Category: English

Two years after my childhood friend, Bob, had rejected my ninety-nine marriage proposals, he called me, his voice a heart-wrenching sob. His grandmother was gravely ill, he choked out, and her dying wish was to see him married. He not only agreed to marry me, but he’d also prepared a wedding gown for me and booked a venue. But when I arrived at the grand hall, dressed in the gown, his friends suddenly erupted in laughter. “She’ll believe anything, won’t she? And she actually swapped the discount, mail-order dress for a haute couture one! What a prime example of a simpering puppy!” Then they bellowed to the bewildered guests, “The groom’s mistress is here to crash the wedding!” “Security! Get the mistress!” Guests rose from their seats, their gazes converging on me, eager for the spectacle. Bob, meanwhile, gazed with sickening devotion at his lifelong crush, Valerie. “I promised I’d help you ruin the wedding, and I always keep my word,” he murmured, his voice laced with possessive triumph. “As long as I’m here, what you can’t have, no one else will!” Seeing Valerie finally smile, he then turned to me. “Valerie said that since you helped out this time, you can be a bridesmaid at our wedding. She even said you can continue to revolve around me afterwards.” It turned out he’d tricked me into coming here, all to help his precious Valerie sabotage the wedding of the man she couldn’t have. But then Bob saw the bride’s photo on the display stand, and his eyes suddenly went bloodshot. … The security guard’s hand on my shoulder jolted me awake. This was another elaborate charade. Bob brushed the guard’s hand away, a forced look of apology on his face. “My apologies, everyone, a misunderstanding! This is just a friend of mine. We were only playing a prank!” The guards grumbled and walked away. Bob, with an almost sickening gentleness, smoothed the wrinkles from my gown. “Elara, are you alright?” Bob’s friends were practically rolling on the floor with laughter. “Bob, you’re something else! Can’t believe she actually showed up just from one phone call!” “Yeah, that wedding dress looks expensive, though. Didn’t you say you told her it was a ninety-nine-dollar mail-order one?” “What a true simpering puppy, buying her own wedding dress! She must be absolutely desperate to marry Bob!” The spotlight from the chandelier hit my face, and the guests’ whispers drifted to me, each word more cutting than the last. My heart slowly sank. Bob raised a hand, feigning a punch at his friends. “Elara was a great help this time. You guys be nice to her!” Then he turned to me, his smile sickeningly sweet. “Thanks for today.” Just as I thought I detected a sliver of remorse, he rubbed his hands together, excitement bubbling in his voice. “Valerie said you did her a huge favor this time. When we get married later, we’ll ask you to be a bridesmaid!” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She won’t even mind if you keep revolving around me afterwards! How about that? Wasn’t today worth it?” His friends, seeing his gesture, chuckled. “Bob, don’t stand so close to her. She’ll get the wrong idea again!” “She came running to marry you without a second thought, and she never learns even after being fooled so many times. How much must she love you?” It turned out they all knew about my ninety-nine marriage proposals to Bob. Each time, he’d neither accepted nor rejected, just laughed it off, telling me to stop being silly. In the past, I would have been heartbroken, crying and running away. But this time, I merely rubbed my aching shoulder and spread my hands to his friends. “Well, since you’re all here, aren’t you going to offer a wedding gift?” Valerie, who had been hiding to the side, enjoying the spectacle, gasped in horror. “Elara! You didn’t seriously think this was your wedding, did you? Bob, darling, did we take this too far?” Valerie was Bob’s lifelong crush. He had manipulated and ridiculed me for her countless times. But Valerie, all along, only saw him as a backup. She went through boyfriends one after another, and every time she broke up, she would run to Bob, crying in his arms. Bob would affectionately ruffle her hair. “Silly girl, don’t worry, she’s just gone crazy from all the times I’ve rejected her.” Then his gaze flickered over my face, full of disdain. Even in that fleeting second, my heart still stung as if pricked by needles. He thought I had been tricked into coming here. But the truth was, last night, when he called, I was at the hospital, visiting his grandmother. The old woman was perfectly lucid, even pulling me into a conversation over pumpkin seeds. On the phone, his voice was choked with tears. “Elara, are you still willing to marry me?” My heart pounded for less than a second, then… “Grandmother… she’s fading…” I looked at the vibrant old woman before me, and the hand holding my phone slowly grew cold. If I hadn’t witnessed it myself, I would have thought he’d seen the digital invitation I’d posted on my social media and finally come to his senses, filled with regret. I answered calmly, “Alright.” After hanging up, someone sent me a screenshot of a group chat. Bob had posted my digital invitation in his friends’ group. [Look at this, Elara is harassing me into marriage to this extent!] His friends replied almost instantly: [There’s not even a picture on this invitation, she needs to commit to the bit if she wants to fool anyone!] [She must have found out Valerie was coming to see Bob, and she’s gone crazy with anxiety, hasn’t she?] Bob posted a sunglasses emoji: [I just called her and told her to come get married tomorrow.] A friend replied: [No need to guess, she definitely cried with happiness and said yes instantly!] Bob: [You guys all come tomorrow, at the address on her digital invitation. I’ve even got her a ninety-nine-dollar mail-order wedding dress ready.] [If it wasn’t for Valerie, I wouldn’t even spend ninety-nine dollars on her.] [Bob, maybe you should pity Elara and just enjoy having both of them tomorrow!] [Ugh, don’t disgust me. She’s not even fit to carry Valerie’s shoes! If Valerie hadn’t begged me, I wouldn’t have given her another chance to cling to me!] I thought that after all this time, such cruel words wouldn’t hurt me anymore. But my vision slowly blurred, and tears still ungracefully streamed down my face. My decades of devotion were worth less than a single request from Valerie. As long as Valerie was happy, he would gladly trample my dignity into the dirt. Bob and I grew up in the same neighborhood. Our fathers were colleagues. One day, they were down in the mine for inspection when an accident occurred, and the mine collapsed. To save my father, his father was permanently buried underground. Bob was only ten years old that year. His mother couldn’t bear the pressure of life and secretly ran away, leaving him and his grandmother to rely on each other. Out of guilt, I tried my best to be good to him. Falling in love with him seemed like a natural progression. But he fell for the beautiful transfer student, Valerie. He found me annoying trailing behind him, so he changed my college application to a school a thousand miles away. Valerie needed research data for a project, and he’d call me in the middle of the night, demanding I rush over. I had followed him like a loyal dog for fifteen years. But now, fifteen years had passed. My debt was repaid. It was time to let go. Valerie dramatically clutched my hand. “Elara, your diamond ring is huge!” Bob glanced at it, scoffing. “Probably from a discount store. Lab-grown diamonds aren’t worth much these days.” His friend, Butch, chimed in, egging him on. “Exactly, Elara! Don’t be so vain. If you’re really desperate to get married, Bob’s out of your league. Maybe I could stoop to it!” He grinned, exposing a mouthful of yellowed teeth, and reached out to touch my hand. I slapped his hand away hard, snarling, “Get lost!” Butch’s face crumpled in anger. He spat on the floor and cursed, “Pah! You think you’re some prize? Trying to be nice and you act like a spoiled brat. Do you really think I’d want you?!” Bob, hearing my words, flared with anger. “Elara, did I give you permission to talk to my friend like that?!” I watched his face redden with rage, and my heart grew colder with each passing moment. No matter how much I gave him, in his eyes, I was still worth less than Valerie. Even his hangers-on could mock and demean me at will. Valerie’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She tugged at Bob’s sleeve. “Bob, darling, don’t be so harsh on a girl. After all, she came to help.” She then walked towards me, her expression innocent. “Elara, thank you so much for today. Renting that wedding dress must have cost a lot, didn’t it? And it looks like haute couture! You really went all out!” Bob put his arm around her, his face filled with feigned concern. “Valerie, you’re just too kind. I’m sure she just rented it!” He glanced at me, his eyes full of mockery. “This is the most luxurious hotel in the city. Even I only rented it for an hour. How could she find a wealthy husband to book out the entire place?” Valerie pouted and burrowed into his embrace, like a delicate white flower, pure and utterly endearing. “Bob, darling, how can you say that about Elara? She’s genuinely devoted to you!” Having followed him for so many years, I had long seen through her true nature. A pure and innocent façade in public, but in private, she indulged in smoking, drinking, and every vice imaginable. Yet, Bob was completely ensnared by her false purity; he had even paid for her abortions. When I tried to kindly warn him, all I received was his furious glare.

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I was chosen as a Thorne family daughter-in-law from childhood. At twenty, I married Asher Thorne, a man with autism. For five years, Asher consistently disliked me. He recoiled from my touch, let alone shared a bed with me. Then, he met a girl. In front of her, he reined in all his quirks, awkwardly striving to be agreeable. He would write songs for her, and give her gifts. Even his study, a sanctuary I was forbidden to enter, was flung open to her without reservation. I knew Asher had found someone he liked. And I knew I no longer wanted to care for him. So, I sought out Grandfather Thorne. I told him I wanted a divorce. 1 Before I met Asher, my life had been far from easy. My mother, an aesthetics devotee, was captivated by my father’s striking looks. She fell head over heels, diving into a whirlwind romance and sharing a bed with him before doing any proper background check. And then, there was me. It was only after I was born that my mother discovered my father was from a prominent, wealthy family. The kind who could wave a hand and ensure she’d never worry about money again. But the bad news was, my father was a live-in son-in-law, a man who married into wealth, taking his wife’s name. In other words, he was a social climber, relying on his wife to enter high society. And my mother? She was his mistress. When his legitimate wife came to catch him in the act, she found my mother. Usually, my father acted quite grand around my mother, but in front of his wife, he was as subservient as a beaten dog. My father immediately cut all ties with my mother, disowning me in the process. My mother raised me alone, and our lives were difficult. She drove a pedicab, set up small street stalls, and was once chased by city inspectors for miles, losing a shoe along the way. Eventually, she grew tired of that life. She told me she would find me a better path. I don’t know what methods my mother used, but she somehow obtained a paternity test proving my father was indeed my biological parent. Then, she stormed to my father’s mansion, creating a scene and demanding he take responsibility for me. Concerned about a scandal, the wealthy family agreed. From that day, my mother and I were separated. The day I was sent to Sinclair Manor, my mother’s smile was tear-streaked. “Aurora,” she said, “you’ll never go hungry again.” But my mother was too naive. My father saw me as a stain on his reputation, and Mrs. Sinclair detested me. Those below them were quick to shift loyalties, naturally treating me with disdain. As for my half-sisters, they devised new ways to torment me every single day. My mother would never know any of this. That encounter at the gates of Sinclair Manor was the last time I ever saw her. She had terminal cancer and couldn’t afford the medical bills. After sending me to my father, she took her own life by jumping into the river. I grew up in Sinclair Manor as an adopted daughter, living cautiously. When I was fifteen, I met a boy at the Sinclair estate. He had cut his arm on rose thorns, and the wound was still bleeding. Yet, he seemed completely oblivious, listening to music in the garden with headphones on. I thought for a moment, then brought him antiseptic to clean the wound and a bandage to cover it. Later, I learned his name was Asher Thorne. His grandfather had brought him to visit the Sinclairs. For reasons unknown to me, Grandfather Thorne took a liking to me and wanted me as his grandson’s wife. Being an old, established family, my father naturally agreed without hesitation. My sisters, upon hearing the news, scoffed and ridiculed me. “Do you really think you’ve landed a good catch? If it were a truly good match, why would it be your turn?” “That Asher Thorne, he’s had autism and bipolar disorder since childhood. He’s not normal.” But because of the engagement to Asher, Mrs. Sinclair finally treated me with some semblance of kindness. My life at Sinclair Manor became much more bearable; at least they stopped bullying me. I often thought back to that first meeting, the slender boy quietly listening to music in the garden. He didn’t know he had unknowingly helped me so much. I was genuinely grateful to him. I began to learn about his condition, studying how to interact with him in the future. Then, at twenty, arranged by both families, I married Asher Thorne. 2 I didn’t realize how much Asher resisted marrying me. After I moved in, he never gave me a kind glance. He wouldn’t allow me to touch him, let alone share a bed with me. On our wedding night, he threw a terrible tantrum in the bridal suite. “Go away.” “Don’t be in my room.” “Get out. Get out now.” I hung my head in shame, a wave of humiliation washing over me. That day, Grandfather Thorne sought me out. He explained that Asher had always been solitary and disliked interacting with people. The caretaker who looked after Asher had recently passed away, and Asher’s condition had been particularly bad lately. He asked me to be patient and give Asher some time. I nodded in agreement. From then on, I took on the responsibility of caring for Asher. I juggled my time between school and Thorne Manor. I had to remind Asher to take his medication on time, take him for regular hospital check-ups, and meticulously plan his meals and choose his clothes. Thankfully, Asher wasn’t a block of wood. He gradually began to respond to me. For instance, he stopped saying “Get out” to me. For instance, when he saw me asleep on the sofa, he would awkwardly cover me with a blanket. And for instance, when I had terrible period cramps, he would brew me a cup of warm ginger tea. But he never shared a bed with me. The Thorne family had a single male heir in each generation, and Asher was the only one of his generation. Grandfather Thorne was eager for great-grandchildren and pressured me many times. But if Asher wasn’t willing, there was nothing I could do. Finally, in our fifth year of marriage, Grandfather Thorne completely lost his patience. Without my knowledge, he drugged Asher. Then he put Asher in my bed, locked the door, and trapped us inside. That night is still vivid in my memory. The pain. It was excruciating. Driven by the drug, his eyes were glazed over, his body acting purely on instinct. But he had no experience, and his movements were rough. I felt a tearing pain, and tears streamed down my face. As dawn approached, I couldn’t bear it anymore and passed out. The next afternoon, I was awakened by the sound of things being smashed. 3 Asher was in a terrible rage. He smashed my phone, shattered the flat-screen TV on the wall, and tables and chairs crashed to the floor. When he saw me awake, he walked over to me, holding a mirror. The mirror reflected my image. I hadn’t even had time to put on clothes, my body covered in red marks and bruises. He pointed at my reflection in the mirror, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. “You’re so dirty, so disgusting.” “I hate you.” “I never want to see you again.” That day, my body felt terrible; I stumbled when I walked. But when Asher had one of his episodes, he’d disappear. I had no choice but to go look for him. I didn’t bother eating, searching from noon until after midnight. I searched almost every place he usually went, until my calves trembled uncontrollably. But I still couldn’t find him. As I stood exhausted and desperate at the front door, gasping for breath, Asher finally returned at one in the morning. A girl stood beside him. She had a dimple when she smiled, and it was incredibly sweet. The girl looked up at him. “It’s my first time meeting someone with such similar interests as you.” Her voice was soft and admiring. “Meeting you was the greatest gain from this concert.” It was then I realized Asher had gone to a concert alone. His phone had died, and he couldn’t remember his way home, so the girl had brought him back. Asher walked very slowly; the way home was short, but he took a long time. They talked about music, about composers and performers I didn’t know. Asher had loved music since he was a child. He had studied under famous masters and opened his own studio after graduating, composing many renowned pieces. I stood silently by the front door, listening. They talked for thirty minutes, but Asher never noticed I was there. It was the butler who couldn’t bear it any longer and spoke up. “Master Asher, it’s very late. You should go to bed.” He paused, then added, “Mrs. Thorne has been waiting for you.” The girl looked over, pausing slightly, then asked Asher, “Is this your wife?” Asher’s face flushed with discomfort. After a moment of silence, he nodded. Then he immediately added: “Under duress.” “Don’t like her.” “Hate her.” In that moment, I stood rooted to the spot. A surge of shame inexplicably rose, making me feel utterly mortified. The girl’s name was Ivy. Ivy tugged on his sleeve, her eyes curving into a sweet smile. “It is getting late. We’ll see each other next time.” From that day on, my relationship with Asher plummeted back to freezing point. He refused to speak a single word to me. On his birthday, I gave him a new pair of over-ear headphones. I had heard the sound quality was excellent, and they had sold out many times, so I had specifically pre-ordered them six months in advance. But Asher simply took a lighter and, in front of me, burned the headphones into shattered pieces. “Don’t like you.” “Don’t like what you give me either.” “Trash. Don’t want it.” That birthday, he went out and spent it with Ivy. Ever since that first meeting, he and Ivy had kept in touch. Recently, Ivy had even interned at his studio. When he came home that evening, he was wearing a silver ring. It was a birthday gift from Ivy. I looked at the scattered remains of the headphones on the floor, an immense weariness rising from the depths of my heart. The next day, Grandfather Thorne suddenly called, asking me to come to his study. He wanted me to retrieve a document and give it to his secretary. But I remembered Asher had always forbidden me from entering his study. I hesitated. Grandfather Thorne urged me, saying the document was urgent and his secretary was already waiting at the door. After a moment’s thought, I went to retrieve the document. Before leaving, I restored everything in the study to its original state. But Asher still found out I had entered his study. His phone was linked to the study’s surveillance camera. He rushed back from his studio, his brow furrowed with irritation and gloom. “You can’t go in, you can’t!” His emotions, like an invisible storm, raged through the room. Because I had entered his study to retrieve a document, he even had the entire room thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom. I stared at him blankly, voicing the confusion in my heart. “Why can’t I go in?” During this time, Asher often invited Ivy to visit our home. They would discuss music in the study, spending the entire day there. Why could Ivy enter, but not me? “Also, I’m not dirty. Why did you have people clean the study?” His face grew even colder. “She’s different from you.” “She understands music. She’s a kindred spirit.” “You don’t. Going in just makes it dirty.” After all these years, I was accustomed to his terse expressions, and I instantly understood his meaning. When his emotions flared, I usually tried to calm him. But that day, knowing he was furious, I couldn’t bring myself to soothe him as usual. I closed my eyes. “Asher, speaking like that is truly hurtful.” At that moment, my blood sugar dropped, and I stumbled, taking a step back. But I was standing right in front of the study door. The door wasn’t closed, and that step backward inadvertently took me inside the study. Asher misinterpreted it as me challenging him. His eyes turned chilling, veins bulging on his forehead. He pointed at me and said many terrible things, which ultimately distilled into three sentences: “Get away from me!” “This is my home, not yours! Get out!” “Don’t ever appear in my house again!” These words weren’t new to me. When I first entered Sinclair Manor, my half-sisters had said the same thing. Back then, I’d quietly cried into my pillow, feeling utterly worthless. I thought, one day, I must have a home of my own, a home no one can ever kick me out of. After marrying Asher, I mistakenly believed this villa with him was my home. Although it couldn’t shield me from every storm, it was my refuge. But today, he screamed at me, telling me the house was in his name, his family paid for it, and this wasn’t my home. He told me to get out. Emotions surged, a sense of helplessness threatening to swallow me whole. I hung my head, calculating the days. It had been ten years since I met Asher at fifteen. At fifteen, thanks to our engagement, I had five years of comfortable living. At twenty, I married Asher and meticulously cared for him for five years. Five years for five years; I had repaid the Thorne family’s kindness. I was weary of this life. I wanted a divorce. 4 Once the thought of divorce took root, it grew like a seed bursting through soil, rapidly spiraling out of control. A week later, I met with Grandfather Thorne. I told him I wanted a divorce. Grandfather Thorne sat on the sofa in the old manor, tapping the table with his index finger. “Why?” he asked. I told him Asher had someone he liked. In front of her, he would rein in his temper, awkwardly trying to be agreeable. He would write songs for her, give her gifts, stubbornly trying to please her. With Ivy around, Asher’s mood would significantly improve. Whether objectively or subjectively, she was a better fit for Asher than I was. Grandfather Thorne listened, saying nothing. After a long silence, he cleared his throat and asked me seriously, “Aurora, do you know why I chose you as my grandson’s wife?” “Because I brought Asher a bandage?” I asked him. He shook his head. “No. I investigated you. I knew you were kind-hearted, and I knew your awkward status, how you were disliked at Sinclair Manor.” His gaze was steady. “You needed this engagement. With the engagement, your life would be much easier, out of respect for the Thorne family.” He paused, his voice softening slightly. “And precisely because of that, you would see Asher as a lifeline, grateful to him, tolerant of him, even indulgent.” He sighed. “When I learned you chose psychology as your major in college, I knew I hadn’t been wrong; you truly were that way.” He sighed again. “A child from Asher’s background, if he hadn’t fallen ill, would naturally be highly sought after. But he, unfortunately, developed this condition. I only have this one grandson, so naturally, I had to plan for him, to find him an absolutely loyal wife who would care for him for life.” He looked at me directly. “The Ivy you speak of, I don’t know what kind of girl she is. I don’t feel comfortable entrusting Asher to her.” He continued, laying bare his reasoning. “Aurora, you grew up in Sinclair Manor; you know what wealthy men are like. It’s not unusual for them to have one woman outside, let alone ten. Compared to them, Asher is inherently simple, not given to that kind of recklessness. He’s already quite good.” His gaze sharpened. “Besides, as long as I’m alive, no woman can challenge your position as his wife. What more could you be dissatisfied with?” I understood his meaning, but I no longer wanted to live a life with a fixed horizon, confined to caring for an autistic man. “Asher drove me away,” I told Grandfather Thorne earnestly. “Now, my presence only irritates him. Lately, his episodes have become more frequent too.” Hearing this, Grandfather Thorne’s expression gradually grew serious, and he began to reconsider my relationship with Asher. After a long while, he finally relented. “Aurora, let me think about the divorce. You should go home for now.” He added, “And Asher is your husband, after all. His opinion must also be sought in this matter.” I nodded, standing to leave. Asher would surely agree. He would probably be eager to sign the divorce papers. A gentle spring rain was falling today, and the wind outside was strong. As I left the old manor, I saw Asher. He stood by the partially open door, wearing a white shirt and holding an umbrella. A large puddle had formed at the tip of the umbrella. I wondered how long he had been standing there, and how much he had heard. The moment he saw me, his lips tightened, and his face turned pale. “You said you want to divorce me?”

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My husband replaced the child I bore after a difficult labor with my sister’s. He simply uttered, dismissively, “If her posthumous child were a boy, it would be easier for her in her in-laws’ family.” When my sister posted a photo of my husband and my child on social media, I merely typed a single question mark in the comments. My husband immediately called, his voice laced with blame, “It’s just a child swap, do you have to make everyone miserable?!” My mother thrust my sister’s baby against my chest, demanding, “How could you be so heartless? Not even feeding the child!” When I fully awoke, I asked for a divorce, and that’s when they panicked… 1 When Leander walked in, the baby was crying. I sat comfortably on the sofa, watching TV, paying no mind to the fuss, not rushing to greet him as I used to. He clicked off the television. “The baby is crying so loudly, why aren’t you doing anything?” I lazily lifted my gaze to him, a faint, unreadable smile playing on my lips, saying nothing. Just then, the nanny, hearing the baby’s cries, hurried over to soothe him. The house fell silent, leaving only the sound of our breathing. Perhaps unnerved by my stare, Leander faltered first. He stepped forward, putting an arm around my shoulder, and gently swayed me. “Still mad?” I subtly pulled away from his touch. Leander sighed, helplessly dangling the bag he held in front of me. “Here, your sister asked me to bring this to you. She still cares about you, her little sister.” “And what you did on social media last time, she didn’t even blame you. You should really apologize to her first.” My attention fell on the bag in Leander’s hand. It was clearly a bowl of leftover meat congee, with sticky green onions clinging to the outside of the plastic container. The stale, cold smell of it wafted up. His words left me momentarily bewildered, then a sharp, mocking realization dawned. “She’s holding my child in her arms, and my husband is sitting beside her.” “And just for adding a question mark, I have to apologize to her?” At my blunt retort, Leander’s face flushed with sudden anger. “Amelia, she’s your sister, and I’ve explained the reason to you countless times!” “If you had an ounce of compassion, you wouldn’t make such a big deal out of this and upset everyone!” I stared at him, unblinking, my voice hoarse. “That’s my child, the one I gave birth to.” Leander snapped, “That’s my bloodline! I can give it to whoever I want to raise!” How utterly absurd. I couldn’t help but laugh, though the tears streamed down my face even harder. That day, I had been alone in the hospital, enduring over ten hours of excruciating pain, to bring my child into the world. No one was by my side. When complications arose during labor, I even signed my own critical condition notice. My husband and my mother had been with my sister the entire time, never once appearing at my bedside. When I awoke after childbirth, the baby lying next to me wasn’t mine. He had swapped my child, offering only a flippant explanation: “If her posthumous child were a boy, it would be easier for her in her in-laws’ family.” The most ridiculous part was that I, the birth mother, saw my child for the first time in my sister’s social media post. And I wasn’t even allowed to ask a single question? The thought of my child made my eyes burn with unshed tears. Seeing my distress, Leander’s tone softened. He whispered consolingly, “Audrey just lost her husband. Her mother-in-law has been desperate for her to leave an heir for their family. Your sister is already pitiful enough. If you compete with her for the child, how much harder would her life be?” “Besides, you and Audrey are twins. What difference does it make whose child it is? And I’m not prejudiced against girls…” Just then, my phone screen flashed with a message. It was from Audrey. She had set that family photo, the one with my husband and child, as her profile picture. “Baby says he’s hungry, wants chicken soup.” She’d accompanied it with a playful emoji, then a photo of the baby. Less than two seconds later, she immediately recalled it. “Oops, sorry Amy, I looked at the wrong profile picture and sent it to you by mistake. You didn’t see it, did you?” 2 Leander and I, from dating to marriage, had always used matching couple profile pictures. So, the person she originally meant to send it to was none other than my husband? Seeing her profile picture of a family of three, it felt even more ironic. “Ding-dong!” Leander’s phone screen also lit up. He eagerly opened it, his eyes alight with a smile as he read the message. I subtly curved my lips, watching him walk straight into the kitchen, packing up all the chicken soup the nanny had prepared for me. The nanny stood by, wanting to speak, but seeing my lack of reaction, she didn’t interfere. Just before leaving, Leander seemed to suddenly remember me. He leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Amelia, darling… I have something urgent at the office. I need to go deal with it now.” He left without a backward glance. I grabbed a tissue and vigorously wiped my forehead. He didn’t have a habit of eating supper. It was truly pathetic that he could have just said he was going to Audrey, but instead chose to tell a flimsy, transparent lie to appease me. Twenty minutes later, Leander returned. He carried the chill of the night, snow still clinging to his overcoat. He poured out the now-cold chicken soup and offered it to me. “I don’t eat supper. You drink this chicken soup. Don’t prepare it for me in the future.” I looked at the layer of congealed fat floating on the soup and, right in front of Leander, I spat. Leander, who had been distracted, finally noticed the soup had congealed from the cold. He then abruptly poured the chicken soup into the trash can. “It’s cold, don’t eat it!” With that, he turned and walked into the bedroom. I watched his retreating back, forcing down the bitter ache in my heart, a mocking smile playing inexplicably on my lips. Of course, I knew why he was so out of sorts. Just before he returned, Audrey had updated her social media: “It’s not that I don’t want to see you, but with so many shackles on me, how could I dare?” The accompanying picture was of a snowy night, a man holding a bag, leaning against a car. That man was my husband, who had rushed out enthusiastically only to return dejected. In the past, if something like this happened, I would have gone crazy, weeping, throwing tantrums, threatening to hang myself to get Leander’s attention. But now, I was calmer than I ever thought possible. That night, I slept unusually soundly—until, in the dead of night, Leander’s liquor-laced arms slithered around my neck. His hand naturally slid under my clothes, and he mumbled, “Amy, we haven’t slept together in so long, you must miss me, right?” I slapped him. “I just finished my confinement period!” He paused, as if the alcohol was clearing from his head a little. “Can’t we? You had a natural birth; aren’t you supposed to recover quickly? Audrey had a C-section; she has a nasty scar. Why are you so delicate?” I was so angry I wanted to laugh. I had a difficult birth, a long incision below, and I was still bleeding, still trembling from the pain. And he called me delicate? I pushed him away, turned on the light, and stared at him. “I don’t like the way you smell. Let’s sleep in separate rooms.” Proud as he was, he naturally slammed the door and left. That was Audrey’s signature perfume; how could I not recognize it? Yet, I had been foolishly self-deceiving myself all this time, believing he loved me, believing his extraordinary care for Audrey was just him extending his love to my family. How intimate must they be for his body to carry her scent? During our recent struggle, a sharp pain shot through my lower body. I forced myself to move, enduring the agony, to the living room to find pain medication. Leander appeared behind me, I don’t know when. “Why are you bleeding so much?!” He immediately scooped me into his arms. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” I was startled, but too weak to struggle from the pain. I felt like I would faint at any moment. Leander drove incredibly fast. When we were still two kilometers from the hospital, Leander’s phone rang with an urgent chime. He answered, his face twisting dramatically. He slammed on the brakes, speaking into the phone. “Don’t cry! I’ll be right there!” The car screeched to a halt. He got out, opened the passenger door, and said, “Audrey’s in trouble. You go to the hospital by yourself first. I’ll pick you up later.” I was left abandoned on the road, alone in the dead of night. It was half past two in the morning, and snow was still falling. Just as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness from the pain, someone took me to the hospital. By the time everything was handled and I returned home, dawn had already broken. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Who is he? Why did he bring you back?” 3 Leander glared at Aaron beside me, his eyes practically spitting fire. I turned to Aaron and thanked him. “Thank you for bringing me back. I’ll treat you to dinner sometime.” Aaron smiled in response, then shot Leander a deep look before leaving. I had no desire to deal with Leander, but he relentlessly followed me. “Do you know how worried I was when you wouldn’t answer your phone and I couldn’t find you?! Your recklessness has its limits…” Before he could finish, I turned and looked at him. “My phone was in your car.” He had been too anxious to rush to Audrey, completely disregarding whether I had my phone or any money on me. “I left messages with the hospital security and front desk.” If he had truly bothered to look for me, he wouldn’t have failed to find me. Leander choked, speechless. I couldn’t be bothered to see his reaction, so I walked straight to my bed and lay down. A moment later, Leander entered the bedroom with my phone. His tone was softer. “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll cook for you.” After a sleepless night, I was too exhausted to think straight, so I mumbled, “Congee, I guess.” When I woke up, Leander walked eagerly towards me and took my hand. “Awake? Come, sit down. I’ll get you some congee.” But a long time passed, and he still hadn’t moved. I turned my head to see him distracted by his phone, walking towards me with the bowl of congee inattentively. While replying to a message, he bumped into the table, and the steaming congee spilled onto my hand. I let out a muffled groan, rolling up my sleeve to reveal the already blistering skin. Yet he was still frantically wiping his phone screen, terrified of missing a message. I glanced at the familiar profile picture on his screen, then got up to run cold water over my hand. Hearing the running water, Leander finally put his phone away. Seeing my hand, he panicked, grabbing my wrist. “It’s that bad? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” I pulled my hand back. “It’s fine,” I said flatly. Leander looked surprised. “Really fine?” I shook my head. “Mm-hmm.” In the past, I had always been delicate, often clinging to him, playing up even the smallest injury for his sympathy, wanting him to comfort me. But now, I no longer cared about him. His comfort meant nothing to me. Leander, however, was clearly nervous. “It doesn’t look good. I’ll go buy some medicine for you. Wait at home; I’ll be back soon.” But I simply pulled open the drawer, took out the medicine, and applied it myself. The baby was crying again, and the nanny was soothing him. I sat quietly on the sofa. Two hours passed. I completely erased the last flicker of hope I had, born of indignation. I had already expected this outcome, so why had I dared to hope he would care? Just then, the lock on the front door turned. It was my mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. I forced a smile. “Mom, you’re here…” Before I could finish, she raised her hand and slapped me. 4 “The baby’s crying so desperately, how could you bear not to feed him? What kind of mother are you?!” I was about to speak when I saw Audrey and Leander behind my mother, and Audrey’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Thompson, holding the baby. Without thinking, I walked over, my gaze hungry for the child. “Baby, let me hold the baby.” Mrs. Thompson quickly stepped back. “Oh no, you can’t! My grandson shouldn’t be held by just anyone!” “I hear you’re still bleeding from childbirth. That’s bad luck, it’ll bring bad fortune to my grandson.” With that, she carried the baby around the house, looking around. “My, this villa is impressive, and a swimming pool too! Much better than our home was. My daughter-in-law is truly luckier than my son.” Audrey stepped forward, grabbing my hand, a smile on her face. “Amy, I said I wanted to hold a full moon party for the baby, and Leander and Mom both said to have it here. It’s spacious, it won’t bother you, will it?” “But, it’ll be perfect to celebrate with your baby at the same time.” I trembled with rage, about to speak, but Leander pulled me away. He gripped my scalded hand tightly, oblivious to the pain he caused, forcing a tight, insincere smile. “I just realized Audrey and Mom were coming over after I left the house, so I went to pick them up.” He then whispered in my ear, “Auntie Thompson is here, don’t say anything out of line.” At the same time, Mom walked up to me, her face displeased. “Amelia, if you mess things up for Audrey, don’t you dare call me your mother ever again!” My eyes filled with tears. “Mom, that’s my child. Can’t I even look at her?” Mom, I’m your child too. Why do you only love Audrey and not me? “Go back to your room and see your baby. She’s crying too loudly.” Mom ignored my words, only showing impatience. Mrs. Thompson muttered behind her, “Girls just don’t have good fortune. Her crying is so grating, like she’s calling spirits. Boys are so much better.” On the day of the full moon party, many relatives from our hometown arrived. I barely recognized any of them and couldn’t be bothered to greet them. All I wanted was to catch a few more glimpses of my child. But Mrs. Thompson kept the baby tightly guarded, unwilling to let me even approach. Mom shoved the baby that wasn’t mine into my arms. The child suckled forcefully, but I felt not a shred of maternal affection. Instead, a chill spread through me, pushing me to the brink of collapse. No matter how much I begged, she refused to let Audrey return my child. Leander and Audrey welcomed guests downstairs, acting like a loving couple. When Leander’s colleagues came in, they repeatedly called Audrey “sister-in-law.” Leander awkwardly cleared his throat, but didn’t object. I stood behind them, watching coldly. He sensed my gaze and froze. But Audrey, swaying her hips, walked up to me, covering her mouth and laughing at Leander. “He actually mistook me for Amelia! Leander, do you often mistake me for my sister?” Soon, only a few close friends remained at the party, urging each other to play Truth or Dare. I was pulled to sit down with them. The bottle landed on Audrey. Everyone egged her on, and she, with an implied smirk, said, “I choose Truth.” “What makes you feel happiest right now?” Audrey glanced at Leander and smiled. “Having the person who loves me and the person I love both by my side.” Then it was my turn. Audrey chose for me. “Our Amy has never had any secrets since she was little, so it has to be Dare!” Everyone cheered. Audrey then sighed. “Seeing Amy and Leander reminds me of how they just got married, but now…” Then she let out a little giggle. “Never mind. How about Amy’s dare is to reenact what happened when she was my bridesmaid at my wedding?” I clenched my fists, seeing the cruel amusement in her eyes. When Audrey got married, I was her bridesmaid and they threw me into the swimming pool. When I was pulled out, my makeup was completely smeared, my hair plastered to my face. I looked awful. Even now, I didn’t want to recall it, yet they constantly brought it up as a funny story. Leander, lost in Audrey’s face, chimed in, “Today’s a happy day, a little reenactment won’t hurt.” His friends, already tipsy, paid no mind to my struggles and lifted me, chanting, “Into the water! Into the water!” “Splash!” I was thrown into the pool. The biting cold enveloped me. I choked on a mouthful of water, struggling frantically like a dog being toyed with. Everyone on the shore laughed. Leander stood beside Audrey, watching her laugh. I struggled to swim to the edge. Audrey, covering her mouth, giggled. “Amy didn’t get out of the water that fast back then. No, that won’t do, we have to do it again.” With that, the group threw me back into the water. Again, peals of laughter. I refused to give up, still swimming hard to the edge. Audrey walked to me, pretending to pull me out, but then stumbled and fell into the pool herself. Leander immediately jumped into the water, pulled Audrey out, and looked at me with an expression that could have killed. Then he brutally pushed my head underwater. “How could you be so vicious? It was just a joke, and you actually pulled her into the water!” He was like a madman, pushing my head underwater again and again… I choked on water, slowly suffocating. I had no strength left to struggle, and my grip on him loosened. I slowly sank, blood now pooling beneath me, I don’t know when it started. Only when the pool turned a distinct red did someone finally gasp, “My God, she’s bleeding! Stop it!”

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My brother, Liam, was my target. All I needed was for him to spend one birthday with me before I turned eighteen. Just one, and the mission would be complete. But Liam hated me. He hated me for being born, for supposedly killing our parents. More than once, his words had cut me to the bone: “Olivia, why wasn’t it you who died that day?” I never dared to hope he’d celebrate with me. Until today, my eighteenth birthday. My last chance. Gathering every shred of courage, I dialed his number, my heart a trembling bird. “Liam,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “please, could you spend just one birthday with me? Just one? Otherwise… I’ll die.” His voice, when it came, was laced with venom, utterly devoid of care: “Then die. And be quick about it.” The line went dead. A desolate, bitter laugh escaped my lips. Alright, Liam. As you wish. … That night. Liam, who had been celebrating his adopted sister’s birthday, was called back. It was he who performed the autopsy on my body. 1 “Host, this is your last chance.” “If your brother, he still won’t…” The System’s voice trailed off. I knew it couldn’t bring itself to finish the sentence. It had been with me since birth, a constant companion for eighteen years. Even a cold machine could develop feelings. Yet my own brother, my only blood relative, hated me with such intensity. I pressed my lips together, gathering my courage, and dialed Liam’s number. But it was Chloe’s cheerful voice that answered. “Olivia? Is everything alright?” My heart clenched. Chloe. Liam’s… adopted sister from the orphanage. But in his eyes, she was the true sister, wasn’t she? Swallowing the bitter tang of jealousy, I asked, my voice hoarse, “Is Liam there?” Chloe’s voice vibrated with excitement. “He’s about to set off fireworks for me! It’s my birthday today!” I froze. Even though this wasn’t the first time Liam had celebrated Chloe’s birthday, my heart still gave an inevitable, painful twist. 2 Liam had adopted Chloe on my seventh birthday. From that day on, my birthday became hers. Every year since, he’d take her out to celebrate, leaving me behind. I never dared to ask him to stay, let alone to celebrate with me. I slowly raised my head, watching the clock hand sweep across the wall. My time was running out. “Put Liam on the phone.” Chloe’s innocent tone barely concealed her smug pride. “What do you want Liam for? He pulled half a month of all-nighters just to get three days off to celebrate my birthday!” I bowed my head, the bitterness in my heart deepening. Liam was willing to spend three days celebrating with Chloe. Would he agree to spare three minutes? Three minutes to share a slice of cake with me? “Chloe, who is it?” Liam’s voice cut through my thoughts. “It’s… it’s Olivia.” A rustle, then the phone was in Liam’s hand. “Hello?” Fear and tension choked me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Until Liam’s impatient voice cut in, “If you’re not going to talk, I’m hanging up.” “No—” I blurted out, my voice raw. Swallowing hard, I pleaded, my words barely a whisper, “Liam, could you… could you spend one birthday with me? Just this once?” My heart hammered in my chest, a frantic drum of hope and dread. After a long moment, Liam spoke. His tone was like ice, freshly forged and sharp. “How dare you even think of celebrating your birthday?” My heart instantly froze. All these years, I’d grown accustomed to his coldness. But now, facing imminent death, my eyes welled up, blurring my vision. I choked back a sob, begging, “Just this once, Liam, please, I’m begging you, just this one time, will you celebrate with me?” In my panic, to add weight to my plea, I blurted out the System’s existence. “Otherwise… the System, the System will erase me. I’ll really die, Liam.” 3 The sound of my own ragged breathing and pounding heart filled the silent room, shockingly loud. I clutched my phone, waiting for Liam’s verdict. It might have been only a second, but it stretched into an eternity. Finally. His voice, cold, hateful, and utterly indifferent, came through. “Then die. And be quick about it. You killed Mom and Dad. Your death would be a fair repayment.” I froze. Every single one of Liam’s words was a gleaming, sharp blade, stabbing my heart, again and again. Tears streamed down my face, uncontrollable. I’d known it, deep down. I should have known I didn’t deserve a birthday. But still, a sliver of hope had clung to me. After all, we were the only two people in the world bound by blood. We were supposed to be siblings, relying on each other. But my brother… he still wished for nothing more than for me to die. Fine. Truth be told, I didn’t really want to live either. 4 A barely audible sigh echoed in my mind. “Host, do you… want to try one last time? Go find Liam, even if he just stays with you for a minute. I’ll petition headquarters; it’ll count as him spending your birthday with you.” I forced a bitter smile, thanking the System for its kindness. “No need.” What would be the point? To be so utterly despised by my closest, my only relative? What was the meaning of living on? I’d known since childhood that Liam hated me. The System had told me everything: how Mom had suffered complications during my birth; I was supposed to die. But she hadn’t wanted me to, she’d fought with all her might to bring me into the world, trading her life for mine. That very night, Dad, distraught over Mom’s death, had been in a car accident. And so, from the moment I was born, I carried the guilt of having killed both our parents. Liam’s hatred for me was boundless. But Liam. I lost Mom and Dad too. Just like you. 5 The clock struck eleven. I snapped back to reality, wiping away my tears. Gently, I untied the pretty ribbon on the cake box and lifted the transparent lid. The sweet scent of cream filled my nostrils. Before I died, I wanted to taste a birthday cake. After all, I’d never had one before. And I wouldn’t get another chance. I took out the ‘18’ birthday candles and carefully placed them on the cake. Then, I pulled a lighter from the drawer. The wind outside blew in through the open window; I tried a few times, but the candles wouldn’t light. I stood up, walked to the balcony, and prepared to close the window. Just then, a spectacular firework burst forth in the inky night sky. A cascade of light rained down. So beautiful. I stood by the window, letting the night wind whip through my oversized, thin dress, and seep into my hollow, desolate heart. One firework after another soared, trailing silver tails, erupting into a million glittering stars in the sky. Sixteen in total. Chloe was sixteen this year. As the last embers faded, a drone formation slowly ascended, spelling out eight words: “Happy Birthday, My Sister.” The wind was so strong, it stung my eyes. How wonderful. Chloe, cherished by her brother. How truly fortunate. 6 The wind howled in my ears. I took a step forward. This lifetime, I had never known love. Next lifetime— Never mind. Let there be no next lifetime. 7 I took another step. My body leaned out over the railing. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, I plunged forward, falling straight down. Liam. Goodbye. 8 The height of the fall meant my death was gruesomely stark. My soul floated in mid-air. Even I, seeing myself, found the sight unbearable. My face was a mangled ruin, joints dislocated, skin and bone separated. I was like a dirty, broken, unwanted rag doll. Thankfully, it was late, and few pedestrians were out. Someone must have called the police. The wail of sirens grew louder, approaching rapidly. I looked up. Lights flickered on in surrounding apartments, and curious faces peered from windows. “Host, it wasn’t time yet,” the System whispered, its tone tinged with regret. I knew what it meant; it wasn’t yet midnight. “It doesn’t matter,” I murmured. “Half an hour wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.” “But I detect your brother’s car heading this way,” the System continued. “Perhaps he’s coming back to celebrate your birthday.” Really? I looked at my pathetic, lifeless body, cordoned off by yellow tape. All I could think was: Liam will be happy I’m dead, won’t he? Investigators were still documenting the scene. Sure enough, Liam’s car drove through the complex gates. “Host, your brother really did come back,” the System said, sounding genuinely mournful. “If you hadn’t jumped early, you could have completed your mission.” My heart, however, felt little stirred. Perhaps after death, emotions simply faded away. My soul drifted uncontrollably towards Liam. He stepped out of his car, Chloe close behind him. She was on tiptoes, craning her neck, eager to see the scene. Liam gently pressed her head into his chest, his voice filled with a tenderness I had never once heard directed at me: “Don’t look, Chloe. It’ll scare you.” 9 Chloe nodded obediently, then nestled closer in Liam’s arms, whining playfully, “But Liam—you promised to stay with me past midnight!” Liam’s expression softened into one of pure indulgence. He stroked Chloe’s hair, comforting her. “Be a good girl, Chloe. Liam will be back to celebrate with you as soon as he’s done.” Chloe pouted, grumbling unhappily, “It’s all because of that person who jumped! Why couldn’t they jump earlier or later? Why now?” Hearing her, Liam lightly tapped Chloe’s head. “Chloe, show respect for the deceased. As a medical examiner, it’s my duty to perform autopsies and assist with investigations.” So that was it. Liam had only been called back to dissect my body. Not to celebrate my birthday. It was fine. Truly. I hadn’t held out any hope. Chloe shook Liam’s arm, muttering, her head still buried against him, “I know, I know. I just want you to spend more time with me, Liam!” Liam’s expression was one of helpless affection as he gently squeezed her cheek. Floating there, watching the scene of deep sibling affection unfold before me, I felt a pang of envy. I had never once acted childish or affectionate with Liam. And he had never once been so gentle with me. Between us, there had only ever been his raging hatred and my careful, timid existence.

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I placed a Charm of Devotion upon the General, making his world revolve solely around me. But the charm’s power was fleeting, lasting but a single day. Each time it faded, he seethed with a murderous rage. Later, I was captured by the enemy and bound to the city walls. Fearing I would cast my charm, he didn’t wait for their demands. An arrow flew from his bow, straight into my heart. As I watched the blood trickle down the shaft of his arrow, a rare smile touched my lips. “System,” I whispered, “is it time for me to go?” 【Tallying rewards. Estimated completion: ten days.】 I sighed. “Ten more days…” 1 There was barely a breath left in me as I hung from the city wall. The staff, the brand, the whip—all the agonies Marcus suffered in the last life, I endured in this one for him. On the verge of death, I saw him below. A flicker of joy sparked in my heart. So, even when it was me on the wall, he still came. I summoned every ounce of my remaining strength, my lips parting, wanting to shout to him, to tell him to ignore me, to save himself. But before a sound could escape, the arrow left his bow without a moment’s hesitation. It was a perfect shot, not a hair’s breadth off. Right in the heart. He wanted me dead. The smoke of battle billowed and the war drums thundered, but my world fell silent. A void opened in my chest, blood pouring out, yet I felt no pain. He cradled my broken body, a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before. “I could not risk the soldiers and the people behind me. I would have done the same for anyone. I had no choice. Elara, in this life, I owe you.” I laughed. He probably didn’t even realize it himself, but what he owed me was far more than just this one life. Once, in the same scene, facing the same impossible choice, he had thrown down his weapons, dismissed his army, and walked into the city alone to be tortured to death. But that was because the person hanging on the wall was Livia, not me. It wasn’t that he had no choice. It was that I was not his choice. “System, the mission is complete, isn’t it? I can leave now.” 【Affirmative… Please wait for the System to complete its tally. Estimated time: ten days.】 “An arrow is sticking out of my heart, and I have to live for ten more days?” The System was uncharacteristically silent. “What’s wrong?” 【Host, you could choose not to leave. The mission is successful. You can choose to stay here, to not return to the Wastes.】 I smiled, but my voice was inexplicably bitter. “Here? This place is worse than the Wastes.” Yes, Marcus had lived past his twenty-seventh year. My mission was a success. I could return to my own world, and I, too, could live past my own twenty-seventh year… I wanted to go back. I wanted to go back right now. After a long pause, the System finally spoke. 【Understood, Host. I guarantee that for these ten days, you will feel no pain or suffering. You can live healthily, happily, and bid a proper farewell to this world.】 This was the System’s final gift to me. It wanted this broken woman, with an arrow in her heart, to live well for ten more days. 2 I had never truly lived well. This was already my second attempt at saving Marcus. I was transported from the Wastes, my mission to ensure the great general, who was fated to die young, survived past the age of twenty-seven. Once he passed his twenty-seventh birthday, I could return to my own world with a lifetime supply of food. Starving to the point of death, I had accepted without hesitation. The System told me that starting from the age of twenty-three, Marcus faced a death curse every year. So, I traded one of my eyes to the System for the Charm of Devotion. Though I lost sight in one eye, whenever I invoked the charm, his world would narrow to only me. He would do anything I said. On the day of his fated death, I just had to keep him from going anywhere, and the mission would be complete. So, in four years, I used the charm five times. He called me a sorceress, a witch who bewitched and controlled him. But every time I chanted the spell, it was to keep him alive. What I didn’t know was that the charm could fail. That day, he had rushed to the city walls without a care in the world. Because hanging on that wall was the moonlight of his youth, Livia. To save her, he entered the city alone, was tortured, and died. My mission failed. We were both reborn on the day we first met. The System’s rule was that upon mission restart, skills were nullified, but traded items were not returned. So this time, I traded my sense of smell for the charm once more. Everything that followed unfolded just as it had before. Except the one captured by the enemy and hung on the wall was me. I finally understood. Marcus’s fated doom wasn’t a series of accidents. It was always Livia. 3 When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in Marcus’s room. In four years of marriage, I had never once set foot in here. The sound of a woman’s weeping came from the doorway. “If I had known this would happen, I would never have let Lady Elara fetch the medicine for me. That day, she was craving the berry tarts I make, and I spent the whole day in the kitchen.” “If only I had gone myself, then my lady wouldn’t have…” “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.” Marcus’s voice was cold, but the tone was uncharacteristically gentle. “It is my fault. I am the daughter of a disgraced official. My life is worthless. It should have been me who died…” “Nonsense! “Don’t you dare speak of yourself that way!” I had heard enough. I pushed the door open. “My… my lady… You’re not…” Livia, her face a canvas of tears, was nestled against my husband’s chest. She stared at me, utterly shocked. Marcus seemed just as surprised, frozen in place. So, this was the scene that played out while I was dying. The System had promised the wound wouldn’t hurt. Why, then, did my heart still twist in agony? I walked past them and called out, “Anna.” The young maid scrambled in, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. But her face held a joy that was starkly absent from the other two. “I’d like some tea.” I don’t know what possessed Marcus, but he suddenly grabbed my arm. “You’re not dead? Your wound…” I slapped his hand away. “That’s right. Much to your disappointment, I didn’t die.” His chest was still smudged with the powder from Livia’s makeup. The sight of it nauseated me, and I took a step back. But the man who usually wouldn’t deign to touch me suddenly gripped my wrist in a vice. “I was worried about you. Why must you be so hostile?” I struggled, wanting nothing more than to be free of his touch. “My lady, you misunderstand. The General and I… it’s nothing. I was just worried about you, that’s all… Please don’t quarrel with the General because of me.” “You think too much, Lady Livia. I am simply thirsty,” I cut her off. She was about to say more, but Marcus waved his hand. He swept me up into his arms and carried me straight to the bed. The moment he set me down, he began untying my clothes without a word. “What are you doing!” “Don’t move! I need to see the wound.” In the middle of our struggle, we heard a thud from outside. “Lady Livia! Lady Livia, what’s wrong?” Marcus’s body tensed instantly, his head snapping back in alarm. “I’m fine. The General should go and see. Lady Livia is frail.” I used to be consumed with jealousy over Livia. Now, this show of understanding surprised Marcus. He awkwardly patted my head. “Don’t be angry. I’ll call for the physician to check on you.” I smiled and nodded. The second he closed the door, I grabbed the nearby curtain and vigorously wiped the spot on my hair where he had touched me. 4 “The physician said her wound is almost healed, she’s perfectly fine. She’s just pretending to be gravely injured to make the General feel guilty and dote on her more.” “A self-inflicted wound. I heard she went to that den of thieves on her own. It was probably all a deliberate act.” “But she almost died!” “What do you know? It’s all an act. She’s fine.” “You haven’t heard the rumors. What good could come to a woman in an enemy camp? The General is just too kind. It’s a miracle he didn’t just gift her a silken rope to hang herself.” Because of Marcus’s attitude towards me, the servants in the General’s manor never treated me with respect. I was outside getting some air while Anna brought me my favorite fruit. Just as Marcus walked in, the fruit “accidentally” slipped from my hand and hit the gossiping old woman. He picked it up and dismissed the servants. “Why are you still so ill-tempered?” I didn’t answer, merely complaining to Anna that the fruit here was terribly sour. He walked over to me, took out a jade bracelet, and slipped it onto my wrist without asking. “This bracelet is of the finest quality, soaked in the best perfumes. The fragrance is exquisite. It suits you.” I looked up at him. In the depths of his dark eyes, there was a flicker of hope. If this were before, my eyes would have reddened with joy. But now, this fragrance, my nose couldn’t smell it. And this blind eye of mine could no longer turn red. I slid the bracelet off. “I don’t care for such things. The General should give it to Lady Livia.” He frowned. I braced myself for a tirade, but instead, he just clenched his jaw. “Very well. I will find something else you like.” I knew. That arrow at the city gate. He felt guilty. That’s why he was acting like this.

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I was Eleanor Whitmore, the trueborn daughter of the Duke of Kensington. But when my grandmother fell gravely ill, I willingly retreated to a convent, dedicating three years of prayer and solitude to her recovery. When I finally returned to the grandeur of Kensington Manor, I found that my brother, Alexander, the one who had always cherished me, had a new focus for his affection: Lila, a girl my mother had taken in as her ward. He had thrown a lavish coming-of-age ball in her honor, a spectacle where he declared to all of high society that she was the true daughter of the Duke, and I was merely the adopted one. He even promised her the engagement my mother had arranged for me, his words a venomous whisper: “Look at you, Eleanor. You’re a disgrace, utterly uncivilized. How could someone so coarse ever be worthy of the young Lord Ashton?” In my last life, my weakness was my undoing. I let them break me, let Alexander and Lila torture me until my last breath. But this is not that life. I have been born again, and this time, I will not yield. With a heart of ice, I marched toward Lila, who stood resplendent in a gown of sapphire silk—the very gown my mother had sewn by hand for my debut. I grabbed the delicate fabric and, with a vicious tug, tore it from her body. “What do you think you are?” I snarled, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. “A little street rat, daring to put your hands on something that belongs to the daughter of this house?” 1 The ballroom fell silent. Every eye was on us. Alexander was the first to react. He shoved me aside, his face a mask of fury, and wrapped Lila in his arms, covering her with his own coat. “Eleanor, have you lost your mind?” he roared, his eyes blazing at me. “What are you doing?” He turned to the servants. “How can the House of Kensington have a daughter like this, attacking her own sister? Bring Lady Lila’s gown back to her at once!” I tossed the ruined silk to a trembling maid. “My sister, Alexander?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Lila is my sister? Tell me, does your conscience not ache when you speak such lies?” Lila clutched Alexander’s arm, her eyes welling with perfectly formed tears. “Alexander, please, don’t be angry with Eleanor for my sake,” she whispered, her voice a delicate tremor. “It’s just a dress. If she wants it, she can have it. After all… she went to the convent to pray for me. I owe her this much.” She paused, letting her words sink in, a masterpiece of manipulation. “If I hadn’t fallen so ill back then, it would have been my duty, as the Duke’s daughter, to go and pray for Grandmother. Mother was so moved by Eleanor’s filial piety that she adopted her. It’s only right that I show her some charity.” Her twisted narrative spread through the crowd like wildfire. The whispers began, sharp and cruel. “So, Eleanor is just the adopted one? No wonder she looks so plain.” “Utterly brazen for a charity case. You’d think she’d show some gratitude.” “Lady Lila is far too kind. A servant like that should be dismissed, not treated like a sister.” Alexander pointed a commanding finger at the maid holding the dress. “Bring that gown here.” Lila’s personal attendant, a stout woman named Mrs. Gable, snatched the dress and presented it to Alexander with a fawning smile. “My Lord, here it is. We must help Lady Lila change back immediately.” I moved so fast she didn’t see me coming. I seized her wrist and my hand cracked across her face in a slap that echoed through the hall. “You are a servant in this house,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Who gave you the audacity to snatch something from my hands?” Mrs. Gable cradled her cheek, wailing. “Miss Eleanor! Lady Lila has always been the mistress of this house! She treats us with kindness! I’m an old woman, I’ve never been struck in my life! My Lord, you must defend me!” My eyes bored into hers. “You’ve served this family for years, woman. Open your eyes and think very carefully before you speak again. Who is the true lady of this house?” Her bravado vanished. She glanced at my face, then back at Alexander, stammering, “My… my Lord…” 2 Alexander’s expression flickered, but before he could speak, Lila tugged his sleeve. “Brother, today is a happy occasion. Let’s not ruin it over a silly dress. I can simply wear something else.” His anger flared anew. “Absolutely not! Mother designed this gown especially for your debut. It cannot be replaced. The royal decree will be arriving soon—Mother promised she would petition the King to have you named a Countess upon your coming of age!” I stared at the brother who had once doted on me. Everything changed the day Lila, a starving orphan, had collapsed before my mother’s carriage. Mother, ever compassionate, brought her home to be my companion and later adopted her as a ward. From that moment on, Alexander had eyes for only one sister: Lila. He praised her endlessly. Lila was gentle, obedient, and graceful, everything a lady should be. I was a tomboy, too wild, a disappointment. To please her, he orchestrated this grand lie, declaring her the trueborn heir at her debut ball. In my last life, that lie was my death sentence. I was scorned, beaten by my own brother’s command, and thrown into a damp, dark woodshed to “reflect” on my sins. While they feasted and celebrated Lila’s triumph, she crept into the shed and released a viper. By the time Alexander remembered me the next day, my body was already cold. This time, I met his furious gaze without flinching. “That gown was made for me, brother,” I said, my voice steady. “Mother stitched it with her own hands. How can you so blatantly favor Lila, passing off a crow as a phoenix? Do you have no fear of Mother’s wrath when she returns?” Mother had gone to the country estate to bring Grandmother home. A sudden storm had delayed them, causing them to miss my return from the convent—a return she had planned to welcome herself. I had come back alone, not wanting to trouble her. I never imagined I’d walk into this betrayal. Alexander had, of course, timed Lila’s ball perfectly to coincide with Mother’s absence. Lila clutched the gown to her chest, biting her lip. “Sister, I know you want this dress, but… it was a gift from Mother, a symbol of her love. I would give you anything else, but I cannot give you this. I fear it would break her heart.” A sneering voice cut in from the crowd. “Eleanor, have you no shame? They call you a ‘ward’ to be kind. In truth, you’re just a beggar the Duchess picked up off the street. You should be grateful they feed and clothe you, yet you act like a trueborn lady? Have you looked in a mirror? Do you really think you’re worthy of any of this?” I turned to see Penelope Reed, the illegitimate daughter of a high-ranking minister and Lila’s most ardent sycophant. Ever since she’d caught wind that Lila was the “true” Kensington heiress, she’d been stuck to her like a shadow, hoping to ride her coattails into prominence. A cold smile touched my lips. “A beggar, you say? And what are you, Penelope? The product of your father’s back-alley affair, a stain on his name not even worthy of being called a true bastard. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare show my face in public. The Reeds must have hides as thick as castle walls.” Penelope flushed crimson, utterly speechless. Mrs. Gable scurried to Lila’s side. “My Lady, we must hurry and redo your hair. The auspicious hour is almost upon us.” Alexander’s anger softened as he looked at Lila. “Bring the jewels I chose for her,” he commanded. A maid brought forward a velvet tray. Resting upon it was a piece that made my blood run cold: a delicate, golden circlet, studded with more than a dozen fiery sapphires. It was my grandmother’s. I remembered her teasing me as a child, her voice warm with love. “One day, my sweet Eleanor, this will be the centerpiece of your dowry. It was a gift from the Queen herself. It will be the first treasure everyone sees.” And now, Alexander had stolen it for Lila. 3 “That belongs to me,” I choked out. “Grandmother gave it to me. Alexander, how could you give it to someone else?” He ignored me, gently placing the circlet in Lila’s hair. Only then did he turn, his face a mask of cold dismissal. “What is this nonsense? Grandmother said it was for the truest granddaughter of the House of Kensington. That is Lila. Are you going to lie about this, too?” Lila smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks, her eyes dancing with triumph. “Sister, when you have your own debut, I promise I’ll give you a beautiful hairpin. But this… this was Grandmother’s most treasured possession, a gift from the Queen, meant for my wedding day. I’m afraid on this, I cannot yield.” It was the same in my last life. Every time we clashed, she would play the part of the magnanimous, long-suffering victim. It made Alexander pity her gentleness, admire her grace, and despise me all the more for my “crude” and “grasping” nature. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I lunged forward, pushing past the servants who tried to stop me, but Alexander’s hand shot out. The slap was a crack of thunder in the silent room. “How did our family produce someone so greedy, so shameless, so utterly devoid of dignity?” he spat, his face contorted with disgust. “Alexander, please,” I sobbed, the sting on my cheek a pale imitation of the pain in my heart. “I don’t care about anything else, but that was from Grandmother. Give it back to me.” He stepped closer, his voice laced with ice. “Are you going to continue with these lies? This tantrum? Guards! Take her away. Ten lashes with the riding crop. That should be enough to help her reflect on her station.” The guests whispered amongst themselves. “This adopted girl is truly shameless. Does she really think she’s a lady?” “I suppose if you play a role long enough, you start to believe it.” “If I were Lila, I’d have her thrown out on the street. What an embarrassment.” I stared at my brother, the man who had just condemned me to a whipping without a flicker of hesitation, and the last embers of love for him in my heart turned to ash. It was happening all over again. He would do anything to make Lila happy. “What’s all this? The ceremony hasn’t begun?” A smooth, masculine voice drifted from the doorway. Lord Alistair Ashton, the heir to the Viscount of Blackwood, stood there, a vision of aristocratic elegance. My fiancé. Or he was supposed to be. “Lila, my dear, your eyes are red. Who has been upsetting you?” he asked, striding toward her. He reached out as if to wipe a tear, then seemed to think better of it in public. Alexander pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at me. “It’s Eleanor! This wretched girl. She tried to steal Lila’s gown, then her circlet, all while insisting she’s the true daughter. I was just about to have her disciplined.” Alistair’s gaze fell upon me, cool and appraising. I clenched my fists. “Second sister,” he began, his tone dripping with condescension, “perhaps three years of pious austerity in the convent has made you… covetous of such beautiful things. It must be what’s compelling you to tell these fantastic tales. I never imagined the House of Kensington would harbor someone with such vulgar ambitions.” He turned back to Lila. “Your sister has a kind heart and doesn’t hold a grudge, but I do. If you continue to cause Lila distress, know that I, Alistair Ashton, will not be so forgiving.” I almost laughed. Vulgar ambitions? He, the heir of a crumbling house, was threatening me, the true daughter of a Duke? I saw the way Lila looked at him, her eyes soft with adoration. I knew from my past life that they were already secretly in love, their vows pledged in the shadows. Today was meant to be their triumph, the day they cemented her status as both the Kensington heiress and his future bride. I once believed that when my world came crashing down, he would be the one to save me. Instead, he had joined my tormentors, humiliating me before the world. That was a debt I would not forget. Alistair produced a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “A gift, for you,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for Lila. She opened it, and the ladies nearby gasped. Inside lay a delicate silver locket, shaped like two entwined hearts. For an unmarried man to give such a gift was a public declaration of love. “My Lord, he truly adores you! A lover’s locket!” “The wedding can’t be far off now.”

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I beat my husband and mother-in-law after his affair —Because they hit me first. 1 In the two months before I found out, my husband, Dylan, who had never cared a lick about his appearance, started wearing cologne. A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing; it screamed at me that he was having an affair. A week ago, he stumbled home, completely wasted. I managed to haul his dead weight onto our bed and went to the kitchen to make him some warm broth. As I was stirring, his phone lit up on the nightstand. A single message glowed on the screen: I’m pregnant, Dylan. You’re going to be a daddy! Are you excited? My hands shook as I unlocked his phone. The screen illuminated a world of filth—explicit messages and crude banter that painted a sickening picture. I couldn’t reconcile the man in those texts with the Dylan I knew, the devoted husband and loving father who had promised me forever. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent, splashing onto the screen and blurring the vile words. I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate not to make a sound, not to wake the monster sleeping in my bed. The image I held of him—the man everyone saw as utterly devoted to me—shattered into a million pieces. It all made sense now. The way his adoration had curdled into constant criticism, the flicker of revulsion I’d catch in his eyes. The man who once worshipped me now looked at me with disgust. He hadn’t just fallen out of love; he’d found someone new to adore. Wiping my face with a fierce swipe of my hand, I took a deep, shuddering breath and forced a cold calm to settle over me. I used my own phone to meticulously photograph every conversation, every detail about the other woman, including her name and address. Then, I placed his phone back exactly where I’d found it, erasing any trace of my discovery. I would pretend nothing had happened. The next morning, Dylan spritzed on his new signature scent, getting ready for work. I stood at the door, holding our son, Leo. “Are you coming home for dinner tonight?” I asked, my voice steady. He grunted, his focus entirely on tying his shoes. He didn’t answer. “It’s Leo’s birthday,” I pressed. “Please, come home for dinner.” He finally straightened up, offered a clipped, “Mmm,” and walked out the door without a single glance back. Watching his retreating figure, a shard of ice pierced my heart. That evening, the table was laden with a feast. Dylan sat with Leo on his lap, clapping and singing “Happy Birthday” with a broad smile. I raised my wine glass, silently toasting his performance as the perfect father. He shot me an irritated look. “Let’s eat,” he snapped. Then, the venom came. “All you’re good for is cooking. You were average-looking before, but since the baby, you’ve really let yourself go. You don’t earn a dime. Tell me, what use are you anymore?” His words hit me like a physical blow. I was stunned into silence, my mind reeling. Was this the same man who had cherished me? All our memories, our shared moments—was it all just an act? In that instant, something inside me broke. I slammed my wine glass down on the table, the sharp crack echoing in the room. I pointed a trembling finger at him. “Regretting it now? Were you blind when you married me?” “Lily, you need to remember your place,” he sneered, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare raise your voice or point your finger at me. You’re not some pampered princess anymore. Without me, you’d be on the street. This is my house, and I make the rules. You do what I say, or you get the hell out!” “Your house?” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “Are you forgetting something, Dylan? This is my house! My parents bought it for me. Who the hell do you think you are, telling me to get out?” “Yours? Don’t be naive! When your family’s business went belly-up, who lent you the money? I did. And since you couldn’t pay it back, the house is the collateral! The only reason I haven’t thrown you out already is because you gave me a son!” “You’re shameless! Your money? That was my dowry, a gift from my parents! After we got married, you begged and pleaded, even went on a hunger strike, to get me to hand it over for you to ‘manage.’ And now it’s your money? You want me to pay you back? Go to hell!” The man before me was a stranger, a cruel, conniving snake. He was nothing like the man I’d fallen in love with. He was pure poison. He opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of Leo’s terrified wails cut him off. I snatched our son from his arms and rushed to the nursery, rocking him until his sobs quieted into soft, even breaths. As I watched my son sleep, a cold, hard thought took root in my mind. I was going to divorce Dylan. But first, I was going to make him suffer. I would return the pain and humiliation he’d caused me a thousand times over. I was going to destroy him. My plan began that night. Dylan had a habit of eating an apple before bed. I offered to cut one for him, but I also brought him a bowl of porridge. It wasn’t just any porridge; it was a special recipe, with my own little secret ingredient. I feigned an apology for my outburst, playing the submissive wife. He fell for it, swallowing every last bite and licking his lips. “That was amazing,” he said, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Make me a bowl of that every morning.” 2 I did as he asked. Every morning, I made him his “special” porridge, my smile as sweet and deceitful as the poison I was serving. My days fell into a new rhythm. After Dylan left for work, I’d take Leo to my mother’s house. I told her everything. She listened without a word, then went to her pantry and returned with a small bag of herbs. “If he wants another woman, then you shouldn’t stand in his way,” she said, pressing the bag into my hand. “A man is just a man. Let her have him. But when you go home, don’t fight. Make him a soup with these. Tell him it’s a restorative tonic, to help him… keep up his strength.” She squeezed my hand, her eyes telling me everything I needed to know. The emphasis on those last words was unmistakable. I took the herbs, my heart filled with a dark purpose. After leaving Leo with my mom, I took a cab to a Muay Thai gym on the other side of town. Dylan wasn’t the only one who needed to “keep up his strength.” I just had a different method in mind. My life became a circuit: home, my mother’s, the gym. And three times a week, without fail, I’d brew Dylan his special “restorative” soup. One evening, I passed by his study and heard him on the phone with his mother. He was telling her his mistress was four months pregnant and that he wanted his mom to come to the city to take care of her. He also told her to bring the deed to the house, so he could keep it safe. I heard his mother’s voice crackle with excitement at the mention of the deed, and she eagerly agreed. I timed my entrance perfectly, “casually” walking past the study just as he was about to emerge. He saw me and called out. “What? Do you need something?” I asked coolly. “My mom is coming to stay for a while. You should probably go stay with your parents.” I stared at him, my face a blank mask of confusion. He must have thought I was stupid, because he repeated himself. Before he could finish, I cut him off, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “And why would I do that? Let her come. What is she, the Queen of England? Afraid to be seen in public? This is a huge house with plenty of rooms. Is she an octopus? Does she need a separate room for each limb?” “Hey! Watch your mouth! I just know you two won’t get along. What happens if you get into a fight while I’m at work?” “I’m not a psychopath,” I shot back. “As long as she doesn’t start anything, I won’t finish it.” He saw the new steel in my spine and knew he couldn’t push me. He dropped it, letting me have my way. Two days later, his mother arrived, dragging a mountain of luggage behind her. She tried to assert her dominance the moment she stepped through the door, sticking out a dusty shoe and gesturing for me to kneel and remove it. I simply pointed to the guest slippers by the mat. “The slippers are right there, Carol. You can change yourself.” “I’m too old to bend over,” she grumbled. “Really? You seemed to manage just fine carrying all those bags.” I let the barb hang in the air before twisting the knife. “Honestly, I don’t know what Dylan was thinking, asking you to come help with the baby when you can’t even bend down to take off your own shoes. I’ll have to have a word with him. So unfilial.” “Nonsense!” she snapped, rushing to her son’s defense. “Dylan is the most filial, most successful boy from our town! My Dylan takes care of his mother. He promised to buy me a big house in the city, and look, he did!” Hearing her mention the house sent a fresh wave of rage through me. “Carol, let’s be very clear. My parents bought this house for me. We added Dylan’s name as a courtesy. Legally, since he didn’t contribute a single penny, he has no claim to it.” “What do you mean, no claim? What does a woman know about these things! What’s yours is my Dylan’s! A husband and wife shouldn’t keep score. Besides, what does a woman need with a big house anyway? Back home, a woman’s opinion doesn’t count for much. The man is the head of the household.” “You’re right, Carol,” I said, my voice syrupy sweet. “You know, I should go talk to Old Man Miller from your town. Tell him he should marry you right away. A woman like you shouldn’t be all alone, with no man to keep you in line.” Old Man Miller was the town bachelor. After Dylan’s father passed, he and Carol had a little thing going on, with him bringing her “groceries” at all hours of the night. It ended when Dylan found out and chased him for ten miles with a kitchen knife. I’d picked up that juicy little piece of gossip on my last visit. Carol’s face flushed. The memory clearly struck a nerve. She shot me a venomous glare, her face a mask of red-hot embarrassment. 3 One day, returning from the gym, I heard noises from the master bedroom. The unmistakable sounds of pleasure. I crept to the door, my movements silent, and slowly turned the handle, opening it just a crack. Through the gap, I saw them—two pale bodies tangled together on my bed. It was Dylan and a woman with long, curly hair, both naked, engaged in the most intimate of acts. A wave of nausea and fury washed over me. My first instinct was to burst in and slap the smug look off both their faces, but my mother’s voice echoed in my mind: Get proof. Hard evidence he can’t deny. Swallowing my disgust, I pulled out my phone and started recording, capturing every sordid detail for my growing collection of evidence. Suddenly, the woman’s cloying voice broke the rhythm. “What’s wrong with you, baby? You’re not lasting at all. You used to go for at least half an hour. Now you can’t even make it to twenty minutes! Tell me the truth, are you cheating on me with your wife?” “Of course not, my love,” Dylan panted. “How could I? You’re pregnant! We have to be careful, for the baby’s sake!” “Hmph. You wouldn’t dare,” she purred. “Speaking of which, have you found that witch’s deed to the house? You promised me a bigger place once we were together. Don’t tell me our baby will be born and we’ll be sleeping on the streets.” “Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he cooed. “Tomorrow, I’ll get my mom to pressure her. I’ll get that deed. I can handle one washed-up housewife.” Their conversation confirmed my worst fears. He had only ever been after my family’s money. Now that my family had faced financial ruin, he was making a play for the one valuable asset I had left. The house, a gift from my parents when we got engaged, had cost over a million dollars. In today’s market, it was worth at least two. I quietly closed the door and went straight to the attic. He would never think to look there. Before the wedding, my mother had warned me to be smart, that Dylan was not the simple, good-hearted man he appeared to be. I’d been a fool then, blinded by love, believing marriage meant total transparency. I’d learned my lesson. After discovering his affair, I’d moved the deed to the most secure, forgotten corner of the house. I took the deed straight to my mother’s and had her lock it away in her safe. A few days later, I was hanging laundry on the balcony when Carol approached me, her face plastered with a sycophantic grin. “Lily, dear…” I gave her a sidelong glance. “What? Don’t call me dear. We’re not that close.” “Oh, don’t say that! We’re family!” “Do you want something?” She fidgeted with a freshly hung bedsheet. “Well, I was just wondering… after all this time you and Dylan have been married… who handles the money?” “Why do you ask?” “Oh, no reason. I was just chatting with some of the ladies in the neighborhood, and they were saying that here in the city, the wives usually control the finances. Is that true? Do you manage Dylan’s money?” “No, I’m not so lucky,” I said flatly. “I couldn’t manage your son if I tried.” A triumphant smirk spread across her face. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You know, I’ve been wanting to say this for a while. You do have a bit of self-awareness. Your luck really is terrible. Your family went bankrupt just a few years after you got married. Your parents should have had a son, not a daughter who’s nothing but a drain on resources! Look at my Dylan! So successful, a general manager already, living in a house this big!” “His luck is good, you’re right,” I retorted, my voice like ice. “But he wouldn’t be living in this big house if it weren’t for the good fortune of this ‘drain on resources.’ Without me, that boy from the countryside would be working his whole life and still not afford a place like this.” “You—!” She was about to fire back, but she caught herself, remembering her mission. Her face shifted back to a mask of false sweetness. “Yes, yes, you’re right, Lily. My Dylan owes everything to you. If it weren’t for you, he might not even be married today.” “Carol, just get to the point. You don’t need to beat around the bush.” “Alright, I’ll be direct. The deed to the house… you have it, right?” “I do. Why?” “It’s no big deal. It’s just… you’re so busy with the baby, and a deed is such a valuable thing. It would be safer if I kept it for you.” “What? Did I hear you correctly? Why on earth would I give it to you? You didn’t pay for the house. And frankly, it’s safer anywhere than in your hands.” “Hey! You watch your tone with me! Are you choosing the hard way? You married into our family, so you will listen to your mother-in-law and you will listen to your husband! Your husband is your sky! You do not defy the sky, or you will be struck by lightning!” “Oh, so I married into your family to face a trial by fire, is that it? Struck by lightning? If your son is so powerful, let’s see him try and strike me down!” Her face turned the color of liver. She grabbed a nearby clothes hanger and raised it to strike me. “You insolent girl! If you make me unhappy today, I’ll have Dylan divorce you tomorrow!” “Go ahead! Do it! The second we’re divorced, he won’t get a penny from this house! And you go ahead and hit me. I’ll get a medical report and call the police so fast your head will spin. You’ll be rotting in a jail cell!” The threat of the police stopped her cold. The last thing she wanted was a trip to the station over a house deed. She forced a sickly smile, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. “I was just trying to scare you, dear. I wouldn’t really hit you! You city girls are so delicate. One little scare and you want to send your poor mother-in-law to prison. What would the people back home say about the kind of wife our Dylan married?” “Good. As long as you understand. This is a society of laws, not your village where you can just hit people whenever you feel like it. Assault has consequences.” I glared at her, snatched the hanger from her hand, and walked away.

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I am the Crown Princess of Eldoria, and my father’s only child. When I was seven, my father, the King, selected four sons from the Four Great Houses of the realm. They were the most handsome, the most brilliant, and they were to be raised at court as my future consorts, groomed to one day help me rule. The people called them the “Four Lords of Eldoria.” None of them liked me. Even the one I adored, Lord Kaelan, had already given his heart to another. Now, with the King’s health failing, he asked me which of them I would choose to be my Prince Consort. I left my fate to the God, deciding with a simple drawing of lots. I never imagined I would draw the name of the most unreliable one of them all: Lord Lysander. On the day the royal decree was to be announced, Lord Kaelan fell to his knees and begged me not to leave him. 1 “Father, I choose Lysander.” I stared at the wooden token in my hand and gave a bitter smile. Perhaps this was fate. Kaelan and I were simply not meant to be. My father hesitated, his gaze searching mine. “Aurelia, are you certain? Once the royal decree is issued, there is no turning back.” Of course, I knew that. But Kaelan didn’t love me. Why should I force him into a miserable life? Besides him, it made no difference to me who I married. As the Crown Princess of Eldoria, I had duties that outweighed my own desires. I bowed my head. “Father, my mind is made up. I will not regret it.” The King sighed and wrote Lysander’s name upon the royal scroll. “In three days, I will proclaim to the kingdom that Lord Lysander is to be your Prince Consort.” I nodded. As I left my father’s chambers, I saw four strikingly handsome men walking towards me, each with a god-like grace. My four consorts-in-waiting. Gareth, my cousin, was the first to speak. “Your Highness,” he said, his curiosity getting the better of him, “we heard the King asked you to choose a consort. Who did you pick?” My eyes instinctively flickered to Kaelan. The fourth lord, Tristan, noticed and clapped Kaelan on the shoulder with a grin. “Is there any need to ask? It must be our Kaelan. Everyone in the palace knows the Princess has eyes only for him.” At his words, Kaelan’s face turned to stone. When he looked at me, his eyes burned with a mixture of resentment and bitterness. That single glance was a dagger in my heart. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to tell him that I hadn’t chosen him, to beg him not to look at me with such hatred. But then I thought, after all the years I’ve spent chasing after him, let him worry for a few days. Seeing my silence, Gareth nudged me. “Come now, Your Highness, don’t keep us in suspense. Who is it?” My gaze fell upon Lysander, who stood apart from the others, fanning himself languidly, saying nothing. “You will all find out in three days.” Lysander’s eyes met mine, and he raised a single, inquisitive eyebrow. I turned and walked back to my wing of the palace without another word. Tristan was right. Everyone knew I loved Kaelan. But he was a man of immense pride. He saw the idea of rising through marriage to a woman as a disgrace and hated that his life, even his choice of wife, was not his own to control. Besides, he was already in love with someone else, a woman he could never be with because of me. He met all my attempts at affection with cold disdain. He didn’t understand that my marriage was not a matter of the heart, but a political tool. My father was ill, and despite a harem of consorts, I was his only child. The consort program was a strategy to maintain balance and control over the Four Great Houses. My husband had to be one of them. Whether they wished it or not. Lost in thought, I was startled by a voice from behind me. “Your Highness, a moment.” 2 I turned. It was Kaelan. His fists were clenched, his expression dark. “Is there something you need, my lord?” He gave a stiff bow. “I have already given my heart to another. I pray you will grant us your blessing.” I laughed. “Kaelan, do you truly believe I would choose you?” He faltered. “You are the Princess. You have so many choices. Why must you insist on forcing someone who does not love you?” I looked down, a bitter smile touching my lips. “Rest assured, I will not bother you again. You are free to pursue your ambitions, to be with the woman you love.” He frowned. “Your Highness, what do you mean by that?” Just as I was about to tell him I had chosen Lysander, a clumsy figure stumbled and crashed into me. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. Before I could even react, Lady Seraphine was on her knees, begging for mercy. “Forgive me, Your Highness! I… I didn’t mean to! Please, forgive me!” I rubbed my bruised arm, looking at her in confusion. Seraphine was the niece of a powerful court duchess, from a prominent house. Yet every time she saw me, she acted like a mouse cornered by a cat, even when I had done nothing. Kaelan often shot me dirty looks because of it, assuming I had been bullying her. Seeing her knock her head on the stone floor until it was red, Kaelan rushed forward, his voice laced with pain. “That’s enough, Seraphine. It was a small accident. There’s no need for this.” He helped her up, then shot a warning glance in my direction. I watched the scene with a scornful silence. Seeing this, Seraphine immediately dropped to her knees again, tears streaming down her face. “Your Highness, I deserve to be punished. Please, just forgive me this once.” I pushed myself up from the ground and looked down at her. Kaelan, thinking I was deliberately tormenting her, lost all composure. “Aurelia! It was an accident! How can you abuse your power like this? How do you expect to rule this kingdom one day if you cannot even show basic decency?” Abuse my power? She was the one who had run into me. I hadn’t said a single word, and he was already accusing me. Had I been too kind to him for too long? Had he forgotten his place? He wanted to see me abuse my power? Fine. I would show him. I yanked Seraphine to her feet and slapped her, hard, across the face. “Remember this,” I said, my voice dripping with contempt. “This is what it means to abuse my power.” Kaelan’s eyes widened, but he was too slow to stop me. Seeing the red handprint blooming on Seraphine’s cheek, he pointed at me, his voice trembling with rage. “Aurelia…” CRACK! I slapped him too. “You will address me as Your Highness.” He was stunned into silence. I had spent years trying to win his affection. He had never imagined I would treat him like this. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles cracked. “Fine,” he seethed. “Just fine.” “Seraphine, let’s go.” Watching them leave, a wave of melancholy washed over me. He hadn’t always been like this. When we were seven, I fell into the palace lake, and he saved me. After my cousin Gareth, he was the one I was closest to. He would help me with my lessons, encourage me when the Grand Tutor was harsh, and even share my punishments. It was only when we grew older and understood the meaning of our arrangement—that everything he learned, everything he did, was to prepare him to serve me—that he began to change. He couldn’t accept a life he hadn’t chosen. He felt trapped. Then, he met Seraphine at a poetry gala and was captivated by her. I gave a self-deprecating laugh. He would probably be thrilled to learn I had chosen Lysander. 3 The next day was the kingdom’s annual High Rite of Ascension. My father’s health was worsening, so I had to preside, with the Four Lords at my side. Kaelan was still furious about yesterday’s events and refused to even look at me. I couldn’t be bothered with him either. After the midday meal, I took a walk in the gardens. Suddenly, a familiar voice drifted to my ears. “Lord Kaelan, I made these honey cakes myself. Try one.” I followed the sound and saw Lady Seraphine, holding a small cake to Kaelan’s lips. He leaned in without hesitation and took a bite, a smile gracing his face—a smile I had never seen before. She laughed and gently wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth. They were the very picture of devoted lovers. I fought down a wave of nausea and was about to leave when several figures in black dropped from the trees around me. “Who are you?” I demanded, my hand flying to the small dagger at my belt. “What do you want?” They exchanged a glance, then charged, their blades aimed at my heart. Though I had trained with the Four Lords, my skill was limited. Kaelan had already noticed the commotion. “Kaelan, help me!” I cried out. He took an instinctive step towards me, but Seraphine threw her arms around him, her voice a frightened whimper. “Kaelan, don’t go! I’m so scared!” He hesitated. In that single moment of hesitation, a blade sliced across my arm. The pain was so sharp it brought a cold sweat to my brow. I stared at him in disbelief. In a moment of mortal danger, he had chosen not to save me. I gritted my teeth. “Kaelan, what are you standing there for? Save me!” As the words left my mouth, Seraphine let out a piercing scream. “Aaaah!” One of the assassins had broken off and was now lunging towards them. Kaelan pushed her back, his entire focus on protecting Seraphine. He didn’t see another assassin raise his sword and charge at me from the side. I closed my eyes, bracing for the end. But the pain never came. My eyes flew open to see Lysander standing in front of me, his own sword having just sent the assassin’s blade flying. Gareth and Tristan arrived a second later, joining the fray. The assassins were quickly subdued. Seeing their failure, they all turned their blades on themselves, dying in a spray of blood that splattered across my gown. I stood frozen, a desolate chill spreading through me. I had thought that even if Kaelan didn’t love me, the bond of our shared childhood still meant something. But at the moment of truth, for Seraphine, he had left me to die. Gareth and Tristan had seen it all. Their expressions, when they looked at Kaelan, were complicated. My father was informed and ordered a full investigation. The House of Xie was too powerful to move against directly, but the King’s anger needed an outlet. He ordered Lady Seraphine to be confined to her family’s estate. That night, Kaelan stormed into my chambers, his face a mask of fury. “Aurelia, this had nothing to do with Seraphine. Why did you do it? This is nothing but petty revenge!” He actually believed I was behind her punishment. I looked at him, my voice as cold as ice. “Kaelan, do you have any idea how close I came to dying today?” He was unmoved. “But you’re fine, aren’t you?” “Besides,” he continued, “you are the Princess. You have countless guards to protect you. Seraphine only has me. You saw what happened today—she was nearly killed by those assassins as well. She is a victim too.” “Go to the King. Beg him to lift her confinement.” I clutched my wounded arm, the pain a dull throb. “Impossible.” My refusal sent him into a rage, his chest heaving. “And you call yourself a princess! You can’t even tell right from wrong! You are utterly unreasonable!” He spun on his heel and stormed out. He did not come to the palace for the next two days. He only returned, reluctantly, on the third day—the day the royal decree was to be announced.

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I’d been inseparable from the Sterling brothers since kindergarten—fifteen years of friendship. Then Phoebe transferred in. They stopped sitting by me. When I enforced class rules with her, they called me aggressive. When she cried over unfinished homework, Liam and Leo told me: “Transfer to Class 10, Celeste. You’re upsetting Phoebe.” I dug my nails into my palm and agreed. Someone protested: “The exams are close! And her leg—she’ll get bullied in Class 10!” Liam sneered: “She deserves it. We’ve protected her too long.” Leo added: “Time she tasted her own medicine.” Outside, I silently applied to a university abroad. Our paths would never cross again. 1. The Transfer Student’s Tears The new transfer student was crying again. All I did was ask her for today’s English homework, and she just broke down. “Why are you only asking me? There are so many other people you could be collecting from first.” “I know you’re just trying to humiliate me. You know my English is bad, so you’re deliberately targeting me.” “You do this every day, don’t you? Just to show everyone that Liam and Leo have bad taste, that they chose me for their study group instead of you.” “Celeste, why are you so manipulative?” With that, she ignored the bell and ran out of the classroom, her eyes red and teary. Liam and Leo stood up, shot me a dark look, and followed her out. I watched their retreating backs, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I remember when I was the one running ahead, the one they were worried about. When I was three, my mother remarried and we moved into my stepfather’s house. That’s when I met the Sterling twins, Liam and Leo, who lived next door. From that day on, the three of us were inseparable. The first time they saw me, they promised to be my knights forever. And they were. I had a hard time adjusting to my new home. I missed my real father and cried myself to sleep every night. They stayed with me, day and night, until I finally came out of my shell. We went to kindergarten, elementary, middle, and high school together, never once separated. They always said they would be with me forever, that they would always protect me. But everything changed when Phoebe arrived. Phoebe transferred from another school and was struggling to keep up. As the class representative, I was assigned by the teacher to tutor her. After I started tutoring her, I noticed she often skipped lunch. One day, I found her hiding in the classroom, eating a cold, hard bun with the free soup from the cafeteria. That’s when I realized how poor her family was. From that day on, I started looking out for her. I would bring her along when I went to the cafeteria with Liam and Leo. When she still couldn’t keep up with her studies, I invited her to join our study group. But I don’t know when it started. She grew closer and closer to Liam and Leo, and further and further from me. And now, she had completely taken my place. 2. The Knights’ Betrayal They finally came back at the end of the second period. Phoebe stood between them, her eyes still red. Liam gently stroked her hair and whispered something in her ear. She finally broke into a smile. Leo, seeing this, playfully tweaked her nose with his long fingers. She giggled, her smile even brighter. I watched them from a distance. They looked like the perfect couple from a teen drama, so beautiful, so enviable. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. Liam, the older twin, was standing in front of me. His face was a picture of carefree charm in the sunlight, but his words were cold and cruel. “Celeste, can you transfer to Class 10?” “You keep upsetting Phoebe here. I’m worried about her.” It felt like a punch to the gut. The college entrance exams were just around the corner, and he wanted me to transfer to Class 10? The worst, most remedial class in the entire school? The one where the students would sometimes laugh at me and call me a cripple during gym class? I opened my mouth to refuse, but Leo strode over, his long legs covering the distance in a few steps. “Celeste, don’t make this hard for us, okay?” “Besides, we don’t want to go home and tell Auntie about you bullying another student. She just had the baby, we can’t have her getting upset.” A gaping hole opened in my chest, a chilling cold spreading through my body. They knew how terrible my relationship with my mother was. She didn’t like me because I looked too much like the father who had abandoned her. After she had a child with my stepfather, her dislike had only grown, to the point where it was almost unbearable. And now, they were using her as a threat against me. I looked at their faces, two identical masks of scorn. Something inside me died. I clutched my schoolbag tighter. “Fine. I’ll go.” 3. The Cripple’s Curse The Sterling family was one of the most powerful in the city. Several of the school buildings had been donated by them. All it took was a single word. I was transferred from the honors class to the remedial Class 10. As I left the classroom with my bag, countless pairs of mocking eyes followed me. Phoebe stood between Liam and Leo, a victorious, malicious smile on her face. “Celeste, I hope you’ll learn not to bully your classmates in Class 10.” “After all, the delinquents there aren’t as easygoing as I am.” “And with your bad leg… you should be careful. They might target you.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. Liam laughed as if he had just heard the funniest joke, and gently tugged at her hand. She tilted her head and smiled back at him. The sight was so bright it stung my eyes. But I thought, this is the last time. Liam and Leo, I’ve done what you asked. From now on, I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t say a word. I just lowered my head, picked up my bag, and limped away. My leg was bad. When I was six, Liam and Leo were fighting over a toy and accidentally fell into the road. I pushed them out of the way of an oncoming car, but I was pulled under the wheels myself. I’ll never forget that day. My world was a sea of red. My right leg suffered a comminuted fracture. I would never be able to dance again. When they heard the news, they almost went insane. They cried and promised they would be my legs forever. They wouldn’t let anyone make fun of me for my leg. I never thought “forever” would be so short. And now, they were among the ones who mocked me. 4. Hell’s Classroom Class 10 was even worse than I had imagined. The classroom was a chaotic mess of delinquents who had no interest in studying. The homeroom teacher assigned me a seat at the very back. It seemed everyone knew I had crossed the Sterling heirs, so they were all eager to get a piece of me. Especially my deskmate, a boy with rainbow-colored hair named Ryder. The moment I reached his desk, he viciously kicked my injured leg. My forehead slammed into the corner of the desk, and blood instantly gushed out. Seeing my pathetic state, he feigned a look of exaggerated shock, his eyes full of malice. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” “Celeste, I really didn’t know you were actually a cripple. I’m so, so sorry.” But then, in a voice only I could hear, he whispered, “Welcome to hell, little cripple.” “You should have known someone would get back at you for messing with Phoebe.” So, it was for Phoebe. But what had I done wrong? I went to the teacher’s office and told him Ryder had kicked me on purpose. But the students who had just been laughing at my misfortune all developed a sudden case of amnesia when the teacher questioned them. Not only did they refuse to testify for me, but they also claimed I had fallen on my own. When the homeroom teacher told me the result, a chilling cold washed over me. His voice was dismissive. “Celeste, I know you’re a good student academically.” “But as a student, good grades aren’t enough. You need to have good character.” “I heard you were transferred from the honors class for bullying another student.” “If you continue this behavior in my class, don’t blame me for being harsh.” “The college entrance exams are in a month. I don’t want you causing any trouble in my class during this time.” No one believed me. No one helped me. In that moment, I felt like I was three years old again, completely alone and helpless. My parents had divorced. My mother didn’t like me, but she refused to give up custody, just to spite my father. She hated my face because it reminded her of him. She had hurled endless insults and abuse at my three-year-old self. After she remarried, she simply ignored me. Even when I became a cripple, she didn’t shed a single tear for me. It wasn’t until my half-brother was born a little while ago that I realized. When he got sick, she would worry. When he had a fever, she would cry. It wasn’t that my mother didn’t know how to be a mother. She just didn’t want to be my mother. And now, even Liam and Leo had left me. I had no one to rely on. No one to love me. 5. The Exam Trap I limped back to the classroom. Seeing that the homeroom teacher was not on my side, Ryder became even more brazen. He kicked over my schoolbag, tore up all my textbooks, and dumped trash all over my desk. I held my breath against the stench and wiped my desk clean, bit by bit. I told myself, just endure it a little longer. The college entrance exams are in a month. After the exams, I’ll be gone. I’ll never have to see these disgusting people and things again. But fate is a fickle thing. Even my simplest wish was so hard to achieve. The day before the exams, Liam and Leo cornered me in the school hallway. They magnanimously announced, “Celeste, your punishment is over. you can come back to the honors class today.” Then they glanced at Phoebe, who was standing a short distance away, watching me with displeasure. “But when you come back, you can’t bully Phoebe anymore. Otherwise, we’ll have to punish you again.” At that, Phoebe smiled. But the hatred in her eyes was almost palpable. I touched my arm, which was bruised and purple from Ryder’s compass pokes, and shook my head. “No, thank you.” “I’m fine in Class 10.” I’ve been through the worst of it. One more day won’t make a difference. I limped past them. Behind me, someone kicked a trash can with a deafening crash. “Celeste, you’re so ungrateful!” Yes. I am ungrateful. So, let’s just never see each other again. I had refused Liam and Leo’s offer. But their actions had clearly made Phoebe feel threatened. After the last study hall, Ryder dumped another load of trash on me. I was covered in filth. I had to go to the restroom to clean up. But when I tried to leave, I found the door was locked. A chill ran down my spine. I had been locked in. I frantically searched my pockets for my phone, but it was gone. I suddenly remembered running into Phoebe on my way to the restroom. She had bumped into me, hard. It was her. She had stolen my phone. I pounded on the door, screaming for help. But there was no one. Everyone had gone home. Suddenly, I heard a light laugh from outside. It was Phoebe. “There’s no one out here, my dear class representative. You can just stay in there.” “I wonder… will you miss your exam tomorrow?” “Phoebe? Are you coming?” I thought I heard Liam’s voice. I started screaming his name, frantically. I hoped he would save me, just like he used to. But Phoebe kicked the restroom door and said, “Coming.” Then, silence. Liam was gone. He hadn’t heard my cries for help. The boy who had once promised that no matter where he was, he would come and protect me if I just called his name, was gone. The restroom grew dark. Phoebe had turned off the lights when she left. The small room was pitch black. I hugged myself, a wave of nausea, chest tightness, and anxiety washing over me. I wanted to vomit. Darkness pressed in on me like a demon. I trembled in the dark, my body shaking uncontrollably. I have claustrophobia, and the darkness only made it worse. Terrified, I bit down hard on my arm. I’m so young. I don’t want to die. I wished someone would come and save me. But I realized with a devastating clarity that no one would. My mother… she didn’t care about me at all. Liam and Leo… they used to care. But now, they cared about someone else.

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In my past life, I stood before the gates of House Valerius, my belly swollen with child. My heart fluttered with a nervous hope as I looked upon Lord Alaric, a man who seemed carved from marble and starlight. “My lord,” I’d said, “I am with child. And the child is yours.” I got my wish. I became the lady of the house. Everyone said I was blessed by fortune. What they didn’t know was that from that day forward, Alaric never again set foot in my chambers. I learned later that he had been on the verge of marrying another, the very day after I arrived. Now, reborn, I stand before him once more. But before I can utter a word, he snatches the token from my hand. His voice is a blade of ice against my ear. “You will not say the child is mine.” “This time,” he hissed, “I will not marry you.” And in that moment, I knew. He had been reborn, too. Good. This time, I had no intention of marrying him either. 1 The Dowager Duchess, Lady Elara, followed him into the grand hall, just as she had in my past life. “Young woman,” she asked, her voice gentle but firm. “May we know the reason for your visit?” Alaric’s gaze was a physical weight, a silent, menacing warning. My eyes fell upon Lady Elara, and a wave of sorrow washed over me, so sharp it almost brought me to tears. If there was one person in my past life who had shown me any kindness, it was her. I bit my lip, the words catching in my throat. “My lady, I came seeking you.” She stilled, her eyes locking onto mine. After a long moment, her voice trembled. “Are you… are you Lyra’s girl? From House Thorne?” I had only learned the truth after entering their home in my previous life. My grandmother, Lyra Thorne, and Lady Elara were not only cousins but had been the closest of friends in their youth. But then, disaster struck House Thorne, and I was left an orphan. And I, it was said, was the very image of my grandmother. A fresh wave of grief passed over Lady Elara’s face. She sighed, her gaze shifting from me to Alaric, who stood silent and watchful. A sad smile touched her lips. “You children wouldn’t know, but there was an old pact between our families. A childhood betrothal between you and Alaric. But then… House Thorne fell, and we lost all trace of you…” Her eyes fell to my stomach. “And now you are with child. Who is the father? Why would he let you travel to the capital of Aethelgard alone?” I looked up. Alaric’s eyes were on me, cold and guarded. Six months ago, an accident. A night of fevered passion with Alaric, who had been drugged. He was gone before dawn, leaving behind only a whispered promise—“If you ever find yourself in trouble, seek me in Aethelgard”—and, pressed beneath my pillow, a silver signet marked with twin serpents. In my last life, he had married me, forced by the existence of his heir and the will of his grandmother. He lost his true love and condemned me to a lifetime of cold neglect. This time, he had already taken the signet, severing any link between us. Good. I had no desire to chain myself to him again. I heard my own voice, distant and steady. “The father of this child…” I paused, feeling Alaric’s stare. “I do not know who he is.” 2 The air in the room, thick with the scent of incense, seemed to lighten. Alaric’s rigid posture relaxed ever so slightly. The Dowager Duchess frowned, her gaze gentle but searching. “My dear girl… were you accosted by some brigand?” A bitter ache rose in my throat. I nodded, then quickly shook my head. That night was not of my choosing, but this child… this child was a choice I had made. At six months, it was far too late for any other path. Lady Elara fell into a thoughtful silence. “Do you recall any marks upon the man?” she asked finally. “House Valerius has some influence. Alaric could make inquiries for you. If he is a decent man, perhaps…” Alaric smoothly interjected, “Indeed. Lady Cora, if you need anything, you have but to ask.” He stood with his back to the light, a silhouette of feigned concern. His dark eyes, half-lidded, held a glint of something deeper. My mind was a whirlwind. “I believe… there was something on his shoulder,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. Alaric spun around, his eyes flashing with a sharp, veiled fury. Only then did I remember. He, too, had a small, crimson mole on his shoulder. A flash of a bare back, muscles tense in the moonlight, seared through my memory. “A birthmark,” I stammered, correcting myself. “A crescent moon.” He visibly relaxed and gave a slight nod. “Rest assured, Lady Cora. I will do everything in my power to find him. We will find you a worthy match.” He put a heavy, pointed emphasis on the last words, a clear message. I managed a bitter smile. I hadn’t realized just how desperate he was to be rid of me. In my last life, I had been too lost in my foolish joy to see it. 3 I was given rooms in the estate’s Serene Garden wing. The Dowager Duchess arranged for a master healer to attend to me, prescribing tonics to ensure the health of my child. The very next day, the lady of House Beaumont arrived to formally accept the betrothal between our families. The match was for her second daughter, Isolde. Alaric’s true love. Lady Isolde was a proud woman. In my past life, when she learned of my entanglement with Alaric, she had broken the engagement without a second thought. Now, with me out of the picture, they could finally have their happy ending. After seeing the healer out, I spent some time feeding the koi in the pond before heading back to my rooms. As I rounded a covered walkway, I came upon a familiar scene. In the courtyard, Lady Isolde sat on a wooden swing, her smile as sweet as summer wine. Alaric stood behind her, pushing her gently, his own eyes soft with affection. Isolde’s gaze drifted over and found me. Her smile faltered. Then, she lifted her chin, her voice carrying across the yard. “Alaric, my love, why is there a pregnant woman staying at your family estate?” Alaric’s eyes met mine, his face tightening almost imperceptibly. “She is the daughter of an old friend of my grandmother’s. We are merely offering her shelter until her child’s father can be found.” I gave a small nod of acknowledgement and walked away. Shelter. House Valerius was vast. His words were not about charity; they were a warning. He feared I would cause trouble and wanted me gone. Later that afternoon, before I could rest, a maid announced a visitor. Lord Alaric. His expression was dark, his eyes like polished obsidian pressing down on me. “You knew Isolde was here. Why did you have to show yourself? Or is this another one of your schemes to force me to break my betrothal?” I took a step back, shaking my head. “You worry for nothing, my lord. I have no such intention.” His brow remained furrowed. He stared at me for a long moment before speaking again. “I know you carry my child. I know you are unhappy that I will not claim you.” He took a breath. “But rest easy. Once Isolde is my wife, I will find a way to take you as my mistress. Until then, you will remain quiet and cause no trouble. If you do, do not blame me for the consequences.” He stood cloaked in light and shadow, his reflection a dark stain on the floor. The coldness in his eyes was sharper than I had ever seen it. I stared at him, my voice a painful rasp when I finally spoke. “You need not worry, my lord. I have no wish to marry you. Once the child is born, I will leave.” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh and said no more. I knew he didn’t believe me. After all, where could a ruined orphan like me possibly go? 4 After that, I avoided the main courtyards. If I happened to cross paths with Alaric, I would turn away. He seemed pleased by this, his demeanor toward me softening fractionally. A few days later, a messenger from the Dowager Duchess summoned me. She sat in a high-backed, mahogany chair, her expression strange. Her first words sent a jolt through me. “Cora, my dear. I know who the father of your child is.” I stumbled, nearly falling, but a steady hand caught my arm. “Oh, my heavens,” Lady Elara cried, patting her forehead in self-reproach. “Forgive me, I’ve frightened you.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Had she discovered the truth about me and Alaric? Once I was settled in a chair, she continued. “When you mentioned the birthmark, it felt familiar. I thought on it for days, and then I remembered. It was Lord Lucian Thorne, of the Obsidian Guard. I held him as a babe, just after he was born. I saw the mark myself.” She patted my hand, sighing. “Unfortunately, Lord Thorne is a… difficult man. Utterly ruthless. He cut ties with his own family after his mother’s death. People speak his name in whispers. He is not what one would call a good match.” My heart, which had just begun to settle, leaped back into my throat. The crescent moon birthmark… it was from a wounded soldier I had treated as a healer in the provincial town of Silverwood. I thought no one in the capital would ever know, so I’d used it as a convenient lie. I never imagined it would lead to this. Lucian Thorne. He was the King’s most feared enforcer, a notorious rival of Alaric Valerius. If he discovered I was pinning my child on him… I bit my lip. “My lady,” I said, my voice strained, “perhaps I was mistaken. The light was dim, it’s possible I saw it wrong…” She patted my hand again, a knowing smile on her face. “There, there. I know a young woman’s modesty. It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. I’ve already asked him. It was him.” My world tilted. “I gave him a thorough scolding,” she went on, “and told him you were with child. He was stunned for a moment, and then… he said he would marry you.” I stared at her, utterly speechless. “He… he said he would marry me?” “Of course!” Lady Elara nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Your belly is already so large. He cannot simply shirk his responsibility. He has agreed. He will have you wed as soon as it can be arranged.” My face went pale, my fingers twisting the handkerchief in my lap into a knot. “No,” I blurted out. “That’s not possible.” Lady Elara’s expression turned to one of disapproval. “Cora, House Thorne is noble, but he is a Lord of the Guard. For him to offer you the position of his lawful wife is a great honor. Do not let a moment of pride ruin this for you.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Whatever his reasons, I couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. She continued to persuade me. I fell silent, eventually giving a noncommittal nod. Very well. I would simply have to find an opportunity to speak with Lord Thorne myself and clear this up. 5 With Alaric’s wedding approaching, the estate was a hive of activity. Seizing a moment when no one was paying attention, I donned a veiled hat and went to the headquarters of the Obsidian Guard. I waited for what felt like an eternity until I finally saw a man matching the description, hailed as “Lord Thorne.” It had been so long, I barely recognized him. He wore the deep indigo robes of his office, his features sharp and his posture radiating a dangerous grace. He was a world away from the mud-caked, broken man I remembered. When I stepped into his path, he showed no annoyance. Instead, his dark eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. I faltered for a second, then lowered my head. “My lord, the child I carry is—” “Not mine,” he finished for me, his expression unchanging. I looked up, my eyes wide with surprise. “You knew, and yet you still—” He met my gaze, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I am not so far gone that I don’t know which women I have bedded.” “Then why would you agree to marry me?” His lips curved into a true smile, a dangerous light dancing in his eyes. “The Dowager Duchess Valerius found me,” he said, his voice a low, smooth drawl. “Told me I had sullied the descendant of her dearest friend. Said the lady in question had personally identified the birthmark on my back and demanded I make amends. I thought long and hard, and the only ‘Lady Cora’ who fits the description is a certain healer from Silverwood.” He looked at me then, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You saved my life, Lady Cora. A life for a life. A fair trade, wouldn’t you say? Your body for my name.” My eyes widened and I waved my hands frantically. “That’s not what I meant at all…” Seeing his amused expression, I realized he was teasing me. I pressed my lips together, my resolve hardening. I met his gaze directly. “I am grateful for your generosity, my lord. But if I were to marry you, it would be a disservice not only to the child’s true father, but also a great injustice to you. This was my mistake, and I have implicated you unfairly. If you are angry, direct it at me. But this marriage… it cannot happen.” The air went still. Lucian’s smile remained, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were deep, unreadable pools of chilling calm. Just as a cold sweat began to prickle my skin, he let out a long, slow sigh. “You do not wish to marry me. Very well. Your wish is granted.”

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