Category: English

The CEO’s wife, Scarlett Sterling, hoping to ensure her childhood sweetheart, Asher Hayes, could successfully inherit his family’s vast fortune, pressed me to agree to a sham divorce. She expected me to walk away from our marriage with nothing, yet promised me 50% of her company shares upon signing. Asher Hayes watched her, his eyes narrowed with jealousy. “Scarlett, are you truly giving Liam Carter the shares?” Scarlett scoffed, “Him? Please. The stock transfer agreement he’s holding is fake. Besides, with his brain, he’ll probably never figure out the truth before he dies.” Asher’s eyes flickered. “You’re not actually going to remarry him, are you? What about me? You promised we’d get married.” Scarlett paused, then sneered, “That’s even less likely. Don’t worry, I always keep my promises. I won’t let you down.” Standing just outside the study door, listening to my wife’s unmasked words, I lowered my gaze to my leg – broken by her when I refused the divorce. With a flat expression, I pushed open the study door, offering no rebuttal. I remained calm, signing the divorce agreement without a fuss. Scarlett beamed. “I knew Liam would understand. Here, take this transfer document. The paperwork will be finalized in three days.” I smirked, taking the document. She had no idea. Asher’s supposed massive inheritance was nothing more than a glittering façade, hollowed out from the inside. The moment she married Asher, all she’d be left with was financial ruin, losing everything she had! 1 I clutched the share transfer document, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. To think, Scarlett Sterling and I had been married, only for it to come to this. Seeing my expression, Scarlett and Asher exchanged a knowing glance, their gazes momentarily filled with mocking amusement. As I reached the door, Asher’s impatient voice cut through the air behind me: “Scarlett, since you’re divorced, shouldn’t Liam move out? It’s just not right for a divorced man to still be living in his ex-wife’s house. What would people say?” I turned, looking at Scarlett. She was engrossed in her phone, offering no reaction. “Don’t worry,” I said coldly, “I’ll be out today. I won’t be an eyesore.” When I emerged from my room again, Asher was already directing the Sterling household staff: “Change the decor in this place. It’s so tacky, so ugly. Clearly Liam’s taste. Seven years married into the Sterling family, and he still hasn’t shed his provincial tastes. So uncouth.” I surveyed the surroundings. While I had overseen the renovation, Scarlett herself had chosen this style, claiming it had a charming Old World feel and that she’d want to live here forever. “Forever” had lasted a mere seven years, it seemed. Asher pointed around, then caught sight of me. He grinned. “Hurry up and clear out Liam’s room. I’m going to turn it into a bathroom—” The butler, Mr. Davies, looked up, thinking he’d misheard. Asher’s hand lashed out, slapping him. “You old fool, are you deaf? Get that room cleared out now!” Under duress, Mr. Davies bowed. “You heard him. Pack up Mr. Carter’s belongings, now!” But Asher stopped him. “Who are you calling ‘Mr. Carter’? I’m the man of the house now, you blind, deaf idiot!” Mr. Davies lowered his head, apologizing. Asher wouldn’t let up, insisting on supervising personally. He turned to me. “I’ll watch myself. Let’s see who dares to sneak Liam anything that isn’t his. I’ll skin them alive!” Meeting Asher’s triumphant gaze, I ignored him, turning my wheelchair toward my room. Asher stood in the doorway, looking at Scarlett’s bedroom down the hall. He sneered. “Liam, you probably don’t know this, but it was my idea for Scarlett to move out of your room. “I heard you two argued about it. Well, your spot in that room? It’s mine now.” Scarlett and I had indeed argued, not just about separate rooms, but her insistence on keeping a room for Asher: “Liam, Asher doesn’t have much family. What’s so bad about him moving in? We’re all friends; it’s just adding an extra plate. Why are you making such a big deal?” Seeing Scarlett’s firm expression then, I couldn’t argue, so I let her have her way. Just then, a sharp crash jolted me from my thoughts. Ceramic shards scattered across the floor. It was the handcrafted mug Scarlett had made for me, her first gift. Asher jumped, then kicked the fragments near him. “What a worthless piece of junk.” “Hurry up and clean this mess. I have things to do.” He stood by the door, watching. I looked at the scattered pieces. I said nothing. We were divorced now; it didn’t matter if it shattered. Of all the things Scarlett had given me in our seven years of marriage, this mug was the only one I treasured. Because back then, she truly had cared for me. Then Asher returned to the States, and her attitude toward me changed overnight. Even her gifts became laden with ulterior motives. Later, whenever Mr. Davies brought me a gift, I knew Scarlett was with Asher and wouldn’t be home that night. Our seven years of marriage meant so little to her; it couldn’t hold her heart, which swayed so easily toward Asher. Just for a word from Asher, she’d divorce me, even concocting a fake agreement to keep me placated. Thinking of her words in the study, my heart clenched. I looked down at my leg, numb with pain from the injury, and felt only coldness. I had only refused the divorce, and she had utterly disregarded our years together. In her eyes, perhaps only Asher had ever truly existed. With that thought, I glanced at the bedroom, then turned my wheelchair, heading downstairs. My luggage consisted of a few sets of clothes and nothing else. But Asher suddenly appeared behind me, pushing my wheelchair. It careened out of control, heading straight for the stairs. Too late to recover, I tumbled down the staircase, a sickening crunch of bones echoing in my ears. The loud thud drew Scarlett from the study. “Liam! What have you done now to frame Asher?!” My words of accusation caught in my throat. She didn’t even look at me, immediately rushing to Asher’s side. This wasn’t the first time. She grabbed Asher’s hand, examining it carefully, noticing a slight scrape on his palm. Her brow furrowed in anger. “Liam, you always resort to these pathetic tricks! Do you really think I’m a fool who can’t see through you? “Last time your hand mysteriously broke, you claimed Asher pushed you. And what happened? It turned out you did it yourself. Are you trying to say Asher pushed you again this time?” I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come out. Asher had pushed me that time, causing my hand to break, but the surveillance footage showed me intentionally smashing it. Scarlett had instantly declared I was framing Asher. She not only shielded Asher but also confined me to the house, punishing me by refusing to let me see a doctor, even forbidding the staff from helping. My hand missed its critical treatment window, leaving a permanent tremor. Seeing my silence, Scarlett became even more convinced. “Liam, we’re past this. How long do you plan to sit there acting out a scene?” I managed a bitter smile. When I tumbled down the stairs, my other leg had hit the marble banister, surely fracturing it. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Just then, Mr. Davies wheeled my luggage out. “Ms. Sterling, the custom order has been placed at the front door.” Scarlett’s expression instantly softened. 2 It was the custom artwork she had commissioned. Thinking of it, she smiled. “Mr. Davies, get two careful staff members to bring that in. Don’t damage it.” Then she glanced at me, her voice cold. “If he wants to lie there, let him. No one is to help him.” She took the first-aid kit from a staff member, sat on the sofa, and meticulously tended to the scrape on Asher’s palm. Seeing the triumph in Asher’s eyes, I turned my head, unable to bear the sight. I tried to move, to struggle up, but the slightest shift sent a jolt of pain up my leg, leaving me speechless. I fumbled in my empty pocket, remembering my phone had shattered a few days ago, and I hadn’t replaced it yet. Now, I couldn’t even help myself. The next moment, all the photo frames on the living room wall were stripped bare. Photos of Scarlett and me were tossed onto the floor like garbage. I looked at the scattered photos, reminders of happier times with Scarlett. She had said time passes quickly, and when we were old, these photos would be proof of all the storms we’d weathered together. She’d never throw them away, she’d promised. I scoffed. It seemed I was the only one who took her words seriously. When I looked up again, new photos adorned the wall. Scarlett still smiled beautifully, but the person beside her was no longer me. It was Asher. Just then, the staff brought in the artwork, promptly framing it on the most prominent empty wall in the living room. Seeing this, I understood. That blank wall had always been reserved for Asher. I had suggested making it a wall of relief sculptures, but Scarlett had always reacted with unusual irritation. I’d thought she was just tired from work, planning to bring it up again later. But after a few more attempts were met with firm rejections, I’d dropped the idea. Now, it was clear she had plans all along; she just hadn’t wanted to tell me. The staff’s hushed whispers reached my ears. They thought Asher and Scarlett were a better match, more like a proper couple. “Look, his posing is exactly like the former son-in-law’s. They really are a perfect match.” I looked up at the artwork, noticing it for the first time. Asher’s pose was indeed identical to mine in old photos. Was this what he meant by “replacing me”? Just as the framing was complete, Scarlett finished bandaging Asher. Scarlett nodded, satisfied. “Be careful when handling these. These artworks are worth a million dollars.” She paused, then looked at Asher, smiling. “Also, Asher says you all worked hard. Your salaries are doubled this month.” The staff, hearing this, immediately showered Asher with praise. “Ms. Sterling is so generous to Mr. Hayes, casually spending millions. I heard Mr. Hayes gets a huge inheritance when he marries. Is it true?” “Don’t call him ‘Mr. Hayes’ anymore; it should be ‘Mr. Sterling,’ like the son-in-law. Ms. Sterling always told us to prioritize Mr. Hayes’s requests. Who would have thought…” “It’s about time. Liam was never a good match for Ms. Sterling. He got off easy enjoying a few years of luxury. To dream of a lifetime with Ms. Sterling? Impossible!” Listening to them fawn over Asher, I didn’t bother to speak. Right or wrong, it was all just their gossip, useless beyond mere chatter. Asher basked in the staff’s adulation, his gaze turning even more smug as he looked at me. Their chatter faded as several formally dressed individuals entered. The lead one spoke: “These are the three-million-dollar jewels Mr. Hayes ordered. Please confirm receipt.” The staff gasped again. Asher, beaming, took the box and handed it to Scarlett. “Scarlett, do you like them? I had them specially custom-made for you.” Asher emphasized “specially,” his eyes provocatively flicking to me. Scarlett’s eyes welled up. “Thank you, Asher.” Asher’s eyes twinkled. He feigned surprise. “Did Liam never get you proper jewelry?” Before Scarlett could reply, the onlookers from the staff chimed in: “We’ve never seen anyone treat Ms. Sterling as well as you do, Mr. Hayes! We’re so happy for her.” Asher looked at Scarlett with feigned heartache. “Scarlett, don’t worry. I’ll treat you even better from now on. I won’t disappoint you.” He suddenly remembered the grand wedding he’d been planning for so long. He turned to me, a wide grin spreading across his face. “In three days, it’s my wedding with Scarlett. You’re welcome to attend.” “No need for a gift, though. Your signature on the divorce papers is the best gift I could ask for.” “But do you even have proper clothes? Wouldn’t want you to make a fool of yourself. Scarlett and I wouldn’t care, but I’d be worried about you getting pointed at.” I froze for a moment. They were getting married so soon. “Fine,” I said, a cold laugh escaping. “I’ll be there.” How could I miss this spectacular show? It seemed they had no idea that “inheritance” was nothing but a front for a mountain of debt. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when they learned the truth. 3 Scarlett frowned. “Asher, don’t let him ruin the mood. Besides, he’d only make a spectacle of himself!” Asher shrugged. “What are you afraid of, Scarlett? Look at him now. What kind of trouble can he cause? “It’ll be good for him to see what a real wedding of the century looks like!” With Asher’s words, Scarlett had no rebuttal. She shot a disdainful glance at my blood-stained pants. “Mr. Davies, take him to the hospital. Don’t let this delay the wedding in three days.” Mr. Davies immediately called for help to take me out. As I was wheeled past them, they both recoiled with expressions of disgust, as if something utterly vile had passed by. They didn’t know that same expression would soon be directed at them, only this time, it would be from everyone else. Wedding day. Scarlett was already preparing backstage. When she saw me, her smile instantly froze. “Liam, I thought you were just talking. I can’t believe you actually had the nerve to show up.” “Since you’re here, take a good look. Asher’s wedding is far grander than yours ever was. This is what a wedding of the century looks like!” By then, many guests had arrived, and Scarlett’s bridesmaids came over. Someone recognized me, sneering, “Isn’t that Liam Carter? What’s he doing here? Don’t tell me he’s planning to crash the wedding and win her back?” “Look at him. Does he even stand a chance? If Scarlett hadn’t been waiting for Asher and her family hadn’t pressured her to marry, he’d never have become a rich son-in-law. These past few years of luxury were a charity case for him.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. It was then I realized. The reason she had suddenly changed her mind and married me overnight wasn’t because she loved me, but merely to pass the time, waiting for Asher’s return. I clenched my fists. “Scarlett, is what they’re saying true?” Seeing my face darken, Scarlett looked startled for a moment, then admitted frankly: “So what if it is? Haven’t you lived well in the Sterling family all these years? Haven’t you enjoyed a lavish lifestyle?” So, she thought I was only with her for her money? All these years, I had abandoned my own career aspirations, willingly marrying into the Sterling family as a live-in son-in-law, wholeheartedly caring for her parents. And in the end, this was what she thought of me. I had been a fool for seven entire years. It was utterly ridiculous. Seeing my silence, she tossed a divorce certificate at me. “The paperwork is done. Here’s your divorce certificate.” I picked it up, dusting it off. “Scarlett, do you really think you and Asher are getting a huge inheritance?” “I’m telling you, it’s nothing but an empty promise, a pipe dream.” My words hung in the air. Scarlett immediately slapped me twice, pointing to the door. “Liam, get out! Now!” Asher brought her a glass of brandy. “Scarlett, the ceremony is about to start. Let’s enjoy the show. Watch how some people turn green with envy.” Others chuckled, saying I was just bitter and jealous. Amidst the chorus of well wishes, the ceremony quickly concluded. Scarlett and Asher stood on stage, waiting for Mr. Miller, the attorney handling Mr. Sterling’s will. Guests whispered among themselves: “The Sterling family hit the jackpot! This son-in-law… I heard the Sterling inheritance is enormous, a truly astronomical sum…” “Why didn’t that luck fall on me?” “You know, yesterday I dreamt of gold in the Sterling family. Who knew it would come true? But for someone else…” Asher listened, immensely pleased. He promised Scarlett, “Once we sign, we’ll use a portion of this money to invest in your company, and get it listed on the stock exchange as soon as possible.” Scarlett nodded, her eyes triumphant as she looked at me. The next moment, Mr. Miller, dressed in a sharp suit, appeared on stage. After a few polite words, he got straight to the point. Mr. Miller wasted no time, opening the sealed will envelope for all to see. I let out a cold laugh, shaking my head at the expectant expressions on Scarlett’s and Asher’s faces. Asher caught my eye. “Liam, green with envy, aren’t you?” he taunted casually. “If you’re willing to bark like a dog right here, right now, maybe I’ll be generous and give you ten grand for the performance.” The guests near me chuckled, their gazes at me turning to undisguised contempt. Mr. Miller took out the will and began to read aloud: “As per the wishes of the late patriarch of the Sterling family, Mr. George Sterling, I hereby publicly announce his last will and testament.” “The Sterling estate comprises ninety-nine residential properties, thirty commercial plots, and forty-six percent of Sterling Enterprises shares…” Mr. Miller hadn’t even finished when the room erupted in chatter. Some guests immediately began to flatter Asher, praising his boundless future and how his marriage to the Sterling family was simply icing on the cake. In an instant, Sterling Enterprises’ valuation soared. Asher, full of himself, said, “What do you say, Liam? It’s too late to bark like a dog now. How about you crawl like a dog, barking as you go? Maybe then I’ll still give you that ten grand.” The surrounding crowd roared with laughter, some even cheering him on. However, at that very moment, Mr. Miller’s voice cut through the noise, clear and cold: “The inheritance designated for the deceased’s distant relative, Asher Hayes, is zero—” The entire hall gasped, everyone dumbfounded. Only Mr. Miller’s steady voice continued. He paused, looking at Asher. “And an additional one hundred million dollars in personal debt.”

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I had sunk a quarter of a million dollars into a beauty salon with my college friends. My money, their sweat. But when it came time to split the profits, one of them decided I hadn’t done enough. That I didn’t deserve my share. She wanted to nickel-and-dime me, to force me out. Turn a profit, then cut me loose? Start tallying up every cent? Fine. I stripped that salon bare the very next day. Sent their clients packing. Called the landlord. You want to count? Let’s count. Let’s count it all. 1 The conference call had ended, but the audio feed was still live on their end. I heard them. “Just thinking about transferring her half the money tomorrow makes my blood boil! What for? She barely even steps foot in the place! It’s like we’re working for her! We’re supposed to be partners!” “Brenda, dial it back a bit. We couldn’t find jobs after graduation, remember? Lynn put up all the money, and a 50/50 split was the deal. It was agreed upon.” “She wouldn’t even let me switch out one of our beauty products! Why not? She sits around doing nothing all day, then at the end of the year, she gets seventy-five grand in profit! I’m slaving away, breaking my back, and I only get thirty-seven five! Shelly! Don’t you want to buy her out? We could run this place ourselves.” “Oh no! The call’s still on! Do you think Lynn heard us?” “Hello? Hello? Lynn!” “Shelly, why are you so afraid of her? So what if she heard? She’s coming for her share tomorrow. I’ll tell her to her face.” Shelly and Brenda were my closest friends from college. Back then, they were struggling to find work, and they’d approached me with the idea of opening a beauty salon. I didn’t hesitate. I fully funded the whole operation for them. I found the location, I put up the capital, and I didn’t even interfere with their day-to-day decisions. I even only asked for half the profits. It was, by far, the least profitable of all my investments. But because my partners were my good friends, it was also the one I’d poured the most effort and heart into. In the beginning, they were overflowing with gratitude. Now, over a few extra dollars, they’d turned against me. A chill settled in my chest. The news that I was planning to invest an additional half-million dollars silently retracted itself. 2 I arrived at the salon the next day. “You’re here. Come in.” Brenda’s tone was icy. I followed her into the reception area. It had been a while since I’d last visited. I studied Brenda. When we first met, she’d been so small and thin. Now, she’d filled out significantly, probably pushing 150-155 pounds. She was draped in Gucci, her wrist glittered with a Van Cleef & Arpels Alhambra bracelet, and a Tiffany necklace gleamed at her throat. Her BMW key fob lay casually on the table. She’d clearly been living well these past two years. Shelly, by contrast, looked much the same as she had in college, with very little change. Shelly whispered to me, “Lynn, whatever Brenda says, don’t take it to heart. She’s been a little on edge lately.” “What could be so bad? You look nervous.” Brenda pulled out a wad of cash, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Some people just have it made, huh? Money just drops from the sky while they sit at home.” Thwack! The stack of bills hit the table. It felt less like a payment and more like a humiliating dole. “This year’s profit share. Thirty thousand. Take a look.” I didn’t touch it, just flicked my gaze over the pile. “That’s not the figure we discussed yesterday, Brenda. After rent, utilities, and salaries, the salon profited over one hundred and fifty thousand this year. My share should be at least seventy-five thousand.” “Lynn, you make money way too easily. You haven’t even met a single client, and you just walk away with half our profits! While we’re here, bowing and scraping, our hands practically raw from all the scrubbing, and we only get half to split between Shelly and me! It’s not fair. I want to recalculate the numbers!” I glanced at Shelly, who remained silent. “Do you feel the same way?” “I… I don’t think it’s unfair… It’s just… Brenda, please stop. Lynn’s the one who invested everything into this place.” “Look at you, no backbone!” Brenda stood up abruptly, pulling out a contract. “This is my new profit distribution. From now on, it’s 30/30/30 for the three of us, and the remaining 10% goes back into the business for development.” “Development, you say? How do you plan to develop?” “We’ll run ad campaigns, attract new clients, offer promotional deals.” I propped my chin in my hand. “And then…?” “Then the salon will grow, it’ll be even better! I’ve been wanting to offer a $30 express facial for ages! We need an online presence; we need to hire influencers for marketing. Doesn’t all that cost money?” “Do you realize that, given your location and the high-end decor, your clientele are wealthy? Do you honestly think they’d be interested in discounts? They pay hundreds, even a grand, for a single facial. Do you think they’d want to be seen alongside clients paying thirty dollars?” She was silent. “You drafted this new contract today because you think I haven’t done anything, haven’t you? Have you ever stopped to consider how, since the day you opened, you haven’t handed out a single flyer? How did all these clients find you?” “Oh, please.” Brenda scoffed. “Don’t act like this place can’t function without you.” “This salon was my idea! I found the location! I brought in the clients! Even the exclusive skincare lines you use were arranged by me! You think I’ve done nothing? You haven’t seen the private connections I’ve cultivated, the favors I’ve called in! Honestly, the goodwill and introductions I make every quarter are worth more than that paltry sum! My seventy-five thousand dollars, not a penny less.” My voice rose, each word sharper than the last. “Now, you’re trying to bite the hand that feeds you, all for a few petty gains?” “Okay, Lynn, don’t get upset. I’ll go get the money now!” Shelly started to rise. “Hold on! Who said you could get the money!” Brenda’s voice shot out, stopping her. “Don’t make yourself sound so indispensable. You said it yourself, it was ‘private.’ How am I supposed to know what you did privately? You say you brought in the clients? I say they came because my work is impeccable! Shelly and I earned this money with our own hands, every single dollar! Why should we be grateful to you? We’re all business people here. I’m laying it all out: either you agree to the new profit distribution, or you get out!” Brenda was practically spitting fire. Shelly was wringing her hands, on the verge of tears. “Stop it, Brenda!” Brenda ignored her completely, pointing a finger at me. “How much did you invest in this salon, initially?” “A quarter of a million.” “Next week, come sign the agreement. I’ll give you a quarter of a million dollars, not a cent less. You’re out.” “Brenda! Don’t be ridiculous!” Shelly cried. “Lynn, she’s just kidding.” “Shelly, what’s wrong with you? What’s the difference between this and working for her?” Brenda’s eyes drilled into mine, as if we were sworn enemies. “Friendship? Please. She probably just saw us as two cheap pawns to exploit.” “Is that what you think too, Shelly?” Shelly froze, unable to answer. Suddenly, a wave of weariness washed over me. I had so few genuine friends, and I treasured them. Yet, here they were, turning on me over a few measly dollars. “Fine. I’ll be back next week to sign the papers.” I picked up my bag and left, Shelly’s desperate cries echoing behind me. 3 Back home, the anger simmered, then boiled. How dare they? My money, and they just wanted me out? Many of the salon’s sofas and decorative pieces were high-end designer items, things I’d quietly brought over from my own home. I wasn’t about to let them have them. One phone call to a moving company. “Lynn, what is the meaning of this! You’re having the sofas moved out! Where will the clients sit?” You’re making me divest, aren’t you? These are my things. I’m allowed to take them! If you want them, I can sell them to you for thirty-seven thousand! “Thirty-seven grand for sofas? Who are you kidding?” They’re Hermès, darling. One of my throw pillows alone is twelve hundred dollars. You stained one once, remember? I didn’t charge you for it, out of friendship. Oh, and my diffusers, my coffee table, my rugs, and my Swarovski crystal chandelier. Be careful with that one. I video-called the moving company, directing them as they carefully packed and moved every single item, leaving nothing behind. In an instant, the salon looked significantly larger, and incredibly empty. “Why are you moving today? Are you still open for facials?” A client happened to walk in. Shelly immediately tried to stop her. I recognized the voice – it was Aunt Carol, one of my mom’s best friends. I spoke into the video call. “Aunt Carol! I’m pulling out of this place. We’re moving things out right now.” “What! You’re not investing anymore? Oh… in that case…” Aunt Carol backed away, still talking, then turned and scurried out. “She’s out, but our aestheticians are still here! The results are the same! Don’t go, Aunt Carol!” Brenda lunged forward to grab Aunt Carol, but she was too fast. Brenda was furious, shouting at the video screen. “I hated your tacky stuff anyway! Get it all out! Your taste was dragging down the whole salon’s image!” “Don’t think for a second this place will be empty without you! I’m an artist! My skills speak for themselves! Clients will flock to me!” “Right, right… impressive, impressive.” I replied calmly from my end of the video call. My feigned indifference sent her into a rage. But I wasn’t done. The salon’s skincare products. At first, they’d wanted to cut corners, using ordinary, cheap salon brands. I’d put my foot down, insisting we switch to ODEA, a luxury brand favored by the elite. This brand didn’t even offer a professional line for salons in the country, but my cousin, Caleb, happened to be the regional head for North America. He’d made an exception for me. They had complained about the cost, thinking I was wasting money, and had initially resisted. But once I fronted the costs, they’d tasted the sweet success. It was also the main reason many of the city’s high-society women chose our salon. Now, if I wasn’t important anymore, I called my cousin. “My old beauty salon? No need to supply them anymore.” 4 “Lynn, are you still mad at Brenda? She’s just a little self-centered, but her heart’s not bad.” Shelly had called me. I’d ignored her calls several times, but this morning, half-asleep, I’d accidentally answered. “Didn’t you two want me out?” “I definitely didn’t want you out. But you know Brenda’s personality. If I’d sided with you, she’d feel like the whole world was against her.” “You really think things through. So tell me, why did she suddenly become unhappy with the profit split? It’s been three years. If she was unhappy, she would have said so in the first year.” “She’s dating someone.” Brenda had a new boyfriend. I heard he was a trust fund kid whose family happened to be in the beauty product business. The beauty products I’d refused to use? His family produced them. Brenda had started giving me attitude the moment I rejected his brand. “I refused to use that product because it was sketchy, unregistered, and unsafe! It would have ruined our reputation! And ODEA was our salon’s main selling point! We absolutely couldn’t switch!” “I know, I agree with you. But Brenda’s a total lovesick fool. She thinks you were deliberately trying to spite her. You’re the bigger person, don’t hold a grudge against her.” “I’m not holding a grudge. I just feel betrayed.” … “Shelly! Who are you talking to?!” The voice on the other end of the line changed instantly. “Heh, so it’s you, Lynn! You’re so despicable! You deliberately turned away our clients, didn’t you?” “If clients don’t want to come, should I hold a knife to their throats?” Playing passive-aggressive games? Two can play that game. “You don’t seriously think I can’t survive without your products, without your clients, do you? Sorry to burst your bubble! My business is thriving right now! My boyfriend’s products are just as good!” … I couldn’t be bothered to listen to her bragging. I hung up. The next second, I dialed a friend. “I’ve pulled out of the beauty salon. Hike up the rent on them!” 5 For the past few days, Brenda had been trying to spite me, her social media feed flooded with videos of clients getting facials. Every single client who walked in, she’d post a video, as if declaring war on me. In the videos, Brenda would direct Shelly as she gave clients facials, while Brenda herself, with her chest practically exposed, would introduce her “new” products. “Our new line of products! New clients get 30% off~ Top up your account for more discounts!” She also started posting discount links on various platforms, slashing a $3,999 skincare package down to $999. Several friends from my social circle saw the posts and messaged me, asking if I was planning to go mainstream. I didn’t waste words. I posted a business update. Accompanied by a photo of my entire wall of designer handbags. “Just got kicked out of a beauty salon by a friend recently. Any projects out there looking for an investor? I’ll put up the capital, you put in the work. I only ask for half the profits!” Within minutes, the comments section exploded. “Only half the profits! You’re an angel investor! I need to think about what I can do, right now!” “Interested in luxury resale, big sis? Partner with me! Pretty please!” “Big sis! I’m in beauty too! Heard you pulled out of your salon! Come to our place, the biggest one in Beacon Hill!” Brenda saw all these messages. Like a cornered animal, she immediately posted three updates in a row. “Women need to be independent! Self-reliant!” She was losing it. 6 The day of the contract signing, there was an extra person: Brenda’s boyfriend. A tall, gaunt man, his clothes seemed to hang loosely on his frame. Brenda was known for being shallow in college, so this must be true love, I thought. Before Brenda could even open her mouth, the lanky guy spoke. “We called you here today to sign the divestment agreement, but we’ve changed our minds. We want you to continue investing. But I’ll be managing the operations, and we’ll use my products. Brenda and I will split half, and you and Shelly will split the other half.” “So, what? I won’t even get 25% now?” “You don’t do any work anyway. Getting 25% is already generous!” “Excuse me, and who are you?” This lanky guy had absolutely no manners. Brenda immediately put her hands on her hips, blocking him. “This is my boyfriend, Chad! He speaks for me!” I couldn’t be bothered with either of them. “I came here today for one purpose: to get my money back. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” Shelly spoke up, hesitant. “We really don’t have that much… actually, we do have it, but the landlord suddenly raised the rent recently, and Brenda, she…” “Hey! Why are you telling her that! That’s my business!” I looked on, intrigued. They were hiding something from me. “So, I came here today, and you’re telling me you don’t have the money?” Brenda and Chad said nothing. Shelly finally spoke again: “I think we should just stick to the original agreement. Lynn gets half! The three of us split the other half!” “No way!” Brenda, Chad, and I all said it at the same time. Honestly, whether I got 25% or 50% didn’t matter to me. More than money, I valued relationships. What truly crushed me was that I’d considered them friends, and they’d treated me like a tool. “Don’t be like this, Brenda! We used to be the best of friends.” Shelly pulled at Brenda, then at me. “Lynn, how about you stay, and I’ll give you my share? You can just pay me a salary, eight thousand a month! Even five thousand! Couldn’t we just go back to how things were?” I looked at Shelly. Maybe not everything beautiful had completely crumbled. Then, another idea sparked within me. “If we can’t agree, let’s try a different negotiation. I’ll pay you, and you get out!” I pointed at Brenda. “I’ll give you thirty thousand dollars. Consider it compensation for your hard work all these years. You didn’t invest any money upfront. How does that sound?” “Thirty thousand? You think that’s enough to get rid of me?” “You can’t come up with the money, and you won’t accept my proposal. So my only option is to sue. But given that I funded this salon from the start, you’d likely be forced out without a single cent.” “You!” Brenda was so enraged she couldn’t speak. Chad pulled her aside. They whispered a few words. Brenda kissed Chad on the cheek. “It’s just a quarter of a million, right? I don’t have it! But my man does!” Chad, right there in front of me, transferred $250,000 to my account. I didn’t waste any time. I tore up the old contract on the spot. “You’re so hot, honey!” “Baby, I really broke the bank for this. You can see how much I care, right?” Chad looked as though he’d just sealed a momentous deal. “This salon is mine now. And your friend, Shelly, is it? You two will have to iron out your shareholder agreement separately. From now on, it’ll be…” They were already planning Shelly’s future for her. But Shelly, finally, couldn’t hold back. “I’m out! I quit!” “Shelly? Why are you quitting now? This is between her and me! I’d still give you shares, just a bit less. But my boyfriend’s family makes skincare products! Stick with me, we’ll make a fortune!” “Brenda, it’s not about the money! My conscience tells me what you’re doing is wrong!” Shelly took out her phone and transferred $20,000 to me. “Brenda doesn’t understand, but I do. You initially gave us a quarter of a million. Even if you left, you should have gotten at least three hundred thousand back. But I only have this much. More than making money, I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” “You! Are you stupid, Shelly! She’s so rich, why are you giving her money?” I looked at Shelly. She truly was the same as she was in college. I hoped, this time, I wasn’t mistaken about her. I declined her transfer, and immediately transferred $600,000 back to Shelly. “Lynn? What is this?” “You want to open a new salon with me? We’ll use the same exclusive products as before. After all costs, we split the profits 50/50.” “What?! You have money?! Why did you?! You… you…” “You, you, you, I, I, I? What’s wrong, did dating make you stutter? How I choose to invest is none of your business!” I shot back. Shelly stood there, stunned. “You really trust me?” “I do. At least now I’ve seen clearly who my true friend is!” “You two just wait! Running a beauty salon is ultimately a small-time business! My husband and I are going to conquer the entire beauty market! From now on, all beauty salons will use my products! And we won’t supply yours!” Still dreaming, I thought. Her “shady, unregulated product” dominating the beauty market? Utterly ridiculous!

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It all began when Luna, the wolf mother who raised me, snagged Sera Dubois’s favorite dress. Liam Thorne, Sera’s childhood sweetheart, actually summoned a brute to hack off Luna’s four paws and then had her cast into a vat of sulfuric acid. I held Luna, her breath shallow, and roared at Liam, “I told you from the start that I was raised by wolves! How is this any different from cutting off my own mother’s limbs?!” But Liam simply looked at me, his face cold, covering Sera’s eyes with his hand. “You’re clearly just some wild stray my stepmother, Martha, picked up from God knows where. Don’t think you can deceive me with those stories!” Luna, still bleeding profusely, struggled to inch her way towards me. I crawled to her, cradling her in my arms. “I stayed willingly, a gesture of gratitude for the Thorne family providing a sanctuary for my pack. You followed me for hundreds of miles because you couldn’t bear to let me go, but I never meant for this to be your undoing.” That night, clutching Luna, I knelt and bowed deeply several times before Aunt Martha’s memorial tablet. “Aunt Martha, the Thorne family’s wildlife parks are now nationwide. They no longer need my ability to command animals. I should have left long ago.” … I was about to blow the bone flute hanging from my neck, but Luna struggled, stopping me. Wolves know gratitude. The Thorne family took in old and infirm animals, giving the pack a home. I knew she didn’t want me to ruin the Thorne family unless it was absolutely unavoidable. The vet, seeing the bare bones, flesh eaten away and cracked from the concentrated sulfuric acid, shook his head, saying there was nothing he could do. “Doctor, she used to be the fastest wolf in the forest. To not reattach her limbs, doesn’t that mean you’re letting her die?” My cries were torn from my soul. Luna stretched out a mangled limb, attempting to wipe away my tears, but realizing she had lost her paws, she curled up dejectedly. I stayed by Luna’s side all night, eventually weeping myself into unconsciousness. With a loud bang, the main doors were kicked open. Mr. Davies, the butler, dragged me to kneel before the grand hall of Thorne Manor. Sera lay limply on a plush armchair, her face meticulously made up to appear frail and wounded, looking as though her breath might give out any second. As I tried to rise, Liam’s hand lashed out, slapping me hard across the face. “Sera went out for a wilderness survey and was bitten by these ungrateful beasts! Tell me, did you instruct them?!” He pointed to a nearby iron cage. Only then did I see several wolf pups trapped inside – Their hides were torn open, their breathing shallow and ragged. I bit back the searing pain in my swollen cheek and crawled towards the cage, desperate to free them, but Mr. Davies dragged me back several feet. Liam’s face darkened. “You don’t care about the person injured because of you, but you rush to these animals! Bury them alive!” I dragged my aching body, throwing myself towards the cage. The pups still wore the leg bands I had personally tied on them – I had delivered them myself, deep in the forest. Their tender paws brushed against my palm, as if telling me not to worry, yet their mournful whines sent a bitter ache through my heart. I gritted my teeth, glaring at Liam. “They didn’t hurt Sera at all! They said they saw Sera being taken by force, and they scared off the attackers and saved her!” Liam froze for a moment, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But Sera immediately burst into tears, grabbing Liam’s hand. “It was clearly these animals that hurt me, Liam, why would I lie to you?” “She’s definitely playing her tricks again. No one can understand animals!” “If she truly could, would she have tolerated her pet snake biting you? Doesn’t that just prove she did it on purpose?” Liam glared furiously at me, then ordered the entire cage to be taken to the back hills of the estate. Earlier, to save Liam, I had been bitten all over by that snake, but it turned out to be completely non-venomous. I still couldn’t understand why a usually docile snake would suddenly attack Liam. Before I could finish, Liam suddenly gripped my throat, as if to strangle me. “Then how did I get poisoned so severely? Eleanor Vance, there’s a limit to your lies! If Sera hadn’t brought the antidote, I would have died.” I tore free from his grasp, arching my back like a wolf, leaping onto the cage, and baring my teeth. Everyone recoiled in fear. “Anyone who dares touch them will have to step over my dead body first!” 2 Liam’s eyes flickered, startled by my strange posture, and his tone softened. “I genuinely don’t understand you. Why do you care so much about these animals, why do you have to act like them?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. He used to adore animals because of me, allowing me to keep all sorts of creatures in the manor, even praising me for being as cute as a little wolf. But now, after he was bitten by the venomous snake, all my companions had been sent away, leaving only Luna by my side. Now he claimed he “didn’t understand.” My eyes were red, warning everyone to keep their distance, when suddenly, a heavy object struck my head. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. When I woke again, a searing pain erupted across my scalp. I clutched my head, rubbing it ceaselessly. A familiar cold voice reached my ears. “I told you to go easy on her. Why isn’t she awake yet?” Mr. Davies bowed, apologizing. Seeing I was awake, he quickly alerted Liam. Liam strode to the bedside, about to sit down, then hesitated, a mocking sneer on his lips. “Now you know what a headache feels like? Weren’t you so stubborn just now? Those animals are dead. Apologize properly to Sera, and this whole thing is over.” I clutched at his clothes, my voice trembling. “Liam, why are you doing this to me?” Liam’s eyes hardened with cold indifference. He flung my hand away. “Martha, my stepmother, was a homewrecker who caused my mother’s death. You’re her bastard child, brought back by her. You then released a venomous snake to bite me, trying to seize my family’s wealth. What else do you expect from me?” “I already told you, if you just behaved, I’d let you live comfortably in the Thorne Manor. But you insist on defying me again and again for these animals.” “Aunt Martha was not a homewrecker! She and Grandfather only met because of their shared love for animals after your mother’s suicide—” With a resounding CRASH, Liam swept all the teacups off the table, cutting me off. “You’re going to tell me that outlandish story about being raised by wolves again. I must have been truly cursed to have believed you before!” With that, he stormed out, his face icy. Watching his retreating back, my heart turned to ash. Years ago, Aunt Martha, during a wilderness survey, had stopped a hunter who was aiming his rifle at me. She approached me cautiously, only to discover, to her astonishment, that I was a naked young girl. I growled at her, baring my teeth, yet she extended her hand. From then on, she taught me to read, to walk upright. Using the Thorne family’s resources, she expanded a vast wolf sanctuary. And I, with my unique ability to communicate with animals, helped her gather countless rare data, making the Thorne family a global leader in animal research, securing numerous patents. She brought me back to Thorne Manor. Years later, Liam and I fell in love. He held my hand and swore he would marry no one else. That is, until his childhood friend, Sera Dubois, returned from overseas, bringing with her photos of his father having an affair with Aunt Martha, and then suddenly, he was poisoned. After that, Liam became a changed man, viewing me as an enemy. Assistant Green, Aunt Martha’s only trusted aide, walked in, her face grave. “Ms. Vance, I’ve investigated everything. You need to prepare yourself.” Assistant Green handed me a stack of documents. Photo after photo made me feel as if I might collapse! Liam had sworn to me during our wedding. The Thorne family would only send orphaned animal cubs and animals incapable of hunting to zoos for care, never greedily training animals for dangerous performances. But the documents showed that for years, the Thorne family had been building zoos across the country, under the guise of animal welfare, constantly capturing rare animals to expand their collections. The photos showed all sorts of animals crammed into tiny cages, unable to even straighten their bodies. They used whips to force tiger cubs to jump through fire hoops, and monkeys to hold their breath underwater. Cheetahs had their fangs and claws ripped out for photo opportunities, brown bears were shackled in steel, their bile extracted daily. Those deemed cheap and useless were euthanized; the expensive ones were sold cheaply to circuses. Many of the miserable wild beasts in the photos had been my childhood companions. I still remembered the exhilarating freedom of running through the forest with them. Now, their eyes were filled with pure terror. A forest fire had destroyed their habitat, leaving them severely injured. I had believed the Thorne family’s zoo would be a safe haven, never imagining I was personally sending them to hell. The original wilderness sanctuary had also been developed into a hunting ground for the wealthy. Watching them display severed animal heads to the camera, I finally couldn’t hold back the nausea and vomited. It was all my fault… Assistant Green gently supported me, her face full of concern. “Ms. Vance! Animal protection was Aunt Martha’s lifelong creed. Now, it’s all up to you.” I bit my lip and nodded. I would take Luna. I would blow the bone flute. And I would make the Thorne family reap what they had sown! Luna had been placed in a locked room. I limped to the door, only to see a trail of blood leading from inside the room towards the back hills of the mansion. A cold dread washed over me. I rushed out. Before I even left the gate, I heard Liam’s voice from inside the house: “You want wolf fur? I’ll find you some other kind, why would you—” 3 Sera pouted playfully, “That old wolf dragged those buried little beasts into the house and made a bloody mess everywhere! It scared me half to death when I walked out! I just had to blow off some steam.” “Liam, do you like this wolf-skin bikini I made?” Liam’s voice became thick and syrupy. “You little rascal, you look best without anything on.” I slammed the door open. Sera, clad in a wolf-skin bikini the same color as Luna’s fur, was draped around Liam’s waist, writhing. I lunged forward, maddened, limping as I tried to tear off Sera’s clothes, but then I froze, seeing the bone flute hanging from her neck. My eyes blazed crimson. I seized her throat. “Sera! What is that around your neck?” Sera choked, veins bulging, unable to speak. Liam seized the opportunity to pull me away. “Eleanor Vance, are you insane?! It’s just a dying old wolf! I can catch you another one, can’t I?” Around Sera’s neck was a bone flute crafted from Luna’s bones. It was identical to the one around my own neck. This bone flute could command animals. Luna had deliberately twisted her tail years ago, allowing me to fashion it. I had told only Liam about this. Now, he had told Sera, and even indulged her in killing my wolf mother. Sera, still draped on the armchair, pretended to gasp for breath, but a smirk played on her lips as she raised an eyebrow at me. I cast aside years of learned human decorum, reverting to instinct. I collapsed to the floor, letting out a mournful howl, my nails digging blood trails into the ground. Liam recoiled in fear, stepping back repeatedly. Sera, however, leaned in, pinching my chin to examine my face. She suddenly turned to Liam and said, “This is bad. Eleanor Vance has been afflicted by the wolf-taint, which is why her behavior is so similar to a wolf’s.” In a rage, I grabbed Sera’s wrist, intending to snatch the bone flute from her neck. Liam, who had been hesitant, saw me bruising Sera’s wrist and immediately ordered his men to restrain me. Sera winked at me. “Getting rid of this affliction isn’t hard, actually. I learned from an elder in the rainforest.” She had them force me into a dark room. In the pitch black, deafening gongs exploded around me. I screamed, painfully covering my ears. Bright lights pierced my eyes, like a sharp sword thrust into my eyeballs. I was raised by wolves. For over a decade living with them, my hearing, sight, and smell were a hundred times more sensitive than a normal person’s, indistinguishable from a wolf’s. Liam had always known about my condition. He once pretended to be a ghost and shrieked next to my ear to scare me. That single scream caused my eardrums to bleed, sending me to the hospital for seven days. He had slapped himself, swollen-faced with remorse, weeping before me. But now, because of Sera’s baseless claim of a “wolf-taint,” he was doing this to me. My eyes stung too much to open. I could only yell into the darkness, “Liam Thorne, you know I can’t stand bright lights or loud noises. Do you really believe this ‘wolf-taint’ nonsense?!” In my panic, a cold voice responded near my ear: “I don’t believe it, but you bruised Sera’s hand. This is your punishment.” The gongs crashed in waves. Mr. Davies brutally held my eyelids open, forcing me to face the blinding light directly. Liam steadied my falling body. He saw the blood flowing from my eyes and ears, and his lips pressed into a tight line. “Help Ms. Vance to her bed.” Then he took Sera’s hand, which I had bruised, gently rubbing and blowing on it. Liam took Sera to the hospital to check her neck, which I had scratched. After Aunt Martha passed, Grandfather Thorne had been devastated. He was just recovering some strength when he hobbled in, leaning on his cane, trembling. Seeing my wretched state, he gasped, unable to stand, and collapsed to his knees. “Eleanor, I’ve wronged you, and I’ve wronged your Aunt Martha. I’ve raised such an unworthy grandson in Liam!” “I know it’s your ability to command animals that kept them docile in the sanctuary.” “Those wild creatures were friendly to us because of your command, allowing us to collect experimental data, which preserved the Thorne family’s standing in the scientific and business worlds.” Seeing the old man kneeling before me, I gasped, enduring the pain, and spoke. “Now that Aunt Martha is gone, and the wolf pack has been harmed, there’s nothing that will make me stay here.” “Eleanor, it’s all my fault. The Thorne family’s legacy cannot be ruined by Liam! I’ll cast Liam out of the family, and order no one to help him. Please, I beg you, don’t leave. Please, help the Thorne family one last time, won’t you?” I coughed up a mouthful of blood, stroking the bone flute on my neck. My voice was calm. “Sera has already made a bone flute from my wolf mother’s blood and bones. Go beg her. After all… Liam said she’s a hundred times better than me.” I no longer listened to his pleas. A faint smile played on my lips. I raised the bone flute, blowing it with all my strength. A powerful wolf howl tore through the sky. Grandfather Thorne’s face went ashen. “It’s over, it’s all over…” Within minutes, muffled thuds shook the Thorne Manor’s grand gates. CRASH—BOOM! The next second, the gates burst open! Through a swirl of dust, a pack of wild wolves, standing taller than men, roared!

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1 I was the true heiress, lost to the Sterling family, and on the day of my grand reintroduction. Willow Sterling tumbled down the grand staircase, weeping dramatically for all to see. “Sister,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face, “I know you don’t like me. I can leave, but how could you…” She looked back, her words catching in her throat, the “push” unsaid. It was only then she realized I wasn’t behind her at all. Standing there was her brother, Henry Sterling. I was quicker, my eyes reddening first, my hand flying to my mouth. “Henry, how could you push your sister?” She looked back again, only to find me already standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes widened in disbelief, as if silently asking, How are you here? The guests, seasoned socialites, instantly grasped the full picture. A ripple of amused disdain spread through the room as they watched Willow. Her face burned with humiliation; she was utterly mortified. Henry, ever the perfect brother, stepped in to smooth things over. “Willow, you’re a grown woman. How can you still be so clumsy?” His voice was laced with doting affection, completely ignoring the fact that she had just tried to frame his own sister. And my supposed fiancé, Marcus Thorne, rushed towards her, his face a mask of concern. He helped her up, cradling her protectively in his arms. My biological parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, also looked at her anxiously, asking if she was hurt. Even though her scheme had failed, watching her family dote on her, Willow shot me a triumphant, challenging glance, hidden from the public eye. Should I be hurt? laughable. So-called “blood ties” were worthless in my eyes. And what I truly wanted had never been “these.” A single tear slipped from Willow’s eye. “Sister,” she said, feigning sincerity, “I’m so sorry, I ruined your reintroduction party.” She expected me to explode, to lash out, to demand explanations hysterically. But I did none of that. My face etched with seemingly genuine concern, I stepped forward to help her. “It’s okay, sister. I’m just glad you’re alright.” “Ah—” Willow suddenly shrieked. 2 “What’s wrong, sister?” I asked innocently, my voice laced with feigned concern. This time, her tears were real. Tears of pain. Before she could utter a word, I exposed her pale arm to the assembled guests. A large, angry red welt marred its surface. “Oh, sister, you really are clumsy. You must have fallen and hurt yourself just now.” She was furious and desperate, but utterly helpless against me. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling looked heartbroken, immediately whisking her off to the hospital. I was left alone to face the guests. I plastered a smile back on my face and graciously entertained everyone. I made a favorable impression on many wealthy families, earning myself a great deal of goodwill. It was an exhausting day, indeed. A few days prior, the Sterling family had approached me, claiming I was their daughter, accidentally switched at birth. If I hadn’t subtly leaked some information, they never would have found me. The moment I arrived at the Sterling mansion, Willow had already packed her bags, feigning a dramatic departure. She cried with such heartfelt conviction, claiming she had taken over my rightful life and shouldn’t remain. Every word she spoke implied I would resent her presence and treat her cruelly. The Sterling family looked at her with pity, comforting and coaxing her, while casting reproachful glances at me. I hadn’t said a single word, yet they glared at me as if I were their enemy. It was utterly ridiculous. “Elara, we’ve raised Willow for so many years, and the Sterling family isn’t short on money. It won’t be a problem to have an extra person.” Mr. Sterling didn’t consult me; he simply decreed Willow’s fate. They stared at me, their gazes threatening, as if my disagreement would mean I, not Willow, would be the one leaving the Sterling home today. I nodded, tacitly accepting. Perhaps they, too, felt their behavior was excessive. Mr. Sterling and Henry each handed me a bank card. Mrs. Sterling presented me with her jade bracelet. I accepted everything. A flicker of jealousy crossed Willow’s eyes. Just after I’d finished showering, a knock came at the door. When I opened it, Mrs. Sterling stood there, her eyes filled with an undeniable guilt. “Elara, may I come in and sit for a moment?” I stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She slowly walked in, her gaze taking in the minimalist black and white decor of the room. They had brought me back without preparing a proper room, so I had been staying in a guest room. Mrs. Sterling’s heart ached. On one hand, there was the daughter she had raised for twenty years—even caring for a pet creates affection, let alone a human. On the other hand, there was her biological daughter, whom she hadn’t seen in twenty years, who had suffered so much, and had finally been found. She was unwilling to give up either; both were the flesh of her heart. She sat on a chair and took my hand, her eyes looking at me with a soft, maternal affection. “Elara, Mom has already had a room prepared for you these past few days. Mom is so sorry. I neglected your feelings.” “It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine living here.” The more compliant and sensible I was, the guiltier she felt. Her eyes shimmered with tears. She sighed, her lips curving into a bitter smile. “Elara, Marcus Thorne and you were betrothed since childhood, but the person he loves now is Willow.” I cut her off. “So, Mom, you think I would steal my sister’s fiancé?” A pang of bitterness ran through me; after all, she was my mother. Her voice rose in haste. “It’s not like that, Elara! Mom just meant… Mom can find you a better match. Or, if there’s someone you like, Mom will respect your choice.” I turned my head away, my voice muffled. “I understand, Mom. And I won’t fall in love with a stranger I’ve never met.” She tried to say more, but I told her I needed to rest. She bid me goodnight and left. Elara Vance, you cannot let so-called false kinship blind you. You have more important things to do. [How’s life at the Sterling’s?] [It’s okay. Just walking the dog every day.] [Need my help? The kind where you bat your eyelashes and I’ll give you my life?] [No thanks. I’ve got enough strength and tricks of my own.] [Alright, whatever you say, darling.] [Lysander Hayes, who are you calling darling?] …After indulging in some banter with my boyfriend, I fell asleep.

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1 As the only daughter of an oil magnate, I’d been cradled in luxury since birth. A decade ago, my father, Mr. Hayes, had brought the sons of the heads of three subsidiary companies into his inner circle, personally grooming them as potential heirs and, more importantly, as my future husband. The plan was set: on the day of my twentieth birthday gala, he would publicly announce my chosen fiancé as his successor. But three days before the gala, I stumbled upon the three of them at our exclusive private club. Jax was grinding wildly with an exotic dancer on the dance floor, his movements crude. Caleb was sprawled on a sofa, shamelessly entangled with a catering staff member. And Aiden, the one I’d harbored a quiet affection for, was locked in a passionate, breathless kiss with Skylar, my supposed best friend. What chilled me to the bone was their blatant disregard, their voices sneering as they openly discussed me: “Tonight, one for each of us—consider it breaking our dry spell. Willow’s such a germaphobe, isn’t she?” “Right? With her body and mental purity complex, no matter which of us she picks, her virginity won’t be her first anyway, hahaha!” Watching the sordid scene unfold, a cold laugh escaped my lips. “Since all three of you are already soiled, then I don’t want any of you!” That very night, I pushed open the heavy door to my father’s study, my voice resolute. “Dad, I want to marry Liam Sterling, the son of the Sterling Oil baron!” My father frowned, his face a mask of disbelief. “You mean… the one rumored to be… less than whole? That timid Mr. Sterling?” He took a long drag from his cigar, his voice trembling. “Sweetheart, I heard Liam Sterling was born missing a crucial part of his manhood, most likely barren! Are you really going to marry him?” My gaze was unwavering. “Yes. That way, after we marry, our two families can form a powerful alliance, and you won’t have to worry about the Hayes dynasty lacking an heir.” My father extinguished his cigar in the ashtray, his tone softening. “But your father cares about your happiness, darling! Why did none of those three scoundrels catch your eye?” The vile images of the three men, their crude words, replayed relentlessly in my mind. My father gently patted my shoulder. “Didn’t you say you had a soft spot for Aiden before? What made you suddenly change your mind?” The thought of Aiden passionately kissing my best friend brought a stinging dampness to my eyes. Seeing my distressed expression, my father pressed no further. He pulled me into his embrace. “Since my Willow has grown up, then your father will respect your decision.” He let out a deep sigh, then left the study. Outside the door, Jax, Caleb, and Aiden stood respectfully, watching him leave. As I stepped out of the study, Jax shot me a venomous glare. Caleb’s voice was cold as he demanded, “Miss Hayes, were you just slandering us to your father again?” Aiden’s face was a mask of reluctance, a flicker of resentment in his eyes. The three of them had been sent to the Hayes estate for training since they were teenagers, groomed as my fiancé candidates. For over a decade, constrained by my father’s influence over their families, they had been forced to play along. Now, Aiden, usually so reserved, spoke with disdain. “Have you already chosen your fiancé?” His gaze pierced me like an icy blade, as if he’d devour me whole if I dared choose him. My patience for them had long run out. My icy gaze swept over their faces. “Don’t worry. I’ve already made my choice.” Before I could finish, Caleb called out, “Wonder which unlucky soul among us will end up joining the Hayes dynasty.” Jax glanced at Aiden, a hint of mock pity in his eyes. “Yeah, Aiden, I think you’re the most likely. After you saved Miss Hayes on the beach last time, she hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you!” Ignoring their taunts, I walked straight towards my room. Their low chuckles drifted from behind me. “You think Miss Hayes would be thrilled if she knew her favorite Aiden was messing around with her best friend?” As my door closed, their figures vanished from my sight. Too bad for them. The three of them had fouled themselves. I wouldn’t choose a single one. 2 I spent that night wide awake, unmistakable sounds continuously drifting from the adjacent room—the rhythmic creaking of a bedframe mixed with a woman’s seductive moans. Through the haze of sleeplessness, I heard Skylar, wrapped around Aiden, cooing, “Aren’t you afraid Willow will find out about us? You’d lose your heir status completely then!” Aiden’s voice, lazy with post-coital satisfaction, drifted back. “So what? She’s just a spoiled heiress. If it weren’t for Mr. Hayes, none of us would even give her a second thought. Even if I marry her, she’ll just be a trophy wife, a pretty face. You’re my true love.” Their crude words grated on my eardrums, a relentless assault, until the sounds slowly subsided with the approach of dawn. I pushed open my door, just in time to see Skylar, wearing Aiden’s white shirt, gingerly waddle out of his room, hand pressed to her lower back. When she bumped into me, her eyes flashed with panic, and she immediately stammered, “Willow, I-I drank too much last night and got sick. Aiden just lent me his shirt. I swear I don’t have any other intentions with him!” “Absolutely not!” My gaze fell upon the undisguised hickeys blooming on her neck, then dropped to her legs, still trembling visibly. A cold smile touched my lips. “Oh? Why the sudden panic?” For years, whenever Aiden was involved, Skylar was always more eager than me. Every time I discussed the candidates for fiancé, she’d subtly steer me towards choosing Aiden. Turns out, they had been involved in secret all along, treating me like a complete fool! A surge of pure fury erupted within me. I lifted my hand and slapped Skylar across the face. Skylar clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. Just then, Aiden suddenly pushed open his door, the powerful rebound sending me crashing against the wall. Skylar, seizing the moment, collapsed into Aiden’s arms, weeping. “I don’t know what I did to upset Willow. She actually hit me.” Aiden instantly pulled Skylar close, his face etched with feigned concern. “Willow, don’t bring your pampered princess act here to bully Skylar! She’s your friend!” His voice hardened. “If you keep acting so irrational, don’t blame me if I publicly reject you as my fiancé at the gala!” My eyes narrowed. He’d truly been spoiled rotten all these years. A manipulative viper and a spineless fool—they truly deserved each other! Still seething, I instinctively raised my hand for another slap, but Caleb suddenly appeared, grabbing my arm with surprising force. Jax positioned himself in front of them both. Their gazes, sharp as poisoned daggers, chilled me to the bone. Caleb spoke, his voice equally cold. “If you continue this irrational behavior, and you choose me, I won’t agree.” Jax quickly followed. “And me, I absolutely won’t agree either!” 3 I stared at the three of them. From childhood, I had always shared everything good to eat, everything fun to do, with them. Over the years, my father had never shortchanged them an inch. Yet, each of them, while claiming not to want to marry me, stubbornly refused to give up their place as a candidate. They wanted to inherit the vast Hayes fortune, but they didn’t want to join my family. Their hypocritical greed was truly sickening. Thankfully, heaven’s mercy allowed me to see through their false faces in advance. I let out a cold laugh, forcefully pulling my hand free from Caleb’s grasp, and walked straight forward. But in a flash, Aiden fiercely grabbed me back, his voice sharp. “Apologize to Skylar!” I turned, meeting Aiden’s furious gaze, and retorted coldly, “Why should I apologize to her?” I tried to pull away from Aiden again, intending to continue walking. But Jax and Caleb instantly blocked my path, malicious intent blazing in their eyes. Skylar, seeing her moment, met my gaze with a triumphant, challenging smirk. The next moment, she suddenly said in a soft voice, “No, please don’t argue with Willow because of me! It’s all my fault, my fault!” Skylar, realizing her advantage, immediately fell to her knees before me, whispering, “Willow, if I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. Don’t take it out on the three of them!” Skylar played the victim role to perfection, further highlighting my supposed arrogance and cruelty. The three men immediately helped her up, then turned on me, their voices filled with rage. “Miss Hayes, do you think everyone is just a toy to you?” “Or do you see us as your personal pets, summoned and dismissed at your whim?!” “Today, you will apologize to Skylar!” I bit back the tears stinging at my eyes, staring at the three of them. My mind replayed their arrival at the Hayes estate when they were just boys. Caleb, who’d been afraid of dogs, had needed my beloved golden retriever rehomed for him to feel comfortable. Jax, when he first arrived, cried secretly every night; I was the one who woke Dad up in the middle of the night to take him to the hospital when he had a fever. And Aiden, who’d been quiet and withdrawn as a child, always had me stepping in to defend him when the staff picked on him. And now, in their eyes, I had become nothing more than a vicious, spoiled brat. It was incredible how ten years of living side-by-side couldn’t compare to a few manipulative words from an outsider. My gaze, cold and detached, swept over all four of them. Then I shouted, “Butler! Are you all blind?!” I called out three times, only to find the butler and the bodyguards standing respectfully to the side, secretly watching Aiden. Over the years, Aiden had become Dad’s favorite, taking over many of Hayes Corporation’s assets. These staff members were always opportunistic; no doubt they already saw Aiden as the next head of the household. And I, the heiress without real power, was little more than a prop. Just then, a voice from the staff called out, “Mr. Hayes has arrived.” Aiden finally released my hand, and the three men stood respectfully behind me. Free at last, I stormed towards the door. This household clearly needed a clean-up, or it might as well be known as the Reynolds estate. But thankfully, tomorrow I would announce my engagement to Liam Sterling. And the three of them would be utterly irrelevant to my life. 4 The next morning, as I woke and got ready, I was surprised to find that my gala gown hadn’t arrived. My phone suddenly rang. I answered, and the frantic voice of the boutique assistant came through. “Miss Hayes, the custom gown you ordered was picked up by Mr. Reynolds earlier.” “Mr. Reynolds said he was your fiancé, so we didn’t stop him.” I hung up, then walked back towards Aiden’s room. This gown was something my father had commissioned a French designer for, starting from my eighteenth birthday, specifically for my grand entrance at my twentieth birthday gala today. The moment I pushed open Aiden’s door, I saw Skylar standing before the full-length mirror, admiring herself, wearing my gown. I immediately roared at her, “Who gave you permission to wear that?!” Skylar instantly flinched, shrinking into Aiden’s embrace. Aiden, in turn, said coldly, “It’s just a dress, isn’t it? Is it really worth all this fuss?” I scoffed at both of them. “It was custom-crafted by French artisans over two years, my father’s gift for my coming-of-age. Does that sound like ‘just a dress’ to you?” Skylar, hearing this, made a show of trying to take it off, but Aiden stopped her with a hand. “Consider it compensation for how you treated Skylar yesterday. Anyway, you’re a germaphobe, so this dress is hers now.” Just as I was about to retort, Aiden’s voice hardened again. “If you don’t agree, don’t blame me if I embarrass you when I’m announced as your fiancé later!” The sheer audacity! He was using my money to pay for his cheap thrills and buy goodwill? How could I swallow such an insult? I grabbed the gown Skylar was wearing, yelling, “Take it off! Now! Get it off!” In that instant, Aiden’s hand lashed out, slapping me across the face as he roared, “You’re going too far, Willow!” I was sent sprawling to the floor, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of my mouth. My eyes welled up with tears. No one had ever dared to lay a hand on me, not once in my entire life! Hearing the commotion, the door was suddenly kicked open. Jax and Caleb rushed in, yelling at me. “It’s just a gown, why are you making such a big deal?!” “Willow, you’re absolutely evil!” Skylar, who moments before had been tearful, now flashed a cunning glint in her eyes. She whispered, “If I strip down, will you let me off? And you won’t blame Aiden or them anymore?” Then, a theatrical sigh. “Willow, I’m sorry. I’ll take it off, I’ll take it off right now.” As Skylar made to remove the gown, all three men stopped her. Aiden then turned his gaze to me, his voice chilling. “Willow, no matter what, I will not be your fiancé today.” Jax and Caleb chimed in in unison, “We won’t agree either.” Aiden then smiled, a lewd grin spreading across his face. “If you’re worried about making a scene, just strip down and apologize to Skylar, and we’ll forgive you!” Caleb and Jax also wore playful, mocking expressions. “That’s right! Strip down, and we’ll agree to be your fiancés!” I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. All three of them, humiliating me to this extent, for Skylar! Aiden, Caleb, and Jax closed in on me, their eyes filled with malicious anticipation. Behind them, Skylar’s eyes gleamed with triumph, as if to say, You’re getting what you deserve today, Willow. I even saw her mouth a silent, “You bitch! You deserve it!” They relentlessly pushed me towards the grand staircase, where the entire gathering in the ballroom was already watching. Aiden leaned close to my ear, his breath a foul whisper. “Losing face in front of everyone—consider it your punishment!” The next moment, Aiden stood on the second-floor landing and shouted down to the crowd, “I hereby publicly announce that I voluntarily withdraw from being Miss Hayes’s fiancé!” A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Before anyone could react, Caleb and Jax stood beside me, declaring loudly, “We two also voluntarily withdraw from being Miss Hayes’s fiancé!” The ballroom instantly erupted into a clamor. People whispered amongst themselves. “What’s going on? Is Mr. Hayes’s daughter really so unbearable that all three candidates willingly gave up their spots?” “Now that all three candidates have withdrawn, who will Miss Hayes marry today?!” At that precise moment, Skylar suddenly burst from the room, intentionally bumping into me. Caught off guard, my heel twisted, and I tumbled backward, hurtling towards the edge of the staircase. The guests in the ballroom gasped in horror. In the most important moment of my life, I was being destroyed by the four people I thought I could trust most. I squeezed my eyes shut in despair, bracing for the inevitable pain, the shouts from below growing louder. Just as I thought I was about to plunge down the stairs, I suddenly fell into a warm, strong embrace. The next second, a man’s deep, resonant voice sounded in my ear: “It seems the three of you have some self-awareness. Willow Hayes’s fiancé can only be me!”

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The piercing shriek of the fire alarm tore through the late-night silence, yet I, Battalion Chief Alice Evans, remained perfectly still, a warm mug cradled in my hands. My gaze, heavy with a knowing weariness, settled on the window, listening as the desperate screams outside were swallowed by the voracious roar of flames. In another life, when the first tendrils of smoke had appeared, I’d immediately dispatched my crews. I’d meticulously orchestrated their attack, sending them from different angles, watching as the inferno yielded, inch by agonizing inch. Only when the last survivor was carried out, charred but breathing, did I finally allow myself to sag, leaning back in my chair, eyes fluttering shut for a brief, earned rest. But then, an icy click. Handcuffs snapped around my wrists. “Battalion Chief Evans, you’re under arrest for intentional homicide. Come with us.” My returning crew, their faces smudged with soot and streaked with blood, their bodies bruised and burned, screamed. Their collective roar was enough to rip the roof off the station. “How could you be so heartless, Alice?! We trusted you! We ran in because we trusted you, and you deliberately misreported the fire! The engines you sent weren’t nearly enough!” “You mixed alcohol into the hoses! A regular fire turned into an inferno! Our brothers were maimed, and not a single soul made it out alive!” The words hit me like a physical blow. Explosion? Lives lost? I’d seen the fire controlled, witnessed survivors being pulled to safety with my own eyes. How could it have morphed into such a catastrophe? Ten or more lives extinguished. When I scrambled to retrieve the station’s security footage, desperate to prove my innocence, I watched in horror as the screen showed me—a version of me I barely recognized—botching every command, making fatal errors. Then, my husband, Tim Miller, stepped forward. He presented a video on his phone, his voice laced with feigned anguish. “She always treated human life with contempt. She hated night shifts, always said, ‘Let them die. Don’t interrupt my sleep.’” I was speechless, trapped in a nightmare. The furious families of the victims, their grief a tangible, burning thing, pushed me, shoved me, until I was flung into the middle of the road. The last thing I felt was the searing impact of a truck, a brutal, bone-shattering finality. And after my death, my apprentice, Chloe Vance, slid into my position. Within weeks, she was living with Tim. He, the grieving widower, publicly wept online, denouncing my “crimes,” earning a tidal wave of sympathy and praise for his supposed “forgiveness” of the driver and families. My body convulsed, a violent tremor that jolted me awake. I was back. Back in my office, the very night the fire began. A soft tap on my desk. I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto Chloe’s sweet, innocent face. My apprentice, who’d been with me since graduation, was pouting, her voice a sugary whine. “Coach, can you switch shifts with me tonight? I have a date, please, please, please?” Her words were a plea, but her eyes held an unsettling glint of certainty, a predatory assurance. In my past life, I hadn’t given it a second thought, readily agreeing. I’d walked straight into the trap she’d dug. The fire had broken out precisely during the shift change. A chilling coincidence. Could she truly have set that fire? Dozens of lives. Watching her pure, guileless smile, a cold dread snaked down my spine. “Coach, you can’t? I’ll give you some of my special gourmet coffee beans! Guaranteed to keep you awake!” Seeing my hesitation, she pressed a small, ornate bag into my hand. My colleagues chimed in, a chorus of good-natured teasing. “Come on, Alice, Chloe’s in love! Be a good sport!” “Yeah, she never lets anyone near those beans! They’re her absolute treasure!” Under their expectant gazes, I wrestled down the swirling chaos in my mind, forcing a slow nod. “Alright, Chloe. I’ll switch.” Chloe’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. She scurried to the break room, practically bouncing, and returned with a steaming mug. “Thank you, Coach! You HAVE to try my special blend. It’s my way of saying thanks!” I took the mug, setting it beside me. But Chloe’s lower lip began to tremble, her eyes welling up, her voice suddenly loud and wounded. “Is Coach mad? I-I promise I won’t bother you again…” My teammates’ eyes flickered with gentle reproach. I had no choice but to lift the mug. The aroma was rich, complex, no hint of anything amiss. Under her satisfied gaze, I drained it. Chloe beamed, a picture of angelic contentment, and practically skipped out. “Tonight’s going to be perfectly fine!” she called out, a seemingly innocuous parting shot. Not long after, Tim, my husband, walked in with a takeout container. “Knew you were on duty, so I switched my own plans to keep you company.” He expertly laid out the meal, his face a mask of loving concern. But seeing him, my heart chilled. Chloe had just left, and he arrived, “just in time.” Was he afraid I wouldn’t play my part in their twisted little drama? This man, who shared my bed, was so eager to push me into the abyss. Last time, he’d been on my crew, following my orders, even rescuing a survivor and waving to me. The fire had been so well-controlled, the hoses personally checked by me. How could alcohol have suddenly appeared? A horrifying theory began to coalesce in my mind. I fumbled for my phone and sent a quick message to a trusted friend at the station closest to the industrial zone. At precisely four in the morning, Chloe’s phone call jolted the silence. Her voice, laced with frantic urgency, was a chilling echo of the past. “Coach! The Riverside Industrial Zone is on fire! Get the crew out there, fast!” Just like before, she’d bypassed central dispatch, calling my private cell directly. Last time, I hadn’t thought twice, immediately dispatching units based on her report, neglecting to have dispatch verify further information. Now, chillingly calm, I detected not just a manufactured panic in her voice, but an unmistakable current of excitement. This fire. She’d set it. I took my time, slowly drawing breath. “You must have the wrong number, Chloe. You should call 911 dispatch first.” Chloe’s incredulous voice, shrill with manufactured outrage, threatened to puncture my eardrum. “Coach, are you insane?! Now’s not the time for procedures! These are real lives! Are you saying I’m lying about a fire? Alice, you think I’d joke about something like this?” She ordered me to open the live monitoring feed. Indeed, it was a massive blaze, screams echoing through the digital static. Yet, I remained unmoving, utterly unfazed. Chloe’s voice escalated, raw with frustration. “How can you be so cold-blooded?! Abandoning lives, letting them die! Are you even fit to be a firefighter anymore?!” “Get everyone out there! Every minute means another life! Please, Alice, I’m begging you!” I held the phone away from my ear, then spoke slowly. “Tell you what, since you’re already on site, you know the situation best. This operation? It’s yours to command. Go for it.” Chloe’s voice was a near-scream. “Alice Evans, where’s your conscience?! Shifting responsibility at a time like this? You’re on duty! I respected you so much!” “My experience isn’t enough! Please, Alice, come save these people!” Just then, Tim burst in, his face a mask of panic. “Alice, isn’t there a fire?! You need to dispatch the crews! There’s no time!” I blew gently on my mug, taking a slow sip. “You two go. Take an extra set of gear. Chloe will lead.” Last time, I’d rushed four engines to the scene. Once there, Chloe had suddenly requested to enter the burning structure, offering to assist. I’d handed her my own rescue gear, commanding from outside. I’d personally watched several firefighters pull survivors from the wreckage, even double-checked that they were alive. The hoses had sprayed clear water, and the blaze had seemed fully contained. Chloe had even run out of the inferno to tell me, “They’re all out, Coach! We’ll be clearing out soon!” It had all felt so incredibly real, impossible to fake. But it was entirely different from the surveillance footage I later saw. In that video, I was indeed outside the building, but the fire itself was completely different. The flames were barely under control when the hoses malfunctioned, spewing alcohol-laced water, instantly triggering the explosion. And the video version of me had calmly walked away from the immediate blast zone before the explosion, settling into my truck to rest. How had they done it? How had they manipulated what I saw, what I experienced, so utterly? Before I could fully process it, my teammates stormed in, their faces a mix of anxiety and simmering anger. “Chief Evans, isn’t there a fire? Why haven’t you dispatched anyone?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve already put Chloe in charge. Didn’t you get her orders?” One of the firefighters, a burly man named Mike, slammed his coffee cup down, his voice trembling with fury. “Alice Evans, what are you doing just sitting here drinking coffee at a time like this?!” “Are you treating this job like a joke? Or human lives?” “That’s a fire!” I nodded calmly, agreeing. “Yes, it’s a fire. Chloe’s on site right now. She knows the situation better than I do. Hasn’t she given you orders?” The team bristled, eyes blazing. “Are you kidding us?! You’re on duty tonight! And you’re splitting hairs over this?! Chloe’s command experience isn’t close to yours, and you’re just standing by? Don’t you know how important lives are?!” I spread my hands, a picture of weary resignation. “I’m just not up to commanding right now. I’m willing to go inside and help with the rescue myself, though.” “Don’t worry, after this fire, I’ll voluntarily resign.” Tim sprang forward, pointing a trembling finger at me, his face contorted with theatrical rage. “Alice Evans, you should’ve been fired from command a long time ago! You treat human lives like trash! Even now, you don’t care about them!” He clutched his head, groaning in what appeared to be agony. “It’s my fault. Last time you said you hated night shifts, hated responding to calls, I thought you were joking. I didn’t take you seriously.” “I never thought you actually felt that way!” “I should’ve reported you right then and there, you heartless wretch!” With that, he pulled out his phone, cueing up a video he’d recorded. On the screen, a version of me stared back, her expression one of utter disdain, cold and dismissive. “Another night shift. God, this is annoying.” “If there’s a fire, it’s just their fate. They deserve it! Let them die, just don’t bother my sleep.” “I’ve pulled so many all-nighters, my skin looks terrible. They should all just die off so I can get some decent sleep.” The firefighters gasped, staring at me with a mixture of shock and profound disgust. That was the video Tim had released to the public in my previous life. The camera was aimed directly at my face, every cruel word, every indifferent expression, chillingly clear. The families of the fire victims had used it to hunt me down, swarming me, punching and kicking, venting their furious grief. Until someone plunged a knife into me, sending me sprawling into the path of that truck. The memories flashed, vivid and sickening. I stared at Tim, my hands clenching, trembling. Then, I’d sought out the police, and they’d declared the video authentic, free of any digital manipulation! But those weren’t my words. That wasn’t how I felt. Tim, still playing the role of the distraught husband, still wore that mask of regret, but a flicker of triumphant excitement danced in his eyes. “I should’ve called the police on you then! Saved us all this trouble now!” “Alice Evans, their deaths are on you! You’re the real culprit!” “I’m going to release this video online. Everyone will see your ugly face!” My teammates’ eyes were bloodshot, burning with condemnation. “Alice Evans, we called you ‘Chief’ for so long. Do you deserve that title? Do you deserve this uniform?!” “We were so wrong about you! You don’t deserve to live!” I sighed softly, taking another slow sip of my coffee. I raised my eyes. “Are you quite finished? I never said I wouldn’t save people. Right now, you’re the ones neglecting human lives.” I looked at Tim, my voice even, devoid of emotion. “Just a moment ago, you were frantic, practically beside yourself with urgency. Yet, in this supposedly critical moment, you didn’t forget to pull out a video to stomp all over me. Are you desperate to save lives, or just desperate to condemn me?” Now it was Tim’s turn to fluster, his face reddening. “I was just so furious with you! You’re just sitting here, indifferent, treating lives as meaningless!” I shook my head, a knowing, almost pitying look in my eyes. “I think you’re sharper than you let on.” Tim scoffed. “It’s too late to go there now. Let’s see how you explain this to everyone!” … The fire engine had barely pulled out of the station before police cruisers cut them off. Tim’s eyes flickered, a hint of alarm. “Officer, we’re responding to a fire! Why are you stopping us?” My teammates scoffed behind him, not hesitating to point directly at me. “Officer, has someone reported her? She’s our fire chief, but she doesn’t take her duties seriously. She holds human life in contempt.” “Honestly, with her, I wouldn’t be surprised by any illegal or unethical behavior.” The officer frowned, checking the information on his tablet. “This is the right vehicle, then.” “We received a report of intentional arson and attempted murder.” My teammates exchanged gleeful, triumphant glances, looking at me. Tim, practically vibrating with eagerness, dragged me forward to the police. “Officer, it’s definitely her. Take her in, investigate thoroughly. I have plenty of evidence I can submit.” I took a deep breath, pushing down the surge of anger, and raised my hand. “Officer, I’m the one who made the report. I’m turning myself in.”

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Jason walked in as I was eating hotpot alone on the rug. Though I knew he’d already dined, I kept my eyes on the simmering broth. He sat silently on the sofa edge – the quiet so deep I heard my slotted spoon drip. I timed my Wagyu slice perfectly: five seconds, then a light soy dip. The absurd scene: a woman in evening gown, kneeling at a low table devouring hotpot. Our downtown penthouse, once a marital home, was now mostly my solitary space. I cooked vegetables meticulously while he sat wordless beside me. Only when full did I rise, leaving the mess for Maria. In the bathroom, I removed the barely visible black mourning band from my sleeve. Folding it, my reflection caught me. As I reached for the bedroom knob, he finally spoke. “Alice.” I turned, simply murmuring, “Hmm?” He was already striding forward, sweeping me into his arms. “If you need to cry, just let it out. I’m here.” I looked up at him, my expression calm and serene. “I haven’t shed a tear in years. Not then, not now, not ever. Go take a shower. Your clothes are picking up my perfume.” He started to speak again, but I gently pressed a finger to his lips. As the sound of the shower filled the bathroom, the lingering scent of violets on him slowly faded. I pushed open the bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the bustling city grid sixty-six stories below. If I were to leap from here, I wondered, would there even be a trace left? But which would be harder to bear: the soul-gnawing agony of chemotherapy, or the searing, instantaneous pain of a fall? 1 My phone buzzed relentlessly, a cascade of sympathetic messages. My finger paused on an unread voice note. The moment I tapped it, a boy’s bright voice, clear as shattered ice, pierced my ear: “Happy birthday, Sis! Don’t forget your strawberry cake~ And just between us, I recorded a hundred ‘Happy Birthday’ messages for you, so you have to live to be a hundred, so you can hear them every year!” A dull ache, like a hammer blow, slammed into my chest. I slid down the cool glass wall, slowly collapsing to the floor. No more. My only brother, Leo, had finally succumbed to the bone cancer, closing his eyes forever on the eve of my birthday. …A rapid knock echoed on the bedroom door. He called my childhood name, his voice laced with an urgency I hadn’t heard in years. In my daze, it was almost as if I were a child again, when he would tug my ponytail and sweetly call out, “Alice.” “The bath’s ready. Please open the door, let me carry you in, okay?” “Alice, don’t scare me…” I leaned against the frigid glass, my eyes hollow as I stared at the city’s neon glow. I wanted so desperately to tell him to leave, to go anywhere – after four years of living alone in this empty house, I’d long grown accustomed to the chilling solitude. He hadn’t shown up for my mother’s funeral four years ago; he hadn’t been there for Leo’s farewell just yesterday. His “return” now felt utterly superfluous. …He must have learned about my illness. Lately, he’d been home every day, even his voice noticeably softer. It wasn’t hard to guess why – both my mother and Leo had died from bone cancer, a disease known for its high hereditary risk in our family. I curled up on the sofa with my Maine Coon, watching a show, when he brought over a breakfast tray. “I made your favorite ham sandwich. Want some?” I set the cat down and sat at the dining table, but only spooned a bit of plain rice porridge into my mouth. “Would you mind coming to Grandma Helen’s place with me for lunch?” “Hmm.” As I swallowed the second spoonful of porridge, I caught his hesitant, unsaid words. 2 Outside the car window, the sycamore leaves were tinged with gold. Autumn had arrived, unnoticed. A cashmere scarf suddenly draped over my shoulders. “Careful, you’ll catch a chill.” At Grandma Helen’s estate, her eyes were filled with worry, none of her usual cheer. She sighed often. I sat beside her on the long sofa, but deliberately focused on the TV show, laughing loudly. “Grandma, look how funny that comedian’s hat is!” “Yes, it’s quite funny. As long as you like it, Alice.” Before dinner, I took a walk in the garden, only returning when the dinner bell chimed. Before I even entered the house, I heard voices arguing from a side room. “You need to cut ties with that woman, immediately! Can’t you see Alice isn’t herself anymore? She just lost her only family member, if you have any decency…” “You were gallivanting around overseas with another woman during Leo’s funeral!” “I booked the fastest flight…” That was Jason’s strained defense. “The hospital had already issued a critical condition notice! And you chose that moment to go abroad, with that hussy… Any woman would be driven insane by you!” “She insisted on coming along…” “Enough! What good is saying all this now? Just make amends during the time she has left.” I stepped back, walked another loop around the garden, and then returned. When I got back, Jason was already waiting for me by the front door. He wore a coat, and in his eyes, for once, was genuine concern for me. “Where did you go? Couldn’t find you anywhere in the garden.” “Found a stray dog. Took it to the shelter.” “Your hands are freezing.” He came closer, reaching for my hand. My body stiffened. Perhaps my hands were just too cold; the warmth of his grasp made me instinctively tremble. He squeezed my hand, a little harder, as if trying to hold onto something precious. Seeing Grandma Helen standing by the inner door, waiting for us, I forced a smile and followed him back inside. 3 After lunch at Grandma Helen’s, we said our goodbyes. I’d already quit my job. For the rest of my days, I simply cooked, ate, slept, consumed TV shows on my phone all night if they were good. Jason would tell me to stop, but I wouldn’t listen. His tone was too gentle now, unlike our past arguments, which were always sharp as knives. This particular night, I stayed up all night on my phone. When he woke up the next morning and found me still glued to it, he took it away. “Stop playing. Let your eyes rest.” But he was wrong this time. I was dealing with something serious. I was talking to a cemetery sales agent about a burial plot. He saw the screen and froze. I held out my hand. “I’m almost done. Give it back.” He became like a caged beast, veins bulging on his clenched fists. He said nothing, just took my phone and walked out. I came out, picked up the cat by the door, and looked at the closed balcony door. He was out there, chain-smoking, almost swallowed by the haze. 4 In the days that followed, he was exceptionally good to me, indulging my every whim. If I fell asleep by the floor-to-ceiling window while watching the sunset, he would gently carry me to bed. If I lounged in the living room watching TV, he’d join me. He even experimented with foreign cuisines every day, ensuring no two meals were alike. Sometimes, I’d just stare, mesmerized, at him in the kitchen in his loungewear. Oh, and he thoughtfully removed all the calendars from the house, not wanting me to see the thinning stack of days. One day, scrolling through videos, I saw countless flower deliveries. It clicked. It was Valentine’s Day. The bedroom door creaked open. I quickly shut off the video. He had something to say. “What is it?” “I need to go out for a bit.” I paused, then simply replied, “Okay.” He didn’t need to tell me if he was going out. After he left, I changed into a sweater, deciding to go for a walk. The afternoon sun cast a pleasant glow on the streets. We were running low on cat food, so I bought two large bags of cat treats and some of my favorite potato chips. My hands were full, but I still planned to stop at my favorite coffee shop for a hot cup. At a traffic light, I saw the coffee shop across the street. And I knew I wouldn’t be having that coffee. Through the cafe’s large window, Jason looked out, his eyes widening in shock. I hadn’t managed to get away fast enough. Our quiet moment was shattered by my presence, and their festive warmth, too. Amidst the rush of people, I quickly turned and walked away. I didn’t understand it today. Seeing Skye in a red dress, she still looked so vibrant. But the furious hatred I once held for her had completely faded. I remembered the first time I found out about her. I’d stormed over to her bayfront house, smashed things, and we’d fought tooth and nail, scratching each other until our faces bled. Now, looking back, it felt so childish. Carrying my purchases, I hailed a cab home. I fed the cat its treats, rubbed its plump belly, and sighed. Just like me, it loved to sleep after eating. After tucking it into its cat bed, I began packing my clothes. I planned to leave. The thought had crossed my mind before, for no other reason than knowing the very last days of my life would be messy, unsightly. I wanted to find a place where no one would be, to fade away in silence. I packed a large suitcase and carried it to the door, taking one last look at the home I had lovingly created. The sleeping cat woke, looking at me with bewildered eyes. In the taxi, I held the cat. Together, we gazed up at the sky outside the window.

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When my mother, at 55, finally spoke of divorce, My father roared, “Then be gone!” My brother sneered, “Ungrateful old woman!” I stepped through the scattered chaos, grabbed her hand, and said, “Mom, I’m taking you home.” 1 I walked into a living room brimming with people. My father, my brother, my sister-in-law Brittany, and what seemed like every single one of Brittany’s relatives. My mother was alone in the kitchen, silently washing dishes. Seeing me, Dad stubbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, his voice grating with impatience. “Go on, talk some sense into your foolish mother. Your in-laws are staying with us, what’s she kicking up a fuss for?” I scanned the crowded room. “Why are they staying here?” Brittany’s mother, Sharon Jenkins, offered a saccharine smile. “Brittany’s grandma is in the hospital, stroke. Needs constant care. And wouldn’t you know, our place is so much farther from Metropolitan General…” Before she could finish, my brother Kevin cut her off. “Enough, Mom, why are you explaining anything to an outsider?” He turned to me, his lip curling. “Don’t know what bug Mom’s got up her butt. Asking for a divorce at her age? Embarrassing.” “My Mom?” I scoffed, a cold laugh escaping me. “Were you born under a rock? No mother at all?” “You…” Kevin spluttered, caught off guard by my retort. Brittany jumped in, playing peacemaker. “Mia, your brother just spoke without thinking. We asked you to come back to talk to Mom. This fuss she’s making isn’t good for anyone.” “Fine. I’ll talk to her.” I strode directly into the kitchen, picked up the stack of unwashed dishes my mother was about to tackle, and with a resounding crash, I slammed them down on the living room floor. 2 Even as a child, two things became clear to me. I was the least favored person in my family, and my mother was the one who toiled the most. When we visited my grandparents, I was never allowed to eat at the main table. After my mother had painstakingly cooked and served all the food, Grandpa would always feign politeness, saying, “Ellie, there’s not enough room. You take little Amelia to the kitchen to eat.” I was named Amelia when I was born. My mother, who hadn’t had much schooling, later thought the name was too common. She secretly took me to the county office to change it. When the clerk asked her what she wanted to change it to, all she could think of was “Mia.” She said I deserved to be cherished and loved by everyone. So, I became Mia Hayes. Eating in the kitchen was actually a delight, because my mother would always secretly save me a few pieces of meat. While the big family feasted raucously outside, my mother and I would share our quiet, warm meal in the kitchen. My grades were always excellent in school. But when I was in ninth grade, my father wouldn’t let me continue. He said he had connections to get me a factory job, where I could earn at least fifteen hundred a month. I could send a thousand home each month, and with the family’s savings, they could buy my brother a house in the city, helping him get married. My mother refused. Father beat her for it, but she wouldn’t budge. With a bruised and swollen face, she went to my homeroom teacher, begging for a few more days, promising she would find a way to pay my tuition. She went to a construction site, hauling bricks for pennies a piece, working day and night until her fingers were raw and bleeding. Finally, she scraped together enough for my tuition. The day she paid for my schooling, she was brutally beaten by my father again. 3 To take my mother away from that house, I poured all my energy into studying. After getting into a top university, I never stopped urging her to divorce him. But back then, my brother was getting ready to marry. My mother said her children were both “flesh and blood,” and she had to stay to help him with the wedding arrangements. That’s just the kind of person my mother was. She was endlessly loving and nurturing to everyone else, but utterly clueless about loving herself. After Brittany moved in, she took advantage of my father and brother’s backing to blatantly exploit my mother. Every meal had to have at least four different dishes, or else Mom wasn’t “taking her seriously.” If someone in Brittany’s family got sick, my mother had to make nourishing soups daily and visit them, or else she wasn’t “taking her seriously.” My mother had to hand-wash Brittany’s intimate clothing every day, or else she wasn’t “taking her seriously.” My brother had no objections to any of this. In fact, he felt my mother should be even more attentive. My father also saw no problem. He felt incredibly proud when entertaining his in-laws. Both father and son were obsessed with appearances. So, when I smashed that stack of dishes in the living room, their faces turned purple with rage. “Mia Hayes, what the hell are you doing, making a scene like that?” My brother looked ready to charge me, but his mother-in-law held him back. I smiled, a cold, sharp edge to my lips. “I’m ‘talking to’ my mother. She’s divorcing, so there’s no need for her to cook and clean for you leeches anymore. Even a dog, fed a few times, knows to wag its tail. You lot are less human than a canine.” At my words, the faces in the living room shifted, turning ugly. Brittany, in particular, tore off all pretenses and began to shriek at me. My mother, hearing the commotion, rushed in from the kitchen. The moment my father saw her, he unleashed a torrent of curses. “Eleanor, look at what kind of monster you raised!” My mother, gentle by nature, had never cursed anyone in her life. Her lips trembled, but for a long moment, no words of rebuttal came out. In the end, she simply whispered, “Frankie, I told you. I want a divorce.” My father’s voice climbed higher. “Then pack your bags right now! If you want to leave, damn it, then leave! You think I’m giving you a choice?” The others in the living room made a few half-hearted attempts to mediate. I wanted to retort, but my mother gently patted my hand, shaking her head. I reluctantly followed her into the bedroom. Just before I closed the door, I heard my brother snarl, “Two ungrateful bitches.” 4 I’d been on a business trip in New York City recently. Work had been hectic, and I hadn’t kept much in touch with my family. As my mom packed her things, I pieced together the approximate story from the scene outside and her fragmented whispers. Brittany’s grandmother had been hospitalized with a brain hemorrhage at Metropolitan General. Under the guise of taking care of the elderly, Brittany’s parents, Sharon and Gary Jenkins, and her younger brother, Kyle, had all moved into our house. They claimed to be looking after the patient, but in reality, it was my mother who brought the patient’s meals, fed her, emptied her bedpan, and even bathed her. Besides caring for the patient, my mother also had to cook for the entire extended family at home. Brittany insisted that since her parents rarely visited, they had to be well-fed for every single meal. On top of all this, my mother had to look after Brittany’s brother, Kyle. He’d tripped and fallen, complaining of pain all over. My thick-headed brother, eager to curry favor with his in-laws, stupidly boasted that he’d once fallen as a child and my mother had massaged him every night, helping him recover quickly. At their collective insistence, my mother had to spend half an hour every night massaging Kyle’s aching body. My mother said these things didn’t bother her much. “Who cares for whom?” she’d say. “As long as the family is together and happy.” What truly broke her heart was when she fell ill recently, so sick she couldn’t get out of bed. She asked my brother to drive her to the hospital, but he said he had to take Brittany and her family out sightseeing. He told my mother to just lie in bed and, if she felt better, to go visit Brittany’s grandma at the hospital. They all fit perfectly into one car, along with my father. They stayed out all day and didn’t come back. My mother lay in bed for a full day. She hadn’t eaten anything. In the end, she had to call 911 herself. The paramedics asked the building manager to unlock the door, then took my mother to the hospital in an ambulance. When my father and brother returned, they heard the news from the neighbors. Then they went to the hospital and yelled at my mother. My father said my mother was just being dramatic, calling 911 for such a minor thing, costing money and making them look like a joke. My brother said my mother had gotten sick at the worst possible time; Brittany’s grandma was already ill, and now there was one more person to take care of. Brittany herself claimed my mother must have been jealous that my brother took them out, so she’d gotten herself sick out of spite, saying my mother was too petty. Hearing this, I trembled with fury. My mother was incredibly frugal. She would endure pain rather than take medicine, only going to a small clinic for something if she truly couldn’t bear it anymore. How much pain must she have been in to call 911 herself? I looked at my mother’s small, bony back, subtly wiping away the tears that streamed down my face. They wouldn’t stop. My mother said Brittany, afraid of catching something, had left the hospital room after only a few minutes, dragging everyone else with her. An elderly woman in the same hospital room, seeing my mother’s plight, specifically asked her family to bring extra food and shared half with my mother. It was then that my mother realized that, in my father and brother’s eyes, she was worth less than a stranger. It was then that she finally conceived the idea of divorce. 5 My mother’s belongings were few. After toiling for this family for half a lifetime, everything she owned fit into a single duffel bag. As my mother carried her bag out of the room, my sister-in-law’s mother, Sharon Jenkins, came over, feigning concern, and tried to snatch the bag from her hand. “Oh, dear! My dear in-law, what are you doing?” she wailed. “It’s all our fault! We shouldn’t have moved in and caused all this trouble between you two. Oh, what a terrible sin we’ve committed!” Brittany’s mother, a large, beefy woman, barely tugged at my mother’s bag twice before letting out an “ouch!” and clutching her back, claiming she’d twisted it. Brittany’s father, Gary Jenkins, lunged forward, pushing my mother toward the wall, but I stepped in, blocking him. My father and brother stood by, hands in pockets, watching the spectacle. As if the person being bullied wasn’t his wife and his own mother. My mother didn’t spare a glance for anyone else in the house. I shielded her, guiding her directly toward the front door. As my mother was changing her shoes, my father finally spoke. “Eleanor, if you walk out that door today, our family disowns both you and your daughter!” “Disown us then! Who cares?” I couldn’t hold back the seething anger any longer, unleashing it on everyone in the room. I pointed at my father. “You’re nothing but a coward who only acts tough at home, selfish and self-serving. You can’t even speak up in front of strangers, but you’re a bully to my mother.” I pointed at my brother. “You’re a spineless leech, always turning your back on your own family, with no backbone of your own. All you do is grovel and flatter your wife’s family, you pathetic excuse for a man.” I pointed at Brittany. “Every meal can’t have less than four dishes? Did you never eat at home? Did you come to my house begging for food?” I pointed at Sharon Jenkins. “Your mother’s sick, and you expect my mother to make her soup, sit by her bedside, and clean her? Is your whole family dead?” I pointed at Kyle. “You fell and hurt yourself, and you want my mother to massage your back? What, did you break your legs and become a cripple?” And finally, I pointed at Gary Jenkins. “And you! My mother cooked and cared for you, and you still had the nerve to push her? You heartless bastard!” “Mia Hayes, you wanna fight, you little B-word?” My brother rolled up his sleeves, ready to lunge. I pulled out the small fruit knife I’d hidden in my pocket, my voice chillingly calm. “Try me, if you’re not afraid to die.” “Mia, have you lost your mind?” Brittany quickly pulled my brother back. I swept my gaze across everyone in the room. “I’ll have a lawyer draft the divorce papers and send them over. From now on, whether you live or die, it has nothing to do with my mother or me!” With that, I picked up my mother’s duffel bag with one hand and pulled her out the door with the other. “Mom, I’m taking you home.” 6 Last year, I bought a small two-bedroom apartment, telling no one. After my mom put her few things away, she still looked shaken. “Mia, why did you pull out that knife? What if you’d hurt yourself? Don’t be so foolish next time.” I sat beside her, gently putting my arm around her. “Because I was determined to take you away, Mom. Just like that year after I graduated high school, when you took a knife and dragged me away from the old place.” When I got my college acceptance letter, my grandparents, uncharacteristically, invited us back to the old homestead for a gathering. They said it was to celebrate my getting into college. But when we arrived, it was clearly a trap. My grandparents had heard from others that once a girl went to college, she was like a kite with a broken string—she’d never come back. This made them, who had always planned to use my “settlement” to subsidize their precious grandson, extremely anxious. They conspired with my father and brother. They found a family in the village with similar standing, accepted a significant payment from them for my hand, and planned a meal to serve as the “wedding feast.” Then, they’d let the man take me away to make sure the deed was done, and the marriage would be irreversible. Sensing something was terribly wrong, I kicked over the table and ran. But I was outnumbered and caught. The man’s mother, seeing my fierce spirit, urged him to take me home immediately and “finish things.” They stuffed my mouth with a rag and bound me tightly with rope. The man lifted me onto his shoulder, walking step by agonizing step toward his house. Just as I despaired, wishing for death, my mother, who had been locked in the woodshed, burst out from somewhere, brandishing a kitchen knife. Her hair was disheveled, and she swung the knife wildly at anyone who came near, single-handedly rescuing me. “I’d like to see who dares touch my daughter! If you’re not afraid to die, come closer!” she screamed. “My daughter is capable, and she’s going to college! If you dare ruin her, I’ll fight you to the death!” That year, despite being malnourished, I had grown to five feet seven inches. My mother was barely five feet two. Years of constant labor had reduced her to skin and bones. But in that moment, I saw her as monumental. More monumental than the sky or the earth. My grandparents threatened suicide, hanging and drowning, to force her hand. My mother’s resolve remained unshaken. She called the police. My father and that man were held for two weeks. My mother, fearing they’d plot against me again, gave me every penny she had. “My girl,” she’d said, “your mother is useless. Take this money, go far away, and don’t ever come back.” I begged her to come with me, but she steadfastly refused. At first, I resented her for her apparent ignorance. Later, I realized she wasn’t ignorant. She was simply trapped by her generation’s beliefs. She had been taught from childhood that men were everything, that women were born to serve men, that a woman must bear sons to continue the family line. She hadn’t received a proper education, hadn’t seen the grand, vibrant world outside. But her love for me gave her the courage to defy every principle she’d been taught. 7 The day after my mother moved into my apartment, my uncle called her. He chided her for being irresponsible at her age, for abandoning the family and living luxuriously with her “ungrateful” daughter. “Ellie, how can you be such a mother? Frankie and your nephew don’t know how to cook. Are you trying to starve them?” he scolded. “A man is the most important, a man is someone you can truly rely on. How long do you think you can stay with Mia? She’ll get married eventually, she’ll become someone else’s family. In the end, you’ll just slink back!” “Listen to your brother, go back and apologize to the family, and this whole thing will blow over. What kind of scene are you making?” My mother sat on the sofa, clutching her phone, looking helpless. She tried to explain the whole story to my uncle. On the other end of the line, my uncle scoffed, “Oh, what’s the big deal? Your in-laws rarely visit, your nephew had to entertain them properly. And honestly, when else could you get sick but then? Whose fault is that?” “If your nephew keeps his wife happy, and she gives the Hayes family a big, healthy grandson, it’ll bring so much honor to your family name!” My mother’s eyes dimmed, a flicker of hope dying within them.

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1 Just because Dr. Chloe Flynn, his intern and junior colleague, wanted to perform the surgery, Dr. Liam Thorne allowed her to practice on our son’s circumcision. “My junior colleague possesses extraordinary talent. You should count yourself lucky she’s willing to operate.” This was about our son’s future, his very essence. I wanted an experienced surgeon, but Liam exploded, pointing a furious finger at my face. “Don’t you dare look down on her. What if she’s just an intern? Even the chief started out as an intern.” I clung to the operating room doors, pleading desperately. “Let’s not do this. Can I just take our son home?” He kicked me aside, shoving our son inside. “The child you raised is just like you, utterly pathetic.” “Get out! Don’t embarrass me here. Patient trust is ruined by people like you.” It was days later, after he had attended a seminar with his junior colleague, when he finally reviewed the surgical recording. He saw our son’s very manhood severed… The operating room doors finally swung open. Our son was wheeled out, his face deathly pale, like a discarded rag. His pants were soaked with blood, and he was completely unconscious. Panic seized me. They said it was just a minor procedure. Why was he bleeding so much? But no one at the hospital paid me any mind. They simply put us in a corner room that smelled faintly of decay. When no one was watching, I trembled as I unfastened our son’s clothes to examine him. Red and yellow fluids glued his clothes to his skin. When I tugged, our son let out a heart-wrenching scream of pain. The next second, a bowl-sized wound was exposed to the air. My mind buzzed, and the world spun violently around me. Our son’s future, his very manhood, had been severed. Coming to my senses, I scrambled, half-crawling, out to find a doctor, but the room door had been locked from the outside at some point. With all the hospital equipment around, this particular dead-end room had no cell signal. Helpless, I kept pressing the nurse call button, banging on the door, and shouting. “Liam Thorne, are you out there? Please come save our son! His life is in danger!” “Is anyone there? Help! Is there a doctor?” My shrill cries echoed through the corridor. A distant nurse, yawning, finally approached. She opened the door and shoved me roughly. “What’s all that screaming for? A funeral? He’s just bleeding a little. Is your child made of gold?” “Director Thorne and Dr. Flynn are at an academic conference. Who has time to watch your son all day?” I ignored the throbbing pain of my twisted wrist, bit my tongue to force myself calm, and stammered. “Fine, he’s not here, that’s okay. Are there any other doctors? My son is really in a bad state. Please, save him.” The nurse rolled her eyes, scoffing. “This was a surgery approved by Director Thorne and performed by Dr. Flynn herself. What do you, a shrew, know?” “And it’s after hours. This isn’t your hospital; you can’t just demand to see anyone you want.” I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Even the junior nurses knew Director Thorne and Dr. Flynn were the hospital’s ‘golden couple,’ while I, his legal wife, was treated like a pariah. Crash! Glass shattered, flying. I smashed a water glass, then held a shard to my throat, threatening. “This is medical malpractice! And because I’m Liam Thorne’s wife! My son isn’t just having normal post-op bleeding, his manhood was mistakenly severed! Call Leo’s father now!” I pressed the glass hard against myself, nearly piercing my throat. With every word, blood trickled from my neck. The young nurse’s face went white. She angrily dialed Liam Thorne. The moment the call connected, I snatched the phone, babbling incoherently for help. 2 “Liam Thorne, come back now! His manhood, our son’s manhood is gone!” “Reattachment has a window of six hours! If you don’t come back and save him, his life will be ruined forever!” At that moment, no other thought crossed my mind, only the desperate need to save my son. On the other end of the line, Liam Thorne paused for several seconds. He knew I would never joke about our son. “Alright, wait for me. I’ll be there immediately—” But then, Dr. Chloe Flynn’s syrupy voice drifted through the phone. “Senior colleague, do you not trust my medical skills?” “I’m your personal protégé, the rose you personally cultivated. Don’t you trust yourself, or don’t you trust me?” Though Chloe was Liam’s intern, she was cross-trained in medicine, originally studying administration. She had never set foot in an operating room before. Liam Thorne’s voice instantly turned icy. “Skye, don’t think I don’t know your sordid thoughts. We’re merely conducting legitimate business.” “His manhood is severed? Why don’t you just say he’s dead? It was just a circumcision. To frame Chloe, you’d even curse your own son. You, you shrew, are beyond redemption.” “Oh, dear, my sister-in-law is just anxious. Senior colleague, look at this lace lingerie. Isn’t it pretty? Buy some to appease your wife.” I broke down. Our son’s life hung in the balance, yet my husband was shopping for lingerie with another woman. What kind of “legitimate business” required a visit to a lingerie store? After the call ended, the nurse walked away with a look of disdain. Perhaps in her eyes, I was merely a jealous madwoman. Due to a post-surgical infection, our son began to convulse with fever. I wanted to hold him, but I was afraid of hurting him, so I could only repeatedly try to cool him down with cold compresses. Our son whimpered, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Daddy, am I brave?” At that moment, tears streamed down my face. He was the child I had conceived after three years of IVF. I had always been meticulous in raising him, sometimes overly so. But because of his gentle nature, Liam always found him disappointing. This time, our son had only cooperated with the surgery because he wanted to be brave, just like Daddy said. It was my fault, my baby. I’m so sorry. Our son saw me crying and tried to wipe away my tears. As he shifted, he suddenly bled out. The bed sheets beneath him instantly became soaked in blood. Seeing this, I panicked, losing a shoe as I ran. I furiously hammered on the room door, screaming for help again. Fortunately, the nurse on duty returned. Before I could even explain our son’s condition, several burly men rushed out from behind her. “This woman’s insane. She’s been causing a scene all night. Director Thorne said she has mental health issues. Just handle her.” After saying that, the men approached with leers, roughly lifted me, and strapped me to the hospital bed, spread-eagled. Countless large hands took the opportunity to roam over my body. Even my inner thighs were bruised purple. My wrists were raw with blood from the restraints. Unable to move, I struggled to signal the nurse with my head to look at my son. “The child is bleeding heavily. If he doesn’t get help soon, he’ll die. Please, find a doctor.” They injected me with a sedative. I slammed my head against the metal bed frame, the stinging pain of tears mixing with blood the only thing keeping me somewhat conscious. The nurse saw the bed sheet beneath our son, blackened and soaked with blood. Her knees buckled. She quickly called Liam Thorne. “Director, maybe you should come back and take a look. This child really has bled a lot.” Liam Thorne sighed impatiently. “Post-op bleeding is perfectly normal, isn’t it? Are you even a medical professional? Can’t handle this? Just quit.” “And if that woman keeps causing trouble, just throw her out.” After the call ended, I looked at the nurse with desperate hope, praying she would stop our son’s bleeding. 3 To my horror, she held her nose, glanced at him from a distance, then turned and uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide from a cabinet, pouring it directly onto his wound. “Hear that? A little post-op bleeding is normal. Why are you screaming like a banshee? Remember to pay for the soiled sheets.” “This surgery was performed by Dr. Flynn and overseen by Director Thorne. How could anything go wrong? We see plenty of entitled mothers like you.” The moment the hydrogen peroxide touched our son’s wound, the surrounding flesh immediately curled and blanched. She then continued to prod the raw flesh in his wound with tweezers. Our son convulsed in agony, his body twisting, only to be yanked straight by the nurse. A guttural gasp rasped in his throat. Watching my son, in too much pain to even cry, I desperately hammered the metal bed, struggling to get down. “Son, my son, just a little longer. Mommy will find a way to save you.” He was only five, he should have been growing up without a care in the world. Instead, he was lying here. His manhood severed. How ironic that Liam Thorne was the best surgeon in the city, having saved countless limbs, yet he refused to come back and save his own son. As I saw my son’s struggles weaken, I exerted all my strength, biting down, and deliberately breaking my own wrist. Ignoring the searing pain of my fractured right hand, I slowly dragged myself next to my son, pressing tightly against his small body. You were brought into this world by your mother, and your mother will never, ever abandon you. In my fading consciousness, my phone, which had been without signal, suddenly flickered twice. I clenched my broken bone, using the pain to force myself to stay awake. Even a sliver of hope, I had to try. Dragging my broken right hand, I crawled on my knees until I finally reached my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, my son has a severe injury and is bleeding heavily from his lower body. Our address is St. Jude’s Medical Center…” But the operator on the other end mercilessly rejected me. “Patient transfer requires a certificate from the attending physician. Furthermore, you are already at the best hospital in this city. Please do not over-utilize medical resources.” I held the phone, almost in despair. By then, our son’s pupils were already somewhat dilated. He murmured faintly, over and over. “Mommy, I hurt so bad. Where’s Daddy? Didn’t he say he’d stay with me if I was a brave little man?” My heart felt like it was tearing apart. I wished the pain was mine. Unsure how to respond, I could only press my forehead against his, trying to soothe him. “Baby, don’t sleep. Daddy will be back soon.” Now, I had no extravagant hopes. I accepted that my son had lost his manhood. I just wanted him to live. He was my flesh and blood. I desperately hammered on the door, the glass shattering, piercing my palm, but I felt no pain. If only my child could be saved, I would willingly die right now. Perhaps heaven heard my prayer. The door before me suddenly opened a crack. I frantically crawled out, only seeing the hurried back of a cleaning lady. I knew this was the most she could do. I used to save empty bottles for her every time I visited. My wrist was broken, so I crawled forward on my elbows. Soon, both elbows were a bloody mess, revealing bone. I crawled tirelessly, leaving a long, crimson trail behind me. Finally, a pair of leather shoes stopped in front of me. I grabbed the person’s pant leg, disregarding everything else, repeating my plea. “Please, save my child.” Then I passed out. 4 When I next awoke, I assumed my son had already received treatment. To my shock, he was sprawled crookedly amidst medical waste, his body covered in filth. Suddenly, a searing pain shot through my scalp. Someone was yanking my hair, forcing my head up. “So you’re the one saying my daughter messed up a surgery? I think you’re just here to cause trouble.” “I truly don’t know how Thorne ever fell for a woman like you. Just die already and make way for my daughter.” The person was Dean Flynn, Dr. Chloe Flynn’s mother and the hospital’s director. She had always wanted Liam Thorne as a son-in-law, but I had somehow gotten in the way years ago. I prostrated myself on the ground, frantically kowtowing to her, not caring if I died. The floor was soon slick with my blood. “Please, save my child. If you’ll save him, I’ll divorce Liam Thorne tomorrow. I’ll take the child and never disturb their lives again.” Dean Flynn kicked me over, then closed the door again. “My daughter is a precious jewel; she will never marry a divorced man. If she marries, it will only be a widower.” I closed my eyes, letting the blood obscure my vision. My son and I would likely not make it out today, no matter what. If anything happened to him, I’d bash my head against the wall beside him, so he wouldn’t be lonely on his journey. Suddenly, the phone rang. Dean Flynn’s eyes held a complex expression as she walked into a darker corner to answer. “Is that Thorne? The Chief Consultant personally came to check. The child is fine. I’ve arranged a private nursing room for both mother and child.” “Don’t worry about the Chief Consultant. You focus on your conference over there; leave this to me. “Oh, coincidentally, the child is asleep right now. He can’t talk to you.” It seemed Liam Thorne still cared about our son. I screamed with all my might. “She’s lying to you! The child is in critical condition! She’s covering up Chloe’s mistake!” Liam Thorne, who had been somewhat hesitant, immediately became enraged. He cursed at me over the phone. “Are you just bored out of your mind? You complain about my junior colleague being an intern, and now you’re slandering my Chief Consultant? “If you’re unhappy with everyone, then just get out of the hospital.” Liam Thorne hung up, watched by Dean Flynn’s sneering eyes. My son and I were dragged back into the corner like two dead dogs. “Thorne has spoken. Trash belongs in the trash heap. Just wait to die and make way for my daughter.” The trash room was swarming with mosquitoes. Flies, drawn by the scent of blood, laid eggs in our son’s wound. Despite my tireless efforts to shoo them away, it was useless. After what felt like an eternity, our son stopped responding to my words. His body grew cold, then his wound began to emit a putrid stench. Soon, maggots crawled out of his flesh. I held my son tightly, rocking him gently, singing his favorite nursery rhymes, hoping he would call me “Mommy” one more time. In my haze, I seemed to hear Liam Thorne’s voice. I strained on tiptoes, peering out the window. Dr. Chloe Flynn was being pushed into Liam Thorne’s embrace by a crowd. Both of them blushed furiously, and the surrounding people jeered. “Congratulations, Dr. Flynn, on your first successful surgery! Aren’t the two heroes going to kiss?” Discharged? Were they talking about us? Who would have thought we were locked in a trash room? Just a door away. Liam Thorne and his mistress reaped fame and fortune outside. Our son seemed to hear his father’s voice and convulsed twice more, then died in my arms. At this point, I had nothing left to live for in this world. I took off the only piece of clothing still intact and wiped my son’s face. My son liked to be clean. He’d get upset if his clothes or face were dirty. But Liam Thorne hated this, saying our son was being dramatic. Yet, I had seen Dr. Chloe throw a fit because the hem of her skirt was dirty, and Liam half-knelt to clean it for her. Was Chloe not “dramatic” then? Perhaps he just despised everything about me and our son. “My baby, if there’s a next life, remember to choose a daddy who loves you.” After wiping our son’s face clean, I tied him tightly to my back with my clothes, then hurled myself backward through the sea-facing window.

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From the moment I was born, a specter in scarlet clung to me. She was my father’s mistress, a vengeful spirit unable to find peace after he abandoned her, driving her to leap to her death. Her malice claimed my parents, but I, blessed by fate and generations of pure souls, narrowly escaped her grasp. Still, she ensured my life was far from peaceful. To appease her simmering wrath, I lived within the hallowed walls of a cloister for twenty years. Just three days before the scarlet specter was due to finally cross over, Marcus Thorne burst into my sanctuary, desperate for my aid to quell a terrible affliction that threatened to consume him. I couldn’t bear to watch him suffer such a violent demise, but I knew the scarlet specter detested oath-breakers. So, I laid down my terms. “If you take my purity, you must pledge your unwavering devotion to me. You must never betray me in this life, or you will face retribution. Are you certain you want my help?” Marcus swore his allegiance without a moment’s hesitation. Yet, seven years later, it was he who leaned in and pressed his lips to Lydia Sterling’s, then casually remarked to a friend, “Willow is utterly devoid of passion. All she knows is silent contemplation. I’ve long grown weary of her detached demeanor!” I glanced at the scarlet specter beside me, her translucent form alight with scornful amusement, then turned and walked away. Those who break their sacred vows are destined to face their reckoning. … When I returned to the manor, all my belongings had been unceremoniously dumped in the great hall. The maid, Elara, looked at me with open mockery. “His Lordship says Lady Lydia will be staying tonight. She is delicate and needs the sunniest room.” I didn’t bother to argue. I was leaving anyway. As I gathered my things, Marcus entered, his arm possessively draped around Lydia. The moment Lydia heard she’d be staying in my former bedchamber, she visibly winced. “I refuse to sleep in a room someone else has occupied, Marcus! You know I have a strong aversion to… shared spaces!” She disdained my former room. Yet, she felt no revulsion for the man I had shared. Marcus didn’t hesitate. “I’ll contact a design firm tomorrow to redecorate the room to your exact specifications. For tonight, you’ll have to make do with the guest suite.” He added, with a reassuring smile, “Rest assured, it’s a guest suite no one has ever occupied before.” Elara’s gaze grew even more pointedly mocking. I found it rather ironic myself, especially recalling that Marcus had said the very same words to me seven years ago, when I first followed him here. Seven years, and he’d forgotten everything. Just as I prepared to leave, Marcus turned to me. “Lydia hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Didn’t you say your amulet helped you sleep soundly? Let her try yours.” My amulet. It was the only thing that kept the scarlet specter at bay. Before I wore it, she tormented me every night, stealing my peace. Only with its protection could I manage to rest. Fearing Marcus would be afraid, I had never told him about the specter, but I had told him that the amulet had to be worn twenty-four hours a day, never to be removed. “I…” Before I could even speak, Marcus, impatient, reached out and yanked the amulet from around my neck. “It’s just an amulet, why are you being so difficult?” As he spoke, Marcus offered the amulet to Lydia, but she recoiled in disgust. Remembering her aversion to “shared spaces,” he quickly handed the amulet to Elara instead. “Take it to the sun terrace and let it air out for two days, then bring it to Lady Lydia.” Freed from its constraint, the scarlet specter instantly materialized before me, her spectral face alight with a mocking grin. It was as if she was taunting me for breaking my sacred vows seven years ago, all for Marcus. I ignored her, turning to leave, when my phone suddenly rang. “Miss Thorne, you must come back! Someone has stormed the mountain and is demolishing the cloister!” My heart sank. I immediately turned and raced towards the door—but before I could reach the main entrance, the manor’s guards seized me, dragging me back into the villa and forcing me onto a bed. Marcus stood beside the bed, his expression grim. “Lydia says that when you were near her just now, she felt noticeably better. But the moment you left, she could barely breathe.” He sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking my hair. “They say you are blessed with ten lifetimes of purity. Since your blood type matches Lydia’s, perhaps a transfusion might cure her illness.” “Don’t worry, it’s just a little blood. It won’t hurt.” The family physician, Dr. Evans, inserted a needle as thick as my thumb into my arm. I had always been terrified of pain and couldn’t help biting my lip. Marcus watched, about to say something, when Lydia’s distressed cry echoed from outside the room. “Marcus, where are you?!” Marcus sprang up, rushing out of the room. By the time 400cc of blood had been drawn, my vision was already blurring. Before Dr. Evans could even remove the needle, Lydia’s agonizing cry rang out again. “My dearest Marcus, I feel so unwell!” Marcus’s anxious voice followed. “Why hasn’t she improved after the transfusion? Is it not enough blood?” He ordered, “Dr. Evans, draw another 400cc, quickly!” Dr. Evans looked troubled. “My Lord, the Duchess is already anemic. 400cc is the absolute limit. If I draw more, I fear…” Marcus cut him off without hesitation. “Just draw it! What’s with all the excuses? Can’t you see Lydia is practically dying?!” Dr. Evans, unable to dissuade him, met my gaze with a look of profound reluctance. “Duchess…” “It’s alright, Dr. Evans. Just draw it.” At that moment, all I wanted was for this to end so I could rush to the cloister to see what had happened. So, after a total of 800cc was drawn, I immediately tried to sit up. Dr. Evans quickly pressed me down. “Duchess, you must remain in bed and rest. You absolutely cannot get up!” “No, I have to go.” Pushing Dr. Evans aside, I forced myself to stand, walking towards the door. But due to severe blood loss, my legs buckled, and I stumbled. Marcus suddenly appeared, catching me and pulling me into his arms. “What are you doing? Dr. Evans said you need to rest, didn’t he?!” “Let me go, I have to leave…” I struggled to break free. Marcus suddenly lifted me, forcefully placed me back on the bed, and pinned my shoulders down with his hands. “Willow, what you need right now is rest! Whatever it is, it can wait until you’ve recovered!” Dr. Evans also chimed in, “Duchess, please listen to His Lordship! Right now, all you can do is rest in bed.” But how could I possibly have time to rest? By the time my body recovered, the cloister would be completely demolished! I struggled again, but Marcus held me down firmly. In my frantic effort, a sudden horrifying realization flashed in my mind. I stared at the man before me, disbelief etched on my face. “You ordered the cloister to be torn down?!” In that moment our eyes met, a flicker of guilt was unmistakable in his. But the very next second, he spoke with defiant self-righteousness. “That old charlatan has been deceiving people for years! Someone should have dealt with him long ago! I demolished it for the good of the people! To prevent anyone else from being swindled!” “You, too, were deceived by him! He said you couldn’t leave, but you’ve been with me all these years and you’re perfectly fine, aren’t you?!” He clearly forgot that the “old charlatan” he spoke of had saved his life when he was bitten by a venomous serpent on that very mountain. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. “Anyone has the right to say that, but not you!” Pushing Marcus away, I immediately tried to stand, but the surge of anger overwhelmed me, and I lost consciousness. I woke up in the infirmary. Marcus sat by my bed, his face a mixture of complex emotions. “The physician says you’re three months pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me?” I ignored him, attempting to get up. He pressed me back down onto the bed. I had no strength to resist, so I just stared at him coldly. “If you’re so powerful, then keep me confined for life.” “You…” Marcus was about to speak when Lydia’s call came through. He quickly mumbled, “I’ll see you later,” then turned and rushed out, leaving two guards outside the door. I couldn’t get out, and I couldn’t find my phone. I finally managed to secretly borrow a phone from a sympathetic nurse and sent a message. After sleeping for a whole afternoon, strength finally returned to my body. I persuaded a nurse to exchange clothes with me, and I swiftly left the room. In the corridor, a patient’s family member was scrolling through videos on their phone. On the screen, Lydia, in a haute couture gown, clung to Marcus’s arm, a perfect pair. My gaze, however, was fixed on the sapphire jewelry adorning Lydia’s neck, ears, wrists, and fingers… Those pieces were originally designed by Marcus specifically for me. He had said that sapphires symbolized loyalty and steadfastness, just like our love. He had even hired a renowned jeweler, who spent three years on the design. But now, they graced another woman. On the screen, the host continuously praised the couple as a golden pair, a match made in heaven, and Marcus never once denied it. The scarlet specter, witnessing this, once again twisted her face into a mocking smile. I tried to ignore the bitterness welling in my heart, walking towards the nurse’s station to handle my discharge. But a few yards away, I suddenly heard the nurses inside talking: “The patient in Room 308’s husband has scheduled an abortion for her. Tomorrow morning at nine. Prepare for it.” Another nurse gasped in surprise. “Room 308’s patient is so anemic. Can she even withstand the procedure?” The speaking nurse shrugged. “That’s beyond our control…” Dismissing the idea of discharge, I turned and walked out of the infirmary. I needed to pick up my identification documents to travel, which meant returning to the manor. I assumed Marcus and Lydia were still at their interview and wouldn’t be back so soon, but to my surprise, they were already there, blocking my path. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the infirmary?” Marcus exclaimed, realizing I had escaped. He rushed forward, grabbing my wrist. “Come! Back to the infirmary with me!” Lydia’s eyes flashed with quick resentment, and she began to feign distress. “It’s all my fault for being so delicate, that Marcus had to force you to give me a transfusion, causing you to suffer a loss of vitality, and now the baby might be lost. Miss Thorne, please blame me!” Marcus could never bear to see her cry. He immediately released my hand and pulled Lydia into his embrace. “This has nothing to do with you. You have no reason to blame yourself!” Lydia leaned into Marcus’s chest, casting a triumphant, challenging smirk my way. The next second, she adopted a falsely compassionate tone. “Miss Thorne rushed back in such a hurry. She must want to see the Abbot off, one last time, mustn’t she?” Her words instantly sent a chill down my spine. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘see the Abbot off, one last time’?!” Lydia raised a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. “Oh, Miss Thorne didn’t know? The Abbot took a fall an hour ago. He’s… passed away.” This news struck me like a bolt of lightning. Although I knew Lydia wouldn’t joke about such a thing, I still stared at Marcus in disbelief. “She’s lying to me, isn’t she?” Meeting my gaze, Marcus’s guilt was evident, but he quickly puffed out his chest, feigning righteousness. “That old charlatan has been swindling people for years! His death is no loss. Falling to his death was too easy a fate for him!” To hear him utter such heartless words, I lunged at him, but Marcus angrily shoved me to the ground. “Are you done making a scene? If you keep this up, do you think I’ll let you see that old charlatan one last time?!” Lydia clung to Marcus’s arm, looking down at me with disdain. “Marcus, Miss Thorne is simply distraught with worry. After all, she lived in that cloister for twenty years. It’s understandable that she wants to see the Abbot off. For my sake, since she gave me blood, why don’t you take her along tomorrow?” Marcus’s expression immediately softened. “If not for Lydia pleading on your behalf, I certainly wouldn’t take you. Don’t you have a thank you for her?” How utterly ridiculous! My movements, my choices, now required the sanction of his mistress! Realizing I wouldn’t be able to leave tonight, I didn’t bother with further words. I turned and walked directly to the guest room. I planned to get a good night’s rest, but no sooner had I lain down than the door was violently kicked open.

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