1
Sleepless in the dead of night, I scrolled through a social media thread:
[What moments made you realize they didn’t love you anymore?]
A highly upvoted answer was pinned at the top.
[Probably when his fiancée was doing a ‘check-up’.]
[We were on a beach vacation. His impatient tone on the phone, then turning to kiss me with a terrifying tenderness.]
[He said his fiancée was like a nagging housekeeper, even dictating what underwear he wore, and he was fed up with it.]
Someone questioned if it was a made-up story. The poster immediately shared a screenshot of their chat history. The man’s avatar was a black German Shepherd, and his nickname was “J.”
I trembled as I scrolled further.
[He’s in the shower! Sneak a pic of his abs, tee hee.]
In the photo, the man’s lean waist had a scar. It was in the same spot where Julian had taken a knife for me, saving me in our sophomore year.
…
The light from my phone screen stung my eyes. I had traced that scar countless times, my heart aching with tenderness and lingering fear. That year, when we encountered a mugging, Julian hadn’t hesitated, stepping in front of me. The blade slashed, and blood soaked his white shirt. The doctor said another inch and it would have hit a kidney. He was in so much pain his forehead dripped with sweat, yet he gripped my hand and said, “As long as you’re alright, I don’t care what happens to me.”
I flipped my phone over, face down on the covers, my chest so tight I couldn’t breathe. I told myself to calm down, maybe it was just a coincidence. Many people had scars, it couldn’t be him. Julian would literally throw his life away for me. He’d even wrap me in his coat when I had cramps, staying up all night to rub my belly. We’d been together for eight years, our future entwined. It had to be a coincidence.
I took a deep breath, picked up my phone again. Exiting the thread, I opened Julian’s social media feed. Half an hour ago, he had posted an update. The accompanying picture was of an architectural model. In the background, in the dim hotel lighting, his wrist wore the watch I had given him. The caption read:
[For our future home, no amount of hardship is too much.]
Below, a string of friends had liked it, praising him as the perfect man. My heart, suspended in mid-air, finally settled. I knew it. The man in the thread couldn’t be Julian. He was working himself to the bone in a foreign country for our home. How could he be the despicable man in that post?
I switched back to the thread. The poster, “KikiTheFairy,” was still updating. To prove she wasn’t lying, she posted a few more details.
[Some people are just jealous. My boyfriend is not only handsome, but he spoils me rotten.]
[His fiancée? Ha, just a nagging old busybody who controls everything.]
[He says she even dictates what tie he wears today. He’s totally fed up with it.]
I froze, my vision blurring for a moment. This morning, before he left, Julian stood in front of the mirror, holding two ties, undecided. I walked over, picked up the dark blue silk tie, stood on my tiptoes to tie it for him, and smiled. “This one makes you look fairer, and it matches your suit today.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his eyes full of affection. “My Maya always has the best taste.”
I scrolled further.
[This is the Starry Night necklace he gave me. He said it’s to commemorate the night we met. The stars were so bright.]
In the photo, the necklace, encrusted with tiny diamonds, shimmered under the light. Its unique design depicted a meteor streaking across the night sky. Just a few days ago, I had seen the design draft of the necklace on Julian’s computer. At the time, I had walked in with a bowl of fruit and casually asked, “It’s beautiful, is it designed for me?” He closed his laptop, naturally running his hand through my hair. “It’s an anniversary gift for a client’s wife, still needs some tweaking.”
[Oh, and we’re on a private island in the Maldives. It’s absolutely breathtaking here! Just the two of us, tee hee.]
Julian told me he was in Germany for a project. His schedule was packed, and he was battling jet lag. My hand trembled as I clicked on the poster’s edit history. The time of the first post, counting backward, was exactly 312 days ago.
In that instant, my mind went blank with a whoosh. 312 days ago was our seven-year anniversary. That morning, he had held me, telling me he loved me, that I was the only light in his life. But that night, he said the company had an emergency and he had to work late, telling me to go to bed first.
It turned out he was with her then.
2
My phone suddenly vibrated. The words “My Love” flashed across the screen. I stared at the screen for a long time. It wasn’t until the vibration was about to stop that I pressed the answer button.
Julian’s voice was hoarse with fatigue. “Maya, are you still awake? Missing me?”
I didn’t speak, just listened quietly. It was very still on his end, with the occasional sound of waves crashing against the shore. He noticed my silence. “Why aren’t you talking? Are you feeling unwell?”
Just then, a woman’s soft giggle faintly reached my ear. “Darling, hurry up, the water’s getting cold…”
The phone went silent for a moment. Then came the sound of fabric rubbing, as if someone was muffling the receiver. A few seconds later, Julian’s voice returned, tinged with panic. “Maya, the TV here is a bit loud, they’re showing a travel program.”
I closed my eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks and into my mouth, bitter enough to make me want to vomit. I cleared my throat, my voice calm, even with a hint of a smile. “Julian, is the Maldives fun?”
The other end of the phone fell silent. After a full five seconds, Julian chuckled weakly. “Maya, what nonsense are you talking about? I’m on a business trip in Germany. The hotel is by the sea, and the TV just happens to be showing a Maldives travel program. You must have misheard.” He was gambling on my trust, gambling that I was just asking casually. If it had been the old Maya Sterling, I might really have been fooled. After all, he was Julian, the man who would sacrifice his life for me. But now, looking at the constantly updated pictures of the Maldives in the thread, my heart was ashes.
“Maybe so. Well, get some rest soon. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Okay, you get to sleep too. I’ll bring you a gift when I get back.” He visibly relaxed, his tone becoming gentle again. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about the Haven Orphanage charity project. I know you have a soft heart, but take care of yourself too. Don’t get too tired.”
Hanging up, my heart slowly sank. I remembered the thread saying:
[His fiancée is just a fake saint, always doing charity work, putting on an act. He prefers someone real like me, who never hides anything.]
So, in his eyes, my kindness was an act, a joke he used to amuse another woman.
The next morning, I received a call from Adrian. Adrian was Julian’s older brother and the head of Hayes Group.
“Are you free now? Let’s meet.” He paused. “There are some things we need to discuss about your wedding to Julian.”
Half an hour later, I met Adrian at Hayes Group. He had always looked down on me, believing my background was too ordinary. He felt I wasn’t good enough for his golden-boy brother, that I was holding Julian back. He pushed a prenuptial agreement across the table to me. “Take a look. These are the Hayes family rules.” He leaned back in his chair, a haughty look on his face. “If you have no objections, sign it.”
I opened the agreement. The terms were extremely harsh, all restrictions on me. The most glaring clause was:
[Should the marriage dissolve due to the wife’s fault, the wife shall forfeit all marital assets and leave with nothing.]
I smiled, my voice very soft. “What if Julian cheats?”
3
Adrian paused, then scoffed, his eyes full of contempt. “Julian cheating? Ms. Sterling, are you telling jokes?” He dismissed my concern. “Everyone knows he’s devoted to you. That hypothesis is meaningless.”
“Is that so?”
Just then, my phone on the table lit up. Kiki’s post had updated. It was a photo of two passports stacked together. One, a dark red, was Julian’s passport, which I knew all too well. The one beneath it, though only a corner was visible, clearly showed two words in the name field: Kira Mendez. The caption accompanying the photo was audacious and jarring:
[He says he’s taking me to see the Northern Lights, that used to be his girlfriend’s dream, but now it’s ours.]
Seeing the Northern Lights was a wish Julian and I made in our junior year of college, lying on a lawn. I pointed at the starry sky and softly said, “Julian, someday I want to go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. I hear it’s beautiful, like a fairy tale.” He turned his head to look at me, his eyes brighter than the night sky, his voice gentle and certain. “Okay, when we get married, I’ll take you there for our honeymoon.”
I turned my phone screen towards Adrian. “Mr. Hayes, please take a look at this first.”
Adrian casually glanced at it. The next second, his face turned ashen.
“He cheated.” I watched Adrian’s shifting expression, calmly asking, “According to the agreement, what do I get?” Adrian didn’t speak, his breathing grew heavy, his chest rising and falling violently.
After a long moment, he pressed the intercom on his desk. “Check all transactions in Julian’s private account for the past year, and his whereabouts.” Hanging up, he slumped back in his chair. He closed his eyes, his earlier haughty demeanor instantly crumbling. I heard him murmur to himself, “Exactly like Dad…” His voice was very soft, but filled with deep disgust and weariness.
Less than ten minutes later, his assistant knocked and entered. “Mr. Hayes, I found it.”
Adrian snatched the tablet, rapidly swiping the screen. With each swipe, his face grew darker. Finally, he handed the tablet to me. “You should see this too.”
Dense, endless pages of transaction records. The private island rental fee in the Maldives, a custom Cartier necklace, the rent for a luxury apartment in the city center, and a fixed monthly allowance transferred to Kira Mendez… And what chilled me most was the large transfer on the last page. The note read:
[Haven Orphanage Phase Two Construction Fund].
But this money did not go into the orphanage’s account. Instead, it was transferred to a company named “Kira’s Miracles,” with Kira Mendez as the legal representative. The Haven Orphanage was a project Julian and I had been funding since college. I knew every child there. Julian had once vowed to me, “Maya, every time I see you working tirelessly for these children, I feel a light radiating from you. It’s your kindness that makes me want to be a better man.”
Now, he used our shared compassion to support his mistress. All my lingering affection for the past died completely at this moment.
Adrian looked at me with a complex gaze, a mix of guilt and sympathy. He silently picked up the prenuptial agreement and threw it into the shredder. “Our father was the same. He played the part of a perfect husband while keeping women outside. Our mother eventually died of depression.” He gave a self-mocking laugh. “I never thought genes would really be passed down.”
4
He stood up, looking at me gravely. “What do you want to do? If you want to cancel the wedding, I can help you release a statement.”
I stood, my voice calm. “No cancellation. I want to give him a wedding he’ll never forget.”
Adrian looked at me deeply, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll help you.”
Stepping out of the Hayes building, the sunlight was blinding. My phone vibrated. It was a text from Julian:
[Finally landed, darling. Can’t wait to see you. Let’s finalize the wedding plans tonight.]
Julian embraced me the moment he walked in. His chin rested on the crown of my head, his voice hoarse. “Maya, I missed you so much.” I suppressed the nausea churning in my stomach, not pushing him away, just stiffly letting him hold me.
Then he pulled a bracelet from his bag, presenting it like a treasure. “A gift for you. See if you like it?” I recognized it instantly as a popular, mass-produced item from an online shop. He smiled, “I went to several markets to find this handmade, unique piece.” I looked at the bracelet, then thought of Kira Mendez’s expensive Starry Night necklace. Only a cold laugh remained in my heart. I smiled and accepted it. “Thank you, I love it.”
The next few days, we confirmed the guest list, tried on wedding dresses, and rehearsed the ceremony. Julian was gentle and attentive, even at the wedding dress fitting. Watching me put on the main gown he had personally chosen, his eyes welled up. “Maya, you’re so beautiful.” He choked out, “I’ll cherish you forever.”
A week flew by. The wedding was set in a glass conservatory by the sea. As I walked towards Julian in my pristine white gown, his eyes were filled with awe and love. “Maya, you’re truly beautiful today.” I smiled at him, saying nothing.
The ceremony began, the officiant reciting moving vows. As he spoke of “through poverty or wealth, sickness or health,” Julian’s phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. He frowned, ignoring it, just gripping my hand tighter. Then, the phone vibrated again, this time for a long duration. He gave me an apologetic look, pulling out his phone to hang up. But when he saw the message on the screen, his face instantly turned ashen.
Julian looked up at me, his eyes frantic. “Maya, something urgent came up at the company. There’s been a building collapse! I have to go immediately!” With that, he didn’t wait for my reaction, turned, and rushed off the stage.
The entire venue erupted in murmurs, guests exchanging bewildered glances. Just then, my phone vibrated. Adrian’s message:
[It’s all handled.]
At the same time, my special notification popped up. Kira Mendez had updated her social media. A photo of a pregnancy test stick, showing two bright red lines. The caption:
[Sorry, wedding’s off. He chose us.]
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After I went broke, a possessive, dark-haired guy started harassing me.
“Sweetheart, I found the boba tea you threw away. There’s still lipstick on the straw. I really want to kiss it…”
Me: “Spot me for the tea, it was $12.”
“Sweetheart, I stole your jacket. It smells like you. I love it so much…”
Me: “That one was $300. I can sell you my perfume secondhand.”
The dark-haired guy was bewildered:
“Sweetheart, aren’t you scared of me? Does it mean anyone with money can pursue you?”
I received a transfer of $52,000 from him.
I replied without hesitation:
“Husband.”
Dark-haired guy: “?”
1
Messages from the dark-haired guy kept popping up.
“Sweetheart, wrong person?
“Are you dating? Was it that guy who chatted you up at the convenience store yesterday?
“Why does he get to be your husband^^, I’m going to beat him black and blue…”
I typed a confused question mark.
And replied, all business:
“Spend enough and you get a bonus. That ‘husband’ is on the house.
“You transferred me so much money, you earned it.”
My family went bankrupt. I’d gone from a “rich socialite” to a “broke socialite.” Old business rivals were targeting me, and I couldn’t find any decent jobs. To pay off debts, I was working three shady jobs a day.
Sure, this guy’s messages were a little… clingy. And a tiny bit creepy. But for money, what was a little dignity?
The dark-haired guy didn’t seem pleased:
“If I find out you call anyone else ‘husband’ for money, I’ll kiss you till your lips are numb.”
I thought for a moment, then replied:
“Kissing comes with a separate price.”
He sent a string of ellipses.
“You’d be scared if you saw me. I’m ugly, not good enough for you. So, don’t say things like that to tempt me, sweetheart.”
Just then, the door opened.
A man in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit walked in. His sophisticated aura felt completely out of place in the dingy convenience store. He asked for a pack of cigarettes. I scanned the barcode, my voice flat.
“That’ll be a hundred bucks.”
He pulled a bill from his wallet. As I reached for it, he caught my hand in mid-air. Liam traced the palm of my hand with an almost desperate tenderness. He chuckled softly, his voice thick with a possessive obsession.
“Finally, I have you.”
2
A wave of disgust washed over me. I yanked my hand back. Liam didn’t seem bothered. He glanced around the messy store, as if amused.
“Halley, you’ve been avoiding me, and this is where you end up working?”
He then added with a decisive tone.
“Come back with me. You can still have your old life. I’ll give you money, I’ll give you love. Isn’t that better?”
I felt sick to my stomach. It reminded me of that saying in our circles: you don’t call them girlfriends, you “keep” them. What was this? Become my ex-fiancé’s trophy?
I spoke coldly.
“My family may be broke, but I haven’t fallen so far that you can just insult me. The item’s purchased, can you leave now?”
Liam opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say more. But someone tapped his shoulder from behind. A guy wearing a mask, his bangs falling over his forehead, couldn’t quite hide his beautiful brown eyes. Despite his clean, crisp white shirt, there was an indescribable gloom about him. He spoke softly.
“Excuse me, I need to check out.”
I’d been working at the convenience store for half a month and had seen him many times. He always bought the same thing: a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his intervention, and gave him a smile.
“All set. See you next time.”
When I turned back, Liam was gone. He’d left a note under a condom.
“Think it over, then come find me.”
3
After work, I couldn’t hold back my anger. I angrily kicked a soda can down the street. Was Liam crazy? Think it over my ass! It truly felt like a tiger fallen to the plains, bullied by dogs. Not only did I have to endure the mockery of my old rivals, but now this humiliation from my ex-fiancé. I would rather die broke than be his trophy!
My phone screen flashed. The dark-haired guy had sent me another message. It was a candid photo, taken from a hidden angle, of Liam buying cigarettes at the convenience store.
“Sweetheart, who is he? He dared to touch you, should I break his hand?
“I’ll make all the bad men around you disappear. You belong only to me.”
Oh, so he wasn’t just sending me creepy messages. He was also stalking me in real life. Well, that was…
Fantastic!
I promptly sent him all of Liam’s social media accounts, personal information, and phone numbers. I even added, thoughtfully:
“Honey, if you want more info on him, you can dig up his whole file. Oh, and one broken hand isn’t enough, you absolutely have to break both!”
The dark-haired guy was silent for a moment. Then he replied:
“…Okay, I understand.
“Why didn’t you listen to me and called me ‘husband’ again?”
I replied with starry eyes:
“Because you protect me. It feels so safe.”
He sent a helpless emoji.
“I told you, you’d be scared if you met me in person.”
I blinked, casually saying:
“Then let’s meet.”
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang sharply. My heart leaped. The dark-haired guy sent two short words:
“Open up.”
4
I wrestled with myself internally. Of course, I was scared. But curiosity won out over fear. I had to see who this dark-haired guy really was. The moment I cracked the door open, a hand with distinct knuckles pressed against the frame. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me forcefully into his embrace.
My rundown apartment. The hallway lights were out. And being trapped in his arms plunged my vision into complete darkness. Even with a voice changer, his tone was chilling and somber.
“Sweetheart… Even after I do this to you, do you still feel safe? Why don’t you ever listen to me, why are you always so careless?”
My mind was blank. My face was buried in the space between his pectoral muscles. The fresh scent of lemon fabric softener clung to him, and it felt strangely familiar. I instinctively blurted out.
“I actually feel pretty safe. You’ve got big pecs.”
Dark-haired guy: “?”
He whispered in my ear, a hint of gritted teeth in his voice.
“Sweetheart, do you even realize how much I want to kiss your lips swollen right now?”
5
The dark-haired guy chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. His voice then took on a profound sadness, laced with self-consciousness.
“Why are you so unguarded? Why do you keep making me fall for you again and again? I knew we weren’t a good match, but I still gravitated towards you like a moth to a flame. Don’t you… aren’t you scared of me at all?”
But he hadn’t actually done anything to hurt me, had he? Just some verbal harassment. And he constantly “dropped coins.” He even offered to beat up Liam for me. What wasn’t to like? I replied candidly.
“Not really scared. I think you’re actually a pretty good person.”
He paused. Then he took my hand and guided it to his face. My breath caught—a raised, uneven scar. Even without seeing it, I could tell it was quite disfiguring, marring his otherwise smooth skin. He took a deep breath, his voice hoarse.
“…And now?”
Before I could answer, he suddenly pushed me away. He thrust several shopping bags into my hands. His voice trembled.
“See, I knew this would happen. You can use the things I bought for you. I’m leaving now.”
His footsteps were unusually hurried as he left. I stood there for a long time. When I returned to my room and turned on the light, I saw it was a boba tea and a pile of new clothes. Jasmine milk tea, three-quarters sweet, light ice. Just like the one he’d picked up that day. The jacket he’d stolen, he’d bought a new one to replace it.
Why hadn’t he let me finish speaking? I flexed my fingers, remembering the touch. What I really wanted to ask was:
“It must have hurt a lot when you got that injury, didn’t it?”
6
I changed jobs. I started working at a bar. The environment was a bit noisy, but the pay was excellent. Someone sat down at the bar. I asked professionally.
“What can I get for you?”
“Whiskey Sour.”
Hearing that familiar, cool voice, I instantly looked up. It was the customer who often bought gummy bears at the convenience store. Still dressed the same: long bangs, a mask, a white shirt. But he seemed even more melancholic. I smiled at him.
“What a coincidence.”
He lowered his gaze, giving a soft “Mmm.” After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke.
“Why aren’t you at the convenience store anymore?”
I sighed.
“Because I didn’t want to be found… so I changed jobs.”
His eyelashes fluttered, and a flicker of hurt and disappointment, almost imperceptible, crossed his face. I handed him the Whiskey Sour and a bag of lemon-flavored gummy bears.
“The gummies are on me. I saw you always bought them, so I tried them myself and they’re pretty good.”
He stared absently at the glass. I was a little curious.
“Are you very introverted? You’re at a bar but still wearing a mask, how do you drink like that?”
He remained silent for a long time. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, he suddenly looked up at me, his eyes swirling with an indescribable emotion. He spoke softly.
“I have a scar on my face. …I’m afraid I’ll scare you if I take it off, sis.”
7
My heart pounded. The dark-haired guy also had a scar on his face. I gazed at him, about to speak, when my phone suddenly buzzed. The dark-haired guy had disappeared for days but had finally sent a message:
“Sweetheart, there are so many bad men around you. I want to lock you up at home, so you’ll only have me. Even if we go out, I’ll put a leash on your wrist. To keep you securely by my side, so no other man will ever covet you…”
He’d even sent a candid photo of me smiling and handing him the Whiskey Sour. My breath hitched. I instinctively scanned the area, but the crowd was too dense to find him.
“I’m sorry, should I not have been so direct? Are you very scared?”
His cool voice, tinged with self-mockery, brought me back. The person in front of me seemed very insecure, his head bowed even lower. Ah, he was still worried about his scar scaring me… I put a straw in his Whiskey Sour and smiled at him.
“No, not at all. I have a friend who also got hurt on their face. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re a really good person. Use the straw, you can drink even with your mask on.”
He murmured softly.
“…A friend?”
He paused, then asked.
“Can we be friends?”
His brown eyes truly were beautiful. Exceptionally clear and bright, reflecting little points of light like stars.
“Sure, I’m Halley. Nice to meet you.”
He seemed shy, his earlobes turning a little red.
“Sawyer.”
I had a vague feeling that name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it right away. Sawyer looked up at me, then seemed to drop his gaze in disappointment. My thoughts were interrupted again by another message.
“Now he wants to be friends with you, next he’ll want to be your boyfriend, right? Why does he get your tenderness? Hmm… I broke the other guy’s left hand last time, how about this one gets his right hand?”
This was endless. After Sawyer left, I finally had a moment to myself. I replied to the dark-haired guy with a blank expression.
“Don’t you dare hurt him. Stop hiding, come out. I’m off work, you’re allowed to walk me home.”
8
Stepping out of the bar, I saw a black Kawasaki motorcycle parked outside. The dim streetlamp cast a yellow halo around a man’s tall silhouette. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, great physique. He was wearing a helmet, so I couldn’t see his face. I climbed onto the back seat. The wind howled; neither of us spoke the whole way. I was still angry, so I gripped the dark-haired guy’s waist, provocatively squeezing a few times. His abs were so well-defined, wasn’t it all just to tempt me? Hmph, a bad, muscle-bound man with no self-control!
The motorcycle slowly stopped. His voice, distorted by the voice changer, was exceptionally deep.
“We’re home. You should go up.”
I scoffed coldly.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”
He seemed puzzled, tilting his head sluggishly. I angrily got off the bike. Finally, I let out what had been building up inside me for a long time.
“Why did you run away that day without letting me finish? Why did you block me without a word? You leave when you want, come back when you want, and now you’re stalking and harassing me again. I really don’t understand you, what do you even want?”
The dark-haired guy’s head drooped. His hands tightened on the handlebars. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice dry.
“It’s my fault.”
He continued slowly.
“After that day, you changed jobs. I thought my face scared you. I thought about it for a long time and decided I shouldn’t bother you anymore. I tried to stay away, but I found I couldn’t. The moment I saw another man near you, I couldn’t control my jealousy. So… mmm, I sent you those messages again. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I almost laughed in exasperation. Hey, you talk a big game, but at least be consistent!
All this time, the trash I left outside magically disappeared by morning. My accidentally lost work badge was quietly found and put back in my pocket. And several of my dresses hanging on the balcony had gone missing. These were designer clothes I bought before I went broke, and they were expensive! Why didn’t he pay for them (T.T)!! Several times I tried to message the dark-haired guy, only to see a red exclamation mark. I was at my wit’s end.
I said honestly.
“Why are you overthinking things? I don’t dislike your scar. And I’m not scared.”
The dark-haired guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He seemed a little taken aback. I stroked my chin.
“But your recent performance hasn’t been great. I really need to punish you.”
Hearing the word “punishment,” I felt like he got even more excited… His voice was trembling.
“What kind of punishment?”
I calculated the money for the dresses he’d stolen. Righteously, I said:
“I’ll fine you $52,000, just like last time. Oh, and remember to mark it as a voluntary gift. Also, I’ll punish you by making you bury me.”
The dark-haired guy said blankly.
“Huh?”
I couldn’t be bothered to explain further. I just buried my face in his chest. Ugh, soft and still so big. Even if I suffocated, it would be a blessed death! All the subtle hints of death from a day’s work vanished. Daddy, we love you~ We were so close. The scent of him hadn’t changed, still lemon.
He sighed softly, his voice softening.
“…Hey, how is this a punishment for me? It’s clearly a reward, isn’t it?”
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1
Ben took the fall for me, a ten-year prison sentence.
Before he went in, he meticulously arranged everything that mattered to him: Sterling Corp, the empire he built from scratch, and the girl he cherished.
But for me, his wife of many years, all that was left was a yellowed contract.
“You helped me ten years ago. Now I’m serving your time. We’re even, Clara.”
I silently watched Ben through the glass. I searched for any flicker of emotion in his eyes, but all I found was cold indifference and a profound sense of relief. It hit me then, a cold, hard truth: he had never loved me.
“Alright,” I said, tearing the contract in two. “We’re even.”
A week later, I received a call from the prison guard. Ben was dead. He’d encountered the man who almost assaulted me, that monster from my past. To stop him from ever getting out and harassing me, Ben had taken them both down.
I hung up, and a gust of cold wind hit me. I realized I’d drifted into the middle of the highway. A massive truck barreled towards me. I was thrown, landing hard in a pool of my own blood.
When I woke up again, I was back. Back to before.
This time, I wouldn’t let that contract trap him, or me.
…
I jolted awake, realizing I’d fallen asleep in the car. Cold sweat slicked my forehead. I heard a rustling beside me. I turned, a little disoriented. It was Ben.
Calming myself, I realized we were on our way to the Humbert estate, for him to formally propose. In my previous life, I had used that contract to force him into marriage. But I wasn’t satisfied. I insisted he make a proper proposal. That day, just as he sat down, he received a frantic, tearful call from Chloe. He left me without a second thought, abandoning me, which led to my grandfather having a stroke.
I took a deep breath, my throat dry. “Pull over. No need to go.”
The man beside me finally looked up, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Now what? Playing hard to get?” He sighed. “Just settle down. Isn’t this what you wanted?”
I turned my head, my gaze dropping to his phone, which he hadn’t quite put away. A long string of green message bubbles filled the screen, beneath a pink rabbit avatar. He was comforting her. The realization squeezed my heart, a bitter, self-mocking pang.
“I’m not playing hard to get, and I’m not joking,” I paused, my throat tightening. “I just don’t want it anymore.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. “What is it you want then?”
Just then, the rain began, blurring my view through the car window.
“That contract? Let’s scrap it. And… we should get a divorce.”
But before I could finish, Ben let out a derisive scoff, his eyes full of mockery. “Scrap it?” He stared at me. “Clara Humbert, you say that so casually, it almost makes me forget you were the one who practically begged to be tied to me.”
My face burned with shame. Back then, Sterling Corp was in crisis, on the brink of collapse. I’d been pursuing him for a long time, so I leveraged the Humbert family’s influence. “Sign this and be with me, and the Humbert family can help you through this crisis.” I admitted I took advantage of his situation. But I was naive enough to believe I could make Ben fall in love with me.
I was wrong. Even after marriage, after kisses, after sharing the most intimate moments in bed, he still didn’t love me. The memories stung, bringing tears to my eyes.
“Yes, I did tie you down.” I pulled out the contract I once treasured. With Ben’s eyes darkening, I tore it to pieces. “I was wrong. The contract is void. You don’t have to be trapped by me anymore.”
“Stop the car!” Ben’s voice was cold.
The driver slammed on the brakes. I instinctively lurched forward, my fingers slamming hard against the seat in front, a sharp pain making me wince. Ben said nothing, just stared at the torn pieces of the contract beside him. An unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes.
“Is it about Chloe?” His voice was weary, then he seemed to understand, assuming I was being unreasonable, jealous. “I told you, she’s just my assistant. Nothing more.”
“Is that so?” Just an assistant. Yet he’d risk a public argument with me, just to protect her. He’d leave me sick and alone, flying to a neighboring city just to celebrate her birthday. I swallowed the surge of bitterness in my heart. “Never mind.”
“Anyway, Ben, I think our relationship ends here.”
He turned away, scoffing, clearly not taking my words seriously. Just then, his phone chimed, displaying the pink rabbit avatar.
“Go,” I said.
He instantly silenced his phone, a strange irritation in his voice. “Can you stop pretending to be so magnanimous?” He seemed to lose control, his frustration growing. “Since you insist on playing the part, we’re not going today. Get out.”
I glanced at the rain outside, then opened the car door. Ignoring his unspoken question, I stepped out and walked towards the Humbert estate, alone, without looking back.
Back home, my mother was shocked. “What happened? Where’s Ben? Wasn’t he supposed to come over today?”
I took the ginger tea she offered. “He won’t be coming.” I looked at her. “Mom, doesn’t the Humbert Group have an expatriate program? For the London branch, right? I’ll go.”
She seemed to realize something. “But… that’s at least three years away.”
I nodded lightly, checking my social media. Chloe had just posted a picture of a man’s back. “Yes,” I said. “The longer, the better.”
2
The next day, I returned to the marital home Ben and I shared, intending to grab my documents. But when I opened the door, a woman’s figure stood there.
“Ms. Humbert.” Chloe’s voice was timid, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her pristine white dress.
I paused, then casually grunted in acknowledgement, walking past her into the house. Ben emerged from the bedroom. Seeing me, a flicker of unease crossed his face.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he quickly said. “She nearly got harassed by her landlord last night, had nowhere else to go, so I brought her back.”
I opened my mouth, then just nodded. I didn’t even want to bother asking why he didn’t just put her in a hotel, such a foolish, demeaning question. “Alright, I understand. A woman alone isn’t safe.” I offered a hollow smile. “She can stay as long as she needs.”
He pressed his lips together, clearly annoyed despite getting the answer he wanted. “What’s wrong with you? Why…” Why aren’t you causing a scene? I knew that’s what he wanted to ask, because in the past, that’s exactly what I would have done. Any little stir on his part, and I would have been a hysterical mess, torturing him and myself. Now, I refused to repeat that cycle.
“You two talk,” I said, heading towards the bedroom. “Don’t mind me.” Ben frowned, his eyes deepening.
Inside the room, I found my ID and passport, packing them into my bag. I left nothing else. My wedding ring, along with the signed divorce papers, remained in the drawer. As I turned to leave, Chloe, who had silently entered, startled me.
“Are you playing reverse psychology?” she asked, her soft demeanor replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. “It’s a very clever tactic.”
I scoffed. “Whether I’m retreating or advancing, you’re still not exactly in a flattering light,” I said, stepping closer. Her face paled slightly as I sneered, “Chloe, if you’re going to be the other woman, at least have the decency to keep it discreet.”
“You!” Chloe’s eyes reddened, but she quickly composed herself. She tugged down the strap of her white dress, revealing faint red marks. A smug look spread across her face. “Ms. Humbert, guess which bed we shared last night?”
My gaze fixated on the marks for a moment, a fleeting sense of disorientation. My fingers instinctively clenched. After a beat, I reached out and pulled her dress strap back up, covering the marks. My voice was dripping with contempt. “If you want to act like a cheap tart, no one’s stopping you.”
Chloe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind with anger?”
I turned to leave, ignoring her. But as I brushed past, Chloe suddenly grabbed my wrist. She handed me a photo – a child. “What about this? Can you still be indifferent?”
I glanced at the picture, and my steps froze. The child was the spitting image of Ben. It was his child… I looked up. Chloe had already retrieved her phone. “He’s a year and two months old.” She stared at me, her voice cutting. “Ms. Humbert, just step aside. The bond and affection between Ben and me can never be broken.”
My eyes dropped, a sharp pain in my heart. By my calculations, Chloe’s pregnancy coincided exactly with the time I lost my own child…
When I first became pregnant, I was overjoyed, anticipating the baby’s arrival more than anyone. But I wasn’t made of stone. I could feel Ben wasn’t particularly happy. Yet, back then, I deluded myself, pretending not to notice.
The night it happened, Ben and I had just finished an event and were supposed to go home together. But midway, he received a phone call. It was the first time I’d seen him so panicked and worried. “Clara, there’s a problem at the office,” he said, pulling the car over, his voice urgent. “Can you take a cab home, please?”
I didn’t want to hold him back, so I obediently got out. On my way home, as I passed through an alley, a dark figure suddenly appeared, clamping a hand over my mouth and nose, dragging me deeper into the shadows! My eyes widened in terror. I instinctively protected my belly, screaming and struggling with all my might. My hand brushed against my phone, and in a panic, I dialed Ben’s number, terrified.
“Ben—”
As soon as he answered, Ben’s voice was impatient. “I’m busy right now, we’ll talk later.” A harsh click, and he hung up, cold and dismissive.
The man had me pinned to the ground, tearing at my clothes. Thankfully, a few college students happened to walk by. He cursed and, before fleeing, delivered a vicious kick to my stomach. A searing pain shot through me. I stared in horror at the blood gushing out, crying in despair and humiliation. Then, I blacked out.
When I woke up, Ben was by my side. His voice was hoarse. “The baby… we couldn’t save him.”
3
“Why did you hang up?” I asked him, tears streaming down my face. But Ben remained silent.
“I had something important to do.”
Thinking of my unborn child, my eyes involuntarily welled up, my heart throbbing with a dull ache. Chloe, seeing my distress, wore a triumphant smirk.
“That night, I was the one who called him away. The second before your call, we were kissing.”
I looked up sharply, the tiny sparks of hope in my eyes extinguished. “…What did you say?” I had always believed Ben genuinely had an emergency that night. It turned out… I lowered my gaze, a bitter smile twisting my lips, a laugh that was both ironic and mournful. Then I closed my eyes.
In Chloe’s horrified gaze, I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. Bang! Chloe shrieked, clearly not expecting me to resort to physical violence. She struggled, crying out in pain. “Let me go!”
Hearing the commotion, Ben rushed in, gasping at the sight. He quickly pulled us apart. He shoved me hard, shielding the red-eyed woman behind him.
“Clara Humbert! Are you out of your mind?!” His face was dark with fury. “I knew it! You were just pretending to be magnanimous, and now you’re actually resorting to violence!”
I stumbled, my lower back hitting the corner of the dressing table, the sharp pain draining the color from my lips. Ben frowned at my distress, instinctively moving to help, but then forcibly stopped himself.
“Ben,” my voice was hoarse, struggling to suppress the rising bitterness. “Where were you the night I miscarried?”
His pupils constricted. He instinctively glanced at Chloe behind him, who looked slightly guilty. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “That night, she and I were together, but we were just…”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I softly cut him off, closing my eyes to hide the redness. Just the thought of my baby dying while they were in the throes of passion made me sick to my stomach! I choked out, “Ben, it was my mistake to force you into this marriage.” My voice was barely a whisper. “From now on, let’s just… leave it be.”
With that, I turned to leave. But as I brushed past, the pale-faced man grabbed my hand. His voice was low and firm. “What do you mean, you were wrong? What do you mean, ‘leave it be’? Clara Humbert, you explain yourself!”
I was stiff for a moment, then slowly turned around. The redness in my eyes made Ben falter. “Clara…”
I slowly pried his hand open, my voice hoarse as I said each word. “The contract is void. We’re getting a divorce.”
Ben’s pupils trembled. He instinctively blocked my path, his throat working. “Clara Humbert, I don’t believe you’d so easily talk about divorce. You were the one who begged me back then, don’t you forget!”
My body stiffened. I distinctly remembered the shock and annoyance in his eyes the day I slapped that contract in front of him. “Clara Humbert, what’s the point of forcing it?” But I had merely smiled indifferently. “Whether a forced melon is sweet or not, we’ll find out later. Ben, I believe it will be sweet.”
Now… I gave a bitter twist of my lips. “It was my folly. Just consider me insane.”
Then I turned and shut the door with a bang.
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I was a classic girl with a killer figure.
When I was down with a fever, my boyfriend, Liam, who was supposed to be looking after me, suggested getting intimate. I turned him down, and he moped for three whole days. My best friend, Charlotte, told me that grown-up desires were normal, and I was just being old-fashioned.
So, one evening, after I saw him pull into the driveway from my window, I took a deep breath, gathered all my courage, and slipped into some lacy lingerie. The moment the door swung open, I closed my eyes and practically launched myself at him.
“Honey, you’re home!”
His reaction was immediate, a palpable heat pressing against me. Just as I was about to arch my back and lean into him, a deep, raspy voice rumbled from above me. It belonged to Liam’s best friend, and Charlotte’s fiancé, Sebastian.
“It’s me. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
1
Hearing his voice, I froze, utterly bewildered. I scrambled out of his arms, my cheeks burning, not knowing where to put my hands. The sudden exposure of my skin felt scorching hot with embarrassment. I quickly grabbed my jacket from the nearby chair and threw it on.
“Mr. Hayes? What are you doing here?”
Sebastian Hayes averted his gaze, his profile sharp and elegant, an air of cool sophistication about him. In the dim candlelight, I swore his ears were flushed crimson.
“It’s Valentine’s Day. I came to drop something off for Charlotte.”
Sure enough, in his hand was an exquisitely wrapped box. A Cartier watch. My mind whispered, That’s expensive! But I knew Charlotte never wore watches.
Charlotte and I had been friends since college. She was the campus queen, and my closest confidante. Even after graduation, we ended up in apartments right across the hall from each other. Sebastian, she talked about him daily—her fiancé. He was also the stoic CEO of the company where I worked.
The realization sent another wave of panic and embarrassment through me. But then I glanced down, and my eyes snagged on the undeniable bulge beneath his tailored trousers. The memory of that forceful pressure against my stomach just moments ago came flooding back, making my face flush even hotter.
Sebastian noticed my gaze. He stiffened, then turned his back to me. “Just thought I’d let you know, I passed your desk on my way out earlier. Your computer’s power cable looked like it was unplugged.”
He cleared his throat. “…Nothing else. I’ll be going now.”
The door clicked shut, and I exhaled in a rush of relief. Then his words belatedly registered. My computer! If the power was out, what about my rendering? I quickly pulled out my phone to check the remote access. To my surprise, the rendering was still running. Had Sebastian been mistaken?
Well, that was a relief, a false alarm. I pressed my shirt against my burning cheeks, wishing I could slap myself. How was I ever going to face him and Charlotte again?
2
Just as I started to relax, I realized the door hadn’t been fully closed. Through the crack, I saw Charlotte open her door for Sebastian. Her face lit up with surprise as she linked her arm through his, playfully chiding him.
“You came? I thought you said you were too busy with work! You were just planning a surprise for me, weren’t you?” She gestured to the gift. “Is this for me? Thank you!”
Sebastian let her hold his arm, then lifted the box slightly. “It was a sponsor gift from a client. Just thought I’d pass it along.”
He was always like that, a total workaholic and, as Charlotte often said, completely clueless about romance. She’d told me they’d known each other since childhood, a classic childhood sweetheart story from two families of similar social standing. Charlotte had pursued him for years, but they’d only gotten engaged three months ago. Their parents had even met and dined together.
Though Sebastian’s assistant usually sent gifts and flowers for holidays, he was never one for grand gestures. He always claimed to be too busy for dates, Valentine’s Day included. The fact that he’d actually shown up in person to deliver a gift felt like a small victory for Charlotte. As she’d always put it, even the coldest ice would eventually melt. So, despite Sebastian’s stiff delivery and the fact that it was something she didn’t even like, Charlotte was thrilled.
She batted her bright eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she invited him inside. But Sebastian merely waited until she’d taken the box, then gently disengaged his hand.
“No, I can’t. I have business to discuss tonight.”
Charlotte deflated, biting her lip as she leaned closer. “We’re engaged, Sebastian. On Valentine’s night, all you want to do is work?”
Her voice dropped, soft and thin, her eyes glistening. “You weren’t like this before. In college, you even wanted to skip studying abroad for me, and you made me a declaration of love using code. But ever since you came back from England, you’ve been so distant.”
She looked up at him, a tremor in her voice. “Now you won’t even kiss me.”
Their voices, though muffled, were perfectly clear through the crack in the door. I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of indignation on Charlotte’s behalf. What kind of boyfriend was that?
Sebastian remained silent, his expression unreadable. He simply said, “It’s getting late. I should go.” As he stepped into the elevator, he glanced towards my door, startling me into quickly shutting it tight.
3
Back inside, I curled up on the sofa, waiting for Liam to come home. But it was Charlotte who arrived first. Seeing her, a fresh wave of guilt and unease washed over me.
My parents had divorced early, and I’d been raised by my aunt and uncle. They were good to me, but the feeling of being an outsider and the emotional void never quite left. In my freshman year of college, my aunt sent me some homemade sausages. My roommates wrinkled their noses, calling them ugly and making fun of me for being a country bumpkin. It was Charlotte who stood up for me.
“What, you think the food you eat isn’t grown by farmers? Don’t be so pretentious.” She sniffed the sausages, smiling warmly at me. “They smell amazing! If they don’t want them, give them all to me. I want to take them home this weekend!”
Charlotte always defended me, opening her heart to me. Even though I dressed plainly, I somehow always had guys pursuing me. She was always on guard, making sure I didn’t get hurt by players, jerks, or shady characters. Thanks to her, I avoided a lot of bad news. If a girl suddenly acted friendly, she’d warn me, saying she’d heard them badmouthing me. For all four years of college, we were inseparable. A true friendship, I thought, was worth more than countless fake ones, and I never felt alone.
The more I thought about it, the deeper my guilt became. I felt terrible, I’d betrayed her. I swore I’d take what happened tonight to my grave and forget it completely.
Charlotte bounced in, grinning as she flaunted the watch on her wrist. “Sebastian gave it to me himself. It’s a designer watch, over ten thousand dollars! Isn’t it pretty?”
I nodded vigorously. “It’s beautiful.”
She smirked. “Sebastian and I are childhood sweethearts. No one knows him better than I do. He adores me. He might seem distant on the surface, but he’s incredibly passionate in private.”
“The only reason he doesn’t want to live together is because he respects me.” That was Charlotte’s usual line. She always told me how good Sebastian was to her, how much he loved her. I’d always believed her. Maybe Sebastian just wasn’t good at showing affection.
I hugged her arm, playfully whining, “Yes, yes, you two are perfect for each other. When you get married, you’ll be Mrs. CEO. You’ll give me a promotion then, right?”
Charlotte tapped my forehead. “Don’t worry, you’re my ride-or-die. I’ll take care of you.” As she spoke, her sharp eyes caught a glimpse of my lingerie beneath my coat, and then the elaborate dinner spread on the living room table. She gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh my goodness, I just casually suggested it! You’re really going all out to win Liam back, aren’t you?”
My face flushed crimson, and I wrung my hands awkwardly.
4
Liam was someone Charlotte had introduced me to. She’d assured me he was different from the others, a truly wonderful guy. He pursued me passionately, and eventually, I relented. Three months ago, we started dating. He was a gentleman, attentive—the epitome of a perfect boyfriend.
Normally, adult intimacy was perfectly normal. But on our first night, I was burning up with a fever after working late. I asked him to get me some medicine and a thermometer. Instead, he came back with a box of condoms, leaning close to my ear, his voice dripping with suggestive laughter. “They say a high temperature adds a certain spice to things. Shall we try it?”
I pushed him away, gagging, and ever since, I’d been uncomfortable with his touch. Liam apologized profusely the next day, full of remorse. I accepted his apology. But lately, he’d been saying that accommodating my feelings was exhausting, and he wanted to break up. I was terrified. Besides work, my life revolved around him and Charlotte. I couldn’t bear to lose either of them.
So, when Charlotte casually suggested using a honey trap, I actually took her seriously.
“You look stunning. Liam’s a lucky guy, having a girlfriend who can cook so well and still be so adventurous.” Charlotte’s words pulled me from my thoughts. “If you’d done this sooner, he’d be wrapped around your finger, never dream of neglecting you.”
I shyly pressed my lips together. “But my figure isn’t that great. I’m a bit… curvy.”
A knowing glint flickered in Charlotte’s eyes. She led me to the mirror. It reflected both me and her, petite and exquisite. “So what? Even if your figure is average, and your looks are ordinary, in the eyes of someone who loves you, you’re the best.” Charlotte always offered such understanding comfort. “Alright, I won’t interrupt your sweet reunion.”
“Liam’s a top-notch boyfriend. I’ve known him for years, inside and out. Don’t worry, he’s crazy about you.” I mumbled an embarrassed “Mm-hmm.”
5
The house fell silent, and then something clicked. Liam’s car had been in the parking lot for ages. Why wasn’t he up here yet? I called him. His voice on the other end sounded slightly annoyed.
“The car’s AC filter is clogged. I’m just changing it. Sorry for the wait, you go ahead and eat.”
“It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.”
I hung up and double-checked the dining table for anything I might have missed. It looked like I’d forgotten contraception. I quickly dressed and headed to the convenience store. On my way back, to save time, I braved the dark parking lot shortcut. Passing a charging station, two figures locked in an embrace snagged my attention. Just as I was steeling myself to walk past, the driver’s side door of a car swung open. Someone grabbed my wrist, pulling me inside. My startled cry was stifled, caught in my throat by a hand.
It was Sebastian Hayes! He hadn’t left yet! His pull was so sudden that I tumbled sideways, landing squarely in his lap. In the dim light, his features seemed even more intense. My heart hammered. I was about to struggle when his right hand suddenly gripped the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
Caught off guard, I instinctively braced my hands against his chest, looking up in confusion. He gently lowered his head, resting his chin on my left shoulder, his voice a low, seductive whisper.
“Don’t move. Look over there.”
6
The couple outside was leaning right against this car door. The woman’s gasps of pleasure punctuated the air.
“…Mr. Davies, aren’t you going up yet? Your girlfriend made a whole dinner and is waiting for you to shower her with affection in her… flimsy lingerie.”
Charlotte’s voice, laced with malice, exploded in my mind like a thunderclap.
Liam scoffed. “Her? She’s so plain and rustic. She couldn’t hold a candle to even a single strand of your hair, no matter what she wears.”
“You know I only have eyes for you.”
“If you hadn’t wanted to spice things up with a little illicit thrill, why would I ever have bothered with her?”
Charlotte drew circles on his chest. “Really? But I thought her skin was quite fair, and her figure rather plump. She looked quite tempting in that outfit, didn’t she?”
Liam’s hand roamed, his voice teasing. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one who gets me going.”
They kissed for a while longer, then straightened their clothes.
“I’ll go up now, I promise I won’t touch her. Once she’s asleep, I’ll come find you.”
“Tsk, as if I care.”
“What if she finds out?”
“A poor little orphan nobody, just throw her a bone and she’ll be begging for more. Who cares if she finds out? She’ll cry for a few days and then come crawling back, begging to make up, haha.”
7
The footsteps faded. My blood felt like ice, my breath caught in my throat, each gasp tearing at my lungs. Fury and sorrow crashed over me. Why? Why would they do this to me? Was I just a plaything for their twisted games, all for a cheap thrill? And those vile words… they came from them. The people who were supposed to be the most important in my life!
Sebastian had lifted his head at some point. His fingers brushed my lips, his eyes, gleaming faintly, fixed on me. His tone held a hint of almost imperceptible pity.
“Poor thing. Don’t bite your lip so hard, you’ll break the skin.”
“I understand that feeling. Back then, I was with her for only a few days when I caught her being intimate with a junior student.”
“That’s why I chose to break up and study abroad.”
I was trembling, tears streaming down my face. “…Mr. Hayes, do you hate her?”
He was silent for a moment, then gently squeezed the back of my neck, his gaze flickering. “Will you be with me? Even if it’s just for revenge, for now.”
My hand, shaking slightly, retrieved the small packet from my coat pocket. I fought back the tears welling in my eyes. “Is an illicit affair really that exciting? I want to try it too.”
His face darkened. I felt it again—the unmistakable pressure below me. This time, I didn’t flinch. Instead, I forced a smile. “Looks like I’m quite appealing to Charlotte’s fiancé too.”
8
Sebastian took me back to his place. It was the upscale villa Charlotte had always dreamed of living in. Even with all her pretense, I could tell she’d only been allowed here once. A storm of grief and the intoxicating rush of revenge surged through me. I worked tirelessly to ignite a fire in Sebastian, saying things I would never normally utter.
“Mr. Hayes, don’t you want it? Why are you holding back?”
“You had a reaction the first moment you saw me tonight, didn’t you?”
Sebastian, clearly struggling, only kissed me again and again. He grasped my waist, pulling me off him. His eyes were flushed at the corners, but he buttoned his shirt with controlled restraint, still appearing the unapproachable, stoic CEO.
“I’m going to shower. The first door on the left on the second floor is where you’ll be staying tonight.”
Oh, Charlotte had mentioned it. Mr. Hayes was a clean freak. He must have been in agony being close to me just now. We were both working so hard for revenge against Charlotte.
I self-mockingly wiped a damp hand across my face and walked over to the wall of expensive wines. Charlotte had once fantasized that when she married Sebastian and moved in, she’d drink the finest Lafite out of crystal glasses on the terrace, overlooking the breathtaking views of the city. “As for you,” she’d added, “you’ll be my maid, of course. You just look so suited for it, haha.”
At the time, I thought she was joking. It turned out the truth was always hidden in her casual remarks. I opened the wine cabinet, not daring to touch the unaffordable bottles, and picked out the brandy from the furthest corner. She was so obsessed with this lifestyle, I simply had to try it for her.
9
By the time Sebastian emerged from the bathroom, I was utterly plastered. His dark eyelashes were still damp, even his pupils seemed misted over.
“You’ve had too much to drink.” He pushed aside my hand as I tried to pour more, then inverted the glass. He frowned, assessing. “Even if you’re composed and sharp at work, you lose all reason when you’re drunk.”
I propped my chin on my hand, completely unfazed, and hooked my arms around his neck. “Can we go to bed now?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re drunk.”
I wasn’t listening. My left hand worked at his clothes, my right at mine. He truly couldn’t resist. He took a pair of silver handcuffs from a drawer and clasped them around my wrists.
I mumbled, “An illicit affair and a little bondage play? Interesting.”
But Sebastian, poker-faced, led me straight into the bathroom, giving me a bath without a single sidelong glance. Then, his face flushed, he carried me to bed. No matter how much I tried to tempt him, he remained as hard as rock, but unmoving. As he turned off the light and closed the door, he left me with a final instruction:
“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”
“…”
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1
The apocalypse descended, and my ability was [Mascot], allowing zombies around me to act like normal people.
I was also the only tool that could keep Zombie Grandma quiet.
My older sister and younger brother both had offensive abilities, but they always praised me.
“Our Cici is the most capable. As long as you’re home, Grandma, who turned into a zombie, is like a docile cat, never biting anyone. That way, our family gets the institute’s family allowance.”
Until the day before New Year’s Eve, the safe zone opened up four hundred spots for a holiday feast!
Mom and Dad excitedly packed their bags, then slammed the steel security door shut.
“There are only four tickets, Cici. You’re our family’s guardian angel; stay behind and watch Grandma.”
“We’ll bring back some packed meat for you.”
But they didn’t know.
When the New Year’s Eve bell chimed, and they raised their glasses in celebration,
I was already being torn apart, flesh and bone, my throat chewed to pieces by a starving Grandma.
It turned out my ability only worked when my family was near me.
…
With a sharp “click” from the heavy steel security door, the last sliver of warm light that had seeped through the crack was completely cut off.
I huddled in the corner of the sofa, my voice trembling, looking at the rocking chair opposite.
“Grandma, be good, Cici is here.”
A hunched figure sat in the rocking chair.
Normally, as soon as I spoke, Grandma’s cloudy eyes would stir, then quietly close as she feigned sleep.
Everyone in the family said I was a lucky one, having awakened the [Mascot] ability.
Although I couldn’t conjure fireballs like my sister, nor slice stones thinly like my brother, I could keep my zombified Grandma rational, preventing her from biting or going mad, allowing her to be kept at home like an old cat.
Because of this, the base made an exception, allowing our family to live in the slums with Zombie Grandma, not forcing us to clear her out.
But today, something felt wrong.
“Hoo, hoo…”
The rocking chair stopped swaying.
A strange sound, like a broken bellows being pulled, emanated from Grandma’s throat.
She slowly turned her head.
Her normally grayish-white yet calm pupils now glowed with an eerie blue light in the darkness, and blood vessels in her whites spread wildly like a spiderweb, instantly swallowing the last trace of humanity.
Her shriveled mouth slowly opened, saliva mixed with some black, viscous fluid.
A nauseating stench of decay instantly overpowered the faint musty smell in the room.
“Grandma?”
My heart lurched, and I instinctively tried to activate my ability.
I desperately tried to conjure that “calming” feeling in my mind, just as I had countless times before, attempting to envelop Grandma’s brain with some invisible frequency.
However, nothing happened.
That sense of ability, which usually flowed like warm water, was now like stagnant water. No matter how much I screamed and tugged in my mind, it remained motionless.
What’s going on?
Why did it fail?
Grandma’s withered fingers clamped onto the armrest, her nails lengthening and blackening at a visible speed, like ten sharp bone-scrapers.
She stood up from the rocking chair.
Her movements were no longer the slowness of an elder, but filled with a beast-like stiffness and explosive power.
“I’m Cici! Grandma! I’m Cici!”
I sprang up from the sofa in terror, backing into the corner.
At that moment, my parents’ parting words flashed through my mind like lightning.
“You’re our family’s guardian angel…”
“As long as you’re home…”
No.
That’s not right.
It’s not just “as long as I’m home.”
Every time I’ve calmed Grandma before, my sister, my brother, or Mom and Dad, at least one of them was present.
They disliked Grandma’s smell, always staying far away, but they were all under the same roof.
Today, it was the first time.
Within a five-hundred-meter radius, I was the only one.
A flash of white light suddenly went off in my mind.
There was no [Mascot] ability at all.
The condition for the ability to work was the presence of a blood relative, forming some kind of magnetic resonance.
I was the conductor, and my family was the power source.
Now, the power was cut, escaping to the safe zone with the dream of braised pork and warmth.
Only I, the discarded conductor, was left to face a monster that had been hungry for three years.
“ROAR—!!!”
Grandma let out a shrill roar, lunging at me.
Her speed was like a black lightning bolt.
I instinctively raised my arm to block.
“Crunch.”
Excruciating pain surged through me.
The bone in my forearm was snapped clean, blood spurting like a fountain onto Grandma’s pale face.
The smell of blood completely ignited her ferocity.
Her hands, dry as tree bark, clamped onto my shoulders with astonishing strength, her nails digging deep into my flesh, pinning me to the floor.
“Dad… Mom…”
I cried out in despair, tears mixing with blood flowing into my mouth.
Salty, bitter.
Was this the taste of New Year’s Eve?
Grandma didn’t give me any more time to think.
She opened her mouth, almost torn to her ears, and bit down hard on my throat.
“Gush.”
The world went quiet.
2
It hurts.
It hurts too much.
But I couldn’t make a sound.
The moment my windpipe was torn, air from my lungs, accompanied by bloody foam, gushed out, leaving me only able to make a “hissing” sound of leaking air.
My vision began to blur; everything around me spun and turned red.
I saw the family photo on the wall.
It was taken before the apocalypse.
Dad in a suit, Mom adorned with pearls, my sister and brother in pretty little dresses, smiling brightly.
And I, wearing my sister’s hand-me-down school uniform, stood in the very corner, showing only half my face because the photographer said the composition was too crowded.
That half-face was now facing me, being torn and bitten on the floor.
Grandma was swallowing in large gulps.
That was her granddaughter.
It was Cici, who bathed her, fed her, and trimmed her nails every day.
I wanted to push her away, but my limbs no longer obeyed, only twitching unconsciously on the cold floor like a dying fish.
Before my consciousness completely plunged into darkness, I heard sounds from outside the window.
“Boom—Crack!”
Those were fireworks rising from the direction of the Eden Safe Zone.
Even from dozens of kilometers away, I could see the dazzling light illuminating half the night sky.
How beautiful.
…
I don’t know how much time passed.
I felt my body become very light, very light.
The agonizing pain disappeared, replaced by an utter emptiness and coldness.
I floated up.
Looking down.
The floor was a mess, blood pooled and spread to the entrance.
A small, incomplete, emaciated corpse lay there, a huge bloody hole in its neck, stark white bones exposed.
And Grandma was squatting beside the corpse, her belly already bulging, her face covered in dark red bloodstains, extending her long tongue, still savoring the bits of flesh between her fingers.
A mutated rat poked its head out of the sewer, its beady green eyes greedily staring at my corpse, attempting to come and get a share.
“ROAR!”
Grandma, in the midst of feeding, suddenly turned her head, letting out a fierce growl at the rat.
She was protecting her food.
Even after turning into a zombie, she instinctively guarded her “food.”
How ironic.
When I was alive, I was the most inconspicuous, invisible member of this family.
After death, I became the “delicacy” Grandma fiercely protected.
My heart was filled with sorrow.
Just then, a strange pull came from outside the window.
It was as if an invisible rope had tethered my soul.
The other end of the rope was connected to the safe zone, to where my “family” was.
Although my ability had failed, that “curse” which only activated in the presence of relatives seemed to have transformed into some kind of bond, forcefully pulling me towards them.
Fine.
If I couldn’t be a guest at the reunion dinner, then I’d be the ghost that ruined it.
The safe zone truly lived up to its name.
A massive dome shielded against the swirling snow. Four hundred lucky families were gathered, toasting and celebrating.
I drifted, pulled by the invisible force, to a round table in the very center.
Mom, Dad, my sister, my brother, all wearing the base’s newly issued white protective suits, looked like four bloated and happy silkworms.
The hotpot in front of them bubbled warmly.
And the moment I saw them,
The void in my mind was finally filled.
I finally completely understood what my ability truly was.
…
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Five years after Mom and Dad died, my sister sent me to a reform school. She threw my luggage at me and screamed, “Daisy, if you like fighting so much, stay here. I’ll pick you up when you’ve learned your lesson.”
Later, I was abducted and brutally beaten by my sister’s rival. My sister, on the phone, broke down. “Fight back! Why aren’t you fighting back?”
My eyes vacant, I replied, “Because my sister said fighting makes a child naughty.”
1
My sister sat in the driver’s seat, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Daisy, after a year, you’ve become much quieter. It seems this reform school has worked wonders on you.”
I sat perfectly straight in the back seat, my calm demeanor masking an underlying awkwardness and anxiety. “Sister, I won’t fight anymore.”
My sister’s expression shifted, and she sneered. “You’d better keep your word, or I can always send you back to that school.”
Hearing my sister threaten to send me back, I instinctively shuddered, trembling uncontrollably. That wasn’t a reform school; it was my hell, a paradise for devils. I silently nodded, indicating I would be obedient. This was the first time I hadn’t retorted to my sister’s words. She was pleased with my reaction, further convinced that sending me to the reform school had been the right decision.
As soon as we walked into the house, my sister reached for my backpack. The moment her hand touched my shoulder, I instinctively stepped back, evading her touch. My face turned ashen. Meeting my sister’s surprised gaze, I quickly explained, “I’m sorry, Sister, I can manage it myself.”
My sister lowered her hand, rolled her eyes at me, and muttered, “What’s with the little tantrum?” Seeing my sister turn away without asking further, I quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
After unpacking my luggage in the room, the housekeeper, Auntie Chen, called me down for dinner. At the dining table, it was just my sister and me. There were ten dishes, all my favorites, specially prepared by my sister. I carefully picked food into my bowl, chewing slowly and deliberately.
It had been a year since I’d eaten a proper meal. At the reform school, there was only steamed bread and pickled vegetables, and meat was a once-a-month rarity. Thinking of those days, tears involuntarily streamed down my face. My sister picked up a tissue, intending to wipe my tears. I instinctively raised my hand to block her, inadvertently exposing the scars on my arm.
“Daisy, what are those injuries on your hand?”
I quickly hid my hand behind my back, my face betraying an undeniable panic. “It was… it was an accident. I fell.”
Under her probing gaze, a flicker of guilt crossed my face. I lowered my head, not daring to meet her eyes. I had indeed lied; the scars were from beatings at the school. But the teachers had warned us that if we dared to tell our families, they had plenty of ways to send us back.
When I was first sent to the school, unable to endure the torment, I secretly called my sister, begging her to bring me home. But the next day, my sister didn’t come. Instead, I faced a nightmare I would never forget. That day, I was tied to a rack, repeatedly electrocuted until I lost control of my bladder and bowels. No matter how much I cried or pleaded, they wouldn’t stop, until I passed out. Before losing consciousness, a devilish voice echoed in my ear.
“Daisy, do you think your sister will believe you, or the school?”
Of course, my sister would only believe the school; after all, I was a naughty child. So I absolutely couldn’t tell my sister the truth.
“Daisy, you still haven’t broken this bad habit of lying. I never thought that even after sending you to a reform school, you’d still get into fights.” My sister slammed her chopsticks on the table with a “bang,” looking at me with anger and disappointment.
“I thought you had reformed, but you haven’t changed at all. You’re rotten to the core!”
The dinner ended badly.
2
Back in my room, I sat on the bed, silently weeping as I looked at the family photo on the cabinet. That was the happiest time of my life. Back then, the four of us were still crammed into our small old house; Mom and Dad hadn’t yet expanded their business. Dad would pick my sister and me up from school every day, secretly buying us starch sausages. Mom always forced us to eat nasty vegetables, saying they were good for our health. Back then, my sister laughed a lot; she was everyone’s ray of sunshine, but after Mom and Dad passed away, I never saw my sister smile again.
I don’t know how I fell asleep that night, but when I woke up, my pillow was soaked.
The next morning, at exactly five o’clock, I was washed and dressed, appearing at the dining table. These were the school rules, deeply ingrained in my mind. Failure to comply meant a nightmarish torment. Even though I had left the school, I dared not disobey; it was a fear that came from the depths of my soul.
Two hours later, my sister came downstairs in her business attire. When she saw me sitting rigidly at the dining table, she frowned. Auntie Chen, the housekeeper, told her I had been sitting there waiting for her since early morning, and she gave a knowing expression. Then she walked to my side, tapping her finger on the table, her voice unhurried.
“Daisy, don’t think that playing innocent now will make me forgive you. After breakfast, I’m having the driver take you back to school.”
My face instantly turned ashen, my voice trembling. “What… what school?”
My sister sneered. “Of course, I’m sending you back to the reform school for correction, because you behaved poorly last night.”
Hearing my sister’s words, nightmarish memories flooded my mind, and fear coiled in my heart. I abruptly stood up and screamed at her.
“No, I won’t go! Serena, if you send me back, I’ll die!”
“I’ll die, I’ll definitely die! Mom and Dad are already dead, are you trying to force me to die? Mom and Dad won’t forgive you!”
With a sharp slap, my sister slapped me across the face. The stinging pain on my cheek brought me back to my senses. Realizing what I had said, I immediately knelt, grabbing my sister’s hand and apologizing.
“I’m sorry, Sister, I didn’t mean it, I was wrong. Please don’t send me back, okay?”
As expected, my sister’s face completely hardened. There wasn’t a trace of affection in her eyes, only profound disgust and indifference. My sister’s angry and disappointed voice rang above my head.
“Daisy, you now have two choices: either go back to school and be properly reformed, or get out of this house. From now on, I’ll pretend I don’t have a sister.”
I struggled internally for a long time, then finally stood up, giving my sister a deep look. “Sister, I’m leaving. Please take care of yourself.”
My sister said nothing, merely showing an expression that said, “I knew it.” I went upstairs to my room to pack my clothes. Opening the closet, I casually pulled out a few seasonal items and stuffed them into my suitcase. Many of the clothes no longer fit; I had lost a lot of weight during my year at school, constantly hungry and cold, enduring both mental and physical torment.
As I dragged my suitcase down the stairs, I heard my sister giving instructions to the housekeeper, Auntie Chen.
“Auntie Chen, clear out everything in her room. From now on, the Hoopes family has no second daughter.”
My foot, just stepping off the last stair, faltered. My heart felt as if it were being pricked by countless needles, a dense, throbbing pain. I walked to my sister’s side, my voice uncontrollably choked with sobs.
“Sister, I’m really leaving.”
My sister ignored me completely, eating her breakfast as if I were thin air. But just as I was about to walk out the door, my sister called out to me from behind. When I turned to look at her, full of expectation, her expression was cold.
“Daisy, I’ve put some money in your bank account. Don’t ever appear in front of me again.”
My sister was trying to draw a clear line between us. I held back the tears that threatened to fall, dragging my suitcase out the front door. This time, I walked very slowly, slow enough that if my sister called my name, I could immediately turn back home.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind me. I instantly turned around.
“Sister.”
3
It wasn’t my sister. Auntie Chen walked towards me, carrying a paper bag.
“Daisy, Ms. Hoopes said you left these things behind.”
Her eyes, as she looked at me, were full of pity.
“It hasn’t been easy for Ms. Hoopes to shoulder the family business alone all these years. Don’t hate her. When she comes to her senses, she’ll bring you back.”
I nodded silently. I had deliberately left those things behind, thinking I could use them as an excuse to come home and see my sister later. As sisters for nineteen years, we understood each other so well. She saw right through my little tricks. But she no longer wanted to play along.
Once, when I was coming home from school, I got lost chasing a puppy into a complex, abandoned building. I sat on the ground, wailing. Mom and Dad were abroad on a business trip at the time and couldn’t reach my call. It was my sister who walked for several hours with a flashlight, alone, until she found me. She held me tightly then, comforting me.
“Don’t be scared, little sister. Big sister will always be with you.”
After that, whenever I called out for my sister, she would immediately appear before me. But now, she truly didn’t want me anymore.
One hand held the bag, the other pulled my suitcase. Suddenly, the sky darkened, lightning flashed wildly, and a clap of thunder exploded in the sky. Then, dense raindrops began to fall. I stood in the rain, instantly soaked to the bone. The paper bag, under the assault of the rain, became fragile, and its contents tumbled to the ground, stained with mud.
I knelt, no longer able to distinguish between tears and raindrops on my face. Picking up the items from the ground, I tossed them into a nearby trash can. Dirty things should be thrown away. Like me, discarded by my sister.
Suppressing the bitterness in my heart, I hailed a taxi and left. I went back to our old house. It held happy memories of our family of four, so even after we earned money and moved into a villa, Mom and Dad hadn’t sold the old house; instead, they had someone maintain it regularly.
I entered the password and pushed the door open. The password was my birthday. Inside, it was clean and tidy. I took a hot shower and immediately burrowed into the bed. The bedsheets seemed to still carry Mom’s scent, making me sleep soundly. My dreams were no longer filled with fear, no terrifying teacher’s face, no biting rats in the isolation room, no pain of sticks hitting my body.
That afternoon, I was startled awake by the loud bang of a door closing.
“Daisy, who told you to come back to the old house? This is my home; get out immediately!” My sister stood by my bed, her voice cold.
Startled awake, my mind was still hazy. I touched my hot face; I was sick. I opened my mouth and found my throat hoarse; I couldn’t speak. Seeing me make no move, she became impatient, urging me.
“Hurry up and pack your things and get out, don’t force me to throw you out.”
I endured my physical discomfort, got up, changed clothes, and, carrying my unopened suitcase, walked to the door. Finally, I stopped, enduring the pain in my throat, and looked at my sister pleadingly.
“Sister, I’m sick. Can I just stay here for one night? I’ll leave tomorrow.”
My sister refused without a second thought. “No. Stop pretending. I won’t believe a word you say.”
I dragged my suitcase and found a random motel, then took an over-the-counter fever reducer I bought downstairs. I drifted off into a hazy sleep. I lay in bed, sleeping for an entire day, my dreams filled with scenes of beatings.
When I opened my eyes again, the evening sun was already setting. These past few days, I had holed up in the motel, ordering takeout when hungry, sleeping when tired. It took a whole week for me to gradually break free from the school’s brutal regimen. Every day, I constantly told myself that no one would ever beat or scold me without reason again; I was safe now.
Just as I lay in bed zoning out, my phone chimed with a text message notification.
“Daisy, I heard you’re back. Uncle’s birthday dinner tonight, are you free to come?”
The sender was my paternal uncle from my hometown, the same man who had once threatened to ruin my sister’s reputation and seize our family’s assets, and whom I had beaten so badly he ended up in the hospital.
I was about to ignore it. He immediately sent another text message, attaching an address.
“Your sister will be there too.”
He was threatening me.
4
That evening, I arrived on time for the dinner. Besides my uncle’s family and my sister, there were also some unfamiliar faces in the private room, likely my uncle’s questionable friends. My sister gave me a cold glance before turning to talk to my cousin, as if she didn’t know me. I quietly sat in a corner, head bowed, saying nothing.
As dishes were successively served, my uncle spoke first.
“Today is my birthday, so I tried to invite as many relatives as possible, especially Daisy. After a year, you’ve changed quite a lot, lost a good bit of weight.” With that, he burst into laughter, pointing to his son and teasing. “If I had known that reform school also had weight loss benefits, I would have sent your cousin there too.”
My cousin immediately protested loudly. “I’m not going! That garbage school has already been exposed. The teachers there have all sorts of ways to make life hell. Only people like you would believe it. I’d rather die than go there!”
My aunt quickly clapped her hand over my cousin’s mouth, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry, the child is ignorant and speaks nonsense.”
My cousin pushed away my aunt’s hand, looking defiant.
“What do you mean I’m speaking nonsense? Just look it up online on your phone, and you’ll know! Besides, hasn’t Daisy been there for a year? Wouldn’t asking her be clearer?” With that, he glanced at me again. “Look at her, it’s summer, and we’re all in shorts and T-shirts, but Daisy is wearing long sleeves and pants. She must be covered in scars from being beaten!”
As soon as my cousin’s words fell, everyone’s gaze turned to me, some curious, some sympathetic, some disdainful. I kept my head down, biting my lower lip hard, not daring to speak.
“Daisy, is what your cousin said true?” My sister suddenly spoke, her eyes fixed on my tightly clutched sleeve cuff.
In my mind, that day’s scene suddenly replayed: I was dragged from my bed to the “treatment room” by a teacher; my legs were scratched and bleeding by the stones on the ground; my scalp was painfully pulled. Yet, these were just the beginning of the nightmare. I was bound by ropes to a torture device, the teacher tore off my clothes, and then came repeated electric shocks. Every time I fainted, I would be splashed awake with cold water, over and over again.
“No, the teacher didn’t hit me, didn’t hit me.”
I shook my head frantically, immediately denying it. Those memories terrified me, making me tremble uncontrollably. My appearance scared everyone in the private room. My sister quickly walked towards me, forcefully pulled open my sleeve, revealing scars large and small, crawling all over my arms like centipedes, some of which had only recently scabbed over.
“What is this?”
My sister’s eyes instantly welled with tears, her hands trembling as she tried to touch my scars, afraid of hurting me.
“Daisy, why is this happening?”
Actually, I also wanted to know why it had come to this. My sister used to love me. When Mom and Dad were still alive, my sister was very kind to me; back then, she was the best sister in the world to me.
After the family business grew, Mom and Dad became increasingly busy, spending less and less time at home. My sister began to take on the responsibility of looking after me. I also became more and more dependent on my sister.
Later, my sister went away to college, and the distance between us changed from zero to fifteen hundred kilometers. On my birthday, I sat in front of the cake, crying inconsolably; the housekeeper couldn’t comfort me. My sister suddenly appeared before me, carrying a giant teddy bear, and smiled as she playfully flicked my nose.
“My little crybaby, I heard your crying before I even stepped through the door. Big sister promised to celebrate every birthday with you, so I certainly wouldn’t break my word.”
She placed the doll on the chair beside me, then opened her suitcase filled with gifts, taking them out one by one and arranging them before me.
“This is our little princess’s favorite pink hair clip, this is the new game console, this is a matching outfit just like big sister’s, this is…”
In my eyes, my sister was like a magical fairy, always able to conjure up many treasures I loved. She wiped away my tears, relit the candles, and told me to make a wish. I closed my eyes, greedily making many wishes.
“To be happy and together with my sister forever, never to be separated for a lifetime.”
“I hope my sister will always love only me, and not like anyone else.”
“I want to be my sister’s sister in my next life, and the life after that.”
…I only opened my eyes and blew them out when the candles were almost completely melted.
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My best friend and my boyfriend were sworn enemies, yet they became lovers in a game.
Everyone thought they’d back out.
But my best friend, Lyra, snatched up the wager, her voice brimming with challenge:
“What’s wrong, Jim Voldemort? Scared to play now?”
“King’s game: whoever breaks up first loses. I advise you to surrender gracefully and call me ‘Dad’ the next time we meet!”
Jim Voldemort was so furious he gritted his teeth, adamantly refusing to be the first to break up.
They fought from campus to the corporate world.
To up the ante, they even adopted a child.
From then on, he played the devoted husband, she played the loving mother.
And I, Eleanor Vance, had a secret decade-long relationship with Jim Voldemort.
Lyra’s mother, unaware of the truth,
Still urged them to get married at this year’s New Year’s Eve dinner.
“How can parents of a middle schooler not be legally recognized as a family unit?”
Lyra skillfully pushed me forward as a shield:
“If I get married, what about Eleanor?”
Jim chimed in too:
“Yes, we can’t bear to leave Eleanor all alone.”
They were as in sync as a real married couple.
I opened my phone and smiled.
“Then you can rest easy.”
“My mother has picked eighteen fiancés for me; they’re lining up for me to choose.”
This time, Jim’s face completely darkened.
1
In front of them, I directly interviewed those eighteen men.
“This young wolf-cub is good; I’ve been into younger men lately.”
“That icy guy was decent too; he looks like he’d be caring.”
“And…”
Only my comments echoed through the private room.
Jim Voldemort’s presence was terrifyingly low, his face hinting at a coming storm.
My best friend, Lyra Quinn, hugged him tightly, whispering a warning:
“Jim, if you dare to mention anything about the game now, I’ll consider you to have completely surrendered.”
“My mother has a weak heart; don’t go crazy in front of her!”
Lyra, afraid he might actually act rashly, hugged him so tightly it looked like she wanted to break his waist.
Jim’s chest heaved, and he unconsciously hooked Lyra’s little finger.
This was his little gesture when he was being soothed.
Lyra’s mother smiled, watching their intimate interaction.
I twitched the corner of my mouth, my throat bitter.
It’s laughable, really.
These two: one was my secret boyfriend, the other my confidante.
They sat on one side, and I sat opposite.
Together, we formed a stable triangle.
Much like our relationship over these years.
On the way home, all three of us were silent.
I opened the back door, leaving the passenger seat for Lyra.
She paused, then instinctively said:
“Alfie has tutoring today, we don’t need to pick him up so early.”
I smiled, “It’s fine, I’m used to it.”
Alfie was the child Jim and Lyra adopted.
He had just started middle school this year and didn’t know his adoptive parents were actually a fake couple.
Whenever he was around, they would act as if they were madly in love.
The passenger seat, once exclusively mine, was gradually given to Lyra.
The glove compartment sometimes held her lipstick and perfume, sometimes Alfie’s toys and homework.
My belongings, however, were nowhere to be found.
When Lyra first started playing the role of a respectful partner with Jim, she would still hug the toilet, vomiting profusely.
Her eyes teary, she’d look at me:
“Eleanor, what did you ever see in that dog, Jim?”
“Just holding his hand once, I’d want to scrub it eight hundred times with disinfectant.”
Jim wouldn’t be outdone.
Knowing Lyra hated him for “stealing” me, he’d deliberately pick me up and sit me on his lap during meals, refusing to let me down, just to spite her.
It would make Lyra stomp her feet in anger.
In those years, the love was real, and the hatred was real.
It’s the same now.
I pushed Lyra into the passenger seat, saying blandly:
“Don’t worry about me. I’m used to sitting in the back now.”
No matter how much you dislike something, after doing it a thousand times, you get used to it.
Jim frowned, looking a little helpless.
“Eleanor, there’s no need to intentionally provoke me by putting on such a show with eighteen different men.”
“You know I detest her, and she detests me too.”
“There’s really nothing between us.”
Lyra quickly nodded.
“That’s right, Jim will definitely marry you in the end.”
“Besides, didn’t you say you didn’t want to rush into the grave of marriage?”
Having acted for so many years, even their expressions of urgency were becoming increasingly similar.
They truly looked like a married couple.
I climbed into the back seat, looking at the passing scenery outside the window.
“Lyra, I said that when I was twenty-three.”
“I’m thirty-three now, long past the age of youthful bravado.”
Jim’s breath hitched, the veins on his hands, gripping the steering wheel, bulging.
“What about me?”
His voice was strained, his eyes gradually reddening.
“Does someone you loved at twenty-three stop loving you at thirty-three?”
2
I couldn’t answer.
So I pretended not to hear.
Just as I always pretended not to have witnessed their kiss in the snow a month ago.
It was Alfie’s birthday party, and many people were invited to celebrate.
In broad daylight, the two of them started arguing about his tutoring class.
They’d had some wine, and they started brawling like children.
Alfie was terrified and cried uncontrollably.
I quickly picked him up and left. After finally calming the child, when I went to the garden to find them,
I saw a drunken Jim pinning Lyra down, forcefully kissing her lips despite her struggles.
Lyra trembled, then slapped him hard.
“Jim Voldemort, look at me and see who I am!”
“I’m not Eleanor!”
She tried her best to restrain herself, but her voice still carried an uncontrollable sob.
Jim stumbled to the ground, his fingers buried deep in his hair.
“I know… How could I mistake the two of you?”
They looked at each other, their eyes filled with pain, regret, loss… and a hint of undeniable passion.
Tears streamed from Lyra’s eyes without warning.
She suddenly lunged forward, hugging Jim tightly.
Her voice was muffled and desperate: “…Today doesn’t count.”
“We were both drunk, so whatever happened, it doesn’t count as betrayal.”
Jim fiercely hugged her back, kissing her passionately.
I hid in the corner, my hands and feet freezing.
Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, melting into tears that streamed down.
At this moment, I also wanted to ask Jim.
Would someone you didn’t love at twenty-three be loved at thirty-three?
The tangled fate between the three of us dates back a long time.
My personality was gentle and timid; I spoke softly.
Lyra, however, was domineering and strong, her word was law.
Jim liked me the most, so he detested Lyra, who was my opposite.
Yet, they were both exceptionally good-looking, academically excellent, and childhood friends.
No matter which school they were in, they were a popular, love-hate pairing.
However, Lyra strongly disliked being forcibly paired with him, complaining more than once about their blind classmates.
Jim, though he didn’t speak, clearly drew boundaries with his actions.
I wasn’t mediocre, but among them, I appeared overly unremarkable.
At first glance, it seemed like two prominent figures and their little follower.
Therefore, when Jim first confessed to me at seventeen, my immediate reaction was disbelief.
“Did you lose a game of Truth or Dare?”
Jim’s face twisted for a moment, then he walked away in a huff.
But from then on, he would stand by our classroom door every day with a flower, publicly declaring his love.
Lyra was furious, stomping her feet.
Every time she saw him, she couldn’t resist hitting Jim in the face.
It wasn’t until I accepted his confession that they finally calmed down.
Lyra, while being annoyed, helped us cover up.
Later, in college, Lyra changed boyfriends every week, and the annoyed person became Jim.
From ideologies to preferences, they had nothing in common.
Until the graduation banquet, when that seemingly joking King’s Game emerged.
The classmate who drew the King’s card truly had no ill intentions; initially, they just designated Jim and Lyra to be a couple for a week.
Like everyone else, I thought one of them would quickly give up and concede.
But no one anticipated that they would become competitive, just like when they were children.
They held their noses and went on dates, went shopping, performing their deep affection for everyone.
A week passed. A month passed. A year passed.
Ten years passed.
They were still competing.
Those in the know started a betting pool on when they would break up.
Those unaware praised Mr. Voldemort and Miss Quinn’s deep devotion.
And I, just like in my youth, was always overshadowed by their brilliance.
No one remembered that Jim and I had a history.
3
A silence filled the car.
Jim first dropped Lyra at her house.
Without her, Jim and I had even less to talk about.
After adopting Alfie, our conversations often revolved around the child.
Jim complained that Lyra, a first-time mother, had no idea how to care for a child.
Lyra grumbled that Jim was always away, leaving her to raise the child alone.
They were still at odds, as always, but to outsiders, it was just minor marital disagreements.
I held the title of godmother, but I was a true outsider.
Alfie only liked his mom and dad; he didn’t like me.
He even thought I was the third wheel in their family.
Thinking about it carefully, the rift between us actually appeared very early.
From the moment Jim forgot my birthday because of a parent-teacher meeting.
From the moment Jim suggested we no longer celebrate our anniversary.
From the moment Jim said we needed to be more reserved in front of Alfie.
Those cracks were silent, he didn’t notice them, and I couldn’t articulate them.
The silence was driving him mad.
Back home, Jim impatiently pressed me against the wall.
A torrent of kisses rained down.
In the throes of passion, I suddenly caught a familiar scent.
It was Lyra’s usual perfume.
Very faint, but with a strong presence.
Just like her.
I suddenly felt a wave of nausea, struggled to push him away,
And rushed to the bathroom, clutching the toilet, vomiting.
Jim’s face went pale.
“Eleanor, what did I do wrong?”
“You know that everything with Lyra in front of others is just an act.”
“I’ve loved you since we were kids.”
I couldn’t answer; the severe dehydration made me dizzy.
In fact, ever since I caught them kissing, I became suspicious and paranoid.
For a while, I even followed Jim.
But as Lyra said, they were both drunk that day, and whatever happened was an accident.
So it didn’t count as betrayal.
I never caught them being intimate again either.
But the thorn between us was already there.
Every time I saw them together, I couldn’t help but recall that scene.
Every day that followed was like being slowly cut by a dull knife.
Jim, confused by my coldness, also felt very wronged.
But before he could find an answer, Alfie’s school enrollment issues consumed all his attention.
So, anything about me was put aside again.
Jim saw how sick I was and didn’t press further.
We lay on the same bed, he holding me, his fingers unconsciously tapping my arm.
When I had nightmares as a child, he would comfort me just like this.
Gently, disturbing no one.
But how did we end up like this now?
Tears silently streamed down, unnoticed by Jim.
In the middle of the night, a sharp pain suddenly gripped my abdomen.
I nudged Jim awake, my face ashen.
“I think I have acute gastroenteritis again.”
Jim woke up in a fright, running five red lights on the way, rushing me straight to the hospital.
But just at the last intersection, Lyra’s call suddenly came in.
“Jim, Alfie seems to be in shock from a fever, what should I do?”
Jim slammed on the brakes.
I was resting in the back seat and was thrown to the floor.
I was in too much pain to speak, only hearing Lyra’s voice, anxious with a hint of a sob.
After a while, Jim carried me to the ground outside.
“Eleanor, I’ve called you a cab; it’ll be here soon if you wait here.”
With that, he hurriedly drove off.
In his haste, he almost hit a railing.
I watched him leave.
In these past few years, it seemed I was always watching his back.
But before the driver arrived, I lost consciousness and fainted.
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I was the real young master who was swapped at birth.
The night I came home, my mother pointed to a red and black spinning wheel and said, “Spin red, and you can make a request. Spin black, and you obediently follow the rules.” I thought I finally had a home.
But for three whole years, my younger brother always landed on red, and I always on black. All the cool toys and the sunny room went to him. Even when I was sick and bedridden, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for his cartoons to finish.
On New Year’s Eve, burning with a fever of forty degrees Celsius, I coughed blood, begging my mother to take me to the hospital.
“Old rules,” she said, pulling out the spinning wheel again.
I desperately exerted all my strength, secretly pressing my finger against the back of the wheel. For the first time, the pointer slid towards red.
My eldest sister grabbed me. “Ethan! Even if your luck is terrible, you can’t cheat!”
My second sister pushed me to the ground. “You’d actually cheat just to make us stay with you? How disgusting.”
My third sister broke my finger. “You broke the rules, so you pay the price.”
They threw me onto the floor and slammed the door shut. My vision blurred with tears as I stared at my twisted, deformed finger.
I’m sorry.
In my next life, I’ll… try hard to land on red.
…
1
The piercing cold and pain suddenly vanished. I felt very light, floating upwards. Looking down, I saw a small, curled-up figure on the floor. Dressed in faded, old pajamas—the ones Liam didn’t want, because the spinning wheel was black, so I was only fit to wear hand-me-downs. My right index finger was bent at an unnatural angle, and my cheeks were flushed with a sickly red.
That was me. Thirteen-year-old Ethan, no longer breathing.
I suddenly remembered three years ago, when I was first brought home. Mom took out the spinning wheel, her voice clear and calm: “Ethan, you’re my biological child, of course I love you. But Liam has also been with us for ten years, and our feelings for him are just as deep. It’s not right for me to favor either of you. So, for absolute fairness, we’ll use this spinning wheel to decide all family matters from now on. It’s all up to luck, no one gets a raw deal, okay?”
A fifty-fifty chance. It sounded so easy. I nodded vigorously, full of hope and anticipation. But Lady Luck never smiled upon me, not once.
I don’t know how long passed before I heard laughter and chatter outside the door.
“The lobster at that hotel was good, but it’s so far.”
“Liam loves lobster, so it’s worth the distance.”
Mom’s voice was full of indulgence. “Oh, and that new limited-edition pair of sneakers you wanted? I got them. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”
“What about my final exam reward?” Liam’s voice was bright.
“You won’t miss out. An amusement park annual pass plus a rare Lego set, is that enough?”
“Enough! Mom’s the best!”
Floating above, my chest ached with an empty soreness. Lobster, limited-edition sneakers, amusement park, Lego. Everything Liam wanted, he always got with ease.
And me?
Two years ago, my head was splitting, and I wanted to ask for time off to go to the hospital.
It landed on black.
My eldest sister sneered, “Such a small ailment and you’re being dramatic? Liam scraped his knee until it bled last time, but he still insisted on going to the city for the math competition and won an award.”
Later.
My backpack broke, and I wanted twenty dollars for a new one.
It landed on black again.
My second sister scoffed, “A forty-dollar backpack only lasts two years? Take a look at Liam’s Hermes backpack; it’s been three years and it’s still like new! You’re just cheap, you don’t know how to take care of things!”
But the more times I landed on black, the more I lost. The cool toys, the sunny room—they all went to Liam. Even when I was sick and bedridden, wanting a sip of water, I had to wait for his cartoons to finish.
After countless frustrations, I stopped hoping. I even started to avoid, to fear seeing that spinning wheel.
Until Grandma Willow, who raised me in the countryside, passed away.
I finally mustered the courage: “Mom, can I go back…”
Before I finished speaking, my third sister excitedly waved her phone.
“Mom! Look, Liam won first prize in the math competition, it’s such wonderful news!”
Mom’s expression of impatience instantly gave way to pure joy.
“My sweet boy makes Mom so proud! What reward do you want? Mom will grant anything!”
Dad also smiled: “We should definitely celebrate.”
I stood rooted to the spot, my throat tight: “But Grandma Willow, she…”
“Enough!” Mom’s face hardened. “On such a good day, why bring up dead people? It’s bad luck!”
My second sister immediately brought the spinning wheel.
“No more nonsense. Spin red, and you can go.”
I shut my mouth.
That night, I kowtowed three times towards the countryside, bidding farewell to Grandma, crying and saying I was sorry. I stood before the spinning wheel until midnight.
Eventually, I didn’t spin it. Because I knew the outcome would surely be black.
“Bang—”
Just then, the door was pushed open.
2
Mother and son walked in, wearing matching cashmere coats. Liam had a dazzling diamond watch on his wrist—the welcome gift my grandmother had given me when I first came home. Because the spinning wheel landed on black, Mom said, “You don’t deserve to wear such an expensive watch,” so it ended up on Liam’s wrist.
Liam squatted, holding up the hem of his coat, his voice innocent: “The floor is so dirty… Why is big brother still lying here?”
My eldest sister frowned: “Country folks are just like that. When they’re tired, they just lie anywhere, regardless of whether it’s clean or not.”
My third sister drawled in agreement: “That’s why, even if Liam isn’t our biological brother, he has an innate nobility. And some people, their genes can’t change that inherent peasant air about them.”
Liam curiously touched my face, but then abruptly pulled his hand back. He gasped, “Mom! Big brother’s face… it’s colder than ice!”
Mom’s movements, as she was taking off her coat, paused.
Oddly.
I vaguely felt a flicker of anticipation.
I wondered, what would their reactions be when they discovered I was dead?
Mom walked over, first noticing my twisted finger. Her expression momentarily faltered in shock: “His finger… how did it get so bent?”
My third sister leaned against the entryway, speaking with an air of nonchalance: “I broke it.”
Mom glared at her, with a hint of anger: “You really don’t know your own strength, he’s still your brother, after all!”
I floated in the air, staring at her blankly. My heart felt warm.
I knew it, Mom still loved me. But it didn’t matter anymore; I couldn’t feel the pain.
My third sister lifted her chin: “Mom, you personally set the rules: cheating must be punished. Liam remembers it and has always obeyed it strictly. Is it really fair to him if you indulge Ethan?”
Mom’s lips twitched, and she first turned to look at Liam. The little boy bit his lip, his eyes slightly red, like a startled rabbit. In that instant, her voice softened: “Alright, next time, remember not to do it in front of Liam. He’s timid.”
That flicker of emotion, sparked by me, was like a stone tossed into a deep pond, stirring only a negligible ripple.
Mom reached out, not to check my breathing. Instead, she poked my shoulder in disgust: “Ethan, get up.”
“Playing dead, are you?” she kicked my shoulder with the tip of her high heel. “Just to skip dinner, just to make us feel guilty, you come up with endless tricks! You’ll stoop to any low.”
My second sister picked up a glass from the coffee table, her wrist flicking.
Scalding water splashed across half my face.
“Are you awake now? Can you stop using such cheap tricks to get attention?”
Water droplets rolled down my temples and into my collar, yet my eyelashes didn’t even flutter. Liam retreated half a step, timidly saying, “Mom. I feel like big brother… really isn’t quite right.”
To soothe Liam’s hurt feelings.
My second sister patted his back and placed an exquisite gift box in his arms. “Sweet Liam, I know you have a kind heart, but some people are just born to play the victim and aren’t worth pity.”
Mom ruffled Liam’s hair: “The more attention you give him, the worse he’ll get next time. Playing dead today, he’ll try to hang himself tomorrow. He just wants to use these methods to force us to apologize.”
My third sister scoffed in agreement: “This afternoon, he was kicking up a fuss about going to the hospital, and now he’s just lying here like a corpse. Besides causing trouble for the family and ruining the atmosphere, what else is he good for?”
Perhaps wanting to end this charade quickly.
Mom squatted down, pinching my philtrum hard. Until my lips turned white, I remained motionless. She completely lost patience.
Raising her hand, she slapped me across the face.
3
“If I had known you were so stubborn and vicious, I wouldn’t have been soft-hearted enough to bring you back!”
Just then, Liam’s clear voice drifted from upstairs: “Mom, look, do my new clothes Big Sister bought me look good?”
The voice was like magic. Mom’s anger instantly melted like snow.
“Sweetheart, Mom’s coming right now.”
After a few steps, she suddenly turned back and dragged me up from the floor.
“Ethan, listen to me clearly! In this family, Liam came first, then you. Blood ties mean nothing! Don’t think that just because you’re my biological son, you can do whatever you want.”
My head lolled back powerlessly, eyes half-open, pupils unfocused and lifeless, staring directly at the ceiling. She stared into my vacant pupils, as if trying to discern submission and fear. But I was dead; I couldn’t offer any reaction.
This seemed to enrage Mom. She grabbed my collar, warning me fiercely: “Know your place! If you dare to harbor any crooked thoughts and compete with Liam again… then get back to the countryside where you belong!”
She let go. My head, losing its support, hit the ground with a dull thud. She didn’t look back, her high heels clacking as she ascended the stairs.
My second sister kicked me: “It’s New Year’s, who are you putting on this dead act for? That’s enough.”
My third sister smiled, pulled out her phone, and pressed the shutter button.
“A souvenir. Next time you pretend, I’ll let everyone see what kind of character the real young master of the Park family is in private.”
Finally, it was my eldest sister. She stood there, watching me for a long time, so long that I thought she would discover something.
Ultimately, she sighed. She reluctantly dragged me back to my room and threw me onto the bed. As she left, she stood at the doorway and spoke, as if bestowing a favor: “Ethan, if your finger truly hurts too much to bear, come find me, but don’t alarm Liam. I can take you to the hospital without going through the spinning wheel. However, the medical expenses will be deducted from your living allowance next month. You caused the trouble, so you bear the consequences. Understand?”
I answered again and again: “Big sister, thank you, but I’m already dead, I don’t need to go to the hospital…”
But she would never hear me.
The door closed. Outside, fireworks burst, firecrackers cracked, full of festive cheer. Next door, a family celebrated joyfully, laughing heartily, full of life.
Only I, floating alone in the air, was dead and nobody knew.
I’m sorry.
I whispered in my heart to the thirteen-year-old me who, three years ago, first walked into this house, looked up at the crystal chandelier, and thought he had finally found a home.
See?
Liam is the best, most obedient son.
And I, even though I’m biological.
In their hearts, I’m nothing more than a stranger with the title of “real young master.”
4
The next morning, Dad walked through the door, travel-worn. He spent years abroad expanding overseas business, only returning for holidays. In his hands, he carried two gift boxes, one large and one small.
“Daddy!” Liam pounced into his arms like a joyful butterfly. “What good things did you bring me this time?”
Dad chuckled, ruffling his hair, his gaze sweeping the living room. “Where’s Ethan? Why didn’t he come out to get my slippers this time?”
Mom, brewing tea, paused her movements. “He just had to argue with Liam on New Year’s, and after I scolded him a bit yesterday, he’s probably sulking in his room now.”
Dad frowned, but didn’t ask further. He pointed to the two gift boxes. “Brought the kids New Year’s gifts. The big one is Lego’s new limited-edition sports car set; it took a lot of connections to get. The small one… is just a souvenir keychain I picked up at the airport.”
A Lego sports car worth thousands, and a keychain worth maybe five dollars. The disparity was comically vast.
“Daddy! This one’s for me, right?” Liam pounced on the ornate large gift box.
Dad gently admonished, “Liam, don’t be naughty. You know, our family has always valued fairness.”
Immediately, he solemnly took out the spinning wheel and placed it on the coffee table. “Same old rules. Spin red, take the big one. Spin black, take the small one.”
Mom raised her voice, yelling towards my room, “Doesn’t someone always whine about us being unfair? If you don’t come spin the wheel, then I’ll let your brother spin it, and don’t you dare come crying later, saying the whole family ganged up on you!”
“I’ll spin! I’ll spin! The result is always the same anyway.” Liam gleefully ran over.
He flicked his finger, and the pointer began to spin. Dad watched with a smile, Mom with doting eyes, and my sisters with an air of “of course.” Only I, floating in the air, was so anxious that big tears streamed down my face—I was indeed just as Mom said, both naughty and stubborn, even in death, still fantasizing about landing on red just once.
I lay on the edge of the spinning wheel, unwilling, trying to flick it with my hand, blowing on it with all my might. Perhaps heaven took pity on me, for the pointer slowed down, trembling as it approached black…
Then, it stopped.
The living room was silent for a moment.
I froze, then erupted in wild joy, jumping up and down excitedly—Oh my god! This time, red was finally mine! But I was already dead, and it would be a shame for such an expensive sports car toy to be buried with me. It should still go to Liam. I thought to myself.
It seems I really was just unlucky; had I misunderstood them? Perhaps they had never been biased after all.
Mom suddenly picked up Liam’s wrist to examine it, then gasped in surprise: “No wonder! Sweet Liam, where’s the magnet on your bracelet? It’s gone!”
I felt as if struck by a bolt of lightning.
A magnet?
So, Liam’s bracelet… had a magnet hidden inside?
Three whole years, over a thousand times landing on black.
I had knelt countless times, praying, secretly practicing in the dead of night, believing I was destined for a wretched life, that the gods disdained me, that I was unworthy of even a shred of favoritism…
“…I don’t know.” Liam pouted, looking aggrieved. “Dad, big brother isn’t here anyway, so… can we just not count this one?”
Dad’s expression turned somewhat troubled.
Just then, my sisters exchanged glances. My eldest sister immediately understood, walked over, and with a gentle flick, the pointer landed steadily in the red zone.
“See? It’s clearly red.” My eldest sister’s tone was flat.
“Oh yeah!” Liam cheered, “Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Big Sister!”
Dad smiled and nodded: “It seems the gods still favor our Liam.”
Mom also smiled: “Yes, Liam has always been lucky.”
The family was harmonious and joyful, as if that small “accident” had never happened. A tremendous sense of desolation and absurdity swallowed me whole.
So, in this family.
Not only were the rules flexible, but even luck could be manual.
After dinner, my third sister lost a game, and her punishment was to take food to my room. She stood up, her face filled with disgust, “I’m not going! It’s bad luck.”
Liam pouted and whined, “A bet’s a bet, big sister.”
My second sister immediately frowned, “Go quickly and come back. Would you really spoil Liam’s fun for that annoying ghost?”
My third sister irritably got up, “Tsk… So damn annoying.”
Two minutes later, she dumped a bowl of leftovers by my bedside. “Hey, stop faking it! That’s enough.”
I lay motionless on the bed. She kicked the bed frame. “Ethan, I’m talking to you, are you deaf?”
“Fine, you’ve got guts. Don’t eat, then. Starve to death.” She angrily dumped the food into the trash can.
“Sister! I’m not pretending! I’m really dead! Look at my face, look at my hand!”
I floated in front of my third sister, waving my hands frantically, trying to get her attention. My third sister seemed to sense something, pausing her steps. Her gaze fell on my pale face and purplish-blue lips.
In that instant, my heart leaped into my throat. Was she about to find out? Was she finally… going to see me?
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I damaged my uterus saving my husband, yet he had his mistress bear his child and wanted me to adopt it.
To force my acceptance, he stripped my dress off in public.
I signed the divorce papers and disappeared from his life completely.
Three years later, I won an international award with my new film. When reporters asked him about his ex-wife’s success, his eyes reddened on camera.
“The biggest regret of my life was losing her.”
And I smiled, arm in arm with my new boyfriend. “Sorry, I don’t know this person at all.”
Vivian’s POV
A year after remarrying Ethan, I received a family photo from Grace at the hospital where I was getting my prenatal checkup.
The man labeled “the child’s father” in the photo was none other than my husband, Ethan Carter.
In the examination room, the doctor frowned as she held my test results.
“Miss Rivers, as your doctor I have to tell you responsibly. With your current physical condition, your chance of successfully carrying a baby to term is less than 5%. You need to be mentally prepared.”
The doctor looked at me and repeated the words she’d probably said countless times this month.
“Okay, I understand.”
My voice was hoarse as I struggled to hold back tears.
After saying those words, all my strength drained away and I collapsed into the chair.
A year of treatment, taking over a hundred different medications, countless needle marks on my belly. None of it mattered anymore in the face of this photo.
I was in a daze as I went downstairs.
I missed a step and tumbled down the stairs.
Blood immediately began pooling beneath me.
The doctors rushed me into the operating room.
I was already half dead from pain, able only to let the doctors move me around: registration, blood draw, changing clothes, and finally lying on the operating table.
My body was pried open by cold instruments, and excruciating pain shot through my lower body. I could clearly feel a sharp tool scraping inside me.
I gripped the operating table hard to keep from making a sound, two streams of tears sliding from the corners of my eyes.
I had to remember this bone-deep pain. Starting today, Ethan and I had nothing to do with each other anymore.
Half an hour later, I shuffled down the hospital corridor with one hand supporting my abdomen and the other braced against the wall. The waves of stabbing pain from my lower abdomen reminded me of what I’d just lost.
Two nurses walked toward me, holding thick stacks of cash with joyful expressions.
“Mr. Carter really is the heir of the city’s top family. He gave each of us a hundred thousand dollar bonus!”
“I know, but that woman didn’t seem to be Mrs. Carter…”
The nurses walked away, but I stood frozen in place.
So Ethan and Grace’s child was also born in this hospital.
The same hospital where that woman’s child was born with everyone’s anticipation, while my child had already become nothing more than a bloody mess in the trash.
I followed the direction the nurses came from. It didn’t take long to find Grace’s delivery room.
I looked through the window. Ethan, who had always been cold, aloof, and had a cleanliness obsession, was actually helping Grace clean up the waste her body had expelled.
Seeing the care and patience in his eyes, I felt like I’d fallen into an ice cellar.
In the four years Ethan and I had been together, even when I accidentally stained the sheets during my period, he would replace the entire bed.
But facing Grace, his almost pathological obsession with cleanliness had completely vanished.
Tears fell from my eyes. I leaned weakly against the wall, my abdomen and heart both sending waves of excruciating pain.
Ethan’s tender expression made me think of when we first met.
It was at a speech Ethan gave at his alma mater. He fell for me at first sight and pursued me intensely.
The whole city knew that the Carter heir had someone in his heart, and he would pluck the stars from the sky for me if I asked.
To marry me, Ethan didn’t hesitate to go against the entire Carter family, even willing to give up his position as heir.
In the end, his mother couldn’t resist his persistence and agreed.
But I never expected that the man who promised me forever at our wedding would cheat on me just one year later.
I went crazy, bursting into company meetings, making scenes at banquets, even threatening suicide. Nothing worked.
Ethan would apologize for less than two days before reverting to his old ways.
Finally, I was exhausted. I decided to let both Ethan and myself go, and divorced him.
But after the divorce, Ethan pursued me back like a man possessed.
That proud man humbled himself, begging frantically for me to come back.
I couldn’t let go of our relationship either, and eventually remarried Ethan.
But this time, I’d lost the bet again.
His mother’s words still echoed in my ears.
“Ethan has never lacked women. But you’re the first one who voluntarily left him. He begged you back this time, but there will never be only you by his side in the future.”
I laughed bitterly at myself. I’d overestimated myself, thinking love could make a playboy settle down.
I took out my phone and sent a message to Ethan’s mother.
“I lost. I accept my loss. I’m willing to leave Ethan. I hope you’ll keep your promise too.”
I’d just put my phone away when the doctor came to check on patients and saw me outside the door, looking pained.
“Miss, are you alright?”
Hearing the voice outside, Ethan opened the hospital room door and froze when he saw me.
“Vivian, what are you doing here?”
Vivian’s POV
Seeing we knew each other, the doctor said nothing more. After going inside to confirm Grace and the baby were fine, she left the room.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk inside. I refused to show weakness in front of these two.
“What, afraid I’d discover your little secret here?”
I laughed coldly.
“Or did I interrupt your happiness?”
Ethan’s expression changed. He strode over and grabbed my hand.
His grip was strong. After several failed attempts to pull free, I simply let him.
“Vivian, you damaged your uterus saving me back then, making it hard for you to conceive. This past year you’ve pushed your body to its limit trying to get pregnant.” Ethan looked at me.
“This child will go through adoption procedures to become our child. You won’t have to suffer like this anymore.”
Years ago, not long after Ethan and I got together, we were caught in an assassination attempt.
The moment I saw the assassin pull the trigger, I didn’t hesitate to shield Ethan.
I laughed coldly.
“If you hadn’t mentioned it, I’d almost forgotten. I damaged my uterus taking a bullet for you. So this is how you treat me? Cheating with someone else and then making me raise your mistress’s child.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed tightly as he pressed his lips together.
I took the opportunity to pull my hand free and walked toward Grace on the bed.
“You knew all along that Ethan had a family. So did you knowingly interfere with a married man, or are you trying to use the child to secure your position?”
Grace clutched the child in her arms, her eyes reddening. The next second, tears began falling in large drops.
This was my first time looking closely at Grace’s appearance. She did have beautiful features. Pure, delicate. This tearful look would awaken protective instincts in any man.
“Miss Rivers, I didn’t think that much about it. I truly love Ethan. I just want to stay by his side, even without status.”
As she spoke, Grace tried to push the child in her arms toward me.
“Miss Rivers, the baby’s name is Liam. He’s very well-behaved. From now on, he’ll be your child. As long as I can occasionally see him from afar, I’ll be satisfied.”
Her child?
My child had already become a pool of blood, a piece of rotting flesh!
“Enough!”
I trembled with rage and slapped Grace’s hand away.
The child in Grace’s hands instantly fell to the floor. The baby’s cries filled the entire hospital room.
“Miss Rivers, you can treat me however you want, but how can you do this to a child!”
“Vivian, what are you doing?”
Ethan quickly picked up the child and examined him.
I was pushed aside, lost my balance, and fell to the floor. At the same time, I knocked over the water glass on the bedside table, shattering it.
“You’d better pray nothing’s wrong with Liam.”
Ethan left me with one cold look and strode out of the room carrying the child.
I knelt on the floor, my hands and knees cut by glass shards, drawing lines of blood. The bone-deep pain brought my fading consciousness back.
I got up from the floor, left the room to have my wounds treated, then returned to the Carter house.
I didn’t have much. After all, I’d already cleared everything out during our last divorce. Half a suitcase held all my belongings.
After packing everything, I took out a document from the bedside table drawer.
A divorce agreement already signed by Ethan.
This was the escape route I’d left myself when we remarried.
“Vivian, if I ever do anything to wrong you again, take this and leave me.”
I’d softened then and agreed to remarry him. When we got the marriage certificate, Ethan’s eyes were shining.
“Vivian, you’re mine again.”
But I only stayed silent. This remarriage was partly because I couldn’t let go of our relationship, but more because it was a conscious withdrawal treatment.
After the divorce, I couldn’t sleep night after night, my mind full of Ethan. Nothing worked. I couldn’t move on. So I decided to return to his side.
And now, just as I’d hoped, I resolutely signed my name.
I called my lawyer.
“I’ve sent you the divorce agreement. I don’t want any assets. Please process it as quickly as possible.”
“Understood. It should take about three days. I’ll notify you immediately of any progress or changes.”
Three more days. Then I could end all of this completely.
Vivian’s POV
I took my packed luggage and cabbed to my company, planning to make do there for the next three days.
I could also catch up on the work I’d fallen behind on this past month while trying to preserve the pregnancy.
I’d started this company after my first divorce from Ethan.
Calling it a company was generous. It was more like a studio. I only had two artists under contract, and to keep the company running I even had to take on planning side jobs.
I took two painkillers to suppress the pain throughout my body and quickly threw myself into work.
I needed to finish my work as soon as possible and arrange the studio’s plans for the next month so I could leave without worries.
Five hours later, I finished my work. Just as I was about to stand up from my chair to stretch, I saw Ethan opening the door and walking in.
As soon as Ethan entered, he fixed his eyes on my hands wrapped in bandages.
“Vivian, what happened to your hands?”
The concern in Ethan’s eyes didn’t seem fake, but it made me sick.
“Thanks to you.”
I laughed coldly.
“What do you want?”
I really didn’t want any more contact with Ethan.
Ethan was silent for a moment, his eyes darkening slightly.
“The doctor checked. Liam is fine. But Grace fainted from emotional distress.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
Ethan’s face darkened. He wanted to say something, but seeing my still-bleeding palms, he softened his tone.
“Grace kept apologizing to you while unconscious. This whole thing has nothing to do with her. She’s just an ordinary girl. I was the one who asked her to have the child. She won’t threaten your position as Mrs. Carter. She’ll just stay by my side. Can’t you accept that?”
He spoke earnestly, but his words chilled me to the bone.
My whole body trembled as tears fell uncontrollably.
“Ethan, do you remember what you promised me when we remarried?”
From pregnancy to delivery takes at least ten months. It meant at the latest, Ethan had cheated by the second month after our remarriage.
Ethan pulled me into his embrace.
“Vivian, you’ve seen enough of the world these years. This kind of thing is normal in our circle. I’ve been very good. I promise you Grace is the first and the last.”
“Back then I had so many women around me, but you chose to forgive me in the end. Now I’m just letting Grace stay by my side as the child’s mother. You can accept this, right?”
My body stiffened in his arms.
For a moment I didn’t know what to say.
I couldn’t understand how Ethan could selectively forget all that pain and speak of cheating during marriage and choosing two women at once as if it were perfectly natural.
As if I was the one who’d been unreasonable all along.
After taking a deep breath, I pushed Ethan away.
“You’re right. You have been very good.”
But I wasn’t willing to pick through men in a swamp.
Ethan froze.
“You can accept this?”
“Yes.”
In three days we’d have nothing to do with each other. He could do whatever he wanted.
“Vivian, that’s wonderful. Now we’ll have our own child.”
Ethan pulled me into his embrace again.
The man’s hot breath fell on my neck, his familiar scent surrounding me. This moment that once made me feel happy now only made me nauseous.
Fortunately it didn’t last long. After receiving a message, Ethan’s expression changed. He said there was an emergency at the company and hurried away.
Soon my phone received a message.
“I said I was afraid of the dark at night and couldn’t sleep, so Ethan immediately came over to hold me.”
“Ethan also said he’s going to give me and the baby a gift. I’m really looking forward to it.”
The attached image was a side-view photo of a man embracing a woman.
I had no intention of acknowledging this low-level provocation. After blocking, deleting, and turning off my phone in one smooth sequence, I lay down on the couch to get some proper sleep.
Tomorrow’s charity event was the most important project for our studio this year. I needed to be in the best mental state possible.
The next morning, I dressed simply and arrived at the event venue.
I’d personally handled everything from planning to execution for this event. If it went smoothly, after the event ended, my studio’s only two artists would see a resource upgrade, and the studio itself could take another step forward.
I carefully checked every aspect of the venue. Only after confirming everything was correct did I sit in a corner and drink some water.
When I looked up again, I discovered Ethan had somehow arrived at the venue and was directing his bodyguards to modify the site setup.
I strode toward Ethan.
“This is my independent project. It has nothing to do with Carter Corporation, nothing to do with you. Isn’t this going too far?”
The bodyguards’ movements paused. They stood in place, unsure whether to continue.
Ethan raised his hand, signaling the bodyguards to continue, then pulled me aside.
“Vivian, I promised to give Grace and Liam a gift. A charity foundation established in both their names would be perfect. Liam is your son too. Consider it a birth gift for him.”
I stood frozen in place, my whole body trembling.
“Ethan, Carter Corporation has everything. Why must you trample on my work like this?”
Ethan seemed to know his actions were somewhat thoughtless. He took out his phone and operated it for a moment. The next second, I received a notification of five million dollars being deposited into my account.
“Vivian, Grace’s issue right now is you. Ordinary luxury goods or jewelry can’t make her better. Only by giving this to her and letting her know you’ve accepted her, accepted Liam, will she be happy.”
“Accept a mistress? Never!”
I looked at him.
“As long as I’m here today, I won’t let you change a single thing about this event. You can try!”
With that, I threw myself at the bodyguard tearing down posters and blocked them with my body.
Ethan’s eyes darkened as he spoke coldly.
“Whether you accept it or not, this is happening today.”
Vivian’s POV
The next second, two bodyguards grabbed my arms and dragged me aside.
I struggled continuously, only earning even more forceful restraint from the bodyguards.
“Ethan, even if you can give her the charity foundation, so what? Don’t forget that the Carter family will never accept her. They’ll never accept Liam either!”
Ethan’s face was dark, his eyes unfathomable.
He walked slowly toward me and gripped my chin.
“I’d almost forgotten if you hadn’t mentioned it. Then let’s handle it all today. Years ago I got you married into the Carter family. Today I can make them acknowledge this child.”
Ethan roughly shoved me into the car and ordered bodyguards to bring Grace and her child to the old mansion before getting in himself.
Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of the Carter family mansion. The car with Grace and her child arrived at the same time.
Ethan’s mother, Helen, was already waiting inside. As soon as Ethan entered the living room, he dropped to his knees.
Grace followed suit, kneeling while holding the child.
I leaned against the doorframe, waiting to watch this performance.
“I’ve come today to ask you to acknowledge this child as part of the Carter family.”
Helen sat in the position of authority, expressionless.
“Do you know our family’s rules? To protect the Carter legacy, only when the mistress’s mother is dead can the illegitimate child become a Carter son.”
“Without this rule, you wouldn’t know how many siblings you’d have. If you want my acknowledgment, follow the rules.”
Ethan remained silent for a long moment. Grace beside him spoke up first, her voice choked with tears.
“Ethan, as long as you and the child are well, I’m willing-”
Before she could finish, Ethan cut her off.
“The child is too young to be without you.”
He turned to look at Helen.
“This is my first child, and he’ll be my only child. I’ll use proper adoption procedures to make him mine and Vivian’s child.”
“Even so, isn’t that acceptable?”
Ethan’s eyes were full of pleading.
The always proud heir to a great family, willing to abandon his dignity for a mistress. How touching.
Hearing his words, Helen looked at me with some surprise. I shook my head, signaling her not to mention the divorce.
“Since you insist, it’s not impossible.”
Helen’s tone shifted.
“Back when you wanted to marry Vivian, you took 99 lashes. So for this illegitimate child to enter the family, you must also take 99 lashes.”
Grace’s voice trembled.
“Liam was just born. How could he withstand the lash? Let me take the punishment for him!”
Helen nodded in agreement.
The next second, four executioners walked in, pressed Grace onto a bench, pulled out whips soaked in salt water, and prepared to begin.
The whip cut through the air toward Grace. Just as it was about to touch her skin, Ethan stepped forward and caught it.
“Grace just gave birth. 99 lashes might kill her.”
His gaze swept toward me by the door.
“Liam will ultimately be mine and Vivian’s son. We’ll split the 99 lashes equally.”
I looked at Ethan in disbelief. This man who took 99 lashes for me three years ago was now making me take punishment for his mistress’s son.
Ethan couldn’t not know how heavy the Carter family’s whip was. When he was dragged out that year, he was barely breathing.
Helen frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Grace is weak. As for Vivian, she can handle it.”
Only one thought filled my mind.
Run.
The moment I stepped out the door, Ethan’s bodyguards forced me back.
Facing the control of several large men, I had no ability to resist. I was tied to the bench.
Before I could react, searing pain shot through my back. Before I could catch my breath, the next lash fell heavily on me again.
Under the immense pain, I’d long lost the ability to think and could only wail continuously.
“Vivian, you’ll be fine. I’ll get you the best doctors.”
The smell of blood filled the entire living room. I’d already lost the strength to cry out and couldn’t hear the executioner’s count clearly.
I gradually stopped feeling the pain in my body as my consciousness began separating from my flesh.
In the last moment before losing consciousness, I seemed to see myself from four years ago when Ethan and I were passionately in love.
I was so foolish then. And by today, I’d already paid a hundred times over for that choice.
Vivian’s POV
When I woke again, I was in a guest room at the old mansion. Helen sat beside my bed.
“Awake?”
Helen brought water to my lips. I took a small sip.
“I told them to hold back. They’re all minor injuries. They just look scary. There won’t be scars.”
Helen set down the water and opened a drawer, taking out a document and handing it to me.
“Divorce papers. Attorney Lewis couldn’t reach you, so he sent them here.”
Looking at the document in my hands, I couldn’t help crying.
“Thank you.”
I thanked Helen softly.
Honestly, my feelings about Helen were complicated. She was the one who initially opposed my marriage to Ethan, but both times I wanted a divorce, Helen helped me.
When I was with the Carter family, Helen never targeted me. She even taught me a lot about running a business.
Sometimes I even felt a kind of kindred spirit connection with Helen.
Helen held my hand and spoke softly.
“I apologize on Ethan’s behalf. I knew his nature, which is why I opposed your marriage so strongly.”
“The elite circle is a cesspool. Everyone in it is already set in their ways. When girls from ordinary families enter, they can’t get out without being torn apart.”
I smiled bitterly.
“I was too young then. I thought love was enough.”
Helen patted my hand gently.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. In two days it’s my fiftieth birthday banquet. Can you attend the banquet before you leave?”
Helen paused.
“News of your divorce from Ethan can’t be revealed to the outside world yet.”
“Just show your face at the banquet. I’ll handle everything after that.”
I thought for a moment and agreed. Showing my face wouldn’t take much effort.
Helen had helped me so much. I should repay her within my means.
I spent these two days recovering at the Carter mansion. Occasionally I’d hear news about Ethan from the servants.
That child had ultimately been entered into the Carter family registry as Ethan’s eldest son.
After learning this news, Ethan disregarded his own injuries and invited his close friends from their circle to a celebration.
Grace attended throughout as his female companion.
When the servant reached this part, I clearly sensed her looking at me with a complicated expression, schadenfreude mixed with sympathy.
I didn’t feel much about it. I just ate, slept, and recovered normally.
The day before Helen’s birthday banquet, she brought me a gown.
“This gown is a Carter family heirloom. Ethan’s grandmother passed it to me. If you wear it and make an appearance at the banquet, everyone will understand what it means.”
I nodded and silently accepted it.
The next day, the family driver took me to the banquet hall.
I picked up a glass of red wine and walked around the venue, making sure enough people saw me before returning to a corner to wait for the banquet to end.
Helen, as the guest of honor, would make her grand entrance at the end.
At the banquet, Ethan was escorting Grace around, greeting guests.
The two were intimate, as if they were a real married couple.
Everyone tactfully refrained from asking about their relationship, only casting inquiring glances at me.
“What’s going on with the Carter family? The wife is right here, yet the mistress is so brazenly accompanying him?”
“Did you see what Vivian is wearing?”
“Now that you mention it, I remember that’s a Carter family heirloom! Looks like this mistress still can’t surpass the wife.”
Many of the guests had good judgment. Soon they’d recognized the origin of my dress and naturally drew their conclusions.
Grace also sensed the shift. From the initial respect to undisguised contempt later on.
Her eyes darkened as she looked at me with a trace of malice.
In my corner, I was oblivious to all this. After receiving Helen’s notice that I could leave, I drained the red wine in my glass and turned toward the back door.
Just as I was about to leave the banquet hall, an unfamiliar middle-aged man blocked my path.
“Miss Rivers, why did you donate toxic stationery to children? Where is your conscience?”
The man in front of me had bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse with accusation.
I struggled to pull my hand free, gently rubbing my wrist as I looked up at him.
“Who are you?”
“Me? You’re asking who I am? I’m the principal of Sunrise Children’s Home! Paul Walker!”
My brow furrowed as my brain rapidly searched for any information about Sunrise Children’s Home.
I was certain I’d never had any contact with anything related to this children’s home. Principal Walker must have found the wrong person.
With this thought, I spoke softly.
“I’m sorry, you have the wrong person.”
This sentence seemed to ignite Principal Walker. His voice suddenly rose, immediately attracting everyone’s attention.
“I’m looking for YOU! Vivian Rivers, Miss Rivers. You donated a batch of stationery to our school two days ago. We thought you were a good person, but it turned out to be toxic stationery!”
“Three hundred and twenty-two children in our school were hospitalized because of this. Fourteen children are still in intensive care.”
“How can you act like nothing happened?”
Principal Walker gripped my hand so tightly it felt like he’d crush my wrist.
But two days ago I’d just woken from unconsciousness at the Carter mansion. How could it have been me?
Donation… charity…
Ethan and Grace, who heard the commotion, walked over.
The moment I saw Grace, all the clues connected in my mind.
It was that charity foundation Ethan took from me to give to Grace!
Ethan stopped in front of us, his face dark.
“Vivian, what are you making a scene about now?”
Vivian’s POV
Before I could speak, Principal Walker repeated everything to Ethan.
“Your Carter family must take responsibility for the children. Not only must you pay all medical expenses, you must provide additional compensation. Yes, and I want Vivian to apologize publicly.”
The surrounding guests all discussed in low voices. At the center of the crowd, Ethan’s face darkened further.
His cold gaze shot toward me.
“This is the work you’ve always insisted on?”
The sarcasm in his words stabbed my heart.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.
“This has nothing to do with me. Didn’t you give that charity foundation to her? I’ve been at the mansion these past two days. Mrs. Carter can vouch for me.”
Hearing my formal way of addressing Helen, Ethan froze for a moment.
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Ethan turned to look at Grace.
Based on my understanding of Ethan, he wouldn’t tell a lie so easily exposed.
After transferring the foundation to Grace, he hadn’t asked about it again. Now that something went wrong, it could only be Grace’s problem.
At this moment, Grace’s eyes brimmed with tears as both hands clutched his arm tightly, as if grasping her last lifeline.
Ethan pressed his lips together, his eyes constantly shifting between Grace and me.
Finally, under Principal Walker’s urging, his gaze settled on me.
He spoke one word at a time.
“The Carter family will pay compensation. You, apologize to him now.”I stared at Ethan in disbelief. He clearly knew Grace was behind this, yet he still didn’t believe me!
If I admitted to this, my career would be completely ruined.
“Ethan, I didn’t do this. I won’t apologize.”
I turned to look at Principal Walker.
“I can provide evidence. Just give me some time.”
“Enough!”
Before I could finish, Ethan cut me off roughly.
He raised his right hand slightly. Two bodyguards in black suits stepped forward and restrained my arms from both sides.
The next second, they forced me down to the ground without a word.
Ethan turned to Principal Walker.
“Is this apology acceptable?”
Principal Walker froze, then nodded repeatedly.
“As for compensation, my assistant will handle everything. Today is my mother’s birthday banquet, so I won’t keep you.”
The assistant showed the man out. The bodyguards released me at Ethan’s signal.
Ethan walked over and whispered in my ear.
“I’ll compensate you for this. Grace is an ordinary girl. She can’t handle these things.”
In an instant, coldness spread from my feet through my entire body, while rage erupted in my heart.
Again with this.
Grace can’t handle it.
But I can.
So I deserve to be treated like this forever?
“Ethan, you disgust me.”
I swung my right hand forward hard, but it was intercepted mid-air.
“Don’t!”
Grace rushed forward and blocked the slap, covering her left cheek as she fell into Ethan’s arms.
Her originally fair skin visibly swelled and reddened.
The guilt on Ethan’s face vanished completely, replaced by heartache for the woman in his arms.
He carefully moved Grace’s hand away and examined her injury with extreme gentleness.
Watching the intimate scene between them, all the fire in my heart suddenly extinguished.
Ethan was no longer the man who couldn’t live without me. His heart and eyes were full of Grace now.
“Ethan, it’s all my fault for making you both so unhappy. Your mother has already given the family heirloom dress to Miss Rivers. I shouldn’t have any more expectations.”
“After today, let’s not see each other anymore.”
Grace looked at Ethan with tear-filled eyes, on the verge of crying.
He tightened his arms around her in distress and comforted her softly.
“Don’t talk nonsense. You’ll always be Liam’s biological mother. You’re my woman.”
His gaze turned to me.
“Since you find me disgusting, then don’t wear the Carter family’s clothes. Consider it an apology to Grace.”
“But don’t worry. One thing at a time. I’ll still give you the compensation I mentioned.”
Before I could process what he meant, Ethan turned and left with Grace in his arms. The bodyguards who had withdrawn earlier stepped forward again.
Without a word, they began removing my gown.
I struggled desperately but it was futile. With a ripping sound, the zipper on my back was pulled open.
The bone-chilling wind gave me goosebumps all over.
The mocking laughter around me, the lewd stares, the strange men’s hands on my body. Everything trampled my dignity into the ground.
Those few minutes felt like a lifetime.
Finally, the dress was removed. The bodyguards tossed down a suit jacket like charity, barely covering my body.
I used the jacket to cover my private areas and walked out of the banquet hall step by step.
“Take me home.”
I returned to the old mansion, changed my clothes, grabbed all my documents, and headed straight to the airport.
An email invitation on my phone was the escape route I’d prepared for myself.
Even sitting on the plane, I still felt a sense of unreality.
Two hours ago, I was being humiliated in the banquet hall. And now, I was heading toward a future without Ethan.
As the plane took off, the landscape below gradually shrank.
The sense of unreality in my heart slowly transformed into calm and relaxation.
From now on, the Carter family’s affairs had nothing to do with me.
Vivian was just Vivian.
🌟 Continue the story here
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I was framed as a corporate spy and personally sent to a psychiatric hospital by my fiancé.
He forced me to sign a confession so he could use it as a gift when marrying Linda.
He didn’t know that the eight week old baby in my womb had already been destroyed by his drugs.
I smiled and signed it. I even agreed to be a bridesmaid at the wedding.
Seven days left.
After seven days, he would know the truth.
And that wedding would be my final gift to him.
Sophia POV
The 100th day since I was locked in the psychiatric hospital.
The TV was broadcasting news of Tristan Shaw’s upcoming wedding.
The orderly pressed my head down, forcing me to swallow two white pills.
“Swallow them. Tristan said if you take your medicine obediently, you can attend the wedding.”
I didn’t resist. I swallowed them.
The pills scraped down my throat. Very bitter.
I stared at the man on the screen. Tristan Shaw, a name I’d called for ten years, and the person who personally sent me here.
Five years ago, the Shaw Group’s core data was leaked, and hundreds of billions in assets evaporated.
All the evidence pointed to me.
Tristan didn’t believe my explanations. He only said one thing: “Sophia Lane, even a dog I raise would wag its tail. All you do is bite.”
From that day on, I became the Shaw family’s criminal.
The iron door opened.
Marcus walked in and tossed a document onto the filthy sheets.
“Sign it.”
I picked up the document.
Termination of Adoption Agreement.
And a confession statement admitting that I’d sold the Shaw Group’s secrets for money years ago.
“Tristan said once you sign this, he’ll let you out.”
Marcus covered his nose, unwilling to look at me for even a second. “Linda is a kind person. She wants your blessing at the wedding. Sophia, this is your last chance to atone.”
My fingers trembled uncontrollably.
A side effect of long-term psychiatric medication.
Atone.
For five years, I’d been rotting away in that word.
I picked up the pen and signed my name on the confession admitting I was a corporate spy.
I used to refuse to sign even if it killed me, because I hadn’t done it.
Now it didn’t matter.
“How many days until the wedding?” I asked. Due to prolonged dehydration, my voice was very hoarse.
Marcus collected the documents. “Seven days. What, can’t wait to watch Tristan marry someone else?”
Seven days.
I looked at the dingy gray sky outside the window.
Just yesterday, I’d dug up that buried pregnancy test from the hospital’s flower bed.
That was the reason I was sent here.
Two months pregnant.
To pave the way for Linda, to punish me for my “betrayal,” Tristan forcibly sent me here to “get treatment.”
The baby dissolved into a pool of blood on the third day, under the influence of the drugs.
I stood up. My body swayed.
I’d promised Tristan’s mother that I would watch over him until he established himself, until someone could replace me in taking care of him.
Seven more days and he’d be married.
My promise was about to expire.
This rotten life should end too.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Marcus froze for a moment.
The car was parked in the courtyard.
I sat in the back seat.
The car window reflected my face. Extremely thin, with sunken eye sockets.
I touched my empty abdomen.
Tristan, I’ve repaid the Shaw family’s kindness in raising me.
For the remaining seven days, it’s time to settle our five-year-old grudge.
Sophia POV
The car didn’t go back to the Shaw house. It went straight to the skyscraper in Manhattan.
The rotating restaurant on the top floor had been reserved.
I stood at the entrance of the magnificent hall wearing an ill-fitting hospital gown.
Tristan sat by the window, cutting steak for Linda.
He wore a well-tailored suit, his movements refined.
Hearing footsteps, he didn’t even look up.
“What are you standing there for? Come here.”
His voice was cold.
I walked over.
With every step, the old injury in my knee hurt. That was the root of the problem left from kneeling in the snow all night five years ago to help him secure an investment.
“Tristan, don’t be like this.”
Linda laughed sweetly, feeding a piece of steak to Tristan’s mouth. “Sophia just got out. She must be starving.”
Tristan ate the meat, then finally turned to look at me.
His gaze scraped over me.
“You’ve lost weight.”
He commented, “The hospital food doesn’t suit your taste.”
I lowered my eyes. “It’s fine.”
“Sit.”
Tristan pointed to the seat across from him.
The waiter brought out a serving of foie gras.
The fishy smell hit my nostrils directly.
I hated eating organ meat most, even expensive foie gras, because when I was homeless as a child, I survived by scavenging rotten meat from trash cans.
Tristan knew this.
Five years ago, he would still pick out the foie gras and replace it with desserts I liked.
Now, he only wanted to watch me suffer.
“Eat.” Tristan tapped the table. “Specially ordered to celebrate your release from prison.”
Release from prison.
In his mind, the psychiatric hospital was a prison for me, this “corporate criminal.”
I picked up the knife and fork.
My hands were shaking badly. I couldn’t cut it.
Tristan let out a scoff. “What, playing pitiful? When you were stealing company data, your hands were quite steady, weren’t they?”
That matter again.
I didn’t explain.
I’d explained it countless times. It was useless.
I speared the entire block of foie gras and stuffed it into my mouth.
The greasiness and fishy smell exploded in my mouth. I bit down hard, didn’t chew, and swallowed it whole.
My esophagus hurt from the obstruction.
“Does it taste good?” Linda asked, her eyes full of mockery.
“It’s good.” I picked up my water glass, gulped down a large mouthful of ice water to suppress the urge to vomit. “Thank you for treating me to all this.”
The expression on Tristan’s face froze for a moment.
He didn’t like this dead look of mine.
The old me would have smashed plates when wronged, would have shouted loudly “I didn’t do it.”
Now I’d learned to put away my temper and obediently follow Tristan’s instructions.
“Since you’re out, don’t be idle.”
Tristan tossed over a room key card. “Linda’s wedding dress needs some detail adjustments these days. Go help. Don’t forget that you studied design too.”
Studied design.
I looked at that room key card.
My hand was the one he stomped on and broke on that rainy night. I could never pick up a paintbrush again.
“Okay.”
I took the room card and bowed. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave first.”
I turned and left.
My back was very straight.
Tristan watched my retreating figure, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter.
“Tristan, she seems different,” Linda said softly.
“She’s pretending.”
Tristan snorted coldly, cutting a piece of bloody steak. “This kind of ungrateful person who could sell out her family for money, she’s the best at acting.”
I rushed into the bathroom.
Everything I’d just swallowed came back up, all acidic water and blood streaks.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Six more days.
As soon as I sent Linda down the wedding aisle, my mission would be complete.
Sophia POV
I was brought back to the Shaw mansion.
Not to my room, but to the servants’ quarters.
“Tristan said you don’t deserve to live upstairs.”
The housekeeper threw me a moldy blanket. “Sophia, behave yourself. Now Linda is in charge of the Shaw family.”
I made the bed and lay down on it.
The bed board was very hard, making my bones ache.
In the middle of the night, someone knocked on the door.
It was Linda.
She wore silk pajamas and held a cup of hot milk in her hands.
“Sophia, are you asleep?”
Linda pushed the door open and fanned the air with her hand in disgust. “This place really stinks. Only you could get used to living here.”
I sat up and leaned against the wall. “Do you need something?”
“I’m trying on my wedding dress tomorrow. You have to come.”
Linda put the milk on the table. “Tristan said you have to kneel and arrange my train. Just like five years ago, when you knelt in front of that investor.”
My body tensed.
That time I knelt was to beg the other party to spare Tristan.
In Tristan’s eyes, it became evidence of my degradation.
“Okay,” I said.
Linda froze.
Her eyes rolled, and suddenly she splashed the hot milk on my face.
The scalding liquid flowed down my cheeks, burning my skin red.
“Oops, my hand slipped.”
Linda laughed, throwing the empty cup on the floor. “Sophia, don’t blame me. Blame yourself for having a worthless life. Tristan said keeping you alive is just to let you watch us be happy.”
I wiped the milk stains from my face.
Very hot, but better than the cold in my heart.
“I know.”
I looked at Linda. “I wish you two will be together forever and always be happy.”
Linda was infuriated by my reaction.
“Sophia, what are you acting so noble for! That bastard of yours has already been aborted, so why are you still hanging around here?”
Bastard.
That was Tristan’s child.
My hands gripped the sheets tightly.
“Linda.”
I raised my head, my eyes frighteningly calm. “I’ll leave. Once you’re married, I’ll leave right away. I won’t be an eyesore.”
Linda felt uneasy from my gaze. She cursed “crazy woman” and turned to leave.
I got out of bed and washed my face with cold water.
The face in the mirror had a large burn, red and swollen.
I didn’t need medicine.
This pain could keep me sober.
I pulled out the signed termination agreement from under my pillow.
Every word on it reminded me: Tristan had long stopped wanting me.
I persisted for five years, for that promise, for that ridiculous love.
Now it was time to wake from the dream.
The next day.
The bridal shop.
Linda wore a custom wedding dress worth tens of millions, standing on the fitting platform.
Tristan sat on the sofa, holding a magazine, but his eyes kept glancing toward the corner.
I knelt on the floor.
I held a needle and thread, repairing a snag in the train.
Linda had deliberately damaged it and insisted I fix it on the spot.
“Ouch!” Linda suddenly cried out. “You pricked me!”
She kicked my shoulder.
I wasn’t prepared and fell backward, my hand pressing into the pin box on the floor.
Several long needles pierced my palm. Blood welled up.
“What happened?”
Tristan put down the magazine and strode over.
“Tristan, she did it on purpose!” Linda accused him with red-rimmed eyes. “She’s jealous of me and deliberately pricked my leg with the needle!”
Tristan glanced at Linda’s leg. Not even a red mark.
Then he looked at me.
Blood was still dripping from my palm, the drops falling on the pure white wedding train, especially conspicuous.
“You got it dirty.”
Tristan frowned, his tone disgusted. “Sophia, why is your blood so filthy?”
I hid my hand behind my back.
“I’m sorry.”
I lowered my head. “I’ll compensate you.”
“Can you afford it?” Tristan sneered. “Even if you sold yourself, you wouldn’t be worth this corner of the dress.”
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Linda’s non-existent wound.
As for the blood all over my hand, he turned a blind eye.
“Go wash it clean.”
He ordered, “Don’t bring the bloody smell to the wedding. It’s unlucky.”
I crawled up and staggered toward the bathroom.
Behind me came Linda’s coquettish voice. “Tristan, send her away. I’m scared just looking at her.”
“Endure it for a few days.”
Tristan’s voice came through. “After the wedding is over, send her to the African branch. Let her atone there for the rest of her life.”
Africa.
I turned on the faucet, washing the blood from my hand.
He’d already arranged my escape route.
Unfortunately, he miscalculated one thing.
Dead people can’t go to Africa.
Sophia POV
Torrential rain.
The Shaw house was hosting a bachelor party tonight.
The garden was brightly lit with a towering champagne fountain.
As a “servant,” I was assigned to cut fruit in a corner.
My hand was injured, so my movements were very slow.
“Faster! Didn’t you eat?”
The housekeeper came over and slapped the back of my head.
I didn’t stand steady, and the fruit knife cut my finger.
New wounds on top of old ones.
I didn’t make a sound and switched to my other hand to continue cutting.
In the center of the hall, Tristan was being surrounded by people toasting him.
Someone asked, “Tristan, what about that Sophia? I heard she was released?”
“She’s working in the back.”
Tristan swirled his wine glass. “Those who make mistakes must be punished. The Shaw family doesn’t support freeloaders.”
“You’re still magnanimous. If it were me, I would have sent this kind of corporate spy to prison long ago.”
Everyone laughed.
I finished cutting the last piece of watermelon and carried the plate out.
The rain was getting heavier.
I was soaked through, and the fruit on the plate was also drenched.
Just as I reached the pool, a foot stretched out.
It was Rachel Stone, Linda’s best friend.
I was tripped and fell right into the pool.
A loud splash.
The early winter water was bone-chillingly cold.
Screams and laughter rang out around me.
I couldn’t swim.
I thrashed in the water, choking down several mouthfuls.
Through the water’s surface, I saw people on the shore watching the show.
Tristan stood at the back of the crowd, holding a cigarette between his fingers, watching coldly.
No intention of saving me.
Five years ago, when I was beaten by a group, he watched the same way and said, “This is what you deserve.”
I gave up struggling.
My body slowly sank.
Just then, a hand pulled me up.
It was an unfamiliar man.
He dragged me ashore and took off his jacket to cover me.
“Are you okay?”
His voice was deep, with anger.
I lay on the ground coughing violently, spitting out several mouthfuls of dirty water.
I looked up and saw the man’s face clearly. It was Ethan Grant, Tristan’s business rival.
“Thank you.”
I pushed away his jacket and struggled to stand up.
I couldn’t accept his kindness.
In these seven days, I couldn’t form bonds with anyone.
“Tristan, is this how you treat your guests?” Ethan looked at Tristan, his tone mocking.
Tristan walked over, his gaze falling on me.
My wet clothes clung to my body, outlining my skeletal frame.
“If you like this kind of goods, I don’t mind giving her to you.”
Tristan flicked his cigarette ash. “She’s just damaged goods nobody wants anyway.”
My body trembled.
I didn’t look at Ethan, nor at Tristan.
I bent down to pick up the fruit plate from the ground, though the fruit inside had already scattered everywhere.
“Never mind.”
I said, my voice calm. “Someone like me doesn’t deserve Ethan Grant.”
I turned around, dragging my soaked body, walking step by step into the rain.
Back in the servants’ quarters.
I started running a fever.
Hot and cold all over, my head felt like needles were jabbing it.
I curled up under the blanket.
If only there hadn’t been that data leak case five years ago.
Back then, Tristan would still carry me on his back for ten miles to buy good food.
Now, he would just watch me drown.
I pulled out a tin box from under the bed.
That was my only luggage.
Inside was just one photograph.
A photo of me and Tristan’s mother, Mrs. Shaw.
I touched the gentle woman in the photo. “I can’t hold on much longer. In four more days, I’ll come find you.”
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
Tristan pushed the door open.
He reeked of alcohol.
“Did Ethan touch you just now?”
He walked over, yanked off the blanket, and grabbed my wrist.
“Let go.” I was too weak from the fever, my voice soft.
“Stop pretending to be pure.”
Tristan threw me onto the bed. “Back then you could sell the company for money, now you can sell your body to climb up, right? Sophia, you truly disgust me.”
He pulled out a stack of cash from his wallet and threw it at my face.
“Go buy some medicine. Don’t die before the wedding. It’s unlucky.”
The bills scattered across the bed.
Tristan slammed the door and left.
I picked up one bill.
It was all stained with Tristan’s insults.
I folded the bills one by one and placed them by my pillow.
I’d keep this money.
I’d need it to buy sleeping pills.
Sophia POV
My fever broke, but the cough never got better.
My lungs felt like they were on fire.
Early in the morning, the entire Shaw household was in chaos.
Linda’s wedding ring had gone missing.
It was a pink diamond that Tristan had specifically bid for at an auction, worth a fortune.
“It must have been stolen!”
Linda cried like a pear blossom in rain. “Yesterday only Sophia went into my room!”
Everyone’s gaze focused on me.
I was wiping the stair railing.
Tristan walked over, looking down at me.
“Hand it over.”
I stopped what I was doing. “I didn’t take it.”
“In the entire Shaw house, besides you, this thief with a record, who else would do such a thing?”
Tristan’s words were like nails.
Criminal record.
Referring to that confession statement I was forced to sign.
“Search her!” Linda shouted.
Two bodyguards walked up and held me down.
“Tristan.”
I looked at him. “You also think it was me?”
Tristan didn’t meet my eyes, saying coldly, “The evidence is conclusive. Stop wasting words.”
The bodyguards roughly searched my entire body.
Besides the few bills of change left from buying medicine, there was nothing in my pockets.
“It’s not on her, it must be hidden in her room!”
Linda led people charging into the servants’ quarters.
A thorough ransacking.
The sheets were torn, the pillow slashed open.
Finally, Linda kicked over that tin box.
The photograph fell out.
That was my most treasured possession.
Linda stepped on the photograph and ground it hard with her foot.
“Found it!”
She dug out a diamond ring from a crevice in the mattress. “Right here! Caught red-handed!”
I looked at that photograph that had been stepped on and soiled.
As for how the ring got into the mattress, I didn’t want to ask or argue.
Too clumsy.
But Tristan believed it.
Or rather, he needed a reason to hate me.
“Sophia.”
Tristan looked at the ring. “You’re truly hopeless.”
“Since you like money so much, this ring is yours.”
He threw the ring on the floor. “Take it and get lost. Don’t let me see you again.”
I squatted down.
I didn’t pick up the ring.
I carefully picked up that photograph and brushed off the dust.
In the photo, Mrs. Shaw’s smiling face was somewhat blurred.
“What, not enough?”
Seeing me not pick up the ring, Tristan became even more furious. “Five years ago you sold the company for billions, now you look down on these tens of millions?”
I stood up, pressing the photograph to my heart.
“Mr. Tristan Shaw.”
For the first time, I addressed him so formally. “I didn’t leak the data from five years ago.”
“Enough!”
Tristan cut me off. “Still lying at this point! All the network addresses pointed to your computer, the transfer records were also from your account! The evidence is ironclad!”
I laughed.
That kind of laugh when helplessness reaches its extreme.
Back then, my computer was taken by Marcus to be repaired, the account was opened by Marcus for me.
I’d said so. He didn’t believe me.
Because Marcus was his most trusted assistant, and I was the “wolf that could never be tamed.”
“Fine.”
I nodded. “I took it. I stole the ring, I sold the data. I’m the bad person, you’re all good people.”
I admitted it.
Since I was going to die anyway, what did carrying infamy matter?
“Lock her in the basement!”
Tristan didn’t want to see my face anymore. “Starve her for three days. She can come out when she’s willing to admit her mistakes.”
The basement.
Dark and damp there, rats running rampant.
I was pushed inside.
The moment the iron door closed, the light disappeared.
I fumbled in the darkness to sit down.
Three days.
Exactly one day before the wedding.
Tristan, you really know how to calculate time.
I hugged my knees and closed my eyes in the darkness.
Three more days.
This road was finally nearing its end.
Sophia POV
I was locked in the basement for a full three days.
There was no food or water here.
I survived by licking water droplets that seeped down the walls.
My stomach condition flared up, the pain making me roll on the ground.
But I didn’t make a sound.
Before, when I cried out in pain, Tristan would feel sorry for me. Now when I cried out in pain, he’d only think I was acting.
On the evening of the third day, the door opened.
Marcus stood in the doorway.
“Come out. Tristan wants you to go to the cemetery.”
I supported myself against the wall to stand.
My legs were so weak I nearly fell.
“Where to?”
“Mrs. Shaw’s death anniversary.” Marcus said, “Tristan wants you to kneel there and repent.”
Mrs. Shaw’s death anniversary.
My eyes flickered.
That’s right, today was the fifth anniversary of Mrs. Shaw’s death. Back then, she had a heart attack from the shock of the data leak news.
I was taken to the public cemetery.
Tristan was already there.
He wore a black trench coat, standing in front of the tombstone.
Linda stood beside him, holding a black umbrella.
“Kneel.”
Seeing me arrive, Tristan spoke coldly.
I walked over and dropped to my knees with a thud.
The photo on the tombstone was very kind.
That was the only person in this world who had given me warmth.
“Mother.”
Tristan looked at the tombstone. “I brought the criminal.”
“Sophia, tell my mother the truth.”
He turned to look at me, a trace of expectation in his eyes. “As long as you admit you were wrong back then, as long as you’re willing to change, I…”
“I was wrong.”
I interrupted him.
I knelt on the ground.
“Mrs. Shaw, I wronged the Shaw family. I shouldn’t be alive.”
Tristan froze.
He hadn’t expected me to admit fault so readily.
All the blame he’d prepared stuck in his throat.
“Since you know you were wrong, behave yourself from now on.”
He tugged at his tie. “Tomorrow at the wedding, you’ll be a bridesmaid. Don’t embarrass the Shaw family.”
Bridesmaid.
Making the ex be a bridesmaid. That was the greatest humiliation.
“Okay.”
I agreed very readily.
After the memorial, Tristan took Linda and left first.
I stayed behind.
“I’ll talk to her a bit more.” I said to Marcus.
Marcus glanced at the time. “Hurry up. The car is waiting for you below.”
Everyone left.
Only the sound of wind remained in the cemetery.
I pulled out that tin box from my pocket.
I dug a hole in the soil beside the tombstone with my hands.
My nails broke, my fingertips bled. I felt no pain.
I buried the box inside.
Inside were that photograph and the diary I’d written for Tristan over these ten years.
Those girlish thoughts, those grievances that couldn’t be voiced. All buried here.
I lay on the mound of earth, saying softly, “I did what I promised you.”
“You said to watch over him, not to let him be destroyed by hatred. These five years, I let him hate me. Better than letting him hate the world.”
“Now he’s getting married, and Linda will take care of him. I should rest too.”
I patted the soil off my hands and stood up.
The setting sun stretched my shadow very long.
The wind blew past.
I took one last look at the tombstone.
Goodbye.
After tomorrow, Sophia will exist in this world no more.
Back in the car.
Marcus handed me a white formal dress.
“Tomorrow’s bridesmaid dress.”
I took it.
It was a style I’d designed five years ago. Linda had taken it and modified it, turning it into the current bridesmaid dress.
I’d wear clothes I designed myself to send the man I loved to marry someone else.
“Pretty good.”
I touched the fabric. “Very suitable for a funeral.”
“What did you say?” Marcus didn’t hear clearly.
“Nothing.”
I looked out the window.
It was dark.
Before dawn comes the darkest hour.
As long as I endured it, there would be release.
I closed my eyes and shed a tear.
If there’s another life, I don’t want to fall in love with Tristan again.
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