Category: English

At the corporate gala, Ryan Albright’s assistant, without any sense of propriety, splashed a glass of wine on an investor and then publicly berated him. To retaliate, the investor demanded Vanessa personally atone for it, or he would withdraw his investment. To ensure the company’s successful public listing, Ryan handed me a drink that he’d spiked, then pushed me forward to smooth things over. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a struggling reluctance. “Vanessa is different from you. She just graduated; she’s pure and innocent.” “Daisy, don’t struggle. I will compensate you once the company successfully goes public.” When I fully came to, I looked at the man across from me, my voice hoarse: “The agreement you mentioned, I’ll sign it.” 1 Arthur Grant closed the file in his hands, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and cast a dismissive glance my way, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Then I wish us a pleasant partnership, Ms. Albright.” I looked at his polished, urbane demeanor, my face pale as I recalled the scene from last night. When the smarmy investor had slung his arm around me, ushering me towards a private room, the elevator doors chimed open. Arthur Grant stood perfectly straight inside, like a divine apparition. Seeing the elevator about to close, I immediately cried out to him for help. The man was then viciously beaten to the ground, his gruesome, blood-soaked image still vivid in my mind. I swallowed hard, unsure if my choice was truly the right one. Pushing down my apprehension, I managed to say to him: “Pleasant partnership.” As I gathered my things and left the hotel, I ran straight into Ryan Albright and Vanessa in the lobby. He had his arm intimately around Vanessa. Upon seeing me, Ryan awkwardly released her. Vanessa, however, excitedly rushed forward, feigning concern, her face a mask of gratitude, but her eyes were full of defiance. “Daisy, are you feeling okay?” “Did that old man… hurt you? I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault for being so foolish. If I had known, I would have just put up with his harassment, and you wouldn’t have been… ruined.” The crowd, catching wind of the gossip, fell silent for a moment, secretly scrutinizing me, their gazes a mix of disdain and pity. Ryan, hearing Vanessa’s words, a subtle flicker of disgust crossed his face. He pulled Vanessa back to his side, reprimanding her. “Put up with what?!” “A woman’s self-preservation is paramount.” Watching him ignore me, a wave of bitterness involuntarily washed over my heart. I stepped forward, looking at him through tear-filled eyes. “Ryan, nothing happened last night.” “Do you believe me?” Ryan’s expression froze for a second, a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Vanessa tugged at his sleeve, her red lips pouted, and she said, sounding troubled: “But Mr. Sterling said he’d withdraw his investment if we didn’t make amends to him, and this morning he called Ryan to say the partnership was continuing.” “I know every woman would choose to run from something like this, unable to accept reality.” “But, Daisy, you can’t lie just to save face!” Hearing that, I clenched my fists, glaring at her with resentment. “You shut your mouth!” Last night, as I was shivering and dazed in an ice-cold bath, Arthur Grant pulled me out, dragged me to the wall, and forced me to listen with my ear pressed against it. On the other side of the thin wall, they were popping champagne, celebrating loudly, preemptively toasting to the company’s certain public listing once this deal was secured. Ryan looked at me with displeasure, faulting me for yelling at his young assistant. “Why are you yelling at her? What did she say that was wrong?” I stared at the man before me, tears gradually welling in my eyes. It seemed my uncharacteristic reaction startled Ryan. He uncharacteristically stepped forward, put his arm around my shoulder, and whispered coaxingly: “Daisy.” “You have to believe your sacrifice is valuable. Once the company goes public, I will truly compensate you.” Seeing that I remained silent, impatience gradually showed in his eyes. His tone hardened, and he grudgingly said: “Don’t you just want to marry me?” “I promise you, as soon as the company goes public, we’ll have our wedding.” “Is that enough?!” Looking at his impatient expression, a wave of self-mockery washed over me. Daisy, this is the man you tirelessly pursued, burning everything to stand by his side. The thought of spending my entire life with him had now utterly vanished. I looked up, held back my tears, and looked at him, saying firmly: “No, I don’t want to marry you anymore.” At my words, Vanessa’s face bore a sneer of triumph, and she immediately cheered: “That’s great! You’re not good enough for Ryan anyway!” But Ryan’s face abruptly darkened, his gaze heavy and fixed on me. He said nothing, trying to force my compliance with his silence. In the past, whenever his face fell silent like that, I would immediately apologize and try everything to appease him. But this time, I didn’t avert his gaze. Each word clear and deliberate for him to hear: “Ryan Albright, I’m serious.” “I.” “Don’t want to marry you anymore.” “This relationship ends here.” “Daisy!” He roared my name. I remained unmoving. After a tense staredown, he sneered. “I’ll wait for the day you regret this.” With that, he abandoned me there, pulling Vanessa away. 2 That evening, as I packed my belongings in my apartment, my phone chimed, signaling a new post from a special contact. I opened TikTok and saw a video of Ryan Albright and Vanessa. They were kissing by the ocean, beneath a spectacular fireworks display. Watching the scene, memories washed over me like a tide. When our love was at its peak, he promised to give me the most romantic fireworks show, proposing to me beneath them. I put my phone away. My packed bags and boxes made my heart feel empty. I always thought I’d spend my entire life with Ryan, and I’d bought so many things to decorate my dream home. But leaving, it turned out, wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. After sending my luggage away, I went straight back to the office. Walking into my office, I found my belongings scattered haphazardly in a corner. The entire room had been redecorated in pink. I looked outside my door. My colleagues avoided my gaze, pretending to be busy with their tasks, heads down and silent, until an imperious voice broke the quiet. “Quick! Throw that table out too! It’s hideous!” “What outdated taste?!” Vanessa walked in, looking triumphantly at me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, but Ryan said this office is mine starting today.” “I saw you hadn’t come in, so I just… tidied your things up a bit.” “Old woman, you’re not mad, are you?” I merely glanced at her, ignoring her, and instead crouched down in the corner, searching for a trophy that was very important to me, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I looked up, fixing my gaze on Vanessa. “Where did you hide my trophy?” Vanessa pulled out a cylindrical glass trophy from her desk. “Are you talking about this cheap trinket?” I extended my hand towards her. “Give it back.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with malice, her red lips curling scornfully. I had a bad feeling, and I was about to snatch the trophy from her. The next moment, the trophy was violently smashed onto the floor. I froze, staring at the glass shards on the ground. The rage I had suppressed for so long finally erupted, and I shoved her away. “What the hell gives you the right to smash it?!” This trophy was the first National Innovation Award I’d won in college. It was thanks to the success of this project that Ryan Albright’s company was able to get off the ground in its early stages. It was only later, when the company lacked clients, that I abandoned my beloved R&D work and shifted to sales. Since then, the trophy had always sat in the most prominent place, a reminder to myself never to abandon my original aspirations. I had originally planned to ask him to let me step back and return to research and development after we married. I crouched down, picking up the metal base. My name and honors were inscribed on it. Even broken, I would gather the remnants. Behind me, I suddenly heard soft whimpers and Ryan’s enraged voice. “Daisy! What did you do?!” I turned around, my heart pounding. Vanessa flung herself into Ryan’s arms, her face streaming with tears. There was a smear of blood on her elbow, pierced by a shard of glass. “Waaah… it hurts so much, dear Ryan…” Ryan cupped her elbow, tenderly blowing on it, then glared at me, saying angrily: “Daisy, how can you be so vicious? Was your good-girl act all a facade?” “It was my decision to have Vanessa take your place! You don’t have the guts to confront me, so you bully a simple, freshly-graduated girl, taking your anger out on her!” I stood up, looking at them. I thought back. I had indeed pushed Vanessa, but I hadn’t pushed her to the ground. My peripheral vision could still tell if anyone was nearby. “I didn’t do it.” “If you didn’t do it, who did?! Are you going to say you didn’t push her?! Do you think I’m blind?! Still trying to argue when you’re caught red-handed!” The colleagues outside, hearing the commotion, covertly peered in. “Get over here and apologize to Vanessa right now!” “You have no situational awareness whatsoever! How did you ever manage sales all these years?! Your quotas?!” “Was it all by schmoozing clients beyond professional boundaries?!” I clutched the metal base in my hand, the humiliation in my heart surged, and my suppressed indignation uncontrollably spilled out. I was leaving anyway. Better to say my piece now. My eyes blazing with anger, I roared at him: “Ryan Albright, how can you insult me like this? Do you have any conscience left?!” “How much have I sacrificed for this company over the years?! Drinking until my stomach bled! Staying up until dawn to revise proposals! You’re right, you are blind!” “Now you’re not just completely denying all my hard work and achievements! You’re throwing dirt on my name too!” “Who told you this? Vanessa?” “You trust her that much?! You’ve only known her for half a year!” With that, I glared at him. Ryan was speechless for a moment. He hadn’t expected me, usually so compliant, to defy him. His face instantly darkened. He felt utterly humiliated in front of his employees. I didn’t want to deal with them anymore. Just as I was about to leave, Ryan’s hand suddenly grabbed my arm with force. SLAP! A powerful slap landed on my face, and a ringing filled my ears. Everyone froze in shock. “You hurt someone and think you can just run off? There’s no such easy way out in this world!” “Vanessa and I may have only known each other for half a year, but she’s purer and cleaner than you! How could a freshly-graduated person possibly play the games you’ve been navigating in the world of men for years?!” “I trust that she wouldn’t lie to me.” “And right now, she’s injured, while you stand there unharmed!” I clutched my face, staring at him in disbelief, a wave of bitterness washing over me. Even in our worst arguments before, he had never laid a hand on me. Today, for Vanessa, he broke that rule. There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart. Everything I wanted to say was trapped in my throat. At this point, I no longer wanted to argue. “Dear Ryan, please don’t argue with Daisy over me.” At that moment, Vanessa, who had been feigning fragility in Ryan’s arms, let out a soft, sobbing whimper. “My wrist hurts so much.” Ryan frantically scooped her up. As he left, he glanced at me, issuing three commands. “I’m transferring you to Maplewood County.” “You can come back when you’ve reflected enough.” “Pack your things and get out.” 3 Just as I checked out of the hotel, Mrs. Albright, Ryan’s mother, suddenly contacted me. She was one of the few people here who truly cared for me. “Sweetheart, did you and Ryan have a fight?” “I went to the company yesterday, didn’t see you, and Mikey told me you were transferred to Maplewood County. Tell your Auntie what Ryan did wrong, and I’ll make him fix it.” I gently moved Mrs. Albright’s hand from mine and said solemnly: “Auntie, Ryan and I have broken up.” “I’m leaving today, and I might not come back.” “Broken up!” Mrs. Albright sat up straight in shock, looking at me with concern. “Did Ryan do something wrong?” … “Is it that new assistant he hired?” A flicker of sadness crossed my eyes. “Ryan and I have already cleared things up. Thank you for all your care before.” “My flight is this afternoon, and time is running out, so I won’t bother you any longer.” I stood up, grabbed my suitcase, and prepared to leave. Mrs. Albright stopped me, clutching my luggage, refusing to let go. “Sweetheart, listen to Auntie. Men will be men; they all stray sometimes. He just made a mistake any man would make.” “Believe me, as long as you marry Ryan, with me backing you up, those little home-wreckers outside won’t shake your position one bit! I only recognize you as a part of the Albright family!” Just then, a sound came from the doorway. I turned to look, and it was Ryan. Mrs. Albright happily went to meet him. “Sweetheart, look, Ryan’s back! He still cares about you very much. Hurry and clear up this misunderstanding, and you can get married next month.” Ryan’s face abruptly darkened when he heard the word “married.” He stormed towards me with an air of fury. “Daisy! Who gave you the nerve?! You dared to come bother my mother again, making her trick me into coming home?!” “You’re just using my mother’s affection for you, trying to pressure me, aren’t you?” “Didn’t you say you didn’t want to get married when I brought it up before?” As he spoke, a smug expression actually spread across his face, and he looked at me triumphantly. “Regretting it now, aren’t you?” “I knew you couldn’t let me go, that you didn’t want to go to Maplewood County.” “Just beg me, then get on your knees and apologize to Vanessa, and I’ll keep you at the company. How about it?” “As for marriage, since you missed one chance, we’ll see about your performance next time.” Mrs. Albright frowned, immediately sensing something was wrong. She patted Ryan’s arm and said: “How can you talk like that?” “Daisy didn’t seek me out; I sought her out.” “You better promise Daisy you’ll fire that little home-wrecker and never contact her again!” Ryan scoffed. “Well, isn’t this something, Daisy. You’re quite popular with older people, both men and women. You’ve got my mom completely charmed, making her listen to your every word.” I looked at the mother and son, and the last shred of goodwill I had completely vanished. I went along with his words. “Fine. As long as you fire Vanessa and get on your knees to apologize to me, I’ll marry you immediately.” Ryan was taken aback, an “I knew it” expression spreading across his face. “You wish.” Just then, his phone suddenly rang, its distinct ringtone echoing through the room. I remembered. So many times before, when that ringtone sounded, he would avoid me to answer the call. “Hello, Vanessa, what’s wrong?” My dead heart still felt a momentary prick of pain, like a needle. So they had been having an affair all along. “Okay, wait right there for me. I’ll be right there.” Mrs. Albright grabbed his sleeve. “No! You’re not going anywhere today! Apologize properly to Sweetheart! I want Daisy as my daughter-in-law!” “I want a daughter-in-law! I want grandchildren!” Ryan impatiently glared at me. “Mom, stop messing around.” With that, he pushed his mother aside and left without looking back. Mrs. Albright clutched her bruised waist, staring in shock at the empty doorway, slapping her thigh and wailing: “What a disgrace to the family! My son’s forsaking a woman of good fortune to marry a troublemaker!” Then she looked at me, saying pitifully: “Sweetheart, please take Auntie to the hospital. Auntie will definitely make Ryan come to his senses.” I frowned, glancing at my watch. Time was already short. I refused: “I’ll call an ambulance for you.” “Goodbye.” As I left, I heard a chorus of wails and cries from behind me. By the time I boarded my plane, news of Arthur Grant and the Grant family heiress’s engagement had already dominated trending topics. The accompanying photo was a candid shot of Arthur Grant and me at the reception. And my fiancé by contract was already waiting for me at the airport.

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I deliberately leaked my whereabouts, ensuring Brooke Harrison would witness me surrounded by women in the private room. She burst in, consumed by fury, demanding to know why I was being intimate with other women. I pretended not to hear, raising my glass to clink with the girl beside me and drink. As her fiancé, I had been by her side for eight long years, from nothing to building Harrison Corp. through sheer grit, drinking myself to early-stage stomach cancer at countless client dinners. I had single-handedly propelled the corporation to become a national leader, yet now she intended to marry a fresh-faced college graduate. The company’s senior executives were baffled, many voicing their indignation for me: “Assistant Miller has been with you for eight years, fighting tooth and nail. Without him, the company wouldn’t be where it is today. How can you favor this new intern?” But she nestled into Kyle Peterson’s embrace, her eyes filled with tender pity as she looked at him: “Ryan Miller has been scrambling in the business world for so many years; his heart is no longer pure. Not like Kyle; he hasn’t been corrupted by society.” “But what if Assistant Miller finds out and turns against you?” Brooke scoffed, playing with the engagement ring on her finger: “My corporation is a national leader now. One Ryan Miller gone? There are thousands more where he came from. He’s not indispensable!” Little did she know, I had already witnessed it all from just outside the conference room door. I tossed the breakfast I’d prepared for her to a stray dog on the street, then turned and called the CEO of a rival company: “I accept your offer. You name the price, but I have one condition—I want Harrison Corp. to go down.” … I was stuffing my stomach cancer diagnosis into my suitcase when a message from Brooke popped up: “Next quarter’s budget is shrinking. Transfer your mom out of the private care facility.” I stared at the screen, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe. Just yesterday, she’d proudly posted a picture of the limited-edition sports car she’d bought for Kyle on social media; its retail price alone was enough to keep my mother in that facility for ten years. “Understood.” I replied curtly. “And drop off the keys to your waterfront penthouse. Kyle says he wants to throw a bachelor party there.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, where a dull ache throbbed. Drawers overflowed with eight years’ worth of stomach medication, all earned only for her to ask me to personally clear out my home for my rival. “I don’t agree.” My lips twisted as I sent a voice message, my voice hoarse, too drained to type. “Ryan Miller, don’t give me that attitude! The company isn’t a charity! I don’t pay you to be insolent!” Immediately after, she sent a transfer record: “This month’s salary will be docked by twenty thousand. Consider it a wedding gift for Kyle.” Five minutes later, another message appeared in the chat box, this time a slightly awkward voice message: “My tone was a bit harsh just now.” “Seven PM tonight, that Michelin restaurant on Maplewood Street. I’ve asked the chef to save their signature lobster. Finish eating, then handle the care facility situation.” I stared at the message, my throat tight. She used to secretly slip strawberry milk into my backpack after she lost her temper. Now, even her apologies sounded like commands. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time, eventually only sending an “Okay.” In the Michelin restaurant that evening, I stared blankly at the cold French lobster. The seventh time the hot dish was brought to the table, the private room door was pushed open. She rushed in, trying to sit down, and just as she began, “I…”, her phone rang. Kyle’s tearful voice came through the speakerphone: “Brooke, I’m so scared. It’s thundering outside…” Brooke’s face instantly changed. She grabbed her bag and hurried out, tripping over the tablecloth as she passed me. “Wait.” I wanted to tell her to eat before she left, perhaps this would be our last meal. “This dinner…” “Pay for it yourself!” She frowned, shaking off my hand. “Don’t bother me with trivial matters like this again. If anything happens to Kyle, I’m coming for you.” The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. Not long after, a photo popped up in Kyle’s chat. He had Brooke pressed against the sports car door, kissing her, the brand-new wedding ring on his ring finger glaringly bright. I stood on the rooftop where we used to have our dates, clutching the diagnosis in my hand. A light rain began to fall. I pulled out my phone and dialed Chloe Davis’s number: “Ms. Davis,” I gazed at the neon lights of Harrison Corp. Tower in the distance, a familiar burning pain in my stomach. “I have complete backups of Harrison Corp.’s overseas money laundering records.” A new message illuminated my screen: “Are you sure you want to do this? Harrison Corp. is your life’s work.” I thought of that snowy night eight years ago, Brooke, covered in blood, kneeling before me, crying, “Ryan, only you can save me.” Now, she stood atop the peak, stepping on my shoulders, yet she found my blood-stained hands too dirty for her wedding dress. “Confirmed.” I pressed send, watching the diagnosis soak in the rain, then dragged Brooke’s number into my blacklist—this time, it was time to settle the score. After conveying the information to Chloe, I picked up my mother from the care facility and took her to my waterfront penthouse. Mom’s hand gently tugged at my sleeve, her aged, trembling fingers covered in liver spots: “Ryan, listen to your mother, don’t argue with Brooke.” She sat in her wheelchair, her cloudy eyes full of worry. “She’s helped us so much over the years. Even if there are disagreements, just take a step back…” “Mom, don’t worry about it.” Mom didn’t know about Brooke and Kyle; she just thought we were a young couple having a fight. My phone vibrated suddenly on the coffee table. It was a message from Brooke: “The keys to the waterfront penthouse must be handed over tomorrow. Kyle wants to decorate the wedding suite early.” My knuckles, clutching the fruit knife, turned white. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom secretly tucking her blood pressure medication into her sleeve. Eight years ago, when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, she also tried to hide her diagnosis from me for three months, afraid I’d worry. “Mom, I’m going out to buy something.” I patted her head, trying to make my voice sound light. I went to the hospital to get some medicine. Before I even reached home, I heard a commotion inside. The moment I pushed open the door, a cloud of cigarette smoke assailed me. Kyle Peterson had his feet propped on the coffee table, the new blanket I bought for my mother discarded on the floor as a footrest. Mom’s wheelchair was overturned in the corner. She was on her knees, picking up scattered medicine bottles, her white hair disheveled around her face. “What are you doing?!” My eyes burned red. I rushed to help my mother. Kyle slowly flicked his cigarette ash. “Brooke said this place is mine now. The old woman was clinging to the place, so I had to show her who’s boss.” The bodyguard behind him suddenly kicked the wheelchair, and I fell heavily onto the tiles, my forehead hitting the floor with a painful thud. I got up and slapped Kyle hard, but to my surprise, he didn’t resist, just crumpled to the floor. I was still confused when Brooke rushed in right behind him. “Ryan Miller! What the hell is wrong with you?!” She turned to Kyle. “Baby, are you hurt?” Her tone was gentle and concerned, something I hadn’t heard in a long time. “He pushed my mom!” I took a deep breath, looking at Brooke. Seeing Brooke, Kyle’s eyes immediately reddened. “Brooke, your mom insisted on staying here; she wouldn’t listen to anything I said…” His voice had just the right amount of a sob, and he turned to glare at my mother, who was cowering in her wheelchair. “Ma’am, you’re making things so difficult for Brooke, you know?” Mom clutched her torn scarf, stammering an explanation: “I, I just wanted to wait for Ryan to come back…” “Playing innocent, are we?” I rushed to grab Kyle, but he gripped my wrist in return. “Ryan, don’t be angry, if you don’t want me in the apartment, I’ll leave right now…” He deliberately stumbled towards the coffee table, knocking over a bottle of red wine that splashed precisely onto Mom’s leg. “You!” I was about to charge forward but was shoved away by Brooke. “It’s just an apartment. Do you have to attack Kyle over it?” I pulled out the property deed and roared, “Now, get out, immediately!” Kyle suddenly buckled at the knees, collapsing onto the floor in front of Brooke. “Ryan, I was thoughtless! I don’t want the apartment. Please don’t involve Brooke!” As he spoke, he raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face. Before I could react, Brooke slapped me. “Ryan Miller! Who are you trying to intimidate?!” She rushed forward, shielding Kyle behind her. “It’s just an apartment. Do you have to drive him to his death to be satisfied?” The agonizing pain in my stomach made my vision blur. I stumbled, leaning on the wall to keep from falling. Kyle took the opportunity to throw himself into Brooke’s arms, his tear-streaked face rubbing against her jacket: “Brooke, don’t be angry. It’s my fault for being useless, I shouldn’t have put Ryan in such a difficult position… I even wanted Ryan to be my best man. But it looks like he won’t…” “Enough!” I clenched my fists, my knuckles white from the strain. “Eight years ago, when you knelt in the rain begging me to save Harrison Corp., why didn’t you say that?” A flicker of panic crossed Brooke’s eyes, then she lifted her chin. “Eight years ago was eight years ago. Harrison Corp. can run just fine without you now. You will be my best man next week at the wedding.” She intimately stroked Kyle’s flushed cheek. “Kyle, don’t feel bad. After the wedding, I’ll buy you an even bigger place downtown.” Kyle bit his lower lip, tears still clinging to his eyelashes: “But Ryan seems really angry… I, maybe I shouldn’t have a wedding…” Brooke frowned. “What right does Ryan Miller have to disagree? Kyle, rest assured, the apartment is yours, and the wedding is yours too.” I slammed the red wine bottle onto the floor. “The hell I disagree! Nobody is touching this apartment, not an inch!” I pulled out my phone. “I’ve already called the police for trespassing. If you don’t want to go to jail, get out.” The sound of approaching sirens grew louder. Brooke’s face was grim. She pulled Kyle and left. My mom, nearby, seemed to understand what was happening, tears streaming down her face. I collapsed onto the sofa. My phone pinged. Chloe Davis had sent a message. I was a little surprised; why would she suddenly message me? I stared at her message for a few seconds, stunned. “I’ve made arrangements for your mother. The Serenity Falls Private Care Facility in Westview. 24-hour nursing, the medical team was flown in from Switzerland.” Before I could reply, a transfer notification followed, the amount enough to cover Mom’s care for ten years. “I know you’re worried. Real-time monitoring and medical records will be synced to your phone.” “Also, your apartment is in an excellent location. I’ll have someone help you clean it up later.” I replied with a “Thank you,” but I didn’t let Chloe clean the apartment for me. I still felt a bit awkward. Soon after, a butler delivered a box. Inside, besides the care facility’s access card, was a miniature control device. A note was attached: “For any assistance, press the emergency contact button anytime.” My mom was taken away, and I sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. Suddenly, a frantic knocking came from the door. Through the peephole, I saw Brooke Harrison with two cleaners outside. “Ryan, I was too impulsive just now. My words were out of line. I’m here to apologize to you and your mom.” Her eyes were earnest, a complete change from her earlier arrogance. “You must be swamped. I brought people to help you tidy up the apartment.” I hesitated for a moment, then finally stepped aside. Watching them begin to organize items, I turned and discreetly hid the miniature camera in a picture frame in the bedroom. That night, I checked the surveillance feed and saw Brooke bring Kyle into my bedroom. Kyle had Brooke pressed against the wall. He sneered, “Ryan Miller really thinks you’ve changed your tune?” Brooke yanked open his collar, her eyes filled with contempt: “Idiots are easy to fool. Once I’ve stripped him of his power in the company, what can he do against me?” “I just worry he has something else up his sleeve.” Kyle’s hand roamed restlessly. “What if that evidence…” “What storm could it possibly stir up?” Brooke wrapped her legs around Kyle’s waist. “The company’s lifeline is in my hands. He’s just a stray dog.” The sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air, and they tumbled onto the bed. A piercing pain shot through my stomach. All these years, I had fought for her, drinking until my stomach bled during client meetings, revising proposals through the night until dawn. But her? She used me as a stepping stone, discarded me when she was done, and then stomped on me. “Once we’ve taken care of him, this apartment will be ours.” Kyle’s voice mingled with gasps. Brooke purred, “Naughty boy, let’s take care of business first…” Watching the sordid scene, I smiled bitterly. Turns out, in her eyes, I was always just a tool. I sat in the old apartment, sleepless through the night. The day before the wedding, Brooke’s text message lit up my phone screen: “There’s something I want to say in person. Meet me at our usual spot.” I stepped out the door, thought better of it, and tucked the device Chloe had given me into my pocket. When I arrived, the spot was empty. I wanted to go back, but then a sweet scent enveloped me, and I passed out. When my consciousness returned, the damp, musty smell filled my nostrils. I was chained to the basement wall. The iron door creaked open, and Kyle, dressed in a crisp suit, walked in. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… Assistant Miller, look at you now.” He crouched down, his fingertips lifting my chin. “A stray dog…!” A fist suddenly slammed into my stomach. The dull pain, compounded by my existing injuries, made me curl up into a fetal position. “Brooke said she’d take care of you after the wedding.” He loosened his tie, a triumphant grin on his face, then slapped me across the face. “If you’re smart, just die early. Let me tell you, Brooke only loves me.” Kyle stood up and left. My stomach began to spasm violently, cold sweat poured down my back, and my consciousness began to fade. The chains grated against the wall, and the faint, muffled sounds of wedding laughter drifted from a distance. Suddenly, the miniature device fell out of my pants pocket. I fumbled for the device, my thumb almost too weak to press the raised button. Cold sweat soaked my back. From a distance, I heard Brooke’s voice taking her vows at the wedding: “I do—” My fingertips finally touched the emergency contact button. In the last moment before my consciousness completely vanished, I used every ounce of my strength to press the button. Later, I felt several presences around me. Among them, I heard Chloe Davis’s voice; she seemed angry. A faint, crisp scent lingered in the air. At the same time, at the wedding venue, Brooke suddenly clutched her chest, her face instantly turning ashen. Kyle noticed, asking softly, “Brooke, what’s wrong?” She forced a smile, but her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the chapel doors. A chilling premonition washed over her. On a whim, she called her assistant: “Go check the basement. Make sure Ryan Miller is still there…” “No need!” Kyle suddenly grabbed her wrist, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He was afraid Brooke would see my injuries. “Why bother with someone like him? The wedding’s about to start!” Brooke’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Kyle’s agitated expression. She subtly pulled her hand back, and when no one was looking, instructed her assistant: “Go yourself. Don’t alarm anyone else.” Twenty minutes later, the assistant burst into the wedding venue, her face ashen. “Ms. Harrison! Something’s happened!” “Ryan Miller is gone!” The sharp sound of a champagne flute shattering on the floor echoed through the ballroom. Brooke’s face went white. She lunged forward. “What did you say? Ryan Miller is gone?”

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Stepping back into the familiar operating room, I knew Dr. James Carter was about to make a fatal error, yet I chose to watch, cold and detached. In my past life, it was James’s mistake that left the patient teetering on the brink of death. I rushed to the table and saved the patient, whose chest lay open. But afterwards, my wife, Katherine Hayes, fabricated evidence and sent me to prison. I confronted her, incredulous, but she merely looked contrite and said, “James is an international colleague; he can’t be implicated! Once this blows over, our lives will go back to normal.” Ultimately, I was killed by the patient’s family, reborn consumed by hatred. This time, I wanted to see how Katherine Hayes would handle it! But then, she suddenly turned to me, her voice trembling yet firm: “Daniel Thorne! The patient’s condition is critical! James can’t control it! You take over!” … 1 “Don’t you understand? The patient is fading fast!” Katherine’s voice abruptly rose, her eyes wide with terror. “Please, darling… this surgery is a turning point in my career. It can’t go wrong!” She clutched my hand tightly, her tone shifting from command to desperate plea. On the operating table, the patient’s chest lay wide open, blood gushing out. The monitor’s readings plummeted, life draining away. “You’re the most skilled surgeon in the entire hospital! Only you can salvage this!” I shook off her hand, a cold sneer playing on my lips. “I’m just an assistant. I don’t know James’s specific technique. And with millions of people watching nationwide, I’m not capable of stepping in at the last minute!” Katherine’s eyes instantly filled with panic. “Didn’t James claim he was experienced?” “Or are you saying you put him in charge, knowing he wasn’t competent, to boost your reputation, playing with a patient’s life?” Katherine’s face turned stark white. “Now is not the time for assigning blame!” her voice trembled. “The patient’s chest is already open. The family is waiting outside…” “This surgery is a key publicity event for the hospital. It affects the future of the entire department!” James stood by, flustered, constantly glancing at Katherine. I remembered the past life at this very moment. I had stepped in, saved the patient’s life, but James’s mistake had left the patient paralyzed. When the family stormed the hospital, Katherine, tears streaming, had handed me a confession: “Daniel, for our future…” I, naive, signed that life-destroying document. My license was revoked, I was subjected to national online slander, the hospital cast me aside like trash, Katherine filed for divorce and took all our assets. Most tragically, the paralyzed patient’s family found me: “You incompetent doctor, you ruined my son! I want your life!” Before I died, I learned my father had a heart attack from the shock and passed away, while Katherine and her lover gained fame and fortune. Back in reality, Katherine was still pleading: “Darling, for the sake of our marriage…” James had caused too much trouble. Even she found it hard to escape responsibility. I smirked inwardly: You reap what you sow. I stepped back, yielding my position in front of the operating table. The patient’s vital signs plummeted. James stood by, helpless, muttering “Damn it.” Ultimately, the patient died on the operating table. Katherine’s face was ashen. Vice President Davis walked into the operating room, his gaze glacial: “Chief Hayes, what happened?” Katherine pulled off her gloves, feigning composure: “The patient suffered unforeseen complications, leading to…” Heart-wrenching cries echoed from the corridor. The patient’s family had received the tragic news. “Ah! You butchers killed my father!” A young girl was restrained by security at the door. James produced a folded paper: “This is standard operating procedure. I followed the protocol precisely.” Davis took the document, his brows furrowed: “A resident as lead surgeon? This surgery shouldn’t have been your responsibility.” “James is very experienced. I trust him completely.” Katherine straightened her back. “Dr. Carter, please explain the cause of death.” Davis turned to James. James bit his lip: “The situation was complex after opening the chest, but within controllable limits.” “Specifically, what caused the death?” “It might be… his pre-existing heart condition.” Dr. Evans, the anesthesiologist, scoffed: “Pre-operative assessments showed the patient’s cardiac function was normal, perfectly sufficient for the surgery.” “What vessel did you sever?” Davis pressed. James’s forehead beaded with sweat: “A routine incision…” “State its specific name.” James’s eyes darted: “I… I need to check the records.” Katherine attempted to interject: “This is a technical issue. We’ll discuss it later.” Davis remained unmoved: “As lead surgeon, the most basic anatomical structures should be ingrained in your mind.” James retreated, hiding behind Katherine. The atmosphere in the operating room solidified. Nurses lowered their heads, organizing instruments, their eyes filled with disdain. “I saw him sever a branch of the coronary artery, completely against protocol,” a junior doctor whispered. “I heard Chief Hayes specifically authorized him to lead, even knowing his skill wasn’t up to par…” “It’s just leveraging his international status to boost the department’s global exchange points. Who knew it would lead to reckless disregard for human life?” Katherine scanned her surroundings. Her colleagues, who usually flocked to her, now deliberately kept their distance. Only James cowered behind her, like a frightened child. She anxiously searched for Daniel Thorne. I stood in the corner, watching everything with an impassive face. Katherine’s gaze locked onto me, her expression complex, a mix of plea and command. Step forward. Take responsibility. she mouthed. I ignored Katherine, exiting the operating room through a side door. Walking out the main hospital entrance, my phone vibrated. A news alert popped up: “Major Medical Malpractice Incident at City General Hospital; Patient Dies on Operating Table.” I immediately dialed my private banker, Ms. Lee. “Ms. Lee, I need to freeze all assets, including joint accounts and property shares.” “Dr. Thorne, this is a large transaction. It requires…” “Execute it immediately. Emergency situation.” My voice was cold and firm. “Transfer all liquid funds to my father’s independent account.” Then I contacted the only person from my past life who had believed me. My phone rang again. It was Katherine. “Darling, where are you?” Her voice was clearly tearful. “You have to come back and help me! You’re the only one who can save me! The patient’s family is causing a huge scene. The hospital wants answers from me…” The hospital corridor was eerily quiet. I turned the corner and saw Katherine leaning against the wall, her eyes red and swollen, her fingers tightly clutching a file, knuckles white. “Darling, you’re finally here.” I nodded, subtly touching the button camera concealed in my chest pocket, confirming it was recording. “Katherine, what’s so urgent?” Katherine pulled me into a deserted small conference room, locking the door behind us. “The situation is worse than we thought.” Her voice was trembling uncontrollably as she pulled a document from the file. “Darling, help me. Sign this, saying it was your operational error, and this whole thing can be settled.” I stared at the cover of the document. “Medical Malpractice Confession Agreement” stood out in bold letters. “Katherine, you want me to be your scapegoat?” “It’s not like that, darling.” Katherine squeezed my hand. “I promise I’ll get the best lawyers, and I’ll get a letter of understanding from the patient’s family. You won’t be in any trouble.” She embraced me, her voice softening. “Darling, I know this is asking a lot! But I swear, once this is over, I’ll compensate you tenfold. We’ll have a child and live a good life together.” I picked up the document, flipping through it, saying nothing. Katherine saw I didn’t immediately agree, and her eyes quickly welled up with tears. “Darling, please, only you can save me now!” I paused, then picked up the pen and signed my name on the confession. Katherine immediately breathed a sigh of relief. The tears in her eyes quickly vanished. She neatly put away the document, lightly touching my cheek. “Daniel Thorne, you should rest now. You’ve been through too much these past few days.” With that, she turned and left the room without a second glance. I watched her retreating back, a cold sneer forming in my heart. Katherine Hayes, this time, things won’t go as you wish! Back at home, I took off my coat and hung it up. The living room lights were dim. From the second-floor bedroom, I heard the sound of water and muffled laughter. I frowned, treading lightly upstairs. The moment I pushed open the bedroom door, my breath hitched. Dr. James Carter, the man, was standing there, wearing my wedding suit, adjusting his tie in the mirror. That suit, which I had cherished in my closet, had once been a symbol of my happiness. “Oh, hi!” James turned, a clumsy surprise on his face. “Chinese doctor, you’re back earlier than expected.” Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Katherine frantically appeared in the doorway. “Daniel Thorne, you’re back.” Her eyes darted around, her body instinctively positioning itself between James and me, like a shield. “James needs a safe place to stay lately. The hospital… you know, with what happened, he needs to cooperate with the investigation.” I raised an eyebrow. “So, you invited him to live in our home?” Katherine’s fingers unconsciously twisted together, her gaze briefly flickering away. “He wants a home in America.” Her voice lowered, and she tilted her head slightly to avoid my gaze. “I promised to help him.” With that, she quickly looked up again. I felt a wave of visceral nausea. The familiar feeling of betrayal washed over me again. “What do you mean?” James smugly pulled a document from his suit’s inner pocket and handed it to me. “Dr. Thorne, this is my home now.” I took the document. The property deed indeed listed this address and James’s name. I looked at Katherine, incredulous. “This is the house my parents bought for us as our marital home.” Katherine stepped closer, her hand gently resting on my arm, her eyes filled with feigned apology. “Darling, I know this is sudden for you, but James really needs help. Didn’t you always say we should be compassionate?” Her voice was soft, yet there was no hint of retracting her decision. “Darling, you said you loved me. Truly loving someone means supporting all her decisions.” I subtly reached into my pocket, confirming the recording device was active. Seeing my silence, Katherine moved closer and linked her arm through mine, her voice tinged with a false intimacy. “Daniel, rest assured, you’ve done so much for me. My husband will always be you. That will never change.” Her eyes glittered with self-satisfied confidence. I nodded impassively, feigning acceptance of the reality. The master bedroom had been completely transformed. My belongings were all gone. In their place were James’s luxury items. Even our wedding photo had vanished, replaced by a picture of James and Katherine. Seeing a few pieces of lingerie scattered on the bed and the trash can in the corner overflowing with used tissues, my heart still ached, imperceptibly. I walked out to the yard. In the corner, near the trash can, piles of my clothes, books, and personal effects were strewn. Katherine rushed after me. “Daniel, I didn’t know. James did all this on his own.” “He’s an international colleague, not very familiar with our customs…” I crouched down. From the pile of trash, I picked up a broken music box. It was my mother’s most cherished possession, the only memento left to her by my grandfather. The delicate wooden casing was completely shattered, its internal springs and gears scattered on the ground. My heart felt as if it were being pierced by countless tiny needles. Katherine’s eyes began to redden. “I’m sorry. I can have James put your things back…” I shook my head, forcing myself to remain calm. She instantly relaxed. James swaggered over, apologizing with an exaggerated tone. “Dr. Thorne, I’ve never done this kind of work before. If it’s not done well, I’m sure you won’t mind!” “Look at this pathetic little thing.” James snatched the broken music box contemptuously. “This cheap piece of junk. Only a loser like you would treasure it!” “No wonder your mom died early. She probably couldn’t stand a pauper son like you. Good riddance!” He laughed coldly, then threw the music box to the ground, heavily stomping on it, grinding it a few times. “This is where it belongs—with the trash.” The accumulated grief and humiliation from both my past and present lives erupted at this moment. “You’re dead!” My fist swung out uncontrollably. James crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. I lunged at him, punching again and again, pouring all my hatred into every blow! “Ah! Help! Someone, help!” Katherine shrieked, her voice shrill, frantically dialing her phone. In less than ten minutes, several burly bodyguards stormed into the yard. They roughly pulled me off James. Katherine’s voice sharpened: “Daniel Thorne, did I give you too much leeway? How dare you hit James!” “Teach him a lesson! A harsh one!” The bodyguards immediately restrained me, punches and kicks raining down. Katherine stood coldly to the side. My wife, who used to cry tears of concern if I even scraped a finger, now watched as if a stray dog were being beaten. James wiped the blood from his mouth and slowly walked over to me. He brutally kicked my ribs. Then, deliberately, he ground his foot onto my hand. Crunch! I heard the sound of my own finger bones shattering. “Katherine Hayes! James Carter!” I gritted their names through my teeth. “Throw him in the cold storage. Let him cool down.” Katherine’s voice was icy as she gave the order, then she turned to James, her face instantly filled with concern. “Darling, are you alright? Come, let me help you get some medicine.” “Katie, it’s just a scratch. It’s nothing.” James leaned weakly on Katherine’s shoulder, a mocking smirk on his face as he looked at me. The bodyguards dragged me like a dead dog and tossed me into the cold storage. My fingers, broken, were useless. My whole body ached with intense pain. The voice recorder in my chest pocket was still intact. I endured the searing pain and activated the recorder. “I, Daniel Thorne, am currently being illegally imprisoned in this cold storage by my wife Katherine Hayes and her lover James Carter. I have sustained multiple severe injuries, including fractured fingers on my right hand…”

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I never imagined a simple handbag would lead to this—a divorce from my husband, so soon after our wedding. It all started when my husband and I decided on a destination wedding instead of a traditional banquet. Once in Tokyo, I happened upon a Prestige Atelier boutique and stepped inside to browse. To my surprise, the sales associate informed me that every bag on display was merely for show, none available for purchase. I glanced down at myself—a simple t-shirt, baggy shorts, and hair that looked like a bird’s nest. A few days later, dressed impeccably, I returned, only to be told once again that there were no bags for sale. This time, a male sales associate served me, his attitude even more arrogant. He actually suggested that if I couldn’t afford a bag, I could at least drink all the free water I wanted. I demanded to file a complaint and have my account deleted, but they deliberately made me wait for hours. What was even more infuriating was that my husband blamed me for making a fuss. Fine. I’d like to see if they dare to be so arrogant once they see my account details! Then, even if they groveled on their knees, I would never forgive these snobbish, status-obsessed people! 1 After the sales associate, Chloe, refused to serve me, I was incandescent with rage. “Get me someone else!” The moment I entered the boutique, I had asked to see handbags. Seeing my anger, Chloe paused, then turned to murmur into her headset, her professional smile unwavering as she asked me to wait. A moment later, a young man in a sharp suit, Ethan, approached. I assumed he was there to apologize, but his face was stern as he began, “Madam, we only serve our elite clients. Basic members are not within our service scope.” He then handed me a bottle of water. “Please, take a seat here and have some water. Even if you can’t afford a bag, you can at least drink your fill.” I was instantly inflamed – was he implying I couldn’t afford a bag, just trying to leech off their service? And then offering water to “drink my fill” as an insult? I turned to leave, and as I walked away, I distinctly heard him say into his headset, “This one’s been dealt with.” 2 I turned back. “I no longer wish to purchase from your brand. Can you please delete my account?” Ethan paused, then a “just as I expected” smile spread across his face. “Madam, once your account is deleted, you will no longer be a basic member with us. “If you ever wish to purchase again, you’ll have to start from scratch to accumulate points and upgrade.” I shook my head. “Thanks to you, this is my last time here.” Ethan directed me to sit on the sofa, claiming he would handle it once he was finished. However, an hour, then two hours passed… Growing agitated, I stood up. “How much longer do you intend to make me wait?” At that moment, Ethan was beaming, carrying clothes, trailing behind a wealthy lady. “My apologies, I’m busy right now. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?” The lady, Mrs. Sterling, glanced at me, then scoffed to Ethan, “Ethan, do you let any riff-raff into your counter now?” Chloe immediately chimed in, covering her mouth with a feigned laugh. “Mrs. Sterling, this lady has been here several times, always asking to see bags. “But our counter doesn’t cater to basic or cosmetics members, so she started demanding to delete her account, giving us quite a hassle.” Other customers in the store turned to scrutinize me, and I trembled with fury – Just because I dressed casually last time, they labeled me a “cosmetics member”? I loved this brand precisely because of the excellent service they offered back home. How many cosmetics, bags, and clothes had I bought over the years? And now, I was being discriminated against simply for dressing plainly? I immediately snapped at Ethan, “Get your manager here. I want to file a complaint!” 3 Chloe and Ethan both froze, clearly not expecting me to complain. Chloe pointed to her name tag, a sneering smile playing on her lips. “This is my employee ID. Remember it when you file your complaint, darling. “However, the manager isn’t here right now. It’ll be a while before they arrive.” Ethan nodded. “Yes, Madam. You can wait for the manager to arrive before deleting your account.” Their expressions were dripping with dismissiveness – in their eyes, I was merely a basic member. Even a complaint would only lead to a light reprimand, nothing significant. I turned to leave, tossing over my shoulder, “In a few hours, I expect to see your manager.” Stepping out of the boutique, my husband, David, just arrived, having finished packing. Seeing the grim expression on my face, he hurried to ask, “What’s wrong, Cat?” I recounted the entire incident, but to my dismay, he actually urged me to let it go. “We have a flight to catch soon. Don’t bother with them. Maybe they didn’t mean it…” I re-evaluated the man standing before me. I had married him because I was hot-tempered and sought a gentle partner to complement me. But at this moment, I suddenly wondered: was my judgment so poor, or had I simply misjudged him from the start? Was he gentle, or merely weak? I didn’t answer, and David, assuming I’d agreed, quickly led me to dinner. Throughout the meal, David persistently tried to mediate. “Maybe they really couldn’t sell it. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they make a sale to you for commission?” “If they couldn’t sell it, why were they bustling about, helping that wealthy lady try on clothes? And why bring up memberships?” “I think they were deliberately judging me by my cover.” David offered a few more explanations, telling me not to take it to heart. After dinner, he headed towards the Grand Avenue exit, but I turned and walked straight back to the luxury boutique. David rushed to catch up, pulling and coaxing, but I refused to utter a single word. Inside the store, I went directly to Ethan and Chloe. The two were stunned to see me return. They hadn’t expected me to be so persistent. Reluctantly, they called the manager. While the manager was on the way, they tried to reason with me, then threatened me. When they couldn’t get through to me, they turned their attention to David. “Sir, is this your wife?” My husband nodded. “Yes, my newlywed wife.” Chloe seized the opportunity to interject. “Sir, you really need to keep your wife in line. She’s wasted so much of our time.” “In our culture, when a woman marries, she often takes her husband’s name and should focus on the home and family, not being so aggressive out here.” My husband nodded in agreement. “I’ll talk to her, I promise.” With that, he tried to pull me towards the door. “Cat, can we just enjoy our honeymoon without drama? Like a peaceful honeymoon, not one where we both end up miserable.” 4 I turned to David, my face serious. “If you want to catch your flight, go ahead. I’m not going.” David was at a loss now, left with no choice but to wait there for the manager. During this time, Chloe and Ethan, one after another, thoroughly explained the consequences of deleting my account to David. I watched David, listening intently to their words, and my disappointment deepened. David and I met through an arranged introduction. I was a career-driven woman, always immersed in my work, with no real mind for romance. After repeated prodding from my family, I finally agreed to the setup. But an arranged introduction didn’t mean I had no demands; on the contrary, my expectations were high. High education, tall, high IQ, and handsome. As for anything else, it was irrelevant. Because I was incredibly wealthy, whether my husband had money or a good job simply didn’t matter. It was these very criteria that led me to choose him from a pool of candidates. He had a gentle temperament and could tolerate my busy schedule and occasional bad temper. His job wasn’t great, so I arranged for him to work at one of my subsidiary companies. Afraid he might feel sensitive about it, I framed it as a friend’s company. But now, looking at him, this wasn’t gentleness; this was clearly weakness. My mind was already made up for divorce. When David politely thanked Ethan and Chloe, he turned to me. He came over to my side. “Cat, if you delete this account, you’ll have to start from zero later.” “I just asked around, they didn’t mean anything by it, their words just came out wrong.” “And they said, if we change our minds, this whole thing can just be forgotten!” Seeing his anxious eyes, I scoffed. “You’re my husband. Whose side are you on?” “Of course I’m on your side, but if you really can’t buy a bag right now, you can always buy one later, right? A colleague of mine deals in pre-owned designer bags, they’re affordable and still big brands.” “I’ll get you one after the honeymoon.” I looked up at him. “I recall your salary is, what, ten thousand dollars a month? And you’re planning to buy me a pre-owned designer bag?” “Isn’t it because we’re spending a lot at home? Besides, my parents are getting old, and there will be many more expenses down the line.” I smiled. “Buying a ten-thousand-dollar bag won’t make you poor, nor will it make me rich.” “Don’t say another word. Don’t make me bring up divorce right now.” At that moment, the luxury boutique manager arrived.

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I was livid and confronted him, only to be chastised: “How can your thoughts be so dirty! My big brother isn’t here, it’s only natural for me to help my sister-in-law.” I raged, then laughed bitterly. “Natural,” he said. I immediately sent the scene I had just recorded to his elder brother, who is out of town and is a walking powder barrel. 1 “My wife is being utterly unreasonable and picked a huge fight with me. Any advice, internet? I want to teach this woman a lesson.” Late at night, when I scrolled past this post, my heart skipped a beat. Because today, when I got home from work, the sight that greeted me as I opened the door was my sister-in-law. “What are you two doing?!” I demanded, my pupils constricting in disbelief, my voice sharp with accusation. What the hell? What were they doing? Being intimate right under my nose?? “Oh, Riley, you’re back? Your sister-in-law was crying in pain just now, and your big brother isn’t here, so I had to help her out.” Ben Carter looked up at me, nonchalantly. My sister-in-law, Clara Thorne, chuckled awkwardly, pulling her clothes back down. “Oh, bless you, Ben. Your brother is useless, you know. He couldn’t even make it back when I was giving birth.” Listening to their explanation, a mix of fury and indignation surged through me. “And what about Adam working his fingers to the bone out of town? Does he know his own brother and his wife are doing this?” “Oh, heavens, what a terrible thing to say! How could you think that of us?” My sister-in-law immediately burst into tears, and my nephew, Liam, next to her, started crying too. SLAP! Ben’s face flushed. He sprang up abruptly, his hand raised high, and delivered a powerful slap across my face. I was caught off guard, instantly knocked to the floor, my cheek burning, my ears ringing. Tears of humiliation welled up in my eyes. It was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me! He used to be so careful that if I even scraped my hand, he’d gently apply antiseptic, carefully blowing on my palm. But how had he become like this? “That’s a lesson for you! Don’t let me hear you say another insulting word about Clara!” Ben glared down at me, lecturing. Then, he picked up the crying child and followed Clara into the bedroom. He didn’t come into our room until late that night. He roughly pulled me into his arms, coaxing, “I’m sorry, Riley. I lost my temper today. Sigh, it’s just… Clara’s all alone here, and I was only trying to help. Besides, Riley… seeing Liam, I envy it too.” Hearing his words, my anger instantly dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. I knew he had always wanted children, but due to my health, we hadn’t been able to have one. Sigh. Late that night, my mind racing, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It was then I coincidentally stumbled upon that online post. This post… it sounds exactly like something Ben would write. Suspicion gnawing at me, I instinctively clicked on it. Countless comments flooded the screen: “Holy crap, if this were my husband, I’d die of rage. Don’t you know there are boundaries between men and women? Especially with your sister-in-law!” “As a man, I think it’s nothing. Brother and sister-in-law are family. If big brother isn’t there, isn’t it right to take care of sister-in-law? She’s being unreasonable, he just didn’t hit her hard enough.” “Pah! You people are shameless. You wouldn’t be doing anything with your sister-in-law, would you?” …The thread’s popularity soared. The original poster finally spoke: “What do you know? My sister-in-law is all alone here, and my big brother is out of town. She has no one else to turn to. Besides, my wife is just a barren hen. Who would want her if I left?” My entire body trembled uncontrollably as I read. The loud snoring beside me only fueled my irritation. I wanted to turn and strangle Ben, who was peacefully sleeping. I can’t get pregnant, and it’s because of him! It was a while ago. I had just gotten a positive pregnancy test. We were overjoyed, eagerly planning a comprehensive check-up at the hospital. But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Halfway there, a fierce storm erupted. Just then, Clara called. “Ben, I think I have a fever. Can you come over?” “Yes, I’m on my way,” Ben agreed without hesitation. He then turned to me. “Riley, you go ahead by yourself. I’ll pick you up later.” Despite my immense reluctance, I couldn’t say anything more. I simply got out of the car. Unexpectedly, as I stepped out, my foot slipped, and I fell to the ground. Ben, however, sped off, completely oblivious to my cries of pain. That’s how we lost our first child, and my body was left with a lingering illness. “Riley, why aren’t you asleep yet?” Ben suddenly woke up, interrupting my painful memories. I suppressed the turmoil in my heart, speaking to him as if nothing were wrong. “It’s nothing. Going to sleep now.” After all, I couldn’t be 100% sure this post was actually him. What if it was just a coincidence? For now, I needed to observe and plan carefully. “Riley, go wash Little Leo’s diapers.” My sister-in-law’s command reached me the moment I opened the bedroom door that morning. “I’ve made plans to go shopping with friends,” I replied, refusing. In the past, I had pitied her, alone and vulnerable here, with Adam constantly working out of town. I often bought groceries and clothes for her. I even agreed to Ben bringing her home to live with us after she gave birth. But it seemed she hadn’t grasped the reality of the situation? She thought my help was a given, and now she was ordering me around with utter ease. “Oh, my life is so hard! All alone with a child, and even getting help to wash a diaper is difficult. I know you look down on me. I’ll go! I’ll take Little Leo and leave right now!” My sister-in-law started crying again. Wiping her tears, she picked up Little Leo, feigning a departure. In the past, I would have rushed to stop her. But now, I simply watched her theatrics, arms crossed, my expression cold. Seeing I made no move, she plopped back down on the floor, howling and beating the ground with her hand. “I’ll just die with my child! I don’t want to live anymore!” This outburst, however, did bring Ben out. Annoyed that his work was disturbed, he emerged from the study, a frown on his face. When he saw his sister-in-law crying dramatically on the floor, he rushed over, helping her up. “Clara, what’s wrong? Talk it out. The floor is cold.” “She bullied me,” Clara accused, pointing at me, crying even harder. “Apologize!” Ben immediately turned to me, his face contorted in a furious glare, commanding me. “Hmph.” I suppressed the sting in my nose and sneered at them. So I’m the only outsider here? He seemed to have forgotten. On our wedding day, he had been so excited he couldn’t sleep, whispering in my ear all night: “Riley, I love you. Don’t worry, if you and my mom both fell into the sea, I’d save you. After all, you’re the one I’ll spend my life with. I’ll always take your side, unconditionally.” Is this what he calls taking my side? I snatched my bag, pushed past them, and ran out the door, fearing my tears would fall the next second. Once outside, I checked my phone and saw the post had been updated. “My wife, that nasty woman, is getting more and more disobedient. If it weren’t for her good family background, why would I have married her? My sister-in-law is so much better, understanding and fertile. And she has plenty of milk. Don’t even ask, I had it once and wanted more, hahaha… I hear it’s good for beauty too.” This update made the post’s popularity explode even more. Netizens: “Holy crap, I’m jealous. I want to taste it too.” “Your wife is so pathetic. A disgusting man like you deserves to die!” “Go away, go away, what do you know? There was too much milk, it would have been a waste not to drink it.” …My eyes burned with a fierce dryness. My family’s financial situation was indeed good then, but Ben was the best of all my suitors. He’d bring me an umbrella in the rain, food when I was hungry. Every day, come rain or shine, he was there. Coupled with his handsome looks, I quickly fell in love, marrying him against my family’s wishes. In just a few short years, everything had changed. His constant favoritism towards Clara, and their ambiguous closeness, had forced me to face reality. “Wasting milk” was just a twisted excuse for his perverse desires. Torture and agony festered in my heart, pushing me to the breaking point. I raised my tear-streaked face, gazing at the bustling street. My eyes gleamed with a cold, ruthless resolve. A brilliant counter-attack plan began to form in my mind.

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My mom has an IQ of 74, I have an IQ of 142. Yet, she was obsessed with teaching me. She’d say, “Without me, you’re nothing.” “Your brain is so slow, so stupid. You’re in middle school and I still have to watch you every day! Just look at this problem, how could you get it wrong?” “How can 0.11 be less than 0.8? I, such a smart person! How did I give birth to such an idiot like you? A two-digit number, a three-digit number, you can’t even compare their sizes?” She slammed the pencil onto the floor in a fit of rage! “Teaching you is worse than me becoming a college student myself!” So, my 43-year-old mother decided to take the college entrance exams with me. She declared, “You don’t even know which is bigger, 0.11 or 0.8! I’ll show you who’s smarter with my own ability!” 1 I looked up at her, startled. She angrily slapped her cheeks, a sharp thwack each time. “Look, look! Is there writing on my face? Are you going to stare at me until you get smart yourself? Write! What are you dawdling for!” She slammed her foot into my chair. I flinched, trembling all over. Since kindergarten, she had forced me to study every single day. She’d haul home every textbook she could find. Other kids played happily outside, but I was locked in my room, practicing calligraphy. At an age when I could barely hold a pen, I had to write fifty pages of characters daily. Under such high pressure, my grades excelled once I started elementary school. Back then, the English taught in school was incredibly simple, and Mom learned a lot of it alongside me. Plus, with her constant vigilance over my Chinese and math, anyone could have been top of the class. I nervously picked up the fallen pen, but I didn’t want to follow Mom’s instructions to revise the solution steps. Since middle school, I’d noticed that there was a lot she didn’t actually know. So, I cautiously looked up at her and said, “Mom, actually, after the decimal point, you don’t look at the number of digits to compare size.” Mom narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” I thought this was my chance and quickly continued, “The teacher said that trailing zeros after the decimal point can be omitted, so you just compare the first digit. Then 0.11 is indeed less than 0.8.” Mom’s face instantly contorted with rage. She slapped me across the face. “You’re full of it! How dare you try to use the teacher against me?! You just don’t want to spend more time re-doing this problem, do you?!” She leaned in close, her eyes blazing. “Tell me! Are you dating? Have you been hanging out with delinquents?” I trembled uncontrollably, then burst into sobs. Mom grabbed my lower eyelid between her index and middle fingers, pinching it fiercely. “Do you take me for a fool? Trying to deceive me with such a pathetic lie! I just wasn’t born in a good era, otherwise, I would definitely have been among the first college graduates!” She spat. “You’re living in a good time and you don’t even appreciate it! You’re so ungrateful!” 2 I cried out, howling from Mom’s pinching. The skin under my eyes was thin and tender, and the pinch sent a sharp, agonizing pain through me. I pounded the table, begging her repeatedly, “Mom, I’ll change it! I’ll change it! I’ll change it right now!” Her expression softened slightly. But she still seemed unsatisfied. Crying, I solved the math problem again according to Mom’s logic. Only then did she stand up, preparing to leave. “You’re not allowed to eat dinner tonight, understand? Don’t think you’re better than me just because you started middle school.” She sneered. “I actually went to high school back in the day. In our time, high school was the highest education you could get!” She shook her head in disgust. “With your IQ, if you were born in that era, you wouldn’t even graduate elementary school. But look at you, just started middle school and you think your wings are hard. Dare to use the teacher against me? Hmph, I’m telling you, your teachers probably aren’t as smart as I am!” Mom grew more and more agitated as she spoke. I hadn’t actually disobeyed her again, or made any defiant gestures. But she was always like this: she’d work herself into a rage and then take it out on me. She suddenly lunged forward and punched me hard in the back. “Did you hear me?! Are you deaf?” I nodded repeatedly. “I heard you, Mom.” Only then did she slam the door shut, satisfied, and leave. Mom locked me in my room, forbidding me from drinking water or eating anything. When Dad came home, he asked why I wasn’t out resting. Mom snapped, “His wings are hard! He’s trying to trick me so he can go sneak out and cause trouble!” Dad didn’t say much, made an excuse about running an errand, and left again. Before he left, he secretly slipped fifty dollars under my door. For me, that was a huge sum. I could buy a five-dollar skewer from the school gate, two notebooks with the rest, and even a newly released mechanical pencil. I was both surprised and delighted, tucking the money into my English textbook. Mom never looked at my English book. She despised English, saying we shouldn’t learn it. She said English learners were all fake foreigners, wannabe Westerners, and the most useless things! But strangely, my best subject was always English. 3 At eleven o’clock that night, Mom opened my bedroom door. “So? Do you know you were wrong?” My mind was foggy, and my eyes, still blurred, nodded. “Alright, then bring out all your homework for me to see.” I neatly placed all my homework before her. She checked my math homework and seemed quite pleased. “Hmm, good. You followed my instructions.” She then picked up my Chinese homework, reading my essay word by word. Then she tapped on the desk with clear dissatisfaction. “What do you mean, ‘Behind red doors, wine and meat go to waste’? How can you use that idiom this way? What’s a ‘red door’? A red door is a big red gate, meaning the family is very rich.” She explained with authority. “How rich? So rich that they have more meat than they can eat, and so much wine it spoils because they can’t drink it all. This phrase encourages us to study hard, to be ambitious, to become rich people. Once we’re rich, we can also build big houses, with big yards, and have a big red gate. That way, we can also ‘have wine and meat go to waste behind red doors.’” She paused, staring at me. “Do you understand? What is this nonsense you wrote about ‘wealth disparity’?” Her voice rose. “What is your brain doing all day? So unrealistic, off track. I’m telling you, when you study, study proper history, don’t listen to all those wild, unofficial tales every day.” She glared. “You’re learning a bunch of unpresentable garbage and making a fool of me! Change this section immediately!” I stared at Mom, astonished. The seed of doubt in my heart quickly sprouted new shoots. Had she really gone to school? Why did she give me the impression of pretending to know things she didn’t? But I knew her. I couldn’t defy her edict. So I quickly revised the essay according to her instructions. She nodded. “Good. This way you can maintain your top rank in class.” She sighed dramatically. “Ah, without me, you really are nothing.” She clicked her tongue. “I really want to send you for an IQ test. If your IQ isn’t over a hundred, I don’t think you should even go to school.” She shook her head. “A waste of family money! Ugh…” She grumbled to me for a long time. She talked about how so-and-so’s child got into an elite university and received tens of thousands of dollars in scholarships. Tens of thousands of dollars! That child immediately bought her mother a gold necklace! Getting into a prestigious university felt like a ticket to heaven. “Counting on you is impossible! You, you can probably get into a nursing school, become a little nurse, and that’s it.” She clicked her tongue again. “Tsk, even a little nurse might be hard for you, with that brain of yours.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I think I’ll just secretly have another baby.” She eyed me askance, as if trying to scare me. But she didn’t know I truly hoped she’d have another baby. Because that way, I’d have a way out. 4 The next morning, I went to school very early. Secretly, I changed my Chinese and math homework back to how the teacher had taught us. Only then did I confidently hand them in. The second period was math class. I eagerly waited for Mr. Davies to hand back the homework. I was sure I’d get a perfect score! A perfect score! Mr. Davies walked in, carrying everyone’s homework notebooks. “Our class had a perfect score today!” My heart thumped. “This student is…” He was about to say the name when the classroom door was violently rattled. Mr. Davies put down his books, and I deflated. I lowered my head, looking at my newly bought mechanical pencil. How annoying. Who was it? Interrupting the teacher right after class started. But a familiar voice came from the doorway. It was my mother. What was she doing here? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up instantly. I snapped my head up and saw Mom staring at me, triumphantly. “Mr. Davies, is it? Hello, I’m Mrs. Reynolds, Willow’s mother. I know this is your class right now, so I made a special trip.” Her voice was firm. “There are some things I must make clear, right here, in front of you and the entire class.” Mr. Davies politely nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Reynolds, but could you possibly wait until after class—” Mom gave the teacher no chance. She pushed him aside and arrogantly marched to the front of the classroom. “I can’t wait! For our Willow’s future, I must teach her a lesson!” Then, she picked up a piece of chalk and wrote two numbers clearly and boldly on the blackboard: 0.11, 0.8. She waved her hand grandly, as if she were the teacher. “Students, I’m sure you all know which of these two numbers is bigger or smaller!” Some students in the audience snickered, others whispered. “Of course we know, it’s such a simple question.” “Yeah, I knew that in first grade.” “Does Willow really not know?” “Huh? The class president doesn’t know? Hahahaha, that’s hilarious. Why is she even class president?” “Seriously, if she doesn’t even know this, she should just step down. Let’s elect a new one.” All eyes flickered to me. A suffocating, terrifying feeling, like storm clouds before a tempest, pressed down on me! Mr. Davies, trying to spare my embarrassment, stepped forward to pull Mom away. “Mrs. Reynolds, I think we should discuss this after class. Willow is also…” Mom gave him no face, pushing Mr. Davies back with a stumble. “I’ll manage my child however I want! You’re clearly setting her up for failure!” Mr. Davies’s face flushed with anger. He turned and walked out of the classroom, presumably to find the head of the department. Mom looked at me triumphantly. “Do you know what our Willow told me?” The students, eager for more drama, were thrilled. “What? What did she say?” “Did she say they’re both the same size? Hahahaha!” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Her? She actually told me that 0.8 is greater than 0.11!” In that instant, the classroom fell completely silent.

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1 My wife, Sarah, a seasoned pilot, had just told me she was pregnant when her plane went down in a catastrophic crash. In her final, desperate moments, she somehow managed an emergency landing. I scoured the wreckage, searching for any sign of her, only to be told there was nothing left—no body, no trace. Besides me, only Sarah’s twin sister, Emily, and her husband, Jake Thompson, had survived the tragedy. I became obsessed, chasing every phantom lead, desperate to find my wife. Then, eight months later, I overheard something that ripped my world apart. My sister-in-law, Emily, drunk and arguing with a friend, her voice slurring, “Jake suddenly lost his wife, and his arm is broken. How could I abandon him?” “Alex’s mother drugged me all those years ago, forced me into marrying him. I’ve harbored resentment for so long. Maybe this is my chance to finally make things right, to fix what was broken, until Jake recovers.” The words hit me like a physical blow. Emily? No. It was Sarah. The woman I’d been searching for, the one I thought was gone forever, stood before me, playing the part of her own dead twin. My heart turned to ash. I walked over to the framed photo of Sarah I’d kept on my bedside table, the one I’d believed was her memorial. I tossed it into the trash, the glass cracking with a sickening snap. Then I called my parents. “Don’t look for Sarah anymore. Just… declare her legally deceased. Erase her from the records. I’m remarrying.” “Even if Sarah really died, there should have been a body, a trace. There’s nothing. Are you truly giving up the search?” my mother’s voice, thick with concern, asked through the phone. I clutched the device, my knuckles white, unable to speak for a long moment. Despair was a lead weight in my gut. From the next room, I could hear Sarah’s friend, Chloe, her voice hot with righteous anger. “You faked your death, fine! But at least you could have left your sister’s body! At least then Alex could have found closure! He’s been out of his mind, searching everywhere, a pitiful sight…” Sarah, lounging on the plush sofa with infuriating nonchalance, her expression a complex mix of emotions, finally spoke. “I was worried Jake would be too upset, so I had Emily’s body cremated immediately. If Alex wants to keep searching, let him. Why should I care? Their family used such disgusting tactics to force me into that marriage. This is just… payback.” As she finished, a fierce, burning resentment blazed in her eyes. She blamed my mother, who, in a desperate attempt to ease my agonizing, unrequited love, had impulsively drugged Sarah on the night of our arranged engagement. It had shackled Sarah to me for five miserable years. Who could have imagined that the wife who had always shown me such warmth and care could harbor such deep-seated hatred for so long, all for that single night? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Then, against my will, tears welled in my eyes, tracing cold, unforgiving paths down my cheeks. On the day of the crash, all of Sarah’s colleagues from AeroWing Airlines had come to offer their condolences, urging me to find peace. But the suddenness of it all, the brutal finality, had been impossible to accept. I had knelt outside the airline’s headquarters for three days and three nights, begging for a rational explanation. Why was there no trace of my wife’s body? Why was there no clear conclusion to the crash investigation? I’d clung to the desperate belief that she was still alive. Yet, with every fruitless lead, every unanswered prayer, countless nights had found me teetering on the edge, wanting nothing more than to end it all, to follow her into death. Now, I knew the sickening truth. It had all been Sarah’s elaborate, absurd, and cruel charade. She had orchestrated her own disappearance, a grotesque play she’d directed herself. Living under my roof, under my very nose, flaunting her affection with Jake day after day – had she never felt a flicker of remorse? Welcoming me into the Peterson family home as her sister, offering me calculated gestures of sympathy and concern – did she truly believe that could somehow atone for the profound pain she’d inflicted? I slumped against the wall, sliding slowly to the floor, the world suddenly too heavy to bear. It took me a full minute to find my voice. “Mom,” I rasped, “from now on, I’ll focus solely on the Stone family business. If I’m remarrying, then let it be to Chloe Sterling, the Sterling Group heiress.” The Sterling Group and the Stone family were perfectly matched, a strategic alliance. She was the ideal candidate. My mother, despite her reluctance to see me marry a woman rumored to be confined to a wheelchair, quietly agreed after hearing the brutal truth. “But… aren’t you going to tell Sarah about your kidney injury? What if it makes her feel something? After all, you loved her so much back then…” 2 I shook my head, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh escaping me. “I’ll just… secretly have it removed.” If she was so willing to assume a new identity to care for Jake, then I would grant her that twisted devotion. Let the identity of Sarah Peterson, my wife, vanish completely. I had just settled into my car, ready to leave, when I saw Sarah rushing towards the hospital. Moments later, a text message from her lit up my phone: “Alex! Big news for the family! I’m about to give birth!” My wife of five years, the woman who had shared my life and love, was now calling me “brother-in-law” and attributing our child to another man. The sheer absurdity of it all, the cold indifference, washed over me. It felt utterly pointless. I didn’t bother to reply. Instead, I drove directly to the hospital, walking straight to the registration desk to request kidney surgery. A young nurse, her voice kind and gentle, asked, “Is your partner here? We usually need to consult family, you don’t have to face this alone.” My gaze drifted towards the delivery ward, where I saw Sarah, her face alight with tender adoration as she cradled a newborn. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. “My partner passed away,” I told the nurse, “so I’ll make my own decisions.” The nurse, suddenly awkward, simply mumbled an “Oh,” and quickly registered me. I tried to hide in a quiet corner, waiting for my surgery, but Sarah spotted me anyway. She came bouncing over, her face radiant. “Alex! I had a little boy! Our Peterson family finally has a legacy!” Her smile, so blindingly bright, faltered as she saw the numb expression on my face, a fleeting flicker of guilt crossing her features. “I know you always wanted a child. Actually, I—oh, I mean, Emily, your sister, she really wanted a child too. If only she were still here…” I stared at her now-flat stomach, my heart clenching as if a cruel hand were twisting it. For years, I had yearned for a child. And now, the child was right there, before me, yet I was utterly stripped of the right to claim him. As she spoke, two doctors, standing some distance away, called out to both of us simultaneously. “Ms. Peterson, your partner is looking for you!” “Mr. Stone, it’s time for your surgery!” Perhaps she was too ecstatic, too wrapped up in her new role, to hear my name. I brushed past her, an invisible phantom. She was cooing with delight, tickling the tiny infant in her arms, while I was walking into an operating room to have a kidney removed. Thankfully, the surgery was swift. Fresh out of surgery, Sarah insisted I come into the recovery room to see the newborn. Jake Thompson was there too. He’d sustained injuries in the crash, and even with his arm in a cast, he looked remarkably handsome, clearly well-cared for. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror: my chin was shadowed with stubble, and I looked years older than my actual age. Suddenly, Sarah announced she was hungry and instinctively reached for a mango someone had left on the table. Jake shot her a look, and she immediately, fondly, tossed the fruit into the trash. I used to warn her countless times that I was allergic to mangoes, but she’d always eaten them without a second thought. Jake looked at me, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. “Alex, my wife listens to my every word. She knows I can’t stand the smell of mangoes, so she never buys them anymore. I guess I really married the right woman.” Jake’s words dripped with possessiveness, a smug challenge in his tone. Did he know? Did he realize this woman, pretending to be his wife, was actually Sarah? I didn’t have time to dwell on it. My parents-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, rushed in, squeezing past me, eager to see their new grandson. That perfect little family of three, with the grandparents beaming over them, truly looked like a harmonious unit. And me? What was I? Not even a grieving widower to my own wife… Back home, a package from the Sterling family had already arrived for me: several photos of Chloe Sterling, along with samples of wedding attire and diamond rings. I hadn’t expected Sarah, who had returned to retrieve Jake’s jacket, to catch sight of Chloe’s face on my phone screen. Her voice, suddenly tight with nerves, cut through the quiet. “Who is this? Alex, what are you doing?” 3 I ignored her slip, the casual use of my first name that broke her careful facade. My voice was calm, almost bored. “Your sister is gone. My family has arranged for me to meet someone. It’s only reasonable for a widower to remarry, isn’t it?” Sarah’s face darkened instantly. “No! You can’t!” Perhaps she realized her reaction was too strong, too revealing. After a beat, she forced herself to lower her voice, her words strained. “I mean… my sister has been gone for less than a year. You can’t possibly remarry so soon. I’m her twin sister, and you’re my brother-in-law. You two were so devoted when she was alive. How could you change your heart so quickly? I can’t just stand by and watch you leave the Peterson family.” “What if—I mean, what if—she came back someday? We never found her body, after all. She might not truly be gone…” Her frantic, almost desperate demeanor left me bewildered. She clearly hated me, despised me even. So why was she fighting so hard to stop me from remarrying? When I stubbornly returned to scrolling through the photos, Sarah’s frustration boiled over. She snatched my phone, her movements sharp, and furiously deleted the images. “You need to stay here, with the Petersons! Stop thinking about remarrying!” She was so flustered, she even forgot to call me “brother-in-law.” Sarah opened her mouth, about to continue her protests, but her phone suddenly chimed with an incoming call. “Babe,” Jake’s voice, laced with pain, filtered through the speaker. “My arm still hurts so bad after the surgery. Can you please come over? I keep having nightmares about losing it if you’re not here.” Ever since Jake had broken his arm in the crash, it seemed he was constantly battling post-op infections or suffering night terrors. Sarah always rushed to his side at top speed. This time was no exception. Before Jake could even finish, Sarah hastily grabbed a few of his shirts, then bolted out the door, leaving her own jacket behind. It was then that I truly understood. Her pleas for me not to remarry? They were just empty pleasantries, a performance in her role as the grieving sister. A bitter laugh escaped me. I called the Sterling family, asking them to resend the photos. I chose the wedding attire and the diamond ring. Beyond that, I threw out every last photograph, every last memento of Sarah Peterson. It was as if she had never existed. That evening, halfway through my ruthless purge, Sarah returned with Jake, holding the baby. “Alex,” she began, her tone carefully earnest. “After Emily passed, Jake invited you to stay with us, to help you through your grief. Since the crash, he’s been having terrible nightmares. From now on, you can take care of Jake. Think of it as taking care of your brother-in-law for Emily’s sake.” I clenched the trash bag in my hand, unable to utter a single word. Sarah peered through the cracked door of my bedroom, seeing the stark emptiness. She was about to question me when her phone rang, pulling her away. As I went downstairs to dump the trash, I overheard Sarah’s voice, ringing with smug certainty. “They’re just trying to set him up with someone. You don’t know Alex? He’s still completely obsessed with finding me. Even if he can’t, he’d probably try to follow me into death! He’s definitely going to reject any family arrangements!” A cynical laugh escaped me. I returned to my room, continuing to pack. Tomorrow, I was leaving. Unexpectedly, Jake followed me in. He proudly stroked the baby in his arms, a chilling, insidious smirk twisting his lips – a look I’d never seen from him before. “Alex, do you really think your wife died in that crash?” he sneered. “Let me do you a favor. Your ‘sister-in-law’ is the real Sarah Peterson. She’s here, willingly by my side, while you’re just a pathetic, cuckolded widower!” “All those days you were wailing, tearing your hair out, practically ready to kill yourself to be with Sarah? You were such a fool!” He was right. I had been an utter fool. My love for Sarah had been so absolute, it had never once wavered in suspicion. I had believed she would never abandon me in a plane crash. I had believed she would never feel anything for any man but me. But those days were long, long gone. 4 When I remained silent, Jake, as if overcome by a sudden, furious shame, lashed out and slapped me hard across the face. “My wife is dead, so I’m keeping Sarah by my side forever! You’ll never take her from me!” Just then, Sarah rushed in. Seeing Jake’s hand raised to strike my face, she instinctively darted forward, throwing herself between us. Sarah’s eyes landed on the angry red mark blooming on my cheek, and a flicker of anger crossed her brows. “Jake! He’s our brother-in-law! How could you—” Before she could finish, Jake pulled the baby tighter, his voice a quick, panicked defense. “I didn’t mean to! It’s just… Alex hates us for having this baby, and he tried to snatch him and throw him down! I only hit him out of a father’s instinct to protect!” In an instant, Sarah’s allegiance shifted. The supposed “family hierarchy” was forgotten, replaced by a furious glare. “Emily’s death isn’t our fault! Why would you try to hurt my baby? You are utterly heartless!” “A cruel man like you doesn’t deserve our pity! Maybe Emily just didn’t want to see you anymore, that’s why she secretly hid herself away!” My hands fell limply to my sides. This, I realized, was likely the truth she had harbored in her heart for years. Sarah, her eyes blazing red, glared at me, her chest heaving with uncontrolled fury. When I still didn’t speak, her tone softened, a veneer of pity in her voice. “Don’t worry, Emily will come back someday. They haven’t declared her legally dead yet, right? Then, you two can just have another child together.” I numbly shook my head. “I’m not looking for her anymore.” In an instant, Sarah’s face darkened, a look of utter disbelief twisting her features. “How can you just suddenly stop looking? You always said you loved Emily! Are you just giving up so easily? You…” Jake grabbed Sarah’s arm, pulling the agitated woman closer, then roughly tilted her chin up. “Let ‘brother-in-law’ rest. Let’s go back to our room and work on baby number two, my good wife.” Sarah’s eyes lingered on me for a few more seconds, a fleeting, unreadable expression in their depths, before she finally let Jake lead her out of the room. The next morning, as I carried my luggage downstairs, I heard a tremor of panic in Sarah’s voice. “Last night, Alex suddenly said he wasn’t looking for me anymore. I… never mind. Just hurry up and help me. Help me get my old identity back.” Sarah Peterson, I thought, a grim satisfaction settling in. There’s truly no need for that anymore. I walked out of the Peterson home without a backward glance, driving straight to the Sterling Estate to finalize the wedding arrangements. After hanging up the phone, Sarah rushed to my room, flinging the door open, only to find it empty. “Al—” Her heart seizing with a jolt of panic, she started to call my name but stopped short as her mother, Mrs. Peterson, cheerfully bustled in. “Oh, what a wonderful double blessing for our family!” Mrs. Peterson chirped. Sarah paused, a bewildered frown creasing her brow. “Double blessing? Besides me giving the Peterson family a new addition, what else has happened recently?” Mrs. Peterson puffed out her chest proudly. “Hmph! Your brother-in-law is getting remarried, of course! He basically cursed your sister to her death, and now he’s finally willing to get out of our family’s hair!” The words hit Sarah like a punch. Her pupils constricted sharply, and she blurted out, “What? But I haven’t divorced him yet! How could he possibly—” Just then, her phone buzzed again. It was Chloe, her friend from the earlier conversation. “Sarah, someone… someone seems to have voided your identity. If you want to get your original identity back, I don’t think it’s going to happen…”

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My cousin, Kayla Sullivan, had been studying for years and finally, this year, secured a teaching position in the public school district. As her only close relative in the city, I felt it was only right to treat her to a celebratory dinner. Kayla specifically chose “The Gilded Spoon,” a place where a single meal could easily set you back three hundred dollars a head. I winced, but agreed. She proactively made the reservation, chirping that she had a special “gift” for me that day and that I absolutely had to dress up. On the appointed day, I put in my daily contacts, slipped into a fresh dress, and strapped on my sky-high heels. Fearing rush hour traffic would delay me, I even took a cab to the restaurant ahead of time. “Hello, I’m here for a reservation under Kayla Sullivan.” “Let me check for you… Ms. Sullivan booked our largest private dining room.” Largest room? I frowned, confused. I followed the hostess to the private room, pushed open the door… A massive dining table sprawled before me, surrounded by over a dozen people. They all turned, as one, to stare at me. “There must be a mistake,” I said, “there are only two of us.” “No mistake at all! This is it!” “Rachel! You’re finally here!” Kayla, in a vibrant red cocktail dress, emerged from the crowd, pulling me by the arm to sit down as she spoke. “Didn’t you say you were taking me out to dinner? I ordered the food ages ago! We’ve just been waiting for you!” “Oh! Sis, that bracelet is gorgeous.” I quickly twisted the jade bracelet away from her view. Kayla had a habit of “borrowing” my things since childhood, and “just looking” often meant “never returning.” I hissed at her in a low voice, “Kayla, I said I’d take you out to dinner. Who are all these people?!” “Oh, these are all my study buddies and future colleagues from various universities!” she chirped. “You said you were treating me, right? So I just invited everyone along!” Excuse me? Doesn’t she understand basic etiquette? You don’t bring your own guests to someone else’s treat! I managed a weak, awkward laugh. “Well, since you have friends here, I won’t intrude. I’ll just head out.” “You’re not going anywhere, Rachel Green!” Kayla’s voice suddenly pierced the air. “It’s just dinner, you’ll get to know them! Besides, how much can it possibly cost? You own a house in the city, what’s a little cash to you?” I’m poor because I bought a house! Mortgage payments! Renovations! They’re crushing me! There are over a dozen people here, at three hundred a head, this meal is going to be almost five thousand dollars! Are you kidding me?! Her gaze remained fixed on my bracelet. “Look at that clarity! How much was it?! Honestly, Rachel! You buy yourself such expensive things, but you’re too stingy to spend a little on me!” Are those even comparable? Before I could even retort, Kayla’s so-called ‘friends’ chimed in. “Is this your rich cousin? It’s just one meal, why be such a miser?” “Exactly! Your sister finally landed her dream job! Don’t ruin the celebration!” Kayla grabbed a bottle, ready to pour me a drink. I recognized it: Dom Pérignon?! “This is all about networking, Rachel, don’t look so glum! Come on, let’s toast!” she continued. “Didn’t I say I had a gift for you? Take a look!” A guy who looked old enough to be my father winked at me. “To my left, this is Gary. He’s forty, divorced with two kids, and works at a local university. Then there’s Steve, a little heavier but younger, he’s your age and landed his job with me. And there’s also…” She rattled off a list of ‘gifts’ – potential suitors, apparently. I waved my hand, resisting. “These are your ‘gifts’?” “Yeah! You’re in your thirties and still single, right? I’m just trying to set you up with a few good catches!” With that, their glasses clinked against mine. I looked at balding Gary, pot-bellied Steve, and pock-marked Mark, as Kayla whispered excitedly in my ear, “These are all rock-solid government jobs! You’d be marrying up!” I forced a strained, unconvincing smile. “Why does your cousin look so unhappy? Does she think we’re not good enough?” “Even if I’m on my second marriage, I’ve got full benefits and a pension! I’ll be set for life!” “She’s no beauty queen, just a plain Jane really. And I’ll be clear, after we get married, you’ll still have to work.” … “Rachel, just for my sake, have a drink!” I was seconds away from smashing my glass and walking out when, fortuitously, my mom called. “You took Kayla out to dinner? Do you have enough money?” Kayla was the middle child, with an older and younger brother. Her family wasn’t well-off, and she’d always felt a bit neglected. Her pocket money often came from petty theft, a habit the family knew about but rarely confronted. Because of her tendency to freeload and her light fingers, she almost didn’t get into college. In the end, it was the relatives who chipped in for her tuition. Mom always said Kayla had it tough, and since we were in the same city, I should look out for her. Growing up steeped in her struggles, I felt a deep sense of sympathy. I personally drove her to her university, but when I turned around, I noticed five hundred dollars missing from my purse. I didn’t say anything; I knew her family gave her no allowance. From then on, I started giving her five hundred dollars a month for pocket money. By her senior year, I’d increased it to a thousand. She never once thanked me, instead always complaining she was broke and that the allowance was too little. She majored in literature, which didn’t lead to many job opportunities, and she refused to go back home to take the civil service exam. So, as a compromise, she decided to pursue teaching. After graduation, with nowhere to go, I let her stay with me rent-free. She used my things without asking, wore my clothes, used my bags without hesitation, always brushing off my concerns with a breezy, “Aren’t you my sister?” After watching her struggle to find a job for over six months, I pulled some strings, tapped into my network, and found her a substitute teaching position at a private academy. Instead of gratitude, she accused me of trying to sabotage her. “A private elementary school?! Don’t you know I’m qualified for middle school? And it’s just a contract position! How can that compare to a tenured role? The pay is half, and I’d be stuck with all the grunt work!” Plenty of people work while studying for certification, but with her, it became my fault. Furious, I told her to get out! But then she demanded three thousand dollars a month in living expenses, saying it would help her “get by” until she “made it big” and could pay me back. I know the difference between generosity and obligation, and how favors can turn into resentment! I flat-out refused to fund her and kicked her out. She secretly called me heartless, blocked my number in protest, and for the first couple of years, she didn’t show up at family gatherings or visit our home during the holidays. I didn’t care; I just figured my kindness had been wasted. But in the last year or so, she reconnected, even asking if there was any chance for another contract teaching gig. “No way! They only hire recent graduates! You missed your window, you just need to focus on passing the exam yourself!” She underestimated the exam. Many schools require teaching experience, and aside from a few openings for exceptional teachers, most positions go to those already working under contract. To survive in the city, she worked DoorDash by day and burned the midnight oil studying by night. Her social media, once full of ambitious pronouncements, grew silent. She took the exam for four years, and finally, she passed, securing a spot at a new suburban elementary school. Mom suggested I treat her to dinner, and I figured, as her only close relative in the city, I should acknowledge her achievement. But she couldn’t pull a stunt like this on me, could she? After my call, I returned to the dining room to find Kayla telling the waiter she wanted to box up leftovers. “You haven’t even eaten much yet? Are you leaving?” “Oh, I’m not leaving~ My boyfriend hasn’t eaten yet, I’m ordering some fresh dishes to take back to him.” Seriously? Eating here and taking food to go! “Um… Kayla, my husband didn’t get dinner tonight, could I get a doggy bag too?” An older woman suddenly turned to me and asked. I was stunned into silence. What in the world was happening? Kayla interjected before I could speak: “Of course! My cousin Rachel is the most generous person ever!” “Then I’ll pack a little too, I have two kids at home…” I was completely speechless. They truly had no shame. “Rachel~ Is that okay?” Kayla winked at me, practically begging. I just smiled back, a sudden thought sparking in my mind. “Yes! Absolutely! Order whatever you want, as much as you want!” You want to eat? I’ll let you eat your fill! Want more food? I ordered double portions. Want more drinks? Only Dom Pérignon. Whether it was exotic delicacies or seafood, I didn’t even glance at the prices; I ordered the biggest, most expensive options. “Rachel! You’re giving me so much face! I thought you’d be furious that I brought so many strangers without even asking first.” Oh? So she does understand social etiquette, after all! “Today’s a huge milestone for you, how could I, your big sister, ever be anything less than welcoming?” “You’re right~ I’ve finally got a rock-solid job now~ Totally different from you, a regular wage slave!” She tilted her chin up proudly again. “Did any of those guys I introduced you to catch your eye? I’m telling you…” I quickly waved my hand. “I’m not looking to get married, thanks.” “You’re in your thirties! Aren’t Aunt and Uncle worried?” Too lazy to listen to her lecture, I poured her another drink. Watching the table of them, all flushed and giddy from the food and drinks, I prepared to make my exit. “Sis? Where are you going? You’re not planning to ditch us, are you?!” “Why would you think that? My purse is right here!” I pointed to my old canvas tote bag on the chair, and she snickered. “Your salary isn’t bad, how come you can’t even afford a mid-range designer bag~ Go on, go on~” She patted her own obviously fake designer bag as she spoke. I just smiled and said nothing. A canvas bag isn’t worth anything, which made it all the easier to sneak away~ “Sis! Where did you go?! The waiter’s trying to get the check!” “I went home! I already Venmo’d you my share and yours.” “Didn’t you say you were treating today?!” “I am! I’m treating you, not your friends!” “Sis! How could you do this?!” “How could I do this? You don’t understand basic etiquette, bringing guests to my treat! And then you try to set me up on blind dates? What kind of guys were those? Your own mother would think they’re too old! What were you even thinking?!” “But—” “No ‘buts’! I’m hanging up!” “Hey! Rachel! Sis! Rachel Green!” I leaned back comfortably in my chair as the waiter brought me a perfectly cooked steak. From where I sat, I had a perfect view of Kayla’s private dining room diagonally across from me. Inside, the whole group was staring at each other, stunned. The waiter’s face had darkened. He stood, arms crossed, holding the massive bill. “Who’s paying for this?!” Kayla looked up, mortified. “How about… we all just split the bill?” “Kayla Sullivan! You said you were treating me to dinner!” “But you guys were the ones drinking all that liquor!” “Didn’t you drink? And didn’t you say your cousin was loaded and it was time she bled a little after not giving you allowance for years?!” “Kayla Sullivan! Do you even want your job?! Don’t forget who pulled strings for you!” “She’s paying! She said she was treating!” ….

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For five years, our secret affair as boss and employee unfolded, every morning I’d rise at six, concocting his favorite dishes with an almost obsessive dedication. Curry had to shed a touch of its fieriness, greens needed to retain their perfect crispness, and beef, always, had to be stewed to melt-in-your-mouth tenderness. I even bought a kitchen timer, just to nail the cooking times with pinpoint accuracy. My boyfriend claimed the company strictly forbade office romances, demanding discretion, so each day I’d ask the cafeteria lady to pass him his lunchbox. Yet, he never once said, “It’s good.” Sometimes, when he was swamped with tasks, the lunchbox would return untouched; other times, he’d take a couple of bites, then set it aside, merely remarking, “Too salty,” or “Too greasy.” I always comforted myself, at least he still accepted it. Until that day— Chloe Davis, the new intern, posted on social media: “Love-filled lunch from my senior! So delicious!” The accompanying picture was the tomato beef brisket I’d made. Even the tiny cherry tomato I’d carefully placed that morning was highlighted in her close-up shot, poked with a chopstick. Turns out my handiwork wasn’t bad; it was just the person eating it who didn’t care. When colleagues whispered about his special attention to the intern, it hit me: his “discretion” was only for me. That night, I handed in my resignation and bought a one-way ticket home. But he drove like a madman, blowing through a dozen red lights, chasing me across five train stations, begging me to come back. 1 The station announcement crackled to life, signaling boarding. I stood in the waiting area, gazing one last time at Southville, the city where I’d spent five years. All because Ethan Blackwood was still here. The thought of leaving had been brewing since late last year. It was during the year-end financial review when bonuses were distributed by project. The major project, which I had personally spearheaded from start to finish, only had a new intern, Chloe, assist with the final wrap-up. Yet, when the final assessment came, ninety percent of the bonus was allocated to her. That was two months of my blood, sweat, and tears. Dave Miller, my colleague, looked at me awkwardly. “Director Hayes, this was Mr. Blackwood’s decision…” Chloe, the intern, was someone I had personally vouched for, brought onto the project team as an exception. I’d wanted to mentor a junior, give her an opportunity to shine, but I never imagined two months of my hard work would become her stepping stone. Dave helplessly added, “Mr. Blackwood emphasized that ‘outstanding newcomers like Chloe Davis’ needed to be rewarded significantly.” Chloe Davis, indeed. And Mr. Ethan Blackwood, the man I’d been secretly dating for five years. 2 A chill wind cut through the platform. I stood by the designated car, systematically deleting our photos from my phone. Ethan always stressed that office romances violated company policy, so our five-year relationship had always been hidden, never seeing the light of day. These few photos were only kept after much nagging, let alone being shared on social media. He deliberately maintained a distance, letting everyone assume he disliked me. Even when he arbitrarily reassigned my project bonus, my colleagues thought it was perfectly normal. As I deleted the photos, the scene from that bonus allocation day flashed back. I suppressed my rage and dialed his number in the hallway, only for it to be, predictably, hung up. For five years, he almost never took my work calls. Then a text popped up: “Busy.” But this time, it wasn’t a personal matter. I headed straight for the top-floor office. Through the glass partition, I saw him leaning over, explaining a proposal to Chloe. As the girl leaned in, the flowing ends of her scarf softly brushed his neck. He was young, yet he commanded the Capitol City branch, quickly gaining recognition from New York HQ in just a few years. His abilities truly were outstanding. Once upon a time, I too longed for his guidance, but I was always met with impatient rejections: “Learn the basics yourself, I’m busy.” When I made a mistake at work and faced disciplinary action, he never bothered to inquire: “You learn from your mistakes.” Yet now, he was patiently explaining basic concepts to Chloe, who didn’t even know how to use a pivot table. On his desk sat the “loving” lunchbox I prepared daily — to avoid suspicion, I could only entrust it to the cafeteria lady. “Mr. Blackwood, I didn’t have breakfast, I’m starving. Can I have your lunchbox? I’ll treat you to lunch later.” Chloe pointed at the container. “Take it.” He said, not even looking up from his emails. The girl happily opened the box, tasting the beef brisket and praising it profusely. In that moment, it suddenly struck me that confronting him about the bonus allocation was utterly pointless. As I turned to leave, the entire building suddenly lost power. A torrential downpour had led to an emergency company announcement for remote work. Fumbling my way down the stairs in the dark, I caught sight of two figures walking side-by-side in the rain — Ethan holding an umbrella, carefully shielding Chloe as they headed to his car. I arrived home, soaked and miserable, just as Ethan’s call came through. “Abby,” he said, his voice distant. “Figured you had an umbrella. Made it home, right?” In the background, Chloe was asking if he wanted ginger slices in his ginger tea. “Today I made tomato beef brisket,” I gripped my phone tightly. “Did you like it?” “Hmm… it was alright.” He answered distractedly. After hanging up, I saw Chloe’s new social media post: Inside a warm, softly lit room, two hands clinked glasses: “The taste of being cherished, it’s truly wonderful.” 3 The train slowly pulled into the platform. I pulled my suitcase and boarded the car, faintly hearing a call from behind. Perhaps it was for me, perhaps not. But I wouldn’t look back. This journey home from Southville, its first stop was Riverbend. And the story of Ethan and me, it also began in Riverbend. That was the first time I was solely responsible for a bidding project in Riverbend. The subway was down, the taxi queue had over four hundred people, and the deadline was fast approaching. In desperation, I contacted Dave, who grumbled and then begrudgingly gave me Ethan’s number, telling me to ask him for help. On the phone, Ethan listened to my trembling plea, then sighed softly. “Don’t panic, wait for me where you are.” In the pouring rain, he sped through the streets, simultaneously calming my panic and reminding me to allow ample time in the future. Finally, I submitted the bid just in time, drenched in cold sweat. He leaned against his car, offering me a steaming cup of coffee. That night, I posted an update visible only to him: “In this rainy weather, I met my saving grace.” He silently liked it. Now, I too had liked Chloe’s post, and a minute later, that post disappeared. Ethan quickly called, testing the waters. “I’m on my way back.” My voice was calm; I simply told him to drive safely. He seemed to relax. “You too, be careful not to catch a cold.” “Ethan,” I suddenly said. “This Christmas, can we tell my parents about us?” He had always refused to go public, always saying the time wasn’t right. “Forget it.” His voice was low. “They’re pushing for marriage so hard, let’s not stir up trouble.” “Okay.” I smiled and hung up. The fever from the rain came on suddenly. For the first time ever, I took a cab to the office. Staring blankly out the window, Ethan’s car flashed by. My apartment was actually very close to his house. But picking me up meant driving down the perpetually congested Victoria Avenue, a half-hour crawl. So I never hoped he’d give me a ride, and he was happy to avoid suspicion. Only today did I realize that road had been rebuilt months ago, now a mere ten-minute drive. For half a year, he had driven past my door daily, yet never offered me a ride. And today, he was coming from the direction of Cedar Creek Apartments, where Chloe lived. Not on his way, but expressly for her. At the office, I put on a fever patch and buried myself in organizing handover documents, until a familiar yet rare figure appeared. Ethan frowned. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you say anything?” I didn’t lift my head. “What’s the point? You wouldn’t care for me like other boyfriends do.” Glancing at colleagues slowly arriving, I lowered my voice. “Go on, aren’t you afraid of being seen?” He was silent for a moment, then turned and left. 4 The train’s second stop was Sterling Heights. My connection with Ethan also had roots in Sterling Heights. I had just been promoted and went with Dave and Ethan to Sterling Heights to finalize a project contract. The night before the signing, after reviewing the bidding proposal, we went out for a late dinner. Suddenly, several masked figures rushed out of the darkness, making a beeline for Ethan, their moves vicious. Dave called the police and shouted for help. If anything happened to Ethan, the next day’s signing would definitely be off. Without thinking, I grabbed a brick from the roadside and charged. Both of us ended up getting beaten. As a knife swung toward Ethan’s head, I threw myself forward, blocking it with my arm. He held me as we tumbled to the ground. As I drifted into unconsciousness, the only sound left was the shrill wail of police sirens. When I woke again, only he was in the hospital room. “Was it worth it?” He stared at me. “You almost died?” “I couldn’t… just watch you get hurt.” My voice was weak. “You helped me last time, now it’s my turn.” Looking down, I found he was holding my hand. This scene felt eerily familiar. I froze. “Mr. Blackwood…” “Call me Ethan,” he whispered. The day I was discharged, the company should have sent a car, but he came to pick me up himself. He took me to Riverbend Lake. His gaze was as gentle as the shimmering water. “I thought about it for a long time. That girl who shielded me from the knife, if she’s willing to walk towards me, I’ll cherish her completely.” The sunset painted the lake red. I reached out and hugged him. He lowered his head and kissed my forehead. Back then, he looked at my wounds with such heartache. Later, seeing me with a fever patch, he only frowned. After I finished organizing the handover documents, a colleague nudged me to check the work group chat. In the new project chat, Dave had added Ethan. Ethan only posted one comment: “Project is nearing completion. Full handover to Chloe Davis for final responsibility.” Colleagues secretly eyed me, waiting for my reaction. Everyone knew Ethan was annoyed with me, but this arrangement was downright humiliating. I simply replied, “Understood.” Good. The handover would be easier. I transferred all the materials to Chloe, then submitted a leave request for sick leave. It was approved instantly. I also left my resignation letter on the desk. 5 The third stop was Edenwood. Edenwood was the last place Ethan and I traveled together. At that time, his appointment announcement was about to be published, and I was so happy for him. We bathed in Edenwood’s renowned hot springs. The owner said couples who took photos and checked in on social media, gathering thirty likes, would receive complimentary passes to the Ferris wheel next door. You could skip the line and go straight to the top. Legend had it that if a couple kissed at the very top of the Ferris wheel, they would be happy forever, never separating. I wanted to post a private update for a selected group, but Ethan wouldn’t let me. “Company strictly prohibits office romances, you know that.” “I know, I set it to a private group. Colleagues won’t see it.” “Haven’t you heard of the six degrees of separation theory? Every six people are connected. No, too risky.” Later, we bought tickets and went to the amusement park. But the lines were too long, and we never got to ride the Ferris wheel. Seeing my dejected expression, he comforted me: “Abby, it’s precisely because I love you that I want to protect you, protect our love, even more.” “Are you willing to protect our love with me?” I naively agreed, and thus began five years of struggling to keep it secret, all on my own. Compared to all the heartache of those five years, that day’s fever was nothing. After submitting my resignation, I went home, packed my bags, and waited to catch my night train. Suddenly, the door opened. Ethan, having changed into slippers, walked in. “Why is so much stuff missing from the house?” He held a bag filled with porridge and soup, scanning the room. “New year, decided to do a big clean-up.” I coughed slightly. He set his bag down on the coffee table in front of me, and as he unzipped it, he visibly froze. “Where are our photos?” I had placed polaroid photos of us in various spots around the house: on the coffee table, the dining table, the bookshelf, every corner. I closed my eyes. “A few colleagues came over the other day, so I put them away.” He helped me sit up, offering me chopsticks. I looked at the table full of light porridge and fresh soup, but I had no appetite. “Don’t you want to eat?” He sat beside me, reaching out to hug me. “How about some hot water first?” I subtly shifted away, and his phone rang. Chloe’s voice was filled with panic: “Mr. Blackwood, what do I do?! I can’t find the engineering acceptance sign-off sheet for the Tech Park project!” He stood up. “Wait, I’ll be right there.” His gaze returned to me, now strictly business-like. “Is this how you hand things over?” He didn’t even wait for me to explain, just grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. Just like countless times before, he had left me for work. Except this time, it just made me look even more foolish. The folder for the sign-off sheet and the cabinet number were clearly written on the last page of the handover documents. Chloe had even worked on the PPT for this project; she knew better than anyone. Sure enough, soon after, a message from Ethan arrived. “Found it. You wrote it very clearly.” Followed by a bank transfer — exactly the amount of the missing bonus. I clicked “return.” He sent a helpless emoji. “You rest. I’m going to a meeting.” Every Friday at this time, he had a video conference with New York HQ; he wouldn’t check his phone for three or four hours. I sent him one last message. “We’re done.” I blocked his number, then called my landlady to terminate my lease. 6 The fourth stop was Willow Creek. I was transferring here; two more stops and I’d be home. But the train was delayed, expected to be at least an hour late. I wasn’t in a hurry. I found a small coffee shop to pass the time. Willow Creek also had a branch office for the company. Ethan and I often came here for meetings. Usually, it was two cars with six or seven people, and no one ever suspected our secret. I slowly began to make a name for myself under Dave, but because Ethan was so demanding, everyone advised me to schmooze him. I took the advice, proactively buying him a Yuenyeung milk tea, handing it to him with a serious expression. “Is this a Yuenyeung milk tea?” he asked, taking it. “Yes,” I smiled. “Mr. Blackwood only drinks coffee, right?” Dave laughed. “Changing your taste just for Willow Creek?” Ethan didn’t say anything, his index finger gently tracing the characters for “Yuenyeung” on the cup, then he nodded at me. “Thank you.” I light-heartedly returned to my seat, picked up my own cup, and slowly sipped it, hiding a smile. This was our private little secret, a subtle intimacy beneath outwardly formal interactions. That’s why, later, when I saw him accept a Yuenyeung milk tea from Chloe, I froze. I ordered and sat down, then pulled out my phone. Dave’s messages instantly bombarded me. “You’re resigning?! Because of the project bonus? You’re a senior, you should be more understanding…” “Mr. Blackwood saw it too! He ripped it up! He was furious!” I was annoyed and promptly blocked him too. Right after, my landlady called. “Sweetie, your boyfriend went to the apartment about three or four hours ago. My daughter-in-law was there, so I found out, and I thought I should tell you.” Ethan must have seen my message after his meeting and learned I was resigning. “He renewed the lease,” the landlady continued. “Said you’d be coming back.” “My daughter-in-law said he rummaged through the cabinets, grabbed his car keys, and left in a huff. Sweetie, it’s the holidays, don’t fight too much.” I laughed humorlessly. Fight? How could we fight? I no longer had the energy for it. My phone alerted me to 99+ blocked calls. I didn’t even bother to open it to see who. I sipped my milk tea, watched a movie, and when I figured it was time, I stood up to head for my train. Just then, the cashier called out to a new customer: “What can I get you, sir?” “Yuenyeung milk tea.” A familiar voice echoed through the bustling shop. I looked up. Ethan Blackwood stood there, his face ashen, shoulders dusted with melted snow, his teeth practically grinding as he answered her.

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The scion of the Blackwood empire, Liam, was a man forged in fire and ice. Those who crossed him invariably faced a whirlwind of brutal retribution. Unluckily for me, the very stepsister I despised most in this world happened to be his cherished darling, the jewel he guarded in his palm. Just days ago, that stepsister had deliberately shattered my mother’s urn. In front of everyone, I broke her wrist. The very next day, Liam Blackwood’s enforcers dragged me into a suffocating black room, a place where no light reached. My limbs were systematically crushed, my tendons severed. In my dying moments, I mustered every last ounce of strength to send a distress signal to my most trusted bodyguard. But then, I heard my captors address him with chilling deference… “Mr. Blackwood.” In that instant, an overwhelming tide of despair washed over me, drowning every last flicker of hope. I yearned for death, yet Liam Blackwood utterly unraveled. 1 Liam Blackwood was a broken boy I’d found on the streets. It was a torrential downpour, late at night, and a gang of thugs had cornered him in a grimy alley. I watched from the window of my car, intrigued by the desperate struggle unfolding in the rain-soaked darkness. The way he fought was brutal, yet strangely graceful. His drenched shirt clung to the lean, powerful lines of his muscles, every punch, every kick, traced an arc of deadly allure. I could even see raindrops tracing trails down his sculpted abs, catching fragmented gleams on his bruised skin. Even with his forehead streaming blood from a heavy blow, that stark crimson only added a touch of fractured beauty, turning him into a battered yet proud statue, striking a chord deep within the observer. He was outnumbered, of course. Only when two of his ribs cracked and he lay sprawled in the mud, soaked in blood, did I calmly push open my car door and pull out my phone to call the police. The thugs scattered like startled birds. I extended a hand to him. “I’ll save your life, you protect mine for three years. How does that sound?” Cold raindrops plastered his dark hair to his chiseled brow bone. He lifted his gaze, his dark eyes like ancient wells, radiating an icy chill. He didn’t answer, but I took it as a silent agreement. After all, I’d never been some bleeding-heart saint. I was merely acting on an impulse, drawn by a striking face. There was no one in this world to love me; I merely wanted to pick a companion for myself. And he was handsome enough, broken enough, and utterly alone enough. I pursued him for three years, but he remained cold as ice. He was like a wild, untamed wolf. No matter how I tried to extend an olive branch, he always regarded me with a distant gaze, as if I were nothing more than an irrelevant passerby. But strangely, that push-and-pull, that elusive feeling, became an addiction. Though he never claimed to love me, he always appeared whenever I was in danger, his scarred arms shielding me. Perhaps, this wasn’t so bad. Until that charity gala, where he saw my stepsister, Lily White, and fell in love at first sight… That’s when my nightmare truly began. One day, Lily “accidentally” tripped and fell during an argument with me. The next, I was pushed down the stairs, suffering a severe concussion. Another day, my best friend, fed up with Lily’s fake sweetness, made her drink a single glass of wine. The very next, I was forcibly made to drink three liters of hard liquor, nearly dying from a perforated stomach. In just a few short months, I faced escalating retaliation. And the source of all the brutality was Liam Blackwood, the notoriously ruthless heir to the Blackwood empire. No one knew when Lily had charmed Liam, but everyone in Riverton knew that the Blackwood heir adored Lily, considering her the apple of his eye. Anyone who dared to touch a hair on her head would face utter annihilation. Slowly, I was abandoned by everyone. Even my closest friend urged me, “Don’t cross Lily anymore. Liam Blackwood will torture you to death.” But when Lily deliberately knocked over my mother’s urn and ground the ashes with her heel, I didn’t hesitate. I lunged at her, beating her hands until they were a bloody mess. Predictably, the next day I was kidnapped and dragged to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. As the thugs leered, I watched, horrified, as they used iron bars to break my limbs and severed my tendons. “Mr. Blackwood, as you instructed, the lesson has been delivered.” A thug accidentally hit speakerphone. A familiar voice, cold as an ice pick, sliced through the air. “Warn her. If she dares to touch a single hair on Lily’s head again, I’ll skin her alive.” That voice. Flat, merciless. It was a stranger’s voice, utterly unlike the boy who had once shielded me from a knife. I shivered uncontrollably. How could I believe it? The boy I’d rescued in the pouring rain, the man I’d guarded with three years of my sincere affection, was the very monster torturing me to my core? The thug smeared the phone with a disgusting, sticky liquid and tossed it in front of me. “Call someone to pick up your corpse. Remember today’s lesson!” I lay in a pool of blood, watching them saunter off with grins on their faces. Just before the warehouse door clanged shut, I heard their casual chatter: “Mr. Blackwood calculated she’d call you first… after all, she always relied on you the most…” My last shred of hope utterly extinguished. So, Liam Blackwood had never been my salvation. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the executioner who had personally pushed me into hell. 2 I stared at the filth-smeared phone, recalling the last time Lily was trapped in an elevator. She’d cried, begging me for help. I’d merely sneered, turning on my heel and walking away in my high heels. That night, Liam Blackwood’s men seized me and locked me in a dark room. Three days and three nights, without a drop of water or a bite of food. Darkness coiled around me like a venomous snake, gnawing at my sanity. Liam’s phone had my location. He was the only one who could save me. I shakily dialed his number, only to hear him say: “Apologize to Lily, and I’ll come save you immediately.” I preferred death to bowing down and called the police instead. But I don’t know what methods they used; the police never found my location. When the police came to my home to investigate, my father, my brother Ryan, and even Liam himself, all denied everything without batting an eye. I even became a regular on the “false reporting” blacklist because of it. That time, I endured for three full days, pushed to my absolute limit. I was truly terrified. I cried and apologized to Lily. It was the first time in ten years I had bowed to that venomous mother and daughter. And it was the first time in ten years that Lily had truly trod me underfoot. She said she was so pleased that “big sister” finally understood her mistake. My father and Ryan were both relieved, saying I had finally become “obedient” and “sensible,” and should keep it up. When I emerged from that dark room, I had developed severe claustrophobia. I feared darkness, feared enclosed spaces. But now, lying in this warehouse, I felt no fear at all. Perhaps fear was a meaningless emotion reserved only for those who still clung to life. I didn’t touch the phone. I lay in that warehouse for three days. I remembered so many things. I remembered my childhood, when my mother was alive, and our family of four was filled with joy. I was the pampered princess of the family. I also remembered my mother falling ill, ravaged by chemotherapy and radiation, a skeletal figure. My father started coming home less and less. I remembered my mother’s hysterics, and that woman sending my mother intimate photos of herself and my father during my mother’s most painful moments. I also remembered her and her daughter shamelessly coming to our house to celebrate my mother’s last birthday. My mother trembled with rage. That day, my mother had just returned from chemotherapy, already in unbearable pain. Her heart suddenly gave out, and they couldn’t save her. That day, Ryan held me, crying for a long time. He stroked my back, whispering, “Summer, don’t be afraid. You still have me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Less than a month after my mother’s death, my father eagerly brought his mistress and her daughter home. At first, Ryan and I were allies, united in our hatred for the mistress and her daughter. But when did Ryan start to accept them? Perhaps it was when Lily tremblingly offered him her only candy. Or perhaps it was when Lily was bullied at school, stubbornly refusing to bow her head, yet deliberately squatting on Ryan’s path home, wiping away tears… She was always fragile and pitiable, just like her mistress mother. And I was always the brazen aggressor. I don’t know when it started, but the way Ryan looked at me changed. When Lily and I argued, he chose to side with her. He seemed to have forgotten my mother’s suffering, forgotten why she died. I confronted him, but he seemed impatient. “Mom had cancer. It wasn’t curable anyway…” Look. Such familiar, cold words. That was how my father had excused himself and defended his mistress countless times. Now, even Ryan could say it, so naturally. From then on, I had no family left. And now, the person I had personally rescued and treated as family, for the sake of that wicked mother and daughter, had repeatedly, mercilessly plunged the dagger of death into me. I looked at my broken limbs, then at that filthy phone, and finally, I smiled. This life, filled with nothing but hatred and betrayal, was truly meaningless. I didn’t touch the phone. I just lay there for three days, until the very last moment. 3 I thought I was going to die. But at the last moment, someone kicked open the warehouse door. “Why?! Why didn’t you call me?!” Liam Blackwood burst in, like a maddened beast. In the faint light, he saw me covered in blood, my wrists a mangled mess, and my shins nearly exposing bone. All other sounds faded away. “Summer Hayes, don’t die! I forbid you to die!” He picked up my hand, his own trembling, as if he truly cared whether I lived or died. I cracked a smile, a silent laugh. “Summer Hayes! Summer Hayes! Please, live!” Liquid dripped onto my face. Crocodile tears, perhaps? Ha… I was rushed to the hospital and snatched from the jaws of death. When I opened my eyes, he was there, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. “Why? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you ask me for help? Why?” He stared at me, desperate for an answer. He couldn’t understand why the person who once relied on him the most, trusted him above all else, had chosen death over dialing that rescue number. The phone was right there, he was her emergency contact, her only refuge. “Why? Why didn’t you call me?!” Liam repeated, sounding utterly broken and desperate, as if consumed by a feverish madness. I found it almost amusing. Didn’t he want me dead? Who was this performance for now? I glanced at the phone he’d picked up. With just a flick of my eyes, Liam quickly handed me the phone. The moment it touched my hand, he finally seemed to understand. The dried filth on the screen dissolved in the sweat of his palm, leaving a sticky, nauseating residue. As a man, how could he not comprehend what that smear on the phone screen implied? In that instant, he completely froze. “They crippled my hands,” I rasped, the words tearing from my raw, bleeding throat and lips. “They wanted me to use my tongue…” My throat felt like a broken bellows, the sound truly hideous. Liam’s body swayed, as if he might fall. Shock, panic, utter disbelief painted his face, leaving only a tremor. I slowly stretched my cracked lips into a smile. Liam Blackwood, you were the culprit all along. How much longer did you plan to hide it from me? I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. 4 A doctor came to check on me. “Broken bones are easy enough to set, but ligaments and tendons are extremely difficult to repair. The patient’s injuries are too old. If she had come to the hospital immediately after the injury, we could have guaranteed at least eighty percent function recovery in her hands. But now…” The doctor shook her head, regretfully. “The VIP patient upstairs is the White family’s heiress. She also suffered injuries a few days ago, just minor fractures, but the Blackwood Corporation brought in a global top-tier specialist team for her treatment. They’re still here. If we could get them to help, I believe there’s still a chance for the patient’s hands to regain some function. Not a hundred percent, but at least daily activities like eating and dressing wouldn’t be affected…” The female doctor managing my ward looked at me with deep sympathy. “Our chief personally went to ask them, but they said… they said if it’s you, you need to get on your knees and beg Ms. White…” She knew how humiliating this was, but she had to convey it. Lily’s stepbrother had explicitly demanded she deliver the message. Remembering the murderous look in his eyes, the doctor still shivered with dread. I smiled. “It’s alright. I can always just die.” How pathetic, those words came from my own brother. He truly had forgotten everything about our mother’s death. The doctor’s face turned ashen, unable to utter another word urging me to beg. They knew that if a patient angrily threatened to die, it might just be a momentary loss of control. But when a patient, calm and even smiling, said they could die, it meant they truly wanted to. Liam lost control again. “Summer Hayes, stop being unreasonable!” “You hurt Lily first. It’s just kneeling and apologizing… Is a little pride more important than your life?” I turned to him, sneering. “Apologize to the murderer who killed my mother? I. Would. Rather. Die!” Liam’s veins bulged with rage. He had always been so composed, so distant. This was the first time I’d seen him so utterly unhinged. Did he truly want me on my knees before Lily so badly? I wouldn’t give these animals the satisfaction! I closed my eyes, no longer wanting to see this filthy world. 5 In the end, that specialist team performed the surgery on me. As expected, even world-class experts couldn’t fully restore my severely damaged limbs. From now on, I wouldn’t be able to lift anything heavier than a couple of pounds, nor could I run or dance. After the anesthesia wore off, I endured the searing pain of my hands and feet being cut open again. Lily, surrounded by a throng of medical staff and specialists, entered my room. “Big sister, I know you hate me, but resorting to such desperate measures to hurt me will only provoke Mr. Blackwood’s furious retaliation. Why bother?” Her eyes, veiled in a misty sadness, always carried that fragile, pitiable air. It was this very demeanor that ignited the protective instincts in all men, including my own father and brother. I remembered when she first came to the Hayes home, her hands rough and calloused. Without a man to rely on, she and her mistress mother had eaten leftovers and slept on the streets. Ten years in the Hayes household had pampered her, her skin like porcelain, transformed into the very image of a delicate young lady from a prestigious family. “This time, out of consideration for Liam, I allowed the specialists to save you. But at my birthday party next month, you will publicly apologize to me. This is the condition for my agreement to save you. I hope you won’t go back on your word.” I looked up, my voice flat. “Who agreed to that?” Liam stepped forward. “I did.” He simply looked at me, his expression unreadable, as if I were the one making a scene. I let out a cold laugh. “All of you, get out!” This man I had loved for three years—I didn’t want him anymore! Lily’s tears finally fell. “Big sister, I’m doing this for your own good! If you don’t bow your head, do you want Mr. Blackwood to handle it personally?” She looked at my injuries and cried even harder, her sorrow seemingly so genuine. Liam frowned, displeased. He gently stroked Lily’s back. “Lily, you go back first. On your birthday, I promise I’ll make sure she’s there to apologize!” Lily was satisfied. As she lowered her head to wipe away her tears, a faint, triumphant smirk played on her lips. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear. “I trust Liam.” That look alone probably melted Liam’s heart. I watched him as he escorted Lily out until she completely disappeared, then I couldn’t help but laugh. “If I don’t go, are you planning to drag me there by force?” Liam’s brow furrowed. “Lily could have refused to let those specialists operate on you!” His implication was clear: I was ungrateful and didn’t know how to appreciate his efforts. “I told you, I was willing to die. I never intended for anyone to save me, including you!” Liam’s hand trembled, as if he’d recalled something. His face turned terrifyingly cold, but he didn’t utter another word, quietly backing out of the room. 6 Soon, the news of my ‘bullying’ Lily again reached Ryan’s ears. My own brother, who hadn’t appeared once while I battled between life and death for days, immediately stormed into my hospital room. “Mr. Hayes, have you come to collect your dear sister’s corpse? Should I say you’re too early or too late?” Ryan’s brow furrowed. “Summer, even after all this, you still don’t see your mistake?” His expression, as if I were a naughty, irrational child, disgusted me. My voice turned cold. “Did you tell me to kneel and apologize to Lily White?” Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. Rage surged in my chest. “Ryan Hayes, you want me to kneel and apologize to the animal who murdered my mother and deliberately shattered her urn? Ryan Hayes, you’re despicable! Do you have any respect for Mom’s spirit?” SMACK! Ryan’s slap connected with full force. My already weakened body reeled, the impact sending a fresh concussion through my brain. Through blurred vision, I saw Liam raise his hand, then lower it, standing still, observing coldly. A sneer twisted my lips. This was the man I’d picked up from the street, the bodyguard I’d employed for three years… I tugged at my lips, and a drop of crimson stained the pristine white sheets. My mouth filled with the taste of rust. My head spun. I squeezed my eyes shut. Ryan instinctively reached out to steady me, but I recoiled. Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at him. This was the first time Ryan had ever laid a hand on me. Even he hadn’t expected to hit so hard! Regret, perhaps a little, but it wouldn’t change his stance. Ryan concealed his trembling fingers. “Summer Hayes, don’t pretend! Even if you die right here in front of me, I will never pity you! Lily is not that kind of person. If you dare to slander or harm her again, you won’t need the Blackwood heir to act. I’ll finish you myself!” I laughed. My own brother, for the sake of a wicked stepsister, said he would personally finish me? Ha ha ha, how could anything be so ridiculous in this world? “Ryan Hayes, don’t worry. Even if I die, I’ll drag the person who killed my mother to hell with me. Ha ha ha…” My whole body shook with laughter, and my freshly sutured wounds burst open, blood quickly soaking through the bandages. The shrill alarm of the heart monitor blared through the room. Ryan and Liam both panicked simultaneously. Both their hands reached out to hold me down. “Summer Hayes, don’t move! I command you, don’t move!” “Doctor! Doctor! Why isn’t the doctor here yet…” 7 Medical staff arrived quickly, staunching the bleeding and bandaging my wounds. Ryan was a mixture of anger and panic. “Summer Hayes, you are simply incorrigible!” He stormed out after the doctor finished bandaging me, leaving those words hanging in the air. Liam poured me a glass of water and held it to my lips. “Take a sip. Your lips are cracked and bleeding.” I watched him coldly, neither moving nor speaking. Liam sighed. “Everyone is on Lily’s side. Even your own brother. I heard Ryan used to dote on you. Haven’t you reflected on why you ended up abandoned by everyone?” “I have,” I replied. “Three years ago, I shouldn’t have saved you. I shouldn’t have brought you home. And I certainly shouldn’t have regarded you as family…” Liam’s face, which had just begun to relax, tightened into a mask of coldness. That same night, after I’d fallen asleep, Liam went to the restroom and took a call. The hospital room was quiet, and I faintly overheard their conversation. “Were those people dealt with?” “Dealt with! Mr. Blackwood, I’m sorry, I never expected them to smear that kind of stuff on Ms. Hayes’s phone! I’ve already taken care of them with a ‘physical’ lesson!” Liam nodded, satisfied. “Mr. Blackwood, we checked. Ms. Hayes wasn’t lying. It was indeed Ms. White who provoked her, shattered her mother’s urn, and even dared her to break her hand, saying she wanted to see how you’d retaliate!” “Mr. Blackwood, you really did misjudge Ms. Hayes…” The truth was so easily found. Liam, now, what do you intend to do? “The person I care about naturally has the right to act as they please. As for others…” Liam paused, not continuing. Even without saying it, I understood. Others, even if Lily killed them, he would cover for her. And I was one of those “others.” This was Liam’s stance. Even if Lily killed me one day, he’d probably still commend her for protecting herself. Ha ha… I squeezed my eyes shut. I had truly given my heart to the wrong person. Liam returned from his call and tucked the blanket around me. His movements were gentle, but my heart stirred with no ripple of emotion. The next morning, I woke up my phone’s assistant. “Call Alex Stone.” The dialing tone hummed. Liam returned with breakfast and, seeing the situation, suddenly realized. “That day, you could have called for help using voice commands…” I looked up. “And then?” Liam fell silent. “And then, like before, you would force me to apologize to the enemy who smashed my mother’s urn? If so, I’d rather die!” Liam’s body stiffened, unable to utter another word. He remembered the emergency doctor’s words that day: “If she had arrived a little later, not even a god could have saved her!” That sentence haunted him like a nightmare. Even now, he dared not close his eyes fully. He clenched his fists, then slowly released them. The call connected on the last second. “Alex, help me find a bodyguard.” 8 Liam’s nerves were violently frayed again. “You said you only wanted me as your bodyguard!” His eyes held a raw fury, a sense of betrayal and abandonment, just like when his own mother had left him. That woman who claimed to love him, who abandoned him no matter how he cried and begged… Liam’s emotions were a tumultuous storm, but I remained calm. “Liam Blackwood, haven’t you always wanted to leave? I’m granting you your freedom. Now, you can go to Lily White! I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to have you!” Liam’s face immediately turned ashen. “The contract was for three years! There’s still one month left!” This was what he wanted, yet now that I was giving him his freedom, he seemed displeased. Ha, men! I didn’t care. Even another word felt like too much effort. “Whatever. Stay if you want to…” Liam’s already severe face grew even colder. Soon, Alex arrived with his men. Alex was my sworn rival, yet he was also the only person I trusted not to stab me in the back. Alex leaned against the hospital room door, casting a cool glance at me, then at Liam. His schadenfreude was almost palpable. “Want to mock me? I’ll give you three minutes.” I met his gaze. We’d been at odds since kindergarten; we knew each other inside out. But this time, Alex, unusually, held his tongue. With a wave of his hand, three bodyguards entered the room. All three were over six feet three inches tall. Taller than Liam, more muscular than Liam, and even strikingly handsome. I casually picked one and also asked Alex to find me a female nurse to help me with washing up until my hands and feet could move. I was discharged from the hospital after more than ten days. The first thing I did when I got home was reassign the rooms. The nurse and the new bodyguard would stay on the second floor. Liam was to move to the first-floor guest room. As he moved his things downstairs, Liam’s face was clouded with resentment. He said, “You and Alex are rivals. The people he finds might not be trustworthy.” I laughed. “However untrustworthy, they wouldn’t stand by and watch my enemies abuse me, nor would they threaten me during a crisis to apologize to my enemies!” Liam fell silent. 9 In the days that followed, I never asked Liam to do anything. I didn’t even call his name. He used to complain when I called his name constantly, even for a fruit bowl within arm’s reach. Now that I no longer bothered him, he seemed displeased. When I started going out without calling for him, he finally couldn’t sit still any longer. He gripped the armrest of my wheelchair, his eyes simmering with a molten intensity. “Half a month left!” “Alright.” I replied without a trace of hesitation. He seemed to visibly relax, then leaned down and lifted me into the car. I caught his familiar scent. Every time he’d rescued me before, he’d held me just like this, carefully enveloping me in that reassuring scent. I had approached him countless times, craving his presence. But now, that scent only brought back memories of my past foolishness, the terror and despair of being trapped in that dark room, and the broken limbs, the hands that would never be whole again… My body began to tremble uncontrollably. I turned my head away, wanting to be as far from him as possible. Sensing my reaction, a strange emotion surged within Liam. He just knew Summer couldn’t bear to leave him. She was still the same, trembling with nerves when he got close. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Liam’s lips. “Where do you want to go today?” “The bank.” “You want me to apologize to her, don’t you? I should at least get a decent gift.” Liam looked at me through the rearview mirror, his mood clearly improving, pleased by my “sensibleness.” I stared out the car window, not glancing at him again. 10 The moment we arrived at the bank, I spotted a familiar car. Last year, on my birthday, I had won a prestigious jewelry design award. I’d fallen in love with that supercar; it was the only ladies’ exclusive model in the entire country. But my brother, Ryan, had bought it first, presenting it as a gift to Lily. From then on, that car became another trophy in her arsenal, a symbol of her triumph over me. Anything I desired, Lily would snatch—the sports car, and Liam too! After finishing my business and exiting the VIP lounge, I saw Lily. She was in another private room, holding a jewelry box, “humbly” showing off its contents amidst the staff’s lavish praise. “Tomorrow’s my birthday. Ryan told me to pick out a few pieces to wear. Which one do you think looks best?” These jewels were part of my mother’s inheritance to Ryan, now reduced to trinkets used to curry favor with her murderer. A wave of bitter resentment washed over me. Liam also looked over, his eyes soft as water. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” I asked, a sneer in my voice. He squared his shoulders. “I said I’d stay by your side and protect you.” I gave an ambiguous hum. At the bank’s entrance, Lily and I inevitably crossed paths. “Liam!” Lily called out sweetly, spotting him immediately. Just then, a car careened out of control, rushing straight towards me. “Watch out!” Liam’s expression changed instantly. He dropped me without a second thought and rushed to Lily, pulling her out of the way. I, utterly immobilized, was completely exposed to the unforgiving steel of the out-of-control vehicle. Everyone gasped in terror. I felt no fear, only a mocking gaze fixed on the man who had just vowed to protect me. In the final second, Liam seemed to remember me, frantically turning his head, his eyes meeting mine. A sudden, inexplicable dread gripped him. He lunged back towards me, but it was too late. “Summer Hayes!” A powerful force pulled me away. The car barely scraped past my wheelchair footrest. Alex’s face was ashen, his lips trembling, momentarily speechless. Liam finally reached me, his hands shaking. I looked coldly into his eyes. “You said you’d protect me. Ha…” Liam slowly clenched his fists. He wanted to explain, but I no longer wanted to listen. I told Alex to take me home. For the first time, I left Liam behind. For the first time, Liam took a taxi to follow me home. It had started to rain, I don’t know when. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the endless downpour. He stood downstairs, looking up at me, his gaze stubborn and determined. He looked exactly as he had the day I picked him up. That day, too, it had been raining heavily. I turned my head. “Close the curtains.” The nurse immediately obeyed. The heavy curtains fell, completely shutting off my world from his. 11 On Lily’s birthday, Ryan called first thing in the morning to warn me. “If you don’t come apologize to Lily today, you don’t need to come back to the Hayes home ever again!” He seemed to have forgotten that I hadn’t set foot in that so-called home for three years. But I still went. When Liam saw me leaving, he once again was the first to reach for the armrest of my wheelchair. But this time, I didn’t move. I simply looked at him, silently. Meeting my gaze, his hand slowly released the chair.

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