dark, bottomless eyes of the man beside me. They were heavy with sleep. He had just woken up. “You are up early,” I whispered. The arm wrapped around my waist suddenly tightened, locking me against his hard chest. “Dom, stop…” “Mhm.” He let out a low, gravelly hum that vibrated against my skin. His hands, however, did not stop. Warm fingers, heavy with familiar desire, smoothly slipped the strap of my silk nightgown down my shoulder, tracing lower. Before I could even push him away, his powerful, overwhelming body pressed over mine. … Two hours later. I dozed lightly against his chest until the bright morning sun pierced through the curtains, waking me up. His hands were still brazenly wandering over my curves. His voice was lazy, completely satisfied. “What is it? Cannot sleep?” I shifted my aching hips and playfully punched his shoulder. Pulling the heavy duvet over my flushed face, I mumbled my complaint. “It is all your fault…” He had been utterly insatiable last night, taking me again and again until I was entirely exhausted. And the second he opened his eyes this morning, he was all over me again. It always gave me this pathetic, delusional hope that he loved me down to the marrow of his bones. Because of that, the tiny, suppressed hope in my heart started sprouting like weeds after the rain. I just could not keep it buried. I crawled up, resting my chin on his chest. My index finger traced slow, teasing circles over his smooth skin, careful and deliberate. “Norman… do you know what day it is today?” The pale, elegant fingers holding his cigarette paused. It was as if he had hit an invisible wall. His hand froze in mid-air. His thin lips parted slightly. “No. Why? Is something going on?” Plumes of white smoke drifted upward in lonely, perfect rings. The haze blurred his sharp, devastatingly handsome features, but it could not hide the sudden, icy shift in his demeanor. I shivered, my heart dropping to my stomach. I understood instantly. He had forgotten what today was. Again. A heavy weight dragged my chest down. For the past nine years, today had been our anniversary. Yet, he never actively remembered it. It felt deliberate. Like he was erasing it on purpose. He would go all out for Valentine’s Day, Christmas, or my birthday, showering me in diamonds and attention. But never today. It made me feel so incredibly cherished, yet utterly worthless all at once. … The silence in the bedroom grew deafening. “Are you mad?” Seeing my silence, he leaned over and pinched my chin, tilting my face up. I snapped out of my daze. His expression had returned to normal. He stared down at me, letting out a low chuckle. “Let me guess what holiday you invented this time. A rose festival? A Cartier jewelry day?” That lethal, sexy mouth curved upward. “I will have Assistant Wyatt handle it for you.” “But,” he added, his tone dripping with lazy finality, “I really do have plans tonight.” He said it so casually, but there was an underlying, absolute authority in his voice that dared me to argue. A massive wave of grievance hit me. My eyes quickly filled with hot tears. If it were any other day, I would have swallowed my pride and compromised like a good girl. But not today. Today, I wanted to be selfish. I forced my voice to stay steady, completely ignoring his warning as I blurted out the truth. “What could possibly be so important that you cannot cancel it? I do not care. You have to have dinner with me tonight.” The relaxed lines between Norman’s brows snapped together. He eyed me, his aura turning freezing cold, but he maintained a sliver of patience. “I cannot cancel it.” My chest physically ached. I raised my voice, fueled by pure hurt. “Norman, are you doing this on purpose? I said, you are having dinner with me.” “…” When his sharp, perfectly sculpted brows furrowed deeply, a distinct look of offense crossed his face. Like a peasant had just insulted a king. It was a look I had never seen directed at me. His glacial eyes swept over me without an ounce of affection before looking away. He coldly put out his cigarette, stood up, and fastened his luxury watch around his wrist. “We will talk later.” He grabbed his crisp dress shirt and put it on. It was not until he was fully dressed and standing by the bedroom door that he finally looked back at me. His voice was laced with pure frost. “Madeline, you are crossing a line with this tantrum. It is not a good look on you.” Panic instantly seized my throat. I called out desperately, “Dom…” But the only answer I got was the sound of the heavy bedroom door slamming shut. The lock clicked, trapping my voice inside this massive, empty room. 2 Norman said this was not like me. But did he know that this was not like him either? When I first met him nine years ago, the image burned into my brain was of a man entirely composed, brutally disciplined, and untouchable. It seemed like nothing in the world could ever make him lose his temper. At least, that was how he had always been with me. I still remember our very first encounter. It was my college graduation. As the valedictorian, I was supposed to receive my diploma and an award from him, our university’s most prestigious billionaire donor. When our hands met, the hand offering me the certificate paused. His voice, crisp and cool like a rushing stream, echoed through the microphone. “Excellent work. What is your next goal?” In that exact moment, I looked up and got lost in his eyes. I completely froze. How could I even describe those eyes? They were obsidian, mysterious, like a massive black hole threatening to swallow me whole. I could hear my own heartbeat going absolutely chaotic in my ears. “I, I…” In my panic, my fingers crushed the edge of my graduation gown. The words tumbled out of my mouth. “I want to be yours…” “…” The entire auditorium went dead silent. A second later, a massive wave of laughter erupted from the crowd. I stood there, paralyzed, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me. My face drained of all color. I waved my hands frantically, desperate to fix it. “No, no, no! I meant… I want to be someone like you…” Despite my absolute humiliation, the man standing before me remained perfectly composed. There was not a single ripple of shock in his eyes. Those dark, narrow eyes gleamed slightly under the stage lights. His thin lips curved into a smile gentler than a spring breeze. “A very creative opening statement. Miss Madeline truly earns her title as valedictorian. The rest of you should take notes.” He chuckled softly. “I will remember you.” “Keep up the good work,” he said smoothly. Norman did not get offended. Instead, in front of thousands of people, he handed me a graceful way out, rescuing my fragile, shattered pride. His grace left me absolutely deeply shaken. That day felt like I had been cleansed by a sudden, beautiful rainstorm. I also knew, deep down, that he was a shore I could never reach, no matter how hard I swam. After graduation, I found a decent corporate job in Boston. I mapped out a practical life, aiming for a modest, successful future that had absolutely nothing to do with him. But just as my life was getting on track, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cervical cancer. In just three months, we drained every single penny we owned, but we still could not save her. My father broke under the grief. He turned to alcohol, cigarettes, and eventually, underground gambling. He mortgaged our house and took out massive loans from loan sharks. He destroyed whatever was left of our family. The next time I saw Norman, I was taking a shot of cheap tequila for a girl named Penny. She was there to party. I was there as a bottle girl, desperate for cash. Inside a loud, chaotic VIP booth, a sweaty, drunk man was dragging her by the wrist, trying to force liquor down her throat. “I bought this, so you are going to drink it.” “I will not!” Penny thrashed wildly. “Let go of me! My uncle is Norman Lancaster! If you touch me, he will destroy you!” That specific name made my hand freeze over the ice bucket. The next second, right as the man was about to pour the liquor into her mouth, I reached out and snatched the glass. “I will take this drink for her.” The man looked up, annoyed. His gaze landed on my face, tracing my pale skin, my features, and my long legs in the uniform skirt. I knew exactly what my assets were. His eyes lit up with disgusting hunger. “Alright, sweetheart. You drink it. Drink this, spend the night with me, and I will let the little brat go.” … I lost count of how many glasses they shoved down my throat. Suddenly, a glass bottle shattered against the fat man’s head with a sickening crunch. When I forced my heavy eyelids open, the disgusting man was already cowering on the floor. Standing over him was a tall, imposing figure. Through my blurred, spinning vision, I only saw a man in a flawless tailored suit. His aura was entirely lethal yet aristocratic. His hand, adorned with a million-dollar watch, grasped my arm with strict professional boundaries, pulling me up. “Are you alright?” My tongue felt numb. “I… I…” I just gave up and shook my head. I was practically dragged out of the club. The wind outside was brutal. The cold air mixing with the alcohol made the world spin violently. I collapsed onto the soft mattress of a luxury hotel room without ever seeing the man’s face clearly. But my intuition screamed at me. I knew it was Norman Lancaster. When I woke up the next morning, the suite was empty. But on the nightstand, there was a crisp piece of hotel stationery. “I remember you. Thank you for what you did last night. Here is my personal number. Keep it just in case.” The elegant handwriting perfectly matched his breathtaking profile. His face instantly flashed in my mind. My heart hammered against my ribs like an earthquake. 3 After that night, I kept my job at the club, constantly scanning the crowds, hoping Norman would walk through the doors again. But my luck was terrible. I did not find the man I was waiting for. Instead, I ran straight into the drunk man from that night. I learned his name was Director Marcus. He was a sleazy film director who had a few hit movies years ago and now used his fading influence to exploit desperate young actresses. Penny, wanting to break into Hollywood without her family’s help, had been tricked into coming to his booth. I was holding a tray of drinks when I locked eyes with him. The stench of stale alcohol hit my nose immediately. “You.” He ground his teeth, his eyes turning vicious. “You actually have the nerve to show your face around me?” His sweaty, greasy hands shot out, wrapping around my throat like a vice. He leaned in, panting heavily. “I am going to end you tonight, you little bitch.” My face drained of blood. I thrashed wildly, trying to break free. The other men in the VIP room immediately understood the assignment. They stood up and walked out, clearing the room for him. I screamed for help. “No! Let me go!” But the heavy, soundproof door clicked shut right in front of my eyes. My heart plummeted into absolute darkness. He violently threw me onto the leather sofa. His hands ripped at my uniform shirt, tearing the fabric. My hands scrambled blindly across the table, praying to find a glass bottle or a corkscrew. Anything. Instead, my fingers brushed against the phone in my vest pocket. I pressed the emergency dial without looking. BANG. The heavy doors were kicked open. Norman’s massive frame stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway lights like a literal god. That was the third time we met. Right in the middle of my ruined, miserable life. I was exhausted, broken, and helpless. He was the light cutting through the fog. I found out later why my accidental emergency call got him there so fast. He was already in the club that night for a meeting. He had seen me when he walked in, but he had kept his distance. Because of my own calculated move to set his private number as my emergency contact, I had miraculously saved my own life. “Mr. Lancaster, thank you.” My throat was bruised. My voice came out cracked and hoarse. Norman’s eyes swept over my torn clothes. With perfect gentlemanly grace, he shrugged off his expensive suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. He smiled faintly, polite and distant. “Do not mention it, Miss Madeline. I owed you a favor anyway.” “Consider us even.” Just then, his assistant walked in, carrying a brand new dress. I took it gratefully and went to the bathroom to change. When I stepped back out, I had regained whatever little dignity I had left. “The dress is beautiful. It looks like I owe you a favor again, Mr. Lancaster.” “…” As a way to repay him, or rather, using my gratitude as an excuse to cling to him. For the next two weeks, I practically stalked him. I begged him to hire me as his personal secretary. First, I genuinely wanted to pay him back. Second, I had realized a brutal truth. In this world, the only way to survive and protect myself was to stand behind the most powerful man in the room. Initially, Norman refused. But by pure luck, his executive secretary of five years, Rachel, had to go on sudden maternity leave. Her absence threw his entire meticulous life into absolute chaos. It was 11:00 PM. The icy winter wind slashed against my face, chilling me to the bone. I stood right outside the glass doors of Lancaster Corp headquarters. I watched this pristine, flawless billionaire walk out of the lobby, heavily rubbing his temples in exhaustion. His jaw was clenched tight, his expression masking deep frustration. His right hand was pressed hard against his stomach, rubbing it as if he were in pain from skipping meals. As his long strides carried him past me, I took a deep breath. I told myself, This is it. It is time to let go. But to my absolute shock, those expensive leather shoes stopped, turned around, and walked right back into my line of sight. “It seems I really cannot function without a woman organizing my life.” The freezing wind messed up his perfectly styled hair. His voice sounded like it was echoing from a deep, lonely cavern. Cold, detached, but yielding. He said, “Want to give it a try?” “…” And just like that. Our fourth encounter stopped time itself. I never told him that night was my deadline. I had made a bet with myself. If he rejected me by midnight, I would disappear from his life forever. Thank God. I had taken ninety-nine steps toward him, and just as I was about to turn around, he took the final step toward me. 4 After becoming Norman’s secretary, I became the busiest woman in New York. I did not want him to think I was a burden, so I compressed months of training into weeks, learning every single detail of his personal and professional life. My analytical brain, the one that made me valedictorian, allowed me to adapt instantly and navigate the corporate warzone with ease. Norman was extremely satisfied with my performance. Though he never praised me with words. Instead, he doubled my base salary, gave me massive performance bonuses, and bought me a luxury condo in the center of Manhattan. It was a life I used to think was a fantasy. Then came that night. I was wearing a stunning, elegant off-the-shoulder gown, accompanying him to an exclusive high-society gala. The old wolves of Wall Street kept coming over to toast him. As his secretary, I flawlessly stepped in, blocking the liquor and downing glass after glass with polite, charming smiles. I drank too much, too fast. My head was spinning. I excused myself and stepped out onto the terrace to get some fresh air. Suddenly, a warm, high-quality suit jacket was draped over my bare shoulders. My heart fluttered. Thinking it was Norman, I turned around eagerly. But the man standing there had a face I had never seen before. He had striking features and radiated an easy, arrogant wealth. I frowned immediately. “And you are?”

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I woke up five years in the future. Married to my ex-boyfriend, who was now a titan of industry. And pregnant with his child. But he seemed to despise me. When I tried to cook for him, he wouldn’t touch the food. “What did you lace it with this time?” When I offered myself to him, he just sneered. “Trying to get me in the mood just so you can shove another woman into my bed again?” I begged him to let us be a happy family of three. He looked at me like a wounded animal. “Are you trying to humiliate me with this baby again?” Goddammit. You’re telling me the baby isn’t even his? 1 Last night, Cole had gone at it until the early hours of the morning. The insatiable beast. He nearly took me apart. “Cole!” I called out habitually. “Get me a glass of water.” Silence. No one answered. The silk sheet slid off my body as I sat up, revealing the slinky nightdress I had on. For all his rough handling last night, there wasn’t a single mark on my skin. Wait a second. I stared down at my stomach in shock. What was this… gentle curve? I… was pregnant? The room was unfamiliar, a minimalist palette of white and gray, with luxury whispering from every detail. But I could have sworn… last night, I was with Cole in his tiny rental apartment. The rickety wooden bed had creaked and groaned under his relentless assault all night long… 2 In a panic, I instinctively dialed Cole’s number. “What is it?” His voice was cold. I bit my lip, feeling a rush of confusion and hurt. “Where did you go?” “The office.” “The auto shop?” A pause. Cole’s voice came back through the line, laced with an unnerving chill. “Are you planning to use my past against me again?” “What past?” I was completely baffled. “Don’t you work at the auto shop?” “And another thing, last night we were in your apartment. How did I end up…” Beep… beep… beep… Before I could finish, the line went dead. Cole had hung up on me. That bastard! I cursed under my breath. Just as I was about to call him back, my eyes froze on the screen. The year… was 2030. Five years in the future. My gaze drifted numbly to my rounded belly. The horrifying realization dawned on me: I had somehow time-traveled five years forward. And I was pregnant. An old photograph sat on the nightstand. It showed a vibrant, dolled-up me, standing next to a ruggedly handsome Cole in a tank top. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I redialed his number. “Cole, we’re married, right?” “How many years has it been?” “How did my dad ever agree to let me marry you?” I was desperate to understand what had happened in those five years. But Cole seemed to hear something else entirely. He let out a bitter laugh. “Stella, are you trying to tell me you regret it all over again? This is the third time this month you’ve brought up divorce.” He paused. “And I’ve told you before, I won’t agree to it.” 3 “Who said anything about a divorce?” I asked, stunned. That face, that body, that… stamina. And now he was loaded? Why in the world would I want to divorce him? The other end of the line was silent. So silent I could hear the sudden hitch in his breathing. After a long moment, he said flatly, “Do whatever you want.” And before I could say another word, he hung up again. Seriously? When did this man get so moody? I probably spoiled him. You can’t spoil men. Knowing I was in my own home, at least, brought a small measure of relief. I decided to change and go downstairs. But when I opened the closet, I froze. It was an explosion of gaudy colors. Each outfit was tackier than the last. Ugh. This was my future self’s taste? I managed to find a relatively simple dress and slipped it on, then padded downstairs in my slippers. To my surprise, I found a familiar face in the living room. “Martha?” I cried out in delight. Martha had been our family’s housekeeper for over twenty years. Seeing someone I knew and trusted in this strange future was a huge comfort. “Perfect timing,” I said, linking my arm through hers warmly. “I was just about to cook a meal for Cole. With you teaching me, I know I can do it.” Martha’s expression was complicated. She hesitated, then whispered, “Ma’am… are you planning on making things difficult for Mr. Donovan again?” Making things difficult? Considering my disastrous cooking skills, that wasn’t an exaggeration. She tried to say more, but I cut her off. “I know Cole. Even if it tastes awful, he’ll force himself to eat every last bite.” 4 In the kitchen, I casually tried to pump her for information about the last five years. Five years ago, I had defied my family to marry Cole. After the wedding, he quit his job and started his own business to give me a better life. My father, despite his disdain for his penniless son-in-law, had secretly provided a lot of support in the early days. And Cole had more than proven himself. In just five years, he had transformed from a poor kid into one of the brightest rising stars in Crestwood. According to Martha, his wealth and status now far surpassed my father’s. “It’s just…” Martha began, her voice trailing off as she helped me with a chicken soup. “Ma’am, are you still seeing that boy, Jax?” “Jax?” I asked, stirring a pot distractedly. “Who’s that?” Martha looked stunned. “Your… boyfriend.” I nearly choked on my own saliva. Our eyes met. “I’ve been cheating?” Martha nodded, her face a mask of sorrow. “He’s a mechanic, too. You were so insistent on the divorce, you wanted to…” Her words were cut short by the sound of footsteps at the door. Martha fell silent instantly. I turned around and saw him. The Cole of five years later. His long legs were encased in tailored slacks, the cuffs of his dress shirt unbuttoned to the second button, giving him an air of rugged maturity. He was leaner now, his features sharper. Even knowing he was my legal husband, the sight of him still made me blush. “You’re… home.” “Yeah.” So cold. But then again, I was cheating on him with a younger guy. Why would he be nice to me? Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and braced myself to clean up my future self’s mess. “You must be tired. Why don’t you wait outside? Dinner’s almost ready.” Cole’s eyes scanned the loose apron tied over my pregnant belly. His tone was flat. “I’m not hungry.” With that, he switched on the kitchen’s ventilation fan and turned to leave. “Cole!” I grabbed a spatula and hurried after him, my voice turning into an involuntary whine. “It’s almost done. I made all your favorites. Just try a little, please?” “I’m not hungry,” he repeated, and walked out. Beside me, Martha asked timidly, “Ma’am, should I… finish the food?” I sighed. “Yeah, let’s finish it.” 5 Dinner was ready. Four simple, home-cooked dishes and a soup. Cole, who had claimed he wasn’t hungry, was now sitting at the dining table. This is a good sign, I thought, and quickly placed a shrimp in his bowl. “Ma’am,” Martha whispered urgently from beside me, “Mr. Donovan is allergic to shrimp.” Damn it. I quickly snatched it back and replaced it with a piece of braised pork. But Cole didn’t move his chopsticks. He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a cool, detached amusement. “Go on. Tell me.” “What did you put in the food this time?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “I didn’t…” Cole cut me off with a cynical drawl. “You’ve cooked twice this year. The first time, you put laxatives in my food. The second time, it was sleeping pills. All because I wouldn’t agree to a divorce. So, Stella, what is it this time?” I looked at him in disbelief, utterly speechless. “I really didn’t put anything in it.” To prove it, I frantically picked up a piece of meat and shoved it into my mouth. “See? It’s not poisoned…” “Ugh…” Cole’s face darkened. He reached out and tried to pry the food out of my mouth. “Fine, I’ll eat it, okay?” he snapped. “I’d eat it even if it was poisoned. You don’t have to do this.” I pushed his hand away and swallowed the chunk of meat whole. “It’s not poisoned, it’s just… really bad.” It had a greasy, gamey taste. Cole stared at me for a long moment. Then he sat back down. I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. He finally picked up his chopsticks. I watched his face intently. Sure enough, the moment the food touched his lips, even the stoic Cole couldn’t help but frown. But he had grown up poor. As bad as it was, he ate almost everything. Seeing him in a better mood, I decided to strike while the iron was hot. “Cole, I need to talk to you tonight.” His hand, holding the chopsticks, froze. “I’m busy.” His expression turned cold again. He set his chopsticks down with a sharp clatter. “I have to work late. We can talk some other time.” 6 I sat at the table, chin in my hands, lamenting my terrible luck. Five years of my life were a complete blank. It was no different from having my life cut short by five years. And on top of that, I had to clean up my future self’s messes and win back my husband. This new CEO version of Cole was moody and unpredictable, his temper turning on a dime. I sighed. Martha hesitated before asking, “Ma’am, are you… still planning on asking for a divorce tonight?” I blinked. “You thought I wanted to talk to him about a divorce?” “Well… yes, didn’t you?” Martha murmured, confused. “For the past year, you’ve been dead set on divorcing him. Every time you see him, you’re either forcing him to sign the papers or begging him to let you go.” I thought back to the ugly look on Cole’s face just now. So that was it. He had shut down and claimed he was busy because he was afraid I was going to bring up divorce again? That fool. 7 Cole worked in his study late into the night. I was dozing off waiting for him when I heard footsteps outside my door. They moved through the moonlit hallway and stopped right outside. Sleep vanished instantly. I grabbed my pillow and got out of bed. When I pulled the door open, I was met with Cole’s startled, vulnerable gaze. He froze, then slowly lowered the unlit cigarette from his fingers. “Cole,” I whispered. He gave me a complicated look, then rubbed his temples with a grimace. “I’m exhausted. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.” He turned to leave again. Gritting my teeth, I followed him, pillow tucked under one arm, and looped my other arm through his. Cole went rigid. I looked up at him. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m scared.” He turned his head away. Another rejection. “I have to work. I’m too tired.” “I won’t bother you,” I promised sincerely. “I’ll just sleep next to you. I won’t do anything. You won’t even know I’m there.” Cole didn’t speak, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob. “Fine,” he muttered. I happily followed him into his room with my pillow. The room was spartan. For a CEO, his room was surprisingly bare—just a bed, a wardrobe, and nothing else. Oh. And an old photo of me on his nightstand. I was about to take a closer look when Cole snatched it and stuffed it under his pillow. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he said gruffly. “The picture on the nightstand… it wards off evil spirits.” Right. Keep telling yourself that. Cole lay down with his back to me, clearly ignoring me. I hesitated for a moment, then slid in beside him and wrapped my arms around his waist. The next second, he flung my hand off. He rolled over to face me, his features cast in a sliver of moonlight, his expression utterly heartbroken. “Stella,” he whispered. “Are you just trying to seduce me so you can push another woman into our bed again?” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress a wave of raw emotion. “You went through all that trouble, again and again, just to leave me… just to go to him?” I was completely stunned. My heart ached for him. What on earth had I done to him over these past five years? I didn’t know how to explain, so I just reached for his hand. “Cole, can you please just trust me? I don’t want a divorce. We have a baby on the way. From now on, let’s just be a family, the three of us. Okay?” But my words seemed to strike a nerve deep inside him. He pushed me away, his whole body trembling. The anguish in his eyes was so thick it was about to overflow. “Stella, are you going to use this baby to humiliate me again?” Humiliate him? I suddenly remembered Martha’s hesitant, unfinished sentences. A terrible premonition crept into my heart. Oh, God. Don’t tell me… the baby isn’t even Cole’s. 8 I was so shocked I could barely speak. Cole wouldn’t look at me. He gathered his blankets, stood up, and prepared to sleep in another room. “Cole!” I finally found my voice. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound crazy…” “I’m from five years in the past. The night before I woke up here, I was with you in your old apartment. You were… a real bastard that night. We did it seven times.” “But that’s not the point. The point is, I went to sleep and woke up five years in the future.” I licked my lips, feeling his disbelieving stare on me, and nervously finished my sentence. “The person who cheated… that was the future me. The real me… I love you.” Dead silence. Cole stood there, his face unreadable, until the silence could no longer contain his fury. “Stella.” “Yes,” I answered quickly. “I’m listening.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “So, the cheater was the future you, not the you standing in front of me right now, the one who just came from five years ago after sleeping with me in my apartment?” I nodded vigorously. “Yes!” If only he would believe me. But then Cole started to laugh. It was a cold, mocking sound. “Do I look like an idiot to you?” He pried my fingers from his sleeve, clutched his blankets, and walked out. “Get some sleep.” The door closed softly behind him, but the sound was deafening. I sat on the edge of the bed, dejected. I guess he had a point. If the roles were reversed, if Cole had cheated on me repeatedly and then told me it was his future self and that he had time-traveled from the past and wanted to start over… I’d probably slap him twice. Are you playing me for a fool? 9 I barely slept a wink. The next morning, I came downstairs with dark circles under my eyes. Cole had already left for work. Martha coaxed me into eating some breakfast. After much thought, I made a decision. I was going to the hospital. To get rid of this baby. I learned from Martha that Cole and I hadn’t slept together in almost a year. That meant this child could not possibly be his. I didn’t know why my future self had done what she did. But this baby could not stay. I made an appointment with an OB-GYN. However, just as my car turned off the main road onto a quieter street, a motorcycle screeched to a halt, cutting me off. The rider was a young man in cargo pants and a black t-shirt. For a split second, he looked just like the Cole I used to know. But when he took off his helmet, the face was completely unfamiliar. Handsome, rebellious, and unapologetically arrogant. He walked up to my car and tapped on the window with his knuckle. I could read his lips. He was saying my name. “Stella.” I rolled down the window. “Who are you?” The young man clutched his chest, feigning heartbreak. “It’s only been a few days and you’ve already forgotten me, sweetheart?” He reached out and pinched my cheek. “Is it because I haven’t seen you? I’ve been busy with a race. Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you today.” He raised an eyebrow, his smile wild and untamed. I had a pretty good idea who he was. “Jax?” “So you haven’t forgotten me completely.” I frowned, deciding to get straight to the point. “Since you’re here, let’s clear things up.” He grinned, putting on a show of listening intently. “Whatever we were before, it ends today. I have a family, and I am not getting a divorce. You’re young, you shouldn’t be wasting your time on a married woman. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?” The young man didn’t say anything. He took a couple of drags from a cigarette, then turned his head and blew out the smoke. He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Tired of your toy, so you’re just throwing it away? Are you playing me for a fool, sweetheart?” I was about to respond when I looked up. Past Jax, I saw Cole standing down the street. I couldn’t make out his expression. All I could see was the shopping bag in his hand. It was from my favorite bakery. 10 A sudden, sharp pain lanced through my chest. “Cole!” I scrambled out of the car, the door bumping into Jax. He grunted in pain. “No conscience at all, have you, sweetheart?” But I couldn’t spare him a thought. As I got closer, I finally saw the look in Cole’s eyes. It was a mixture of indifference, disappointment, and a deep, wounded sorrow. He just stood there, watching me silently. It was clear this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like this. “Here.” He held out the bag. His voice was low. “The cake you loved five years ago.” He watched me, his gaze intense, as if he was searching for something. “You still love it, right?” A bitter, acidic feeling rose from my chest. So, he had believed my “time travel” story after all. As I stood there, stunned, Cole’s arm remained outstretched, rigid. Finally, as if all the strength had drained out of him, he slowly started to lower it. I rushed forward and took the bag. “I love it.” To prove it, I pulled out the cake and took a bite. The frosting was sickly sweet. I smiled, but I felt like crying. “It’s delicious.” Cole smiled back. He said, “Stella, I was up all night thinking. You said you came from five years in the past. I can believe you.” Not I believe you. I can believe you. Even though the reason was flimsy, absurd, even though he was a man of logic and reason. He could still choose to believe me.

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A hidden camera was live-streaming inside my house, and I had absolutely no idea. On the screen, Liam walked up to me, his voice icy. “You’re playing games again?” My online haters were gloating in the comments. “Aria is always clinging to the CEO, faking their perfect romance. Now her true colors are showing!” My in-laws and sister-in-law were watching the stream too, offering cold remarks. “If Liam really doesn’t like her, they shouldn’t force this miserable marriage.” But then, the camera captured me—the woman who always maintained a gentle, graceful, and obsessively-in-love public image—impatiently shoving Liam’s handsome face away. “What is your problem? Back off.” Instead of getting angry, Liam’s stoic face revealed a hint of grievance. “Are you sick of me?” 1 The day I married into money, the internet tore me apart, sending me straight to the top of the trending topics. “What is going on?! Did my ultimate OTP just sink?” “Does Aria have no shame? She knew the CEO was in love with someone else, but she still seduced him. The worst part is her scheming actually worked!” My husband, Liam Sterling, was childhood friends with Mia Kensington, an A-list sweetheart of the entertainment industry. He had invested in her movies, ruined the careers of sleazy executives who tried to take advantage of her, and even showed up on variety shows just to support her. The “Billionaire & America’s Sweetheart” pairing was the nation’s favorite unspoken couple. Unfortunately, that fairy tale was ruined by a manipulative witch like me. During an interview, Mia forced a brave smile. “Liam and his wife are a great match.” But when she turned around, her eyes were red with tears. The internet instantly rallied behind the heartbroken childhood sweetheart. They dragged my name through the mud, accusing me of using dirty tricks to climb the social ladder. They even pointed out that my in-laws hated me. They weren’t wrong about that last part. Liam’s parents were incredibly displeased with me. Even at our wedding, their expressions were stony. His younger sister, Harper Sterling, had never once called me “sister-in-law.” She only ever called me by my first name. The public noticed all of this. The hashtag #WhenWillLiamDivorceAria trended year-round. I didn’t really care. It wasn’t like Liam and I were strangers forced together, but we weren’t exactly in a passionate, sweeping romance either. I had money to spend and a gorgeous man in my bed. Life was great. Who cared what the internet thought? But I never realized they hated me this much. Sterling Tech had just developed a fully automated tracking drone camera. It was tiny, hovered silently, and featured an AI recognition system programmed to strictly avoid filming any private or explicit moments. To promote this revolutionary product, the PR department decided to sacrifice their CEO. The invisible drone was going to follow Liam, live-streaming the daily life of a billionaire CEO to the entire world. And absolutely no one told me. While I was sprawled on the couch in my messy pajamas, my hair a tangled nest, the live stream quietly began. 2 “Shouldn’t someone have told Aria about the stream? What if she says something she shouldn’t?” Harper pouted, glaring unhappily at the screen showing her brother. On the stream, Liam wasn’t interacting with the chat. He was leaning back in the leather seat of his chauffeur-driven car, his eyes closed, looking slightly exhausted. He had woken up early to host the product launch, and now he was doing this live stream to appease the marketing team. He was drained. But his cold, aloof demeanor didn’t dampen the internet’s enthusiasm one bit. “The most hardcore brand ambassador in the world—CEO Sterling has arrived!” “Hahaha, this is way more entertaining than watching celebrities!” “Speaking of celebrities, is Aria going to show up in this stream?” “Ugh, please don’t bring up that toxic woman right now.” “Help! Just thinking about her fake, try-hard face makes me suffocate for my ruined OTP.” “Don’t worry, guys. A live stream is the ultimate lie detector. Just wait for Aria’s true colors to be exposed.” Mrs. Sterling glanced at the hateful comments scrolling across the screen and spoke mildly. “Aria is a pop singer, not a trained actress. She can’t fake a natural demeanor for hours on end. If we warned her, the viewers would think it was scripted, which would ruin the promotion.” “Besides, your brother knows what he’s doing.” Harper’s pout deepened, clearly annoyed. “I just don’t understand why he had to marry someone like her!” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling fell silent. They didn’t like Aria as a daughter-in-law, but they had always respected Liam’s decisions. They hadn’t actively stopped the wedding, but they certainly weren’t warm to her. This live stream was an opportunity for them to see the reality of Liam and Aria’s marriage. It would determine whether they needed to step in and offer Liam some “sincere advice.” If the two were truly miserable, it was better to cut ties sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, I was wearing a fuzzy yellow bear onesie, my hair clipped up haphazardly with a cheap plastic claw. I was curled up in a beanbag chair, furiously tapping on my phone, completely oblivious when Liam walked through the front door. He took off his suit jacket and tie, poured a glass of water at the kitchen island, and then paced back and forth in front of me a few times. I caught his shadow out of the corner of my eye, but I was in the middle of a ranked match. I couldn’t be bothered. Seeing that I was ignoring him, he walked right up to me, clearly displeased. His jaw tightened, and his tone was as cold as frost. “You’re playing games again?” Instantly, a tidal wave of comments flooded the screen. “You can’t blame Mr. Sterling for being mad. He works all day, comes home, and doesn’t even get a ‘welcome back.’ I wonder who the real boss is here.” “A freezing house, a cold husband. Welcome to Aria’s tragic reality.” “She deserves it. That’s what she gets for using dirty tricks to tear apart the Golden Duo. Ugh, poor Mia.” The haters were practically throwing a parade, fully expecting me to jump up in terror and grovel for his forgiveness. After all, my public persona was that of a submissive, gentle wife who was desperately, madly in love with Liam. Instead, I frowned impatiently and swatted my hand out, shoving Liam’s handsome face as far away as possible. “What is your problem? Back off.” You’re blocking my screen. Liam’s eyes widened slightly. His stoic, chiseled face revealed a distinct hint of grievance. “Are you sick of me?” For a solid ten seconds, the live chat was completely, utterly blank. Harper nearly dropped her phone in shock. “Am I hallucinating?! Is my brother… whining?!” 3 Hearing the pouty grievance in his voice, I finally pulled my attention away from the game and looked up in surprise. He was leaning over me, one arm planted above my head, his warm breath lightly brushing against my face. I reached out and poked his arm. He didn’t budge. He just stayed there, stiff and stubborn, staring at me with dark, intense eyes. I immediately realized what was happening. The guy was secretly throwing a tantrum again. He was always like this. Whenever I ignored him for too long, he would trap me in his arms, refuse to speak, and refuse to let me go. He would just press his lips together and stare at me, as stubborn as a massive, sulky golden retriever. But he was incredibly easy to coax. All it took was a hug or a kiss. Then he would act like nothing happened, quietly curl the corners of his lips, and revert back to his calm, collected CEO persona. I figured it had to do with how he was raised. As the eldest son and heir to the Sterling empire, his parents demanded absolute perfection from him. From his academics to his business acumen, down to his every word and action, he had to be flawless. He used to perfectly fit my stereotype of an alpha billionaire. Stern, humorless, and incredibly elegant. Honestly, he cared more about his image than I did as an actual pop star. It wasn’t until we got together that I realized his entire personality was basically an act. On the outside, he was all business. On the inside, he was a giant softie constantly craving affection. I sighed, put my phone down, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I pressed a few soft kisses behind his ear and whispered, “How could I be? You’re the absolute best, honey~” Liam’s earlobes turned bright, cherry red. He hugged me back fiercely, burying his face in the crook of my neck, as if trying to absorb my body heat. A moment later, he straightened up. Then, his body suddenly went completely rigid. By now, the live chat was exploding in absolute shock. “What is CEO Sterling doing?! Was he throwing a tantrum?!” “Is this how they actually act at home? I refuse to believe it. It has to be scripted!” “Definitely an act! Remember when Mia was filming that reality show and Mr. Sterling visited the set? He yelled at Aria to shut up in front of everyone!” “Mr. Sterling is sacrificing so much for this PR stunt.” “Wait… but his ears are literally red?” 4 The internet was in mourning. They couldn’t believe a dignified billionaire was lowering himself to act like a cheesy influencer for a marketing campaign. But Harper knew better. Her brother was rigid and principled. He would never force himself to act out a fake romantic script just for PR. Especially not a script that ruined his intimidating reputation. Honestly, the fact that he agreed to let a camera follow him at all had already shocked the entire company. Harper stared blankly at the screen. After a long pause, she pointed at Liam and asked her parents, “Did they hire a body double? The makeup is really convincing.” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling were speechless. As their eldest son, Liam had always been mature and dependable. They never had to worry about him. But seeing their cold, ruthless son blushing and burying his face in Aria’s neck… their brains short-circuited. When a person is shocked beyond a certain threshold, they just go numb. They sat there in a daze, completely unable to form words. The haters in the chat were coping hard. “This makes me sick. Why does Aria get to live this perfect life after the disgusting things she did?” “I feel so bad for Mia. Aria literally stole her life.” “Uh, wait. The side-chick’s fans are dragging the actual legal wife? You guys are delusional.” “Whatever, Aria isn’t worth a single hair on Mia’s head.” 5 Liam’s sudden stiffness felt a bit odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Having successfully appeased him, I grabbed my strawberry bear pillow and curled back into the sofa to resume my game. Liam opened his laptop on the coffee table and started working. As his fingers typed across the keyboard, he kept looking up to stare at me. Being a celebrity, I’m highly sensitive to being watched. After having my focus broken for the fifth time, I finally got annoyed. I shifted my body so my back was facing him. But a few minutes later, I felt that heavy, unmistakable gaze burning into my back again. I peeked over my shoulder. He had literally moved his laptop to sit on the opposite side of the table just so he could face me again. …So annoying. I groaned, crawled off the sofa, ruffled my messy hair, and prepared to relocate to the bedroom. “Where are you going?” Liam’s hands stopped typing. “Somewhere else, so you can stop harassing me.” “I’m harassing you?” He looked genuinely shocked. I scoffed, pointing two fingers at my own eyes, then at him. “You are visually harassing me.” “…” The chat was losing it. “Hahahaha, is Mr. Sterling always this clingy?!” “Am I crazy, or does Aria seem totally indifferent, while Mr. Sterling is the one obsessing over her?” “Aria’s fans are so delusional. He gives her one nice look and suddenly they’re ‘deep in love’?” “To be honest, their house is really cozy. TV tropes lied to me. Not every billionaire lives in a sterile, modern-art mausoleum.” Harper had never actually visited her brother’s house, so this was her first time seeing it too. Back at the family estate, Liam’s bedroom was entirely decorated in sophisticated greys and blacks—clean, sharp, and minimalist. But now? A cartoon desk calendar, a cat-paw mug, and a Hello Kitty desk mat. Things her brother would have never touched in a million years were proudly displayed right next to his work laptop. It somehow made his stoic resting-bitch-face look incredibly cute. Harper’s feelings were a complicated mess. She felt a weird mix of relief—like watching a dead tree suddenly blossom—and awkward guilt. After all, she had given Aria a lot of attitude over the years. “Oh God, I’m doomed… If I start calling her ‘sister-in-law’ now, is it going to look like I’m sucking up to her?”

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On the fifth round of IVF, I was finally pregnant with Marcus’s child. When I ecstatically showed him the positive test results, Marcus suddenly said, “Actually, your student, Melissa, and I… we already have twins.” The world tilted, the color draining from my face. But Marcus looked at me, his expression earnest. “Do you know why your first few IVF attempts failed? Because Melissa didn’t want you to suffer, so she secretly intervened.” “She was willing to carry my children for you. How could I deny her and our sons a family?” “And now you’re pregnant too. So, you can either accept this calmly and give our child a complete family, not to mention a respectable father.” “Or, you can make a scene, become a broke, single mother with no one to rely on.” “The choice is yours.” After he left, I sat in the dark for the entire night. And then, I made a third choice. 1 Marcus left in a hurry. “Melissa heard you’re pregnant. She’s terrified I’m going to abandon her. I need to go check on her,” he said, his voice laced with a false sense of duty. “I know you must be a wreck right now, so I’ll give you some space to think things over.” I sat on the balcony, the cold night wind whipping around me, until dawn. When he returned in the morning, carrying breakfast, I asked him a single question. “Can you treat us both fairly?” Marcus was taken aback for a second, then gave a weary smile. “My thing with Melissa… it started as a drunken mistake. But it turned out we were just… incredibly compatible.” “You and I tried for so long, and nothing. With her, it happened the first time.” “Melissa is a kind soul. She was so worried you’d be heartbroken that she secretly went to get an abortion.” “If I hadn’t stumbled upon the hospital bill, I would never have known that child even existed.” “After the procedure, she was consumed by guilt and fell into a deep depression. Her doctor said the baby was the root of her trauma.” He paused, looking at me cautiously. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “So, to make it up to her, you had twins with her.” “Well, that’s part of it. Mostly, she knew how much the IVF was taking out of you. She didn’t want you to suffer anymore.” “Besides,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather, “a child is a child. Whether she gives birth or you do, they carry my blood. It makes no difference.” “With Melissa, I feel a mix of pity and gratitude. But no matter what, she can’t compare to the eight years you’ve spent by my side.” He took my hand, his touch as gentle as the day he proposed, his eyes swimming with feigned devotion. “Anya, I’m not asking you to accept her. Just turn a blind eye to my other family, and I promise, she will never overstep her bounds.” “You will always be Mrs. Blackwell. Of course I can treat you both fairly.” I gently pulled my hand away and produced the agreement I’d prepared. “Just in case. Sign it.” Marcus glanced at it, raising an eyebrow. “One instance of favoritism costs me a hundred thousand dollars?” I pointed to the addendum. “That’s the base price. The final amount for emotional damages will be determined by the severity of your bias. No upper limit.” “Marcus,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Do you dare sign it?” 2 Marcus chuckled softly. “If it gives you peace of mind.” He signed his name with a confident flourish. “Anya, I do love you.” “As long as you don’t cause trouble for Melissa, I’ll try to spend more time with you.” I felt a wave of dizziness. Marcus and I were college sweethearts. I was with him when he went from bankrupt and drowning in debt to staging a stunning comeback. We lived in a cramped basement apartment, scavenged for leftover vegetables at the market. We’d split a single bagel, and I’d always give him the bigger half. I wore the same old clothes for years, saving every penny to buy him decent suits for his business meetings. He used to be so good to me. No matter how exhausted he was, he’d always cook me noodles when I came home from a late shift. No matter how busy, he set aside one day a week just for me. He said I was his motivation, that everything he did was for me. One year, on our anniversary, he was stuck out of town on business. He felt guilty about it for months. But now, spending time with me was a reward to be doled out. The thought was devastating. And after the devastation came a profound, crushing weariness. Marcus didn’t notice a thing. His voice held the arrogant tone of a benefactor. “I’ll stay and have breakfast with you today.” He took a breakfast burrito out of a paper bag and handed me a freshly made cup of oatmeal. “Here. From that cart near campus. Your old favorite.” I sighed and reached for it. Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at me and answered it on speaker. “Daddy! Daddy!” a child’s voice chirped from the other end. A smile bloomed on Marcus’s face. “What’s wrong, buddy? Is Mommy awake yet?” “Mommy’s sick! She’s crying!” The smile vanished from Marcus’s face. “Stay right there. I’m on my way.” He grabbed his car keys and bolted. The cup of oatmeal tipped over, spilling onto my skirt. It scalded my leg, leaving a painful red welt. He never even looked back. As I was treating the burn, he called. “Melissa is such a silly girl. She didn’t want to bother you, so she tried to hide being sick. I can’t leave her alone. I’ll stay here today to take care of her. You can go to your prenatal check-up by yourself, right?” I looked at the blistered skin on my thigh. I wasn’t surprised. And before I even had a chance to feel sad, he hung up. I sat there for a moment. Then I took a picture of my leg and sent it to him. [Your scales weren’t balanced. Compensation for distress plus medical fees, total $180,000.] A long time passed, so long I thought he hadn’t seen the message. Then, the notification sound for a bank transfer chimed. It was followed by a voice message from him. [I sent you an extra twenty thousand. Next time, don’t resort to these immature, attention-seeking games where you hurt yourself.] [I won’t be back for a couple of days. You need to calm down and think things through.] I had to laugh. He actually thought I’d burned myself on purpose to win his affection. In his eyes, I had become a helpless, clinging vine, capable of nothing but manipulation. But I was a graduate of a top university, an honors student. Before I even finished my degree, a major corporation had offered me a position heading their overseas R&D department. It was because I couldn’t bear to leave Marcus that I gave up that opportunity. I chose to stay and work at a small, unknown local research institute instead. My sacrifices hadn’t earned me mutual respect. They had earned me this humiliating, unbearable reality. I wasn’t without pain, or regret. But after the pain and regret, I had to think about the future. I sniffled, my nose stinging slightly. I transferred the full $200,000 into my personal savings account. Then I did two things. First, I contacted an agent to find me a suitable rental in the UK. Second, I scheduled an abortion for the next day. Marcus always believed the fertility problems were my fault. He thought I couldn’t live without him, and that I would never give up the baby in my belly. That’s why he felt so brazenly confident telling me about him and Melissa. But the truth was, he was the one with the low sperm count. There was nothing wrong with me. I could have more children in the future. They just wouldn’t be his. 3 The procedure wasn’t long. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, the little life inside me was gone. Staring at the medical report, I couldn’t stop my eyes from turning red. I forced myself to pull it together and spent two days recovering in the hospital. The day I was discharged, I received an official job offer from a prestigious research center in the UK. I breathed a sigh of relief and headed straight to my old institute to pack up my things. Before I even opened the door, I heard peals of laughter from inside. “Liam is so brilliant! He’s doing advanced math problems already! A true son of Mr. Blackwell and Director Melissa.” “And Toby is a little genius too! Look how fast he builds with those Legos!” “I know, right? And they can already identify different chemical compounds and do experiments!” “It’s what happens when you combine superior genes. Not like Anya. She can’t even get pregnant through IVF. You can just imagine how weak her genes are.” “Haha, it’s a good thing she’s barren. Can you imagine if she had an average kid? What a waste of Mr. Blackwell’s DNA.” I recognized the voices. One was my former assistant, the other a nepotism hire. Director Melissa? When did Melissa become a director? I pushed the door open. The chatter stopped instantly. The smile on Marcus’s face froze. Melissa looked at me timidly. “Professor… Anya, what are you doing here?” Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulder, rubbing it gently in a silent show of support. Seeing this, the others’ expressions turned smug. “Anya, you were fired. Why are you even here?” one of them sneered. I paused. “Fired? When did that happen?” The nepotism hire laughed. “Stop playing dumb. The notice was posted in the company group chat. Didn’t you see it?” I hadn’t looked at the work chat at all while I was in the hospital. I opened it now and saw that on the very day I’d had the abortion, the institute had terminated my employment for “procedural violations” and promoted Melissa to my position as director. I laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “Procedural violations? Where’s your proof?” My former assistant lifted her chin. “I saw it with my own eyes. And there’s security footage.” I stared at her coldly. “I have the original, unedited surveillance footage of every single one of my experiments. If you think you can frame me with a doctored video, we can settle this in court.” They froze, clearly not expecting me to have a backup. Melissa shot a panicked look at Marcus. He patted her reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Go play with the boys for a bit.” After Melissa walked away, his gaze lingered on her and the twins for a long moment before he finally turned to me, his eyes dismissive. “Anya, the evidence doesn’t matter. What matters is the attitude of the investor. Me.” “A top-tier research conglomerate has taken an interest in one of our recent projects. They’ve sent an invitation to a major science forum. Melissa is young; she needs a stage like this.” I clenched my fists. “So, for her to have her moment in the spotlight, you’re just going to throw away all my years of hard work?” A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a smirk. “It’s not fair to you, I admit. But it’s her dream to be up on that stage.” “To convince me to help her… that shy, timid girl… she put on cat ears and a tail for me. Her face was bright red, but she spent the whole night meowing like a little kitten. Tell me, how could I possibly say no?” For some reason, at his final question, all the rage inside me just… dissipated. I unclenched my fists, my voice calm. “In that case, a million dollars shouldn’t be too much to ask, right?” Marcus’s expression went blank for a second. After a few beats, he nodded. “Yes. You deserve it.” I held his gaze. “Transfer it now. And make sure the memo says ‘Voluntary Gift.’” Marcus frowned. “Anya, I thought you were the one who never cared about money.” I just smiled. Since I’d already decided to give up on the man, I might as well take as much of his money as I could. 4 I needed to get my personal belongings from my office. Melissa stood in the doorway, wringing the hem of her sleeve, her face a mask of pitiful distress. “Professor, the research results… they weren’t your work alone. I contributed too. If you take all the core data, what are we supposed to do?” I had to laugh. “What did you contribute? The time you mistook sodium nitrite for sugar in my coffee and sent me to the ICU? Or the time you brought flammable materials into my office and burned all my research notes to a crisp?” Melissa’s eyes darted around, her trembling lips betraying her guilt and anxiety. My face hardened. “Move.” She didn’t budge, tears already welling in her eyes. WHAM! A sharp blow struck my lower back. I staggered, pain radiating through me. Before I could recover, something hard slammed into my knee. The blunt force sent me crumpling to the floor. My forehead hit the sharp corner of the wall, and my vision went black for a second. Through a blurry haze, I saw Melissa’s two sons. One was holding a baseball bat, the other was still in a throwing motion. “You mean bitch! Don’t you bully our mommy!” “Mommy was right! You’re just a homewrecker trying to steal our daddy!” Marcus rushed over. His eyes lingered on me for only a second before he opened his arms and pulled the weeping Melissa into a comforting embrace. “It’s okay, baby, don’t cry. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you.” Then he turned to me, his voice sharp with anger. “Anya, what are you trying to pull now?” I pushed myself off the floor and hit play on my phone’s voice recorder. “Listen for yourself.” Melissa’s sobs hitched. The two boys exchanged a guilty glance and lowered their heads. Marcus listened, his expression unchanging, until he strode over and stopped the recording. “Anya, they’re just kids. Don’t take it to heart.” He glanced at the blood trickling from my forehead, and his voice softened. “I’ll have my driver take you to the hospital.” Before I could respond, the nepotism hire piped up. “Give it a rest, Anya. Mr. Blackwell has already divorced you. It’s useless to keep clinging to him. You might as well take whatever medical money he’s offering before he gets completely sick of you.” A loud ringing filled my ears. “Divorced?” I looked at Marcus. He pressed his lips together, saying nothing, but his eyes held a clear warning. I lowered my gaze and smiled. “That’s right. He and I… we’re already divorced.” When I looked up again, my expression was ice. “In that case, Mr. Blackwell, how much do you intend to offer for my medical expenses?” Marcus was silent for a moment, then gave a lazy smile. “How much do you want?” I pointed to my still-bleeding forehead. “Five million dollars.” Melissa gasped. “That’s outrageous! It’s just a—” “Done.” Marcus cut her off and immediately initiated the bank transfer. “Anya, I’ll take you to the hospital.” I sneered. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Blackwell. I can get there on my own.” “As for the transportation fee, let’s say… ten thousand.” Marcus paused, then furiously tapped ‘confirm’ on his phone, his tone clipped. “Whatever you want.”

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My phone buzzed relentlessly. It was the elite kindergarten’s parent group chat. Miss Collins, the head teacher, had tagged me with a photo attached. “Blair’s Mom, Blair was involved in a physical altercation in the classroom. You need to come to the school immediately.” My heart dropped into my stomach. I tapped the image. My sweet, tiny daughter was battered. Her face was bruised and swollen, and dried blood stained her pristine uniform collar. My fingers flew across the screen, trembling with rage. “Who did this?” A woman saved in my contacts as “Jax’s Mom” replied almost instantly. Her tone practically dripped with arrogance through the screen. “I told my son to do it.” Before I could even process the audacity of her confession, two more photos popped up in the chat. The first was a professional wedding portrait of her and my husband. The second was a candid family photo of me, my daughter, and my husband. “You filthy homewrecker,” her next message read. “Did you really think you could steal my husband and pop out a bastard child without consequences? You’re lucky I didn’t tell my boy to beat that little rat to death.” The group chat exploded. Notifications poured in like a landslide, every single parent dogpiling on me and my daughter with vicious insults. I grabbed my keys and sprinted to my car. While the engine roared to life, I sent a voice memo straight to my corporate legal team. “Execute the infidelity clause in the prenup. Draft the divorce papers. Chace leaves with absolutely nothing.” I took a sharp breath, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “And someone assaulted my daughter. No settlements. No mediation. I want them destroyed.” A penniless gold-digger who married into my family really thought he could keep a side piece and a secret kid on my dime? When I pulled up to the extravagant wrought-iron gates of the kindergarten, I spotted her immediately. Jax’s mom. Vanessa. She was holding court near the entrance, surrounded by a flock of desperate, social-climbing mothers from Blair’s class. “Vanessa, you kept that so quiet! If this hadn’t happened, we never would have guessed your husband is the CEO of Apex Holdings,” one mother cooed, practically drooling over Vanessa’s designer handbag. “Right? I knew you had an aura of old money the second I met you,” another chimed in. “We came out specifically to support you today. We’re respectable women. We can’t let some trashy mistress walk all over you.” “Exactly! The mistress’s brat deserved it. Jax is truly the young heir to Apex Holdings. Taking out the trash at such a young age, what a brave boy!” Even Miss Collins, the teacher who was supposed to protect my child, was busy kissing up to her. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Kensington,” the teacher simpered. “If I had known you were the CEO’s wife, I never would have scolded Jax. Please rest assured, I will handle this matter to your absolute satisfaction.” Vanessa soaked up the flattery like a sponge, tilting her chin up as if she were royalty. Chace had been a nobody for years. After we married, I handed him the reins to Apex Holdings, our family’s smallest subsidiary, just to give him something to do and pad his resume. I never imagined it would become the very currency this woman used to buy her little army of sycophants. The moment they noticed me walking up, the sickeningly sweet smiles vanished from the parents’ faces. They looked at me like I was a piece of garbage stuck to their designer shoes. Miss Collins marched right up to me, her face hardening into a cold sneer. “Blair’s Mom, the director has instructed me to inform you that as of today, Blair is officially expelled.” I locked eyes with the teacher, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “My daughter gets beaten on your watch, and instead of protecting her, you expel her?” The teacher rolled her eyes dismissively. “This is an exclusive preparatory academy. Every child here comes from power and wealth. Keeping a bastard child born to a mistress will only poison our school’s reputation.” My expression turned glacial. “I highly suggest you do a background check and find out exactly who the mistress is in this situation.” The words barely left my mouth before Vanessa lunged forward. Her palm cracked across my cheek with a blinding force. “You cheap whore,” she spat, her face twisted in ugly triumph. “You think you can strut around in front of the actual wife? You think popping out a little bastard gives you the right to steal my spot?” The sudden violence left my ears ringing. Before I could regain my balance, the other mothers started throwing verbal daggers. “Look at her. Dressed so nice, but she spreads her legs for married men.” “It’s always the quiet ones. They see a billionaire and suddenly they forget how to keep their knees together.” “Mistresses are a disgrace to women. And their spawn are even worse.” The commotion drew a massive crowd of onlookers from the street. People pointed, whispered, and pulled out their phones to record me. Someone actually spit at my feet. I calmly unbuttoned my custom tailored blazer, ruined by the scuffle, and dropped the twenty thousand dollar garment directly into a nearby trash can. Then I turned to face Vanessa. “You are causing a public riot and committing assault,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Are you really not afraid of the police?” Vanessa threw her head back and laughed. “The only one who belongs behind bars is you! I’m serving justice. Why should I be afraid?” She crossed her arms, smirking. “My husband runs Apex Holdings. I could take your miserable lives right now, and he would still make it go away.” The chorus of sycophants nodded in frantic agreement. “If you weren’t sleeping with her husband, she wouldn’t have hit you. You brought this on yourself.” “You should be groveling on your knees, begging for forgiveness. One slap was a mercy.” Vanessa’s eyes suddenly darted past me, landing on my parked car. Her eyes narrowed with pure, unadulterated jealousy. “You leech,” she hissed. “Spending my husband’s hard earned money without a second thought. A Rolls-Royce? A piece of trash like you doesn’t deserve a car like this.” She marched over to my vehicle, pulled a jagged house key from her designer purse, and violently dragged it across the glossy paint. The metal shrieked. She carved a massive, ugly phrase into the driver’s side door. “WHORE.” I glanced at the ruined paintwork and let out a dry, hollow laugh. “You are going to realize very soon just how ironic that word is.” My calmness pushed her over the edge. “Still running your mouth? Still mocking me?” she screamed. “I’ll make you spit out every single dime you drained from my husband!” She grabbed a heavy brick from a nearby landscaping planter and hurled it straight into the windshield. Glass shattered, raining down on the pavement. She didn’t stop. The headlights, the hood, the mirrors. She smashed everything in sight. Seeing her go feral, the other mothers decided they wanted a piece of the action. They grabbed loose stones, umbrellas, whatever they could find, and started bashing my car. One of them actually climbed inside through the broken window to slash the hand stitched leather seats. In a matter of minutes, a half million dollar luxury vehicle was reduced to a pile of scrap metal. I watched the frenzy with eyes as cold as dead winter. “I hope you all feel this enthusiastic when the bill comes due.” Nobody cared. They were too drunk on the thrill of destroying things. Suddenly, one of the women popped the trunk open and let out a loud gasp. “Look at this! She’s got a bunch of fancy stuff stashed back here!” Vanessa strutted over, dragging a large, framed painting out of the trunk. She sneered at the canvas. “A woman who sells her body for cash wants to pretend she appreciates fine art? How pathetic.” I took a step forward, my voice hardening. “The contents of that trunk are worth substantially more than the car. I highly advise you to put that down.” Those items were fresh from an exclusive Sotheby’s auction. I had just secured them when I got the text from the school, rushing over before I even had the chance to transport them to the vault. Vanessa’s face twisted with spite. “Trash like you doesn’t deserve beautiful things.” She slammed the painting over her knee, snapping the antique wooden frame, then ripped the canvas right down the middle. She threw the shredded pieces onto the dirty pavement and stomped on them with her high heels. An older man in the crowd, who looked like an art appraiser, suddenly went pale. “My god,” he stammered. “That… that looked like an authentic Renaissance master sketch. The opening bid on something like that is at least forty million dollars!” Vanessa didn’t even blink. “Forty million? So what? It’s my husband’s money anyway! I can destroy my own property if I want to!” Her sheer stupidity left me speechless. First of all, Chace was a nobody who married into my wealth. Secondly, even with the title of CEO, his gross incompetence had caused Apex Holdings to lose nearly half its market value. If he wasn’t legally tied to me, I would have fired him months ago. Yet these women were treating him like a god of Wall Street. Spurred on by Vanessa’s boldness, the other mothers began ripping boxes out of the trunk, smashing priceless ceramics and tearing up historical documents just for the fun of it. I couldn’t waste another second on these lunatics. My only priority was my daughter. I ignored the chaos and marched toward the kindergarten entrance. Suddenly, Director Pritchard, the head of the school, stepped out to block my path. He looked at me like I was a diseased rat. “Do you honestly think someone of your status is allowed on our prestigious grounds?” “I want my daughter,” I demanded, my tone lethal. The director scoffed. “She’s been expelled. The staff is gathering her belongings. She’ll be out shortly.” Right as he finished speaking, the heavy doors opened. A staff member literally shoved Blair out the door, tossing her backpack right after her. My little girl hit the concrete hard, bursting into terrified sobs. I rushed forward, dropping to my knees to gather her into my arms. I glared up at the director, venom in my veins. “Is this how your academy treats young children?” He looked down his nose at me. “She is the offspring of a homewrecker. We are simply taking out the societal trash. Is there a problem?” The parents clapped and cheered. “Director Pritchard is a man of morals!” “Exactly! We can’t let stray dogs mix with purebreds.” “She doesn’t need school. Just teach her how to seduce rich men, that’s clearly the family business!” Vanessa sauntered over, completely high on power. “See this? This is what happens when you cross the line. You and your little rat will spend the rest of your lives at the bottom of the food chain, exactly where you belong.” Director Pritchard turned to Vanessa, bowing slightly with a greasy smile. “Mrs. Kensington, if you are satisfied with how we handled this, perhaps you could put in a good word for our school with your husband? We are looking to expand, and the land adjacent to us is owned by Apex Holdings.” Vanessa crossed her arms, playing the benevolent queen. “Don’t worry. You did well today. I’ll have him sign the deed over to you.” The director practically glowed. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Kensington!” The other parents swarmed her again, shoving business cards and gifts into her hands. “My husband’s firm would love an exclusive contract with Apex…” “Please take this black card for our family’s luxury department store, completely unlimited…” Vanessa basked in the worship. She looked down at me, her eyes filled with toxic pity. “This is power. You thought spreading your legs would buy you a ticket to the top? I am the true wife. You will never touch this kind of glory.” She leaned in close. “I’ll give you twenty four hours. Pack your bags, take your bastard, and get out of this city. If I ever see you near my husband again, I will bury your kid alive.” Blair whimpered, burying her tear streaked face into my neck. “Mommy, it hurts. I’m scared.” Her voice was raw, trembling with a trauma no child should ever know. I pulled her back slightly to check her injuries. Beneath her torn sweater, her tiny arms were covered in vicious, bloody scratches. They weren’t just scrapes. Someone had dug into her skin with a pair of sharp craft scissors. The sight of her mangled skin broke something inside me. My vision blurred with red hot, agonizing tears. I looked up at Vanessa, a murderous aura radiating from my bones. “Your son did this?” She examined her manicured nails, utterly bored. “Don’t be so dramatic. You should be thanking me he didn’t aim for the throat.” The mob backed her up immediately. “She’s still breathing, isn’t she? Stop crying like a victim.” “You knew the risks when you decided to be a whore.” The director smiled down at a chubby, arrogant looking boy standing next to Vanessa. “Jax is a natural born leader. Rooting out evil! I’ll make sure he gets an award at assembly tomorrow.” The brat puffed out his chest. “I’ll beat her up every time I see her!” I was shaking violently, not from fear, but from a rage so pure it felt like ice in my veins. “Every single one of you,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise like a scythe. “You are going to regret this.” The crowd erupted into hysterical laughter. “Is she delusional?” “She’s powerless. Just a barking dog.” “If I were her, I’d throw myself into traffic out of pure embarrassment.” The insults rained down. The crowd mocked me, spat at me, pointed their cameras at my crying child. Vanessa stood tall, the conquering hero, a sickening grin plastered across her face. Then, the low, powerful rumble of engines cut through the chaos.

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The stage scaffolding collapsed. Nate completely lost his mind, rushing straight to Vivian’s side without a fraction of a second of hesitation. Trapped beneath the heavy, iron ruins of the stage, I watched him from the dark. He was panicked, entirely stripped of his usual composure, desperately performing CPR on her. Vivian looked up at him, her voice fragile and trembling: “Nate… do you still love me?” Nate didn’t say a word, but his eyes violently flushed red with tears. He was a man who was always so stoic, yet in that moment, his hands shook with pure, unadulterated terror. I closed my eyes as a single tear slipped down my cheek. Earlier today, I had sent him a text, asking if he could come to my piano performance tonight. He told me he was stuck in an emergency surgery and couldn’t make it. Nate Sterling. We’re done. 01 When I was finally wheeled out of the operating room, the attending physician glanced down at my heavily bandaged leg and asked: “Do you play the piano, or do you dance?” I replied softly: “Piano.” The tense, frantic expression on his face instantly relaxed. “Good. Your leg is going to need a significant amount of physical therapy to recover, but at least your hands are fine.” I lowered my eyes, looking at my completely intact hands. Then I tried to move my leg, only to find that my right leg had lost all sensation. While the nurse was changing my IV drip, I accidentally overheard the staff gossiping right outside my curtain: “Sigh, Dr. Sterling and that ballerina in the next private wing look exactly like star-crossed lovers.” “Oh my god, you should have seen his face when he carried Vivian into the ER. He’s usually so icy to everyone, but yesterday he was completely frantic with panic.” “A bunch of paparazzi blocked the corridor, and he literally roared at them to get the hell out of his way.” Nate was naturally cold and aloof. He treated everything in life with absolute, clinical indifference. I rarely saw him smile, and I had never seen him lose his temper. The nurse administered my medication, her movements incredibly gentle and precise. She thoughtfully tucked a warm gel pack under my arm. She offered a warm, comforting smile: “The IV fluid is cold, and running it too fast can cause a sharp pain. This warm pack will make it feel much better.” “If you notice any redness or swelling, just page me.” I nodded, forcing a polite smile back at her. Right before she stepped out, she couldn’t help but let out another sigh: “This is the first time Dr. Sterling has ever taken a formal leave of absence. All just to stay in the hospital and care for Vivian.” Left completely alone in the silent room, I pulled out my phone and dialed Nate’s number. The line rang for a very long time before he finally answered. Before I could even open my mouth, his flat, indifferent voice cut through the speaker: “Wynne, I won’t be home for lunch today.” “I have an emergency surgery to perform.” This was the first time in our entire three-year marriage that Nate had ever proactively called me to report his schedule. But he was only doing it to feed me a lie. In the past, I was always the clingy, annoying wife. I would spam his phone with hundreds of text messages, constantly babbling in his ear about my day. The nurse said he took a month of leave. Married for three years, he practically lived at the hospital, working around the clock. Unlike other doctors, his overtime was entirely voluntary. Every Thanksgiving holiday, he would voluntarily cancel his leave and reschedule his time off for Christmas. His colleagues were always ecstatic to swap shifts with him. We never had a real wedding ceremony, let alone a romantic honeymoon. The internet was currently flooded with viral rumors and paparazzi articles about Vivian and Nate. Staring at Vivian’s flawless face on my phone screen, everything suddenly clicked. I finally understood why Nate had run to her without a single second of hesitation. I spent half a month in that private room. For those fifteen days, Nate called me at the exact same time every single day, his voice flat and detached: “Working overtime tonight. Not coming home.” And I replied every single time: “Okay. Got it.” According to the nurses, Nate had taken a full month of leave, spending every single waking second guarding Vivian’s bed. I listened to their gossip from my hospital bed day after day. My leg was broken, leaving me completely trapped. Aside from the occasional private caregiver helping me wash up, I spent my entire existence on that mattress. So, I actually found the nurses’ gossip quite entertaining. If the tragic male lead of this grand romance wasn’t the exact husband listed on my marriage certificate, I probably would have ordered an iced boba tea and some popcorn, enjoying the drama like a juicy piece of reality TV. But in this heartbreaking tale of star-crossed lovers, Nate was my husband, and I was merely the bitter, villainess wife standing in the way of true love. I couldn’t bring myself to smile. 02 Vivian posted a selfie on Instagram wearing her hospital gown. The photo subtly, intentionally captured a man’s tall silhouette in the background, focusing on his long, elegant fingers. On his wrist was a Rolex Submariner with a slightly faded, worn strap. The caption read: [Don’t worry. He’s taking excellent care of me.] The comment section, instantly sniffing out the celebrity drama, exploded with thousands of fans: [Vivian, is that your boyfriend?!] [A literal feast for hand-lovers! Those hands are gorgeous, perfect for holding.] Vivian immediately replied to a fan’s comment, publicly claiming her sovereignty over Nate: [Already holding hands.] She attached another photo, still wearing her gown, their long fingers tightly, beautifully entwined. It turned out that holding hands was so incredibly effortless for them. I remember when Nate and I were together in college. Our relationship felt like an underground espionage operation. He never allowed a single trace of affection or intimacy in public. Until the day we graduated, my roommate, Leila, had absolutely no idea we were even a couple. When we got our marriage license after graduation and I finally told her, she stared at me in absolute, paralyzed horror: “Have you gone completely insane from unrequited love?” If the marriage certificate weren’t an ironclad fact, she would have assumed I was just another delusional fan hallucinating a relationship. During my stay, Leila came to visit me. She asked cautiously: “Are you and Nate divorced yet?” I froze for a second, answering flatly: “Soon.” Leila didn’t press for details. Before leaving, she clapped her chest and gave a bright, booming laugh: “My door is always open for you. Come stay with me whenever you’re ready.” I smiled back at her, feeling a genuine warmth. Right before I fell asleep that night, Nate called again. His voice was perfectly neutral, devoid of any emotional rippling: “The hospital is slammed right now. I won’t be home for the next two weeks.” And I replied exactly as before: “Got it.” He had no idea that through the clear glass window of my room, I had just watched his silhouette standing right out in the hallway. After that call, he stopped calling entirely. He probably figured daily updates were far too tedious and decided to bundle his excuses all at once. Occasionally, Leila would visit and push my wheelchair around the hospital garden. One afternoon, we ran into Nate. He didn’t see me. His tall, powerful frame was bent over, pushing a woman in a hospital gown. Her skin was flawless, her features delicate and incredibly gentle. Vivian pouted, demanding ice cream. Nate crouched directly in front of her wheelchair: “It’s too cold. You can’t have it.” She grabbed his hand, whining cutely, and he gave in immediately, walking over to buy her a cone. When some ice cream smudged her lip, Nate reached out to wipe it away, but he froze mid-air, hesitated, and shoved his hand back into his coat pocket. I saw the quiet, fiercely restrained love burning in his dark eyes. Vivian smiled brilliantly: “Nate, wipe it for me.” Across the crowd, her brilliant smile landed right on me. Nate’s back was turned to me. In that exact moment, I finally realized that a massive mountain, a raging ocean, stood between me and Nate. Nate would never refuse to buy me ice cream in the winter because he simply didn’t care if I caught a cold. And he would never bend down to wipe my mouth. He would say: “Wynne, wipe it yourself. It’s unhygienic.” 03 My attending physician checked my leg and went over the discharge instructions. “You can leave next week.” I nodded, thanking him. Leila was traveling for work next week, so I would need to hire a private caregiver to help me move. Before leaving, the doctor added: “Make sure to wheel yourself outside for some fresh air.” I manually spun the wheels and rolled myself down to the courtyard alone. While eating lunch back in my room, I saw a post trending on Twitter. It was a side-by-side photo comparison of Nate and Vivian, charting their relationship from the age of sixteen to twenty-six. Nate’s broad back shielding Vivian from the paparazzi, her face looking straight into the camera. Zooming in closely, the twenty-six-year-old photo was taken right here in this hospital. And blurred out in the background… was me, struggling alone to push my wheelchair. #AloofSurgeonVSBeautifulBallerina #ForbiddenStepSiblingRomanceInRealLife My heart dropped into a bottomless abyss. The caption read: [Forbidden romances are the absolute best. So what if they’re step-siblings? They still have to sit at the same table for Thanksgiving dinner every year.] Reading those words, the fog in my brain instantly cleared. The old, faded photo Nate kept hidden in his wallet for years… was his stepmother’s daughter. Married for three years, I knew he had a sister, but he had never allowed me to meet her. Every single time I brought her up, he shut the conversation down completely. The mystery finally made perfect sense. My quiet, secret love for Nate—he had noticed it a long time ago. Once, when he was drunk, I secretly followed him out of a campus bar. I gathered my courage to approach him, but he suddenly turned around. I frantically whipped my head away, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. His deep, cold voice echoed behind me: “Wynne Vance. If you brought that water for me, just hand it over.” After that day, our paths crossed, and we drifted into a relationship. He confessed, we dated, we married. The entire process took less than six months, running smoothly like a dream. The happiness I thought was a sweet dream turned out to be a cage he built for me. He married me because he loved Vivian. His rigid morality told him he couldn’t cross the line with his own step-sister. When their parents forced them apart, Vivian went abroad, and he stayed for grad school. He desperately needed someone to make his parents think he had moved on. And I was the willing fool who volunteered for the job. I figured it all out just by reading between the lines of Vivian’s social media. It was the end of the year, and because of the holidays, no one wanted to take a caregiver job at a hospital. I offered triple pay, but no one applied. I had no choice but to stay in the hospital for a few more days until Leila returned. The hospital beds were scarce, and a new patient was moved into my shared room. An energetic elderly lady. She smiled warmly at me: “All alone, sweetie?” I nodded: “Yeah.” Because I had been delaying my discharge, the doctor and nurses had prodded me multiple times. I looked incredibly embarrassed, apologizing profusely: “I’ll leave soon, my friend is on her way.” The nurse, who was about my age, looked at me sitting alone and sighed heavily: “It’s fine. Don’t worry. You can stay one more day. I’ll get the doctor to sign off on it.” Seeing the panic and embarrassment on my face, she winked at me and mouthed the words silently: [Don’t worry, stay as long as you need.] 04 The next morning, Leila got stuck at JFK due to severe flight delays. And a new patient was brought to our floor. I heard a familiar male voice growling outside the door: “Why the hell are you still lingering in this hospital?” “Are you treating it like your own personal home?” I felt a wave of crushing humiliation. I frantically started gathering my things from the wheelchair, piling my bags near the door. The sweet elderly lady in my room helped me move them. I pushed the door open, and a cold, dark face loomed right in front of me. His nose was sharp, his brow furrowed tightly. He looked utterly impatient. He glared at me: “Do you have any idea how scarce the beds are right now?” “You’ve delayed your discharge for a week. Do you think you own this hospital?” Staring at his face, I froze completely. It was Nate. He was holding a leather suitcase in his right hand. Standing right beside him was Vivian, her arm tightly looped through his. I was wearing a medical mask, my face completely burning with embarrassment. I lowered my head and whispered: “Got it.” I awkwardly pushed my wheelchair out into the corridor, my bags piled messily around me. Until the sweet young nurse called out my name: “Wynne, let me help you. My shift just ended.” She started grabbing my bags. “Wynne?” Nate violently grabbed the metal frame of my wheelchair, his long legs stepping right in front of me. Our eyes met, and he finally recognized me. He completely froze. I forced a faint smile beneath my mask. The nurse looked at him, confused. “Wynne, where’s your husband? Your intake file explicitly says you’re married.” I lifted my eyes to look at Nate. Married for three years, and not a single colleague of his even knew he had a wife. I smiled and said: “I’m not married. I filled out the form wrong.” Nate tried to step forward, but Vivian aggressively pulled his arm back. I pushed my wheels, steering myself straight into the elevator. As the doors began to slide shut, I see a sudden flash of panic in his eyes. He frantically charges forward, screaming my name: “Wynne Vance! Wait!” He shoves his hand into the closing elevator doors to stop them, catching his fingers between the metal. He lets out a sharp grunt of pain and wrenches his hand back as the doors snap shut. Through the final crack, his expression is filled with confusion and absolute disbelief. Inside the taxi, I powered on my phone. Looking at the iMessage logs, it was a massive wall of green text messages—me, endlessly, mindlessly sharing my daily life with him up until a month ago. He used to tell me to be quiet. From now on, I will never annoy him again. I finally recognized my exact place in his heart. Nate sent a text: [Wait for me. Don’t go anywhere.] I didn’t reply. Back at my apartment, I practice standing up, holding onto the furniture. My leg was starting to regain feeling. The doctor said I had to permanently give up heavy sports, but walking and light jogging were fine. During my month in the hospital, I had already fully accepted that my leg would never dance or climb mountains again. And I fully accepted that Nate never loved me. I was right on the verge of falling asleep when the front door handle rattled. Nate walked in. His coat was covered in fine flakes of white. The first snow of the year had started falling outside. I lay in bed. He was holding a bag of takeout, his face slightly flushed, his breathing heavy. He ran up the stairs. He stared at me, his lips parting slightly, wanting to say something but remaining silent. After a long silence, he spoke: “Why didn’t you tell me you were hospitalized?” “When did it happen?” I squinted against the harsh light he just turned on, my eyes blurry. “A month ago.” His body stiffens. He seems to be calculating exactly how long a month ago was. His eyes sweep over me, his pupils contracting sharply. His voice is laced with disbelief: “A month ago?” “The night of your show?” I nod, pulling the covers up, completely exhausted. “Turn off the light. I want to sleep.” Nate suddenly asks: “Why didn’t you leave a light on for me tonight?” Hearing his question, a cold, mocking laugh bubbled up in my chest. Right. Why should I leave a light on for him? For three straight years, whenever he worked late, I kept a warm plate of food and left the hallway light on for him. It was all just my own pathetic, one-sided emotional desperation. After three years, I couldn’t even warm a block of ice. I don’t want to warm it anymore. “I’m tired. Turn it off.” The atmosphere freezes. After a long pause, he clicks the light off.

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