Category: English

My mother had severe OCD about cleanliness. To prevent urine from splashing on the toilet seat. As a boy, I was forced from a young age to sit down when using the bathroom. Until that day in the school restroom, when I stood in front of the urinal with my face flushed red, I discovered that suddenly I couldn’t pee standing up anymore. I trembled all over in panic, and in the end, I couldn’t release a single drop. It all ended up in my pants instead. I sobbed in shame. When my mother arrived with a cold expression on her face, she let out a sigh. “Ernest, you’ve disappointed me so much.” “You made such a mess of yourself just going to the bathroom. You’re no longer a clean child.” Seeing the disgust in my mother’s eyes, I felt like I was suffocating from grief. My mother had said that she would only love clean children. I thought, if I just wash myself clean, she won’t hate me anymore, right? I looked at that expression of revulsion in my mother’s eyes, my heart aching. I knew she was disgusted by me. That was the same look she had whenever she saw something dirty—brows furrowed, corners of her mouth turned down. But Mom, I’m not a dirty thing, I’m your son! Panicking, I reached out my hand, trying to grab hers. I wanted to tell her I’d wash myself clean right away, that I wouldn’t stay dirty. “Mom.” My fingers had just touched her sleeve. My mother jerked back as if she’d been electrocuted, yanking her arm away forcefully. I staggered back two steps, my back hitting the hallway wall, the back of my head bumping against it. The pain made my eyes sting. But I didn’t cry, because I saw my mother lower her head, staring at the spot on her sleeve that I had touched. She pulled a wet wipe from her bag and started cleaning it. She wiped it four times before folding the wipe neatly and throwing it in the nearby trash can. I looked down at my own fingers. They were wet, carrying the smell of urine. I slowly curled my fingers inward, clenching them into a small fist and stuffing it into my pocket. I wouldn’t reach out anymore. There was no one who wanted to hold my hand anyway. Ms. Levitt had been standing to the side watching. Now she crouched down, took off her jacket, and wrapped it around my wet pants. She put her arm around my shoulders, saying softly. “It’s okay, Ernest. I wet my pants when I was little too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” But when my mother saw Ms. Levitt hugging me, she immediately walked over. She smiled, bent down, and used two fingers to pinch a corner of Ms. Levitt’s jacket, removing it from my body. “Ms. Levitt, he’s dirty. Don’t let him soil your clothes.” She said it with a smile, her tone incredibly gentle. Ms. Levitt stood up, her expression darkening. She looked at my mother, then at me. “He’s only six years old. Wetting his pants is normal.” “What he needs right now is comfort, not disgust.” I thought my mother would get angry. But she spoke calmly and deliberately. “Ms. Levitt, I understand your feelings. But as an educator, you should be aware that the formation of behavioral habits before age six is a critical period.” “Unconditionally accepting children at this stage is equivalent to indulgence. Children without rules will only have worse boundaries as they grow up.” “This is basic educational knowledge.” Ms. Levitt opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to respond. Several parents who had come to pick up their children nearby stopped and began whispering. “What this mom is saying does make sense.” “Yeah, you really can’t spoil kids too much these days.” “She’s doing it for the child’s own good.” I stood in the corner, listening to these words, feeling like the whole world was telling me: Mom is right, being dirty is bad. I lowered my head and sniffed myself. It smelled terrible. I said quietly. “I’ll go wash myself clean, then Mom won’t be angry.” No one heard me. Behind me, my mother was still discussing educational philosophies with Ms. Levitt. I turned and walked along the wall of the hallway, step by step toward the stairwell. My pants were wet, and as I walked, the fabric stuck to my legs, cold and clammy. When I turned at the stairwell, I looked back. My mother wasn’t looking at me. It didn’t matter. Once I washed myself clean, she would look at me.

Behind the school was a small path. At the end of the path was a flower bed and a water basin. The basin was used by the school for watering plants. It wasn’t large. But on this winter day, the wind was so cold it made me shiver. I walked to the edge of the basin and saw a thin layer of ice forming on the surface. I crouched down, rolled up my sleeves, cupped water in my hands, and splashed it on my pants. The icy water made me gasp. But I didn’t stop. I kept cupping water and splashing it on my pant legs, scrubbing as I muttered to myself. “Once I’m clean, Mom won’t be disgusted by me.” “Once I’m clean, Mom will hold my hand again.” I remembered the rules at home. Before using the toilet, I had to lay three layers of toilet paper on the seat, not more, not less. After urinating, I had to spray the toilet seat twice with disinfectant spray, from left to right, never in reverse. When washing my hands, I had to lather with soap and scrub for the time it took to sing the birthday song twice to be truly clean. Once I was in a hurry and sat down before laying the toilet paper. When my mother found out, she dragged me to the bathroom and scrubbed the inside of my thighs with a brush. She scrubbed until my skin turned red and burned with pain. As she scrubbed, she said, “So dirty, so dirty.” “How can you be so dirty? How can I ever get you clean?” After that, I never forgot to lay the paper again. I thought, Mom doesn’t not love me, she just loves the clean version of me. So as long as I stayed clean, she would always love me. After scrubbing for a while, I realized that just washing my pants wasn’t enough. My mother had said that anywhere touched by dirty things had to be cleaned, or the bacteria would spread. The urine had run down my pants onto my legs, so my legs were dirty too. I took off my shoes and stepped barefoot into the shallow water at the edge of the basin. The water covered my ankles, so cold that the muscles in my calves cramped. Gritting my teeth, I bent down to scrub my legs. I didn’t notice the slippery moss on the bottom of the basin. My foot suddenly slipped forward, and I lost my balance. Instinctively, I reached for the edge of the basin, but my fingers only grabbed a handful of slimy moss. My whole body pitched forward into the middle of the basin. My forehead struck the edge of the basin wall. There was a dull thud, and then I fell into the water. Water rushed into my nose. I tried to move, but my head was buzzing and my arms and legs suddenly felt very heavy. The light before my eyes gradually dimmed. I remembered what my mother used to say. “Ernest, I only love babies who are clean and spotless.” Mom, I’m washing myself. I’m making myself clean. Please wait for me. Once I’m done washing, you’ll hold my hand again, right? Ripples spread across the water’s surface in widening circles before fading away. A few dead leaves drifted down from the trees, landing on the water’s surface, sticking to my back.

In the hallway, my mother was still talking. “Ms. Levitt, it’s not that I don’t care about him. Quite the opposite—I want what’s best for him more than anyone.” “But that’s how education works. If I’m soft on him now, he’ll suffer greatly in society later.” Ms. Levitt stood across from her, lips pressed tightly together, wanting to speak but continually being cut off. Suddenly, she glanced down both sides of the hallway, her expression changing. “Where’s the child?” She turned around and looked. “Where’s Ernest? Where is Ernest?” My mother lifted her chin slightly, unworried. “He must have gone to the bathroom. He knows the rules—if he makes a mess, he has to clean himself up.” “I didn’t see him go to the bathroom.” Ms. Levitt was already running toward the classroom. He wasn’t in the classroom. He wasn’t in the boys’ bathroom either. She ran back, anxiously stopping a passing security guard. “John, did you see a little boy? About six years old, with wet pants?” The guard thought for a moment. “I think I saw a kid heading toward the flower beds out back.” Ms. Levitt’s heart sank. She knew what was behind the flower beds. She grabbed my mother and ran toward the back door, shouting as she ran. “Ernest! Ernest!” My mother was being pulled along, but she still maintained her unhurried demeanor. “Ms. Levitt, don’t panic. He won’t go far. The child is very timid.” The two of them went around the flower bed and onto the small path leading to the water basin. In the distance, they saw a small figure by the basin. Ms. Levitt squinted to look, breathed a long sigh of relief, but then immediately tensed up again. “He’s by the water? It’s so cold out, is he washing himself with cold water?” She quickened her pace. “No, no, in this freezing weather he’ll catch a cold. We need to pull him away right now.” My mother grabbed Ms. Levitt’s arm. “Ms. Levitt, don’t go over there. Let him wash himself.” Ms. Levitt froze. “He finally knows to clean himself up.” My mother looked at the small figure by the water basin in the distance, her eyes actually glimmering with tenderness. “See, I told you. Once the rules are established, children know what to do on their own.” The corners of her mouth curved upward slightly. “He’s learning to be Mommy’s favorite clean baby.” Ms. Levitt was being held by the arm, her foot suspended in mid-air before she drew it back. “But… in the middle of winter, using cold water… what if he catches a cold?” My mother waved her hand dismissively. “Children aren’t that fragile. Once he’s done washing, I’ll take him home to change clothes.” Ms. Levitt bit her lip and ultimately didn’t move forward. She stood in place, watching from afar that small figure hunched over by the water basin. She felt something was wrong, but couldn’t put her finger on it.

My mother released Ms. Levitt’s arm and slowly walked toward the water basin. As she walked, she said. “Once he’s done washing, I need to make sure he dries his hands thoroughly. Who knows how many bacteria are in that basin water.” “When we get home, I’ll have to wash him again with hot water and soak him in disinfectant for ten minutes.” My mother walked to about three meters from the basin and stopped. She saw that the water seemed a bit murky and was tinged with a faint reddish color. My mother frowned. “This water is so dirty, it smells like rust. When we get home I’ll definitely have to scrub him twice with body wash.” My mother shook her head in disgust and continued walking forward. Finally, she could see clearly what was in the basin. I wasn’t crouching by the edge—I was face down, lying in the water. My small arms hung on either side of my body, rising and falling gently with the ripples on the water’s surface. My mother’s footsteps paused. “Ernest? What are you doing?” “Lift your head up. The water is dirty, don’t lie in it.” Her tone was impatient. I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. “Ernest.” She bent down and grabbed my collar, pulling upward. Still muttering. “Get up, get up, your clothes are all wet, now I’ll have to wash them again!” “Do you have any idea how hard clothes are to wash!” My face emerged from the water. My mother’s hand froze. The face was a bluish-purple color. There was a gash on my forehead that had turned pale from being soaked in water. My mother’s hand gripping my collar started trembling. Her throat felt blocked, unable to make a sound. Behind her came Ms. Levitt’s urgent footsteps. She saw me in my mother’s hands, saw that bluish-purple little face, and screamed. Her knees went weak and she collapsed by the edge of the basin. With trembling hands, she took me from my mother, laid me on the ground, turned my head to the side, and pried open my mouth to let the water flow out. Then she interlaced her fingers and pressed them on my chest, pushing down rhythmically. Crying as she pressed. “Ernest, spit it out! Spit it out!” One. Two. Three. My head lolled limply with each compression. My mother knelt by the basin’s edge, her entire body frozen, not moving at all. Behind her, Ms. Levitt compressed for a full two minutes until her arms gave out, finally stopping. She collapsed on the ground, her voice full of despair. “Call 911… quickly call 911!” “Ernest isn’t breathing…”

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Your wife is sleeping in my bed right now! In the photo, Chloe was sleeping with her eyes closed. Her exposed skin was covered with marks left after lovemaking. I received this provocative text and photo while I was in the kitchen making soup for Chloe. Today was the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Chloe. But close to the end of her workday, Chloe apologetically told me that something urgent came up at the company and she needed to work overtime. Turns out she was “working overtime” in bed with her non-blood-related brother, Adrian. How ridiculous that I was worried she’d been working too hard lately and wanted to cook her a nice meal. The angle of that photo was clever, perfectly capturing the hotel’s logo and room key card. It seemed the person who sent me the photo very much wanted me to show up in person. With a calm expression, I poured all the soup from the pot down the drain. Grabbing my car keys, I drove straight to Seattle’s most luxurious hotel. The drive was smooth, and I arrived at the hotel. I took the elevator directly to Room 1806, a couples’ suite. The door was slightly ajar. The room was filled with roses, champagne, and cake—romance permeated every corner. “Splash…” The sound of water came from the bathroom direction. Then a woman’s flirtatious voice rang out: “You’re so bad, you splashed water all over my face…” My hand tightened on the doorknob. That voice… I’d listened to it for five whole years. It was my wife, Chloe. “Bad boys are what women love, aren’t they? You love how bad I am, don’t you?” The man laughed wickedly, his voice rising at the end. I wasn’t unfamiliar with that voice either. It was Chloe’s non-blood-related brother, the free-spirited artist Adrian. In the round bathtub scattered with rose petals, water splashed everywhere. Chloe wore only a revealing black lingerie set, her hands resting on Adrian’s shoulders. Adrian was shirtless, one arm wrapped around Chloe’s waist. The two laughed and played without restraint. Adrian sucked hard on Chloe’s neck, leaving a bright red hickey. “Not there, if he sees it he’ll get suspicious.” Chloe hit Adrian’s chest in mock displeasure. Adrian only laughed carelessly: “What’s there to be afraid of? Henry’s just an idiot.” “He’s been raising my son for five years and he’s still so proud of himself.” As Adrian spoke, his eyes were full of smug satisfaction. “Come on, I can’t wait any longer.” With that, Adrian pressed Chloe beneath him… I gripped the doorknob tightly, maintaining my position without moving. Adrian’s phrase “raising my son for five years” replayed in my mind over and over. Those words pierced my heart like a barbed knife. The people inside were too caught up in their passion to notice me standing at the door. Until a “crack” sound—I broke the doorknob clean off. Chloe and Adrian froze mid-action and turned their heads toward the door in unison. When they saw me standing at the doorway, Chloe’s pupils constricted sharply. “Henry?” The flush hadn’t yet faded from Chloe’s face, and her eyes held a trace of panic at being caught in the act. The lewd smile on Adrian’s face instantly froze. The next second, he lowered his head submissively as he usually did when facing me, as if he were terrified of me. After a brief moment of panic, Chloe quickly regained her composure. She leaned forward, shielding the trembling Adrian behind her. “Henry, what’s with that look? Look what you’ve done to Adrian!” I never expected that Chloe, caught red-handed in adultery, wouldn’t explain or show guilt, but would brazenly protect her lover. Adrian, protected behind Chloe, slowly lifted his head. The fear on his face had vanished, replaced by a provocative smile directed at me. But when Chloe looked at him, Adrian immediately put on a look of panic and anxiety again. Looking at Chloe protecting Adrian like a mother hen shielding her chick, my heart went completely cold. “What’s wrong with my look?” “And don’t you think you owe me a reasonable explanation?” “Why did you tell me you were working overtime, but ended up in Adrian’s bed instead?”

Chloe’s eyes flickered rapidly twice, but the anger of being questioned quickly replaced her guilty conscience. She suddenly raised her head, bristling like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice sharp and piercing: “Henry! What are you talking about?!” “Stalking me is one thing, but now you’re slandering me?” “Don’t we have even the most basic trust after five years together?” I was almost amused by Chloe’s self-righteousness. She didn’t mention her own deception at all. Instead, she turned the tables, pushing all the blame onto me. As if the one at fault wasn’t her, the cheating wife, but me, the husband who discovered the truth! Trust? I repeated those words, feeling like I’d heard the funniest joke of the century. “Weren’t you the one who lied to me first? And now you’re talking to me about trust?” Chloe choked, then continued to argue stubbornly: “So what if I lied to you?” “Do you know how much pressure I’m under every day? And what have you done for me besides cooking and cleaning?” “Adrian and I grew up together. To me, he’s like family! He IS my brother!” “He felt bad for me and wanted to help me relax with a professional spa massage!” “Why does it become something dirty in your eyes?” Chloe spoke with such conviction. If I hadn’t seen the intimate marks all over her body, I might have almost believed her. “Henry, you’ve really misunderstood! I… I just thought Chloe had been working so hard lately, I wanted to help her relax…” Adrian timidly poked half his head out from behind Chloe. “There’s nothing between Chloe and me. I absolutely have no improper thoughts about her.” As Adrian spoke, he looked at me cautiously, as if I were some man-eating demon. I couldn’t help but laugh coldly. “A misunderstanding? No improper thoughts?” “Do you even believe what you’re saying?” I looked at Adrian mockingly. Would someone with no improper thoughts send me photos of them in bed to provoke me? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault, Henry, please don’t fight with Chloe because of me.” Adrian’s eyes reddened slightly, like a wronged puppy. As he spoke, Adrian made as if to stand up, but his peripheral vision secretly glanced at Chloe. Sure enough, Chloe didn’t disappoint him. Adrian’s appearance of accepting all the blame made Chloe’s heart ache, and it aroused her protective instinct even more. Chloe grabbed him, looking at me angrily. “Henry, are you done yet? Apologize!” “Henry, I want you to apologize to Adrian, right now!” When Chloe looked at me, the disgust in her eyes was undisguised, while Adrian’s face was full of smug satisfaction. Looking at the two of them before me, I suddenly laughed. “Apologize… okay…” I nodded. The next second, under Chloe’s disbelieving gaze, I picked up the wine bottle on the table and smashed it hard against Adrian’s head.

“Bang!” The bottle shattered on impact, bright red blood mixing with wine and flowing down. “Ahh!” Adrian clutched his head, letting out a pig-like shriek of pain. “Henry, you’re insane!” Chloe was furious. She quickly pressed a towel to Adrian’s wound and held him in her arms protectively. “Adrian, don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Adrian looked at her with reddened eyes, his voice choked with grievance: “Chloe, this is all my fault. I made Henry unhappy. Please don’t blame him.” Even now, Adrian was still trying to win Chloe’s favor. Chloe held him tightly, then turned to scream at me: “Henry, you’re a complete lunatic.” “I want a divorce.” “Fine, I agree.” My voice was calm without a ripple. Chloe froze, not expecting me to agree so easily. Under Chloe’s disbelieving gaze, I turned and walked out of the room. On the way home, I contacted a private investigator. My requirements were clear: “Check all of Chloe’s movements over the past five years. Call records, purchase records, everything you can find. The more detailed, the better.” Opening the door, my five-year-old son Ryan was playing with toys in the living room. “Dad, what’s wrong?” Seeing my serious expression, Ryan asked with concern. I smiled and ruffled his hair. Looking closely, Ryan didn’t really look like me—he resembled his mother Chloe more. But over the past five years, out of complete trust in Chloe, I’d never questioned Ryan’s parentage. But now, having heard that conversation with my own ears, I found it somewhat difficult to look directly at this child I’d raised with my own hands. Pretending there was something in his hair, I took the opportunity to pull out two of Ryan’s hairs. Calling a courier, I sent the hair samples to two different paternity testing centers. I paid for rush processing on both. The wait was both long and agonizing. The moment the results came out, my nerves instantly tensed and my heart pounded irregularly. I opened the electronic report, skipped the beginning, and went straight to the last page. Based on DNA analysis, the possibility that Henry is the biological father of the tested sample (Ryan) is excluded at 99.99%. Two reports, identical results. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at myself. Five years. A full 1,825 days. I had devoted myself completely to Chloe, to Ryan, to our family, pouring in all my effort and heart. In the end, I was just a complete fool who had raised someone else’s son for five years. Adrian was right—I was a fucking idiot. Raising someone else’s son and feeling so proud of myself. I didn’t think there could be a bigger fool in the world than me. I wondered how Chloe and Adrian laughed at me in private. Rage, humiliation, and resentment all gathered in my heart. I clenched my fists hard. I used almost all my strength to barely suppress the destructive impulse in my heart. I took out my phone and made a call: “Santos, prepare a divorce agreement for me.” Ignoring the shock on the other end, I calmly told him to hurry.

Chloe didn’t come home that night. Early the next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. Looking at the caller ID, I curled my lips coldly. “Henry, I’m giving you 10 minutes. Get your ass to the hospital right now!” The moment the call connected, I heard Chloe’s mother Bella’s shrill, piercing voice. Her tone was commanding as always, high and mighty. Before I could react, Bella hung up. I smiled coldly. It seemed they were planning a public trial of me. After a quick wash, I drove to the hospital. In the hospital room, Adrian lay in bed with his forehead bandaged, looking weak. Chloe sat by his bedside, her eyes red and swollen like two walnuts. When he saw me, Chloe’s father Mitchell kept a stern face and said nothing. Bella snorted heavily with a look of disdain. Adrian’s body flinched, and he leaned fearfully toward Chloe. Chloe patted his back soothingly. “You wanted to see me?” I looked at Bella expressionlessly. “You still have the nerve to ask?” Bella’s voice suddenly rose, and she grabbed the cup beside her and hurled it at me. “Henry, look what you’ve done! Look what you’ve done to Adrian!” “Chloe must have been blind to marry a violent man like you.” “Do you know that Chloe cried all night last night because of the shock?” Bella was emotional, hurling accusations at me. Chloe sobbed on cue, as if she’d suffered the greatest injustice. “Henry, you went too far last night. Adrian is someone we watched grow up, so naturally he and Chloe are close. You were wrong to hit him without asking questions first.” Looking at Mitchell speaking so righteously, I laughed coldly: “And then?” “And then?” Bella bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on: “Of course you apologize.” “You can only get up after Adrian and Chloe forgive you.” Bella’s tone was matter-of-fact. In the past, Chloe’s family had often used my love for Chloe to manipulate me. And over the past five years, I had indeed chosen to swallow my pride again and again for the sake of family harmony. Bella was certain that this time I would lower my head and admit my mistake as I always had, but this time they would be disappointed. “Are you finished?” “If you’re finished, it’s my turn.” “Chloe, let’s get a divorce!” With that, I slapped the divorce agreement the lawyer had prepared overnight in front of Chloe. Chloe froze, her sobbing stopped. Mitchell and Bella were also stunned, not expecting the word “divorce” to come from my mouth. Everyone stared at me in disbelief. Only Adrian, after a brief moment of shock, couldn’t hide the wild joy in his eyes. “Henry, don’t be ungrateful.” “You only get one chance.” Mitchell’s face grew darker, his voice heavy with warning. “Henry, I already told you last night was a misunderstanding. Why won’t you listen?” Chloe looked at me tearfully, tears falling like broken pearls, looking pitiful and wronged. Adrian grabbed my hand, his voice choked: “Henry, it’s all my fault, everything is my fault.” “I don’t need your apology. Just don’t fight with Chloe anymore. If you can’t stand me, I’ll leave tomorrow, disappear from your sight immediately, and never come back!” “Chloe really loves you. Don’t divorce her. I’m begging you, okay?” Looking at Adrian, I felt a wave of disgust in my heart. “Get lost!” I shook Adrian off forcefully and took two steps back. “Ah!” Adrian fell to the ground, crying out in exaggerated pain. “Henry! Have you lost your mind!” Chloe helped Adrian up with distress. Seeing Adrian’s reddened elbow, she screamed at me furiously. “You want a divorce, right? Fine, I’ll divorce you!” “It’s not like I can’t live without you.” With that, she picked up the divorce agreement to sign it. “Wait.” Bella stopped her. “Henry, we can divorce, but you have to leave with nothing. And you have to publicly claim that you had an affair during marriage, which led to the breakdown of the relationship.”

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The day before I was to exchange engagement rings with Ethan Gould, Vice President of Gould Corporation, Isabella Carter, heiress of Carter Group, suddenly showed up at my door claiming to be family. She said she was the real daughter of Prosecutor Thomas Bennett. The moment I heard her speak, I knew—she had been reborn too. After both families did DNA tests, they each took back their biological daughters. I transformed from Thomas Bennett’s unloved daughter into the sole heir of the Smith Corporation. And my late birth mother, Mary, was the twin sister of Elizabeth Norton, wife of the current richest man. Everyone said I could walk sideways through this city now, but I couldn’t. Because this month, Elizabeth would be cast out, and next month, Smith Corporation would be seized and go bankrupt. After that, my fiancé would become the new business leader, taking over the Smith family’s commercial empire. In my previous life, he even earned me the honorary title of “Philanthropist’s Wife,” while Isabella ended up in the gutter, tortured to death. So she came back to swap our lives. But how could I let her have her way…

I had just returned to the Smith residence with an excited Michael Smith when Elizabeth sent someone to bring me to her. After whispering with the messenger assistant, Michael earned the opportunity to drive me to the club entrance. He stood at the door, shouting at me: “Grace! Dad will be waiting here to take you home!” I really liked this feeling. I made up my mind—I won’t run anymore. I’ll save him. When I entered the private club, the assistant who came to get me was very excited. It wasn’t until I saw Elizabeth for the first time that I realized— I really did look like my birth mother, which meant I also resembled Elizabeth when she was young. In my previous life, when I attended banquets with my honorary title, the head seat was already occupied by Mrs. Lewis, wife of the new chairman Damian Lewis, so this was my first time seeing Elizabeth. Elizabeth tenderly held my hand, looking me up and down, saying how wonderful this was, how good. She even asked my name. I thought for a moment and told her my name was Grace Smith. Elizabeth got even more excited and pulled out a blank check on the spot, offering me a hundred million dollars. I was stunned. So the sisterly bond between them really was as legendary as rumored. Even blank checks could be casually given to a sister’s daughter. Then why did she suddenly go bankrupt? Carrying this question, I clutched the check and was escorted out by a crowd of people. Michael looked satisfied at the long line of people following me and the gift boxes in their hands, then waved his hand grandly. “Let’s go home. Dad will add a bit more to your personal fund.” Our procession was quite the spectacle. On the way back, we passed by the Prosecutor’s house and even disturbed Isabella. I heard she secretly fumed for quite a while. Oh right, Isabella had already changed her name to Isabella Carter. The moment I got that hundred million, her “socialite” title was stripped from her social circle. Knowing her as I did, she definitely couldn’t eat for three days. But I was different. Top-tier Japanese cuisine, French food, and private kitchen dishes were all brought to the table. Time to dig in. Michael kept chattering beside me, serving me fish with his chopsticks, worried I wouldn’t have enough. While eating, I chatted with him, casually probing to see if I could find any trace of the bankruptcy and seizure. After half a day together, calling him “Dad” came very smoothly. “Dad, all these years, you really haven’t had any other women?” Michael got anxious and quickly raised his hand to swear. “My devotion to Mary is witnessed by heaven and earth. Ask anyone at the company—don’t I light incense for her morning and evening?” “I believe you, I believe you. Just curious.” He huffed, and before I could even coax him, he’d already soothed himself, even saying he’d make me supervise him thinking of Mary a hundred times a day. “Dad, I heard you and Mr. Lewis recently had some disagreements?” “Nonsense! It’s not disagreements, just different viewpoints.” “Dad, I heard Gould Corporation wants to acquire shares from you?” “Ridiculous! My businesses are all in manufacturing. I’d never leave them in capital markets for speculation.” “Dad, I heard that you…” Michael suddenly slapped the table. “Grace, stop with all this ‘I heard’ business. If you want to know something, just ask me directly. I’m definitely more reliable than those financial bloggers out there.” Too direct! I suddenly didn’t know what to say! Could I really just ask outright whether he’d committed tax evasion or bribery? For such a large corporation to be seized, I could only think of these two major crimes. In my previous life, Smith Corporation was dealt with secretly. The circle didn’t allow discussion of it, and even my nouveau riche fiancé kept his mouth shut. In the end, the Smith family was left with just Isabella, who went to work as a… Right, Isabella—she was reborn too. I needed to find an opportunity to meet with her.

Elizabeth would be cast out in ten days. Time waited for no one, so I decided to take the initiative. But before I could find Isabella, she came looking for me. She brought along the woman I’d called mother for over a decade, who berated me for seducing someone else’s fiancé. What “someone else’s fiancé”? I looked at the mother-daughter pair in confusion. Mrs. Bennett said coldly, her face harsh, accusing me of shamelessness: “The Gould family’s son was promised to my Bennett family’s daughter. You’re a Smith now, so this marriage alliance belongs to my daughter Isabella. You’re not to see Ethan Gould again.” Oh, so the “someone else’s fiancé” referred to Ethan Gould! In our previous life, if not deeply in love, we at least treated each other with respect. After my rebirth, I genuinely wanted to marry him again. After all, he didn’t talk much and was generous with money. I’d even felt a twinge of regret when we acknowledged our true families. Hadn’t Ethan said he’d only marry the Bennett family’s daughter? Didn’t that make this marriage Isabella’s now? Why were this mother and daughter acting crazy now? Besides, I hadn’t even seen him since my rebirth. Seeing my silence, Isabella’s mouth turned down, about to play the victim, while Mrs. Bennett prepared to bombard me again. It seemed Isabella really wanted to marry Ethan Gould. Seeing I still wouldn’t speak, Isabella lost her patience. “Grace, you’re the Smith Corporation heiress now. Even heirs of top-tier wealthy families are yours to choose from. The Gould family must be beneath you now.” “Besides, you haven’t exchanged rings yet. This engagement doesn’t count.” “Just write a message breaking off this engagement.” I looked at her in confusion and asked: “If this engagement doesn’t count, why do I need to personally write a message?” Isabella blurted out: “Isn’t it because the Gould family sent word that…” “Isabella!” Unfortunately, her words were cut off by Mrs. Bennett before she could finish. I guessed that the Gould family had valued my business acumen before. Now that they were getting the circle’s famously spoiled socialite instead, how could they willingly take that loss? They must want to make the Bennett family suffer. When she was my mother, why didn’t she think wholeheartedly of me? Could it be she already knew I wasn’t her biological daughter? Before I could verify this suspicion, something major happened. Ethan Gould was promoted early from Vice President to President. Financial bloggers were waxing poetic about how Ethan saved the day at the annual meeting and heroically controlled an emergency situation. I couldn’t help but spit out my coffee and whisper to my assistant. “Sophie, do people nowadays tell stories without even a draft? Subduing criminals barehanded—does he think he’s a superhero?” “Why couldn’t he subdue them barehanded? And who’s a superhero?” This voice sounded so familiar. Wait, how could he eavesdrop on my private conversation? I turned, ready to scold, only to see Ethan Gould in a custom-tailored suit, carrying what looked like a cage covered with cloth in one hand. How was he here? And dressed so formally—he’d scared poor Sophie so much she didn’t dare raise her head. Also, since when did he like keeping birds? Ethan looked down at his outfit and unconsciously moved his car keys to the front. Then he stared at me, making me feel inexplicably awkward. I admit you look good dressed like that, but I’m sick of seeing it! In my previous life, if not for needing you to go out and handle business deals, I wouldn’t have said I loved seeing you dressed this way. It hurt my eyes. “Hmm?” He looked at me questioningly. I then remembered what I’d just said.

I quickly said: “You misunderstood. I wasn’t saying you couldn’t subdue criminals barehanded.” “Grace.” He suddenly called my name, extending the cage toward me. “This is for you.” Oh, it’s a white rabbit. Why was he keeping it like a bird? Though I loved white rabbits, I didn’t take it. After all, I wasn’t a Bennett anymore. He looked at me questioningly. Based on my understanding of him, he must have found out from somewhere that I liked rabbits. He was probably thinking: Didn’t she say she liked white rabbits? Why won’t she take it? Women are so troublesome! I felt it necessary to remind him. “Mr…. ahem, Mr. Gould, your fiancée is the Bennett family’s daughter. My surname is Smith now.” Ethan said without changing expression: “But my engagement ring has always been engraved with your birthday.” This? What could I say? Maybe you could change it? I’m sure Mrs. Bennett would be very cooperative. The white rabbit was just held between us. Before we could speak, Isabella appeared at the door, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Ethan. “Ethan! I finally get to see you. I heard that you…” But before she could finish, Ethan put down the rabbit and nodded. “Miss Smith, I’ll take my leave now.” With that, he decisively turned and left, not even glancing at Isabella. I could see Isabella was furious. She glared at me through gritted teeth, saying viciously: “Don’t forget your position. Ethan Gould is the Bennett family’s son-in-law.” I smiled, picking up the rabbit to play with it. “You reminded me. Speaking of position, I’m the Smith family’s daughter now, Miss Carter.” Isabella clearly remembered the many times she’d used status to pressure me before, and her expression became rather colorful. Before I could add fuel to the fire— Isabella blurted out: “Fine, Miss Smith. Don’t get too smug. You might be in prison tomorrow.” There it was—this person’s mouth was really loose. I pressed her while the iron was hot: “My aunt is the richest man’s wife. What prison would I go to?” “Elizabeth colluded with foreign capital. She’ll be cast out soon. Once Elizabeth falls, your Smith family will be finished too.” “You all deserve to die!” She was initially triumphant, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized something was wrong and quickly covered her mouth. Anyway, I’d heard clearly—foreign capital, was it? Isabella knew she’d spoken out of turn. She shut her mouth and said no more, just staring deadly at my precious rabbit. “You speak recklessly, slandering Elizabeth. Can Thomas Bennett cover for you?” She smiled bitterly without thinking. Yes, my former father was the most timid, risk-averse, and profit-seeking. Now that her marriage to the Gould family wasn’t settled, he definitely wouldn’t do anything for this daughter. Having learned a key piece of information, I handed the rabbit to Sophie and prepared to leave. But before leaving, I kindly reminded her. “I heard Mr. Lewis’s son has returned. Take care of yourself.” She probably remembered being tortured by the Lewis family’s young master, Nathan Lewis, in her previous life. Her face went deathly pale as she ran off. She must be going to ask her mother how to marry into the Gould family as soon as possible. That wasn’t important. What mattered now was the foreign capital. As far as I knew, Elizabeth had lived in this city since childhood. How did she get involved with foreign capital? To quickly figure this out, I realized I could only ask Michael about it. When Michael heard about this, his expression turned strange. But he still told me that after defeating foreign rivals in a business war years ago, the other side proactively sent investment proposals. As he spoke, he went off-topic. Dad! Who has time to hear about your heroic business war exploits right now? We need to save Elizabeth first! I could only interrupt him to continue asking: “Dad, does Elizabeth have any connection to foreign capital?” Michael’s expression grew worse as he said: “Why are you asking about this?”

I said seriously: “This question is very important. I need to know clearly right now. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to investigate myself. If I find out wrong information, it’ll cause big trouble.” Michael was startled by my gaze. Since returning home, this was probably the first time he’d seen his carefree little cotton-padded jacket speak to him so seriously. He first pondered for a moment. “To be precise, the one connected to foreign capital is Mary.” “Ah, what does this have to do with Mom?” Michael looked at me meaningfully. “I even suspect that the one Mr. Lewis originally fancied was Mary.” Ah, this was getting more complicated. I couldn’t help but press on: “Then how did Elizabeth end up marrying Mr. Lewis? Does she know the foreign capital people too?” Actually, at this point, I’d already guessed some things. Nothing more than he admired her, she fancied him, and he couldn’t let her go. Michael told me many things. I blamed myself for only managing the household, balancing books, and looking after my husband in my previous life, never taking time to listen to circle gossip. It turned out Mary and Elizabeth came from a wealthy family and, as rare twin sisters, were often brought to social occasions by family elders from a young age. Over time, they became familiar with Damian Lewis and coincidentally met Victor Monroe, who’d grown up domestically. Because Old Mr. Lewis, Robert Lewis, had joked about choosing one of them as a daughter-in-law, Damian took it to heart. The older sister was lively and spirited, the younger sister steady and mature. The elders all thought Damian fancied the younger sister, so Robert arranged the engagement. Who knew that upon hearing this, Damian said it was wrong and was about to ask Robert to cancel the arrangement. But just then, he saw Mary and me walking in hand-in-hand, asking to be engaged. Hearing them say they were in love, and thinking he’d already arranged Elizabeth for Damian, Robert figured Mary marrying into the Smith family would also help Damian in the future. He waved his hand and agreed directly, even having the sisters get engaged on the same day. I could imagine how devastated Damian must have been returning to his room. Then all four married on the same day. After marriage, both couples were loving and harmonious, becoming a celebrated story. Especially Damian’s devotion to Elizabeth—they were truly inseparable. A year after marriage, they had their eldest son. By contrast, Michael and Mom still bickered occasionally. Michael said Mom liked to throw little tantrums and often ran back to her parents’ home. They only had me three years after marriage. Since things went so smoothly, how did foreign capital get involved? I pressed Michael for a long time, but he also didn’t know about the foreign capital connection. When I pushed too hard, he simply threw up his hands and told me to ask Elizabeth myself. Hearing that, I lifted my skirt and headed to the club. Seeing me arrive, Elizabeth was delighted, constantly urging me to eat and drink, then giving me clothes and jewelry. Feeling emotional, I blurted out: “If my mom were here, she’d be as gentle and attentive as you.” Hearing this, Elizabeth paused, then stroked my head. “I’m Mary’s sister, which makes me your mother too.” I nodded vigorously, unsure how to broach the subject. It didn’t seem right to barge in and directly ask an elder about their youthful romance. Elizabeth was indeed clever. Seeing my hesitation, she told me to say whatever I wanted and forget it once I left this room. In that case, I directly asked about Victor Monroe. Elizabeth hadn’t expected me to ask about him and knocked over her teacup. The assistant was about to smooth things over, but she signaled it wasn’t necessary and had everyone else leave. Now I really didn’t know how to save Elizabeth. Since I’d lived again, I had to make something of it.

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After I, Mindy Brown, confessed my feelings to my family friend and honorary uncle, Adrian Thorne, he introduced me to a young woman in a wheelchair. Her name was Linda Williams, and she was to be his future partner. Adrian explained that Linda had lost the use of her legs and her dreams saving him, and he had to take responsibility for her. I didn’t understand. Did saving someone’s life necessitate marrying them? He didn’t answer my question. In my previous life, I refused to believe Adrian didn’t love me. I constantly tested his limits, pushing him further and further. It wasn’t until he watched his rival family break each of my ten fingers, listening to my agonizing screams, without even a flicker of emotion, that my heart truly died. Severely injured, I could no longer perform surgery. Eventually, I succumbed to melancholy and took my own life. When I woke up again, I didn’t hesitate. I submitted my application to Doctors Without Borders. I stepped back into the role of the devoted niece. 1. A sigh of relief escaped me when the approval came through. My fingertips trembled uncontrollably, and my eyes welled up, though I barely noticed. No one knew I had been reborn. Twenty-one. The precise moment before I was to confess to Adrian Thorne. That day, I wore the custom gown he’d lavishly gifted me, and I’d booked the most luxurious hotel in Northwood. I’d invited numerous friends to witness the beginning of our love story. From my earliest memories, Adrian had always been there. My parents, Doctors Without Borders, were constantly on the move, and I saw them only a handful of times a year. Adrian had practically been my constant companion for the first half of my life—through joys and sorrows. Everyone in our circle tacitly assumed I was Adrian’s intended. In my previous life, a few close friends, knowing my intentions, had offered countless suggestions, making my cheeks burn with blush. I secretly harbored so much hope. But no one, not even I, had expected Adrian to reject me. Just like in the past. Adrian seemed to have anticipated my move. His brow furrowed slightly, his fingers absently tracing the words he was about to use to decline me. His eyes held an unreadable emotion. At the time, I thought he was simply worried about our age difference, that I might confuse affection with true love. So I’d smiled and said, “Adrian, I love you. When I see you, my heart instinctively races. When you’re gone, I miss you terribly, an emotion I can’t suppress. I’m certain, my feelings for you are love.” Others chimed in, but the attempt ended abruptly. And that day, I was still smiling, though the mirth never reached my eyes. Just as he was about to speak, I beat him to it: “Adrian, the research project I’ve been working on for a year wrapped up last week. I’m incredibly happy, so I wanted to celebrate.” Adrian froze, startled. My friends exchanged glances. As they prepared to speak, I swept my gaze over them. They offered awkward smiles and discreetly tucked away the banner they had been holding, which read, “Say yes to her, say yes to her.” A confession that never truly began, faded into nothing. Afterward, Adrian and his friends were out in the hallway, smoking. He leaned against the wall, his strong, articulate fingers playing with a gold-embossed lighter. The flame flickered, bright and dim. His friend teased, “Today’s spectacle, I thought Mindy was going to propose to you.” “Never thought it would be a feint.” Adrian’s eyes were lightly closed, a faint smile playing on his lips. “A young lady’s sentiments, don’t go overthinking them. I have no ulterior motives toward Mindy; caring for her is purely out of our families’ long-standing friendship.” His friend didn’t believe it. “You’re just too close to see. Look at how you stare at your little girl, do you think we’re blind?” He laughed. “If you were truly innocent, why did you warn that boy who confessed to her years ago? You even claimed to be her boyfriend.” Adrian fell silent. I stopped listening too, retreating into the shadows. That was exactly how Adrian had been in my previous life—his kindness toward me had long crossed the line, yet he stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. Back home, I submitted my application to Doctors Without Borders. After my parents died in a war zone, I wanted to inherit their legacy. But in my previous life, I hadn’t even had the chance to begin before it all ended. Thankfully, fate took pity on me, granting me a second chance. 2. I looked at the date for my deployment and then at the calendar beside it. I took out a pen and quietly marked the deployment date; coincidentally, it was Adrian’s birthday. Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. It was Adrian. He had a habit of knocking twice before entering, but this time, a girl followed him in. She sat in a wheelchair, dressed in a white gown. Her face was devoid of color, and her eyes held a faint melancholy. She looked fragile and delicate. “Mindy, come here,” he said to me. I didn’t move, merely glancing at the girl. This was Linda Williams. I had thought that without my confession, Adrian wouldn’t bring her to me. But it seemed some things were destined to happen regardless. “Mindy,” Adrian frowned, calling me again. Linda, seeing my detached expression, lowered her eyes and said softly, “Adrian, it’s alright. It’s normal for Miss Brown not to like me on our first meeting.” “If she minds my presence, I can just return to the countryside villa. I’ve lost my legs; I can’t go anywhere, so anywhere is fine.” She paused, her eyes brimming with tears, though none fell. She looked like a delicate flower, feigning strength. Adrian’s frown deepened, and his gaze toward me held a hint of disappointment. “Mindy—” “Adrian, you can arrange for anyone you want to stay at the villa; you don’t actually need to tell me.” I met his gaze. “You are the master of this house.” My voice was level, betraying nothing. But to Adrian’s ears, it was laden with thorns. He thought I was throwing a tantrum. “Mindy, don’t use that tone with me.” He stepped closer. “I brought Linda to meet you today because I want you to meet your new aunt-in-law.” He paused, his voice firm. “Three years ago, during the earthquake, she lost her legs saving me. I need to take responsibility for her. If you want to remain in this house.” “Then you’ll put away your spoiled princess attitude and don’t make trouble for Linda.” His warning gaze swept over me. I wanted to speak, but ultimately, I remained silent. It wasn’t his fault, really. I had an extreme possessiveness over Adrian. From childhood, I wanted his eyes only on me, his female companion only me. That’s why, all these years, he’d had no rumors of other women; even if a woman dared to try to latch onto him, I would deal with her. All his favoritism and exceptions were for me. So, in my previous life, when he was about to marry Linda, I shattered. Did saving a life truly necessitate marrying the savior? I pondered it for a very, very long time. It cost me a life. Still, I couldn’t understand. Now I do. Some things are simply beyond understanding. 3. Linda Williams was moving in. Into the room next to Adrian’s—which used to be mine. Before Adrian had me move in, he had secretly sought advice from his friends, then personally drawn blueprints and renovated the entire room. He transformed it into a beautiful pink princess room. He even bought many limited-edition dolls and placed them by my bedside. He raised me like a princess. From childhood. He always said: “As long as it makes Mindy happy, I’ll do it.” “I hope our Mindy grows up healthy and happy, a joyful little princess.” At that time, his eyes were full of tender, lingering love. It made me fall for him completely. But he, from beginning to end, remained aloof. In the room, Adrian leaned against the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over me with a coldness before he spoke: “I’ve had Maria prepare the guest room downstairs. You can stay on the first floor for now.” I said nothing, merely folded my clothes and placed them in my suitcase. Then, as I habitually reached for the doll by the bed, my hand stopped. Adrian’s gaze followed to the doll. Seeing me remain still for a long time, he said, “I’ll bring the doll down for you later.” I took a deep breath, pulled my gaze away, and managed a strained smile: “No need. Give it to my aunt-in-law.” I didn’t even want Adrian anymore. What were a few dolls? Before, they held genuine sentiment; now, they were nothing. “Mindy, are you still mad at me?” Adrian asked, his voice cold. “Why would I be mad at you, Adrian?” I countered. “You have your own life now, someone you love, someone you want to protect. I should be happy for you, shouldn’t I?” Adrian’s eyes darkened, his thin lips parting, but no sound emerged. As I pulled my suitcase to leave, Linda was standing not far outside the door, her gaze at me carrying a hint of mockery. Just like in my previous life, she would act like an innocent lamb on the surface but covertly target me, bursting into tears at the slightest disagreement. A weak person’s tears always easily garner sympathy. “Miss Brown, I’m so sorry to put you out.” Her voice was soft. “If I wasn’t so incapacitated, Adrian wouldn’t do this.” My grip on the luggage handle tightened. As I tried to walk past her, she suddenly grabbed my wrist. I instinctively shook her off. “Ah—!!” Linda’s wheelchair careened out of control toward the stairs, and a scream ripped through the air. The villa’s staff rushed over. “Adrian, save me, save me—!” Hearing her, Adrian bolted out of the room in a panic, pushing me aside as he lunged and grabbed the handrail, preventing the wheelchair from tumbling further down. I stood there, stunned, my throat tight: “It wasn’t me.” The wheelchair was wedged on the stairs, and a few staff members blocked the way. Adrian quickly scooped Linda into his arms and walked over to me. The staff also moved the wheelchair aside. “Adrian, you scared me to death.” She clung to him. “I thought I was going to die…” Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the fear in them seemed genuine. After comforting Linda, Adrian glared at me, furious. “Mindy Brown, have you lost your mind?” “If anything had actually happened to Linda, you’d be implicated in murder, do you know that?!” 4. I bit my lower lip, brimming with injustice, my nose stinging. “I didn’t.” I insisted. “It wasn’t me. She suddenly grabbed my hand; I just shook her off.” Linda, hearing this, said with a sob, “It’s my fault, Adrian. Don’t blame Miss Brown.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “It’s my fault for not locking the wheelchair earlier. That’s why this happened.” “Linda, you don’t need to defend Mindy anymore,” Adrian said coldly. “I know her temperament. All these years, every woman who came close to me was driven away by her petty tricks.” I couldn’t help but laugh, tears welling in my eyes: “So, Adrian, you don’t believe me, do you?” “Do you deserve my trust?” he countered. “Yes, I don’t.” “Only Linda does. Whatever she says, you believe.” With that, I grabbed my suitcase to leave. But Adrian had a staff member block me. He said, “Apologize.” I turned back to Adrian, incredulous. He repeated, “Linda was unfairly upset for no reason. You should apologize.” “What if I don’t?” I asked, tears in my eyes. I thought that facing such a scene again, I would be able to handle it with detached calmness. But I had overestimated myself. When all the favoritism I once knew turned into sharp swords piercing me, it truly hurt. “You know what I’m capable of,” Adrian said coldly. He looked at the staff behind me. They exchanged glances, then moved forward to grab my shoulders. I let out a self-deprecating scoff. I let go of my suitcase, bowed to Linda, and apologized: “I was wrong today. I shouldn’t have shaken your hand when you grabbed mine. I’m sorry I almost caused you to fall.” Linda was stunned for two seconds, and Adrian’s expression also grew grave. After standing upright, I looked at Adrian: “Adrian, is that enough?” “If not, I can kneel too,” I said. Adrian’s eyes were filled with complex emotions. In the end, he said nothing. I pulled my suitcase and walked downstairs. As soon as I reached the first floor, Maria said, “Sir might just be in a bad mood today, Miss.” She took my suitcase. “Don’t mind him. For all these years, how much he cherished you, we all saw it with our own eyes.” She defended Adrian while trying to help me with my suitcase. I just smiled. In the past, when Adrian and I argued, Maria would always play peacemaker. After all these years, Maria was still the same. But Adrian and I could never go back to how we were. “Miss, aren’t you going to the guest room?” she asked, surprised. I shook my head: “No.” “But Sir…” “Tell Adrian that I appreciate his care all these years. From now on, I won’t bother him anymore.” In this life, this was enough. I didn’t want to endure the pain of the previous life again.

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My engagement to Penelope Kim, the socialite heiress of a prominent family, was set when we were children. Because of this, I, Liam Kane, had controlled Penelope in every aspect of her life since we were kids. Every time I reined her in too tightly, Penelope would fiercely retort: “Liam Kane, you just wait. This lady will break off this wretched engagement sooner or later.” Later, I unexpectedly discovered I was a fostered son, not a biological one. I decided to keep a low profile. I stopped asking about Penelope’s affairs, stopped forcing her to go through the motions with me. When Penelope’s friends realized I hadn’t interfered in her life for over half a month, they threw a party to celebrate. To my surprise, Penelope completely lost it, yelling: “Mind your own business! Are you all happy now? He’s found some other girl out there!” 1. “Liam, Penelope is out carousing with Blair and her crowd again.” The music in the club was deafening. My friend, Ethan Kim, was giving me the lowdown on Penelope, but my mind was miles away. I took his phone. The video showed Penelope in a striking burgundy slip dress, lounging languidly against a sports car, a slender cigarette between her fingers. She was surrounded by a group of socialite friends, each with a tall, handsome guy by their side. I watched it calmly, then just as calmly handed the phone back to Ethan. “It’s fine. Let her be.” “What’s gotten into you?” Ethan pressed a hand to my forehead. “You’re not running a fever.” He squinted. “Are you even the real Liam Kane?” “Ethan,” I shot him a look, “do I need to bring up that time you wet your pants at six years old to prove it?” With that, I grabbed my jacket and headed out. It wasn’t surprising Ethan was reacting so strongly to my change. After all, ever since my engagement to Penelope was set when I was eight, I’d been controlling her every move. Before, I had every right to. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Because I might not be Penelope’s fiancé for much longer. 2. Just three days ago, I’d stumbled upon the truth: I wasn’t the biological son of my current parents. I’d been swapped at birth. It wouldn’t be long before the real son of the Kane family was found. My fate, as a fostered son, was painfully clear. Over the years, relying on my status as the Kane family heir and Penelope’s fiancé, I’d offended quite a few people. Many in our circle were just waiting to see me fall from grace. Especially Penelope. Ever since our engagement, I’d used the influence of Grandfather Kim to control her, setting strict rules. After she turned eighteen, I even laid down three ironclad commandments: First: No smoking, no heavy drinking, no brawling, and no hanging out with questionable friends. Second: No staying out overnight; she had to be home by midnight. Third: We were to fulfill our engagement duties, at least three times a week. Each time I tightened the leash, Penelope would lash out, “Liam Kane, you just wait. This lady will break off this wretched engagement sooner or later.” I never took her seriously. But now, it was different. High-society engagements were always about matching status. No matter how much Grandfather Kim liked me, he would never let his granddaughter marry a man who couldn’t advance her family’s interests. This engagement was doomed. To avoid Penelope kicking me while I was down once my true identity was revealed, I had to cut my losses. I would stop interfering in her life. 3. Instead of seeking out Penelope, I headed home early. No sooner had I walked in than Penelope returned. Hearing the commotion in the entryway, I instinctively looked up. Our eyes met, and Penelope, guilty, tried to avert her gaze, but then defiantly held it. She jutted out her chin, her voice deliberately loud: “Liam Kane, that’s right. Tonight I not only partied with Blair and the others, I also smoked and drank.” I didn’t argue with her as I usually would. I merely uttered a soft “Hmm,” and rose to go to my room. “Liam Kane—” Penelope closed the distance in a few quick steps, grabbing my wrist. Her dark eyes bored into mine, her tone tinged with a faint anxiety: “Did you hear me? I smoked and drank tonight.” “I know,” I said, looking at her calmly. “You don’t need to tell me. As long as you’re happy.” “Alright, Liam Kane.” Her lips quirked into a small smile, a certainty in her voice. “I know you’re still mad. My bad for not going to the dinner party with you last time.” She looked me up and down. “You haven’t spoken to me in three days.” “No, I haven’t…” Before I could finish, Penelope cut me off: “It’s fine if I’m on top tonight.” With that, Penelope began to unzip her dress. Her figure was exquisite, curves graceful, skin luminous, utterly tempting. I had spent countless nights lost in her. She took my hand and pressed it to her waist. Then, with a haughty turn of her head, a faint blush crept up her ears. “Consider yourself lucky. You can touch me anywhere you want tonight.” I glanced at the date, remembering it was our designated night. Usually, I had to remind her. Tonight, Penelope was shockingly proactive. “Penelope, I’m not in the mood tonight.” I dropped the words and practically ran back to my room. 4. I woke up late the next morning. Penelope, uncharacteristically, hadn’t gone out. She sat on the sofa, legs crossed, casually engrossed in her phone. Seeing me emerge from my room, she put away her phone, cleared her throat softly, and said nonchalantly, “Liam Kane, aren’t you tired of your old clothes? I’m free today, I can go with you to buy some new ones.” “No, thanks. I have plans with Ethan today.” I refused without a second thought. “Seriously, Liam Kane, how long are you going to stay mad?” Penelope rushed over, grabbing my wrist, her brows furrowed. She pursed her lips, a hint of impatience in her voice: “I’m already giving you an out. Are you planning to complain to Grandfather again next time?” So that was the reason for Penelope’s unusual behavior today. It was my fault for having done that so often in the past. “Relax, relax,” I quickly waved my hand, denying it. “No more. You’re right, I used to control you too much. All three rules I set are null and void. From now on, you can do whatever you want. I won’t interfere in your life.” “Really.” Fearing Penelope wouldn’t believe me, I quickly held up three fingers in an oath. “I swear.” “Liam Kane, you…” Penelope stared at me in disbelief, her eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her chest heaving uncontrollably. Finally, she turned her head away coldly, her voice stiff: “Fine, whatever.” Then, the door slammed shut with a bang. What?! Why was she angry now? I met Ethan at a coffee shop and told him about my identity. Ethan was stunned for a long moment before he reacted. “So you think you and Penelope will break off the engagement, which is why you’re not controlling her like before?” He pondered. “But have you ever considered that Penelope might have feelings for you and won’t break it off easily?” “Penelope doesn’t like me.” I tugged at the corner of my mouth, a self-deprecating smile. “Just last week, she told me herself she doesn’t like me. I just found out how much she despises our engagement.” 5. After all these years with Penelope, it would be a lie to say I had no feelings for her. The night I discovered I was a fostered son, I was desperate to find Penelope to vent my emotions. But I accidentally overheard her conversation with some friends: “Penelope, are you really content to be controlled by Liam Kane your whole life?” “Everyone says you’re completely under his thumb, totally manipulated by one man.” “Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for Liam Kane?” “Impossible!” Penelope declared emphatically. “This lady would never fall for him, of all people. Liam Kane is only tall and handsome; he’s absolutely not my type. If it weren’t for Grandfather insisting on our engagement, I would never have given in to him.” I stood outside the private room, a myriad of indescribable emotions surging within me. Any lingering fantasies I had about Penelope shattered then and there. I left the club calmly and walked a long way home by myself. “Penelope said this herself.” I looked at Ethan, my lips pressed together. “She’s itching to break off our engagement.” Ethan opened his mouth, his gaze at me full of unsaid words, but in the end, he said nothing. I told him my concerns. I’ve always been proud. Once the news broke that I was a fostered son, and if the Kim family called off the engagement, I would surely be mocked by everyone in our circle. So, I decided to break off the engagement with Penelope before the real heir was found. 6. Without my interference, Penelope hadn’t returned home for days. Usually, if she wasn’t back by midnight, I’d either bombard her with texts or go find her myself. Tonight, as I was getting ready for bed, Penelope’s friend suddenly sent me a video. [“Brother-in-law, Penelope is insisting on hiring male models tonight. Maybe you should come check on her?”] I opened the video. Penelope was lounging on a sofa, a handsome young man standing before her. My heart clenched. So, she took my words to heart that quickly. [“Okay, I understand.”] I put my phone down, and another video came in. Penelope, draped around the young man, slipped a credit card into his hand: “My fiancé doesn’t care anymore. So, bring out all your tricks.” My eyes stung, and I immediately blocked Penelope’s friend. Before breaking off the engagement, I planned to move out of Penelope’s place. This was originally the marital home the Kim family had prepared for Penelope and me. Since the engagement was ending, there was no need for me to stay. After looking at apartments for a few days, I finally found a satisfactory layout and was going to sign the contract today. As I stepped out of the elevator, I ran into Clara Hayes, a former university classmate. We chatted and laughed as we walked out. But as we exited the apartment building, I bumped into a familiar figure. Penelope was staring intently at Clara and me, her eyes filled with incredulous anger and unease. Her gaze fixed on my face, her eyes inexplicably red. She gritted her teeth and demanded, “Liam Kane, who is she? Don’t forget, you have a fiancée.” “Not for long,” I murmured barely audibly. Penelope’s pupils constricted. She rushed over, pressing her hands on my shoulders, her fingertips turning white from the force. Her breathing was ragged, and a thin layer of angry tears began to well in her eyes: “Liam Kane, are you really going to abandon me for this woman?” My lips parted, about to speak, but Penelope yanked me into her car. Her lips crashed onto mine, then she bit my earlobe hard: “Liam Kane, we’re childhood sweethearts! Who the hell is she?” “Get out!” I pushed Penelope away directly, but her kisses moved to my collarbone. “Liam Kane, you want me to get out?” Penelope ran her hand down my thigh and kissed me there, threatening: “If you dare to get out of this car, I’ll kiss you right in front of her.” … Later that night, Penelope wore something sexy, exposing her delicate collarbone. “Liam Kane, check me out.” She took my hand and pressed it to her waist, explaining: “I didn’t touch anyone else that night. You blocked Blair, so I rushed back immediately.” She paused, then added, “Liam Kane, you clearly care about me.” Hearing that, I softened a little. Maybe Penelope did still care. I raised my hand to push her, ordering, “You still smell of alcohol. Go shower again.” Penelope wanted to argue but dutifully headed to the bathroom.

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1 It was New Year’s Eve, and I was barely a month post-miscarriage. Jonathan Goode brought me a bowl of freshly made beef stew. And a signed divorce agreement. “Kathy, Maya is pregnant.” “Let’s part ways amicably.” The rich aroma of the soup instantly lost its appeal. He was talking about the female student he’d sponsored, the very person responsible for the loss of my child. But I didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene. I just asked calmly, “Why?” Jonathan looked relieved, yet indifferent. “For these seven years, whenever I lay beside you, I couldn’t help but feel disgusted.” “Kathy, even if you were violated because of me, I can’t stand the stain on you.” “It’s probably for the best that the child is gone. We’re even now.” So that was it. But Jonathan didn’t know that the “stained” person he spoke of was actually him. Nor did he know that seven years ago, to save him, I had a memory chip implanted in his brain. In three days, that chip would expire. Then, he would remember everything. And he would die. … “Financially, I won’t shortchange you.” Seeing my silence, Jonathan laid out the agreement. “I’ve left you the car and the house, plus half the money. It should be enough even if you don’t work anymore.” This meant he intended to cut me out of the corporation we had built together. Swallowing the bitterness that rose in my throat, I pushed the agreement aside. “I need time to consider.” Jonathan frowned. “Kathy, Maya is different from you. She’s pure, she’s only ever had me, and I have to be responsible for her.” His voice grew menacing at the end. “As a married couple, I don’t think you’d want me to turn this into a fight.” I couldn’t help but recall how, before he made his fortune, he was once pressured at a business dinner to concede profits. The opposing party merely showed a hint of aggression, and Jonathan smashed a wine bottle over his head. Now, he was aiming that bottle at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll sign it.” But not the divorce agreement. “The day after tomorrow is our tenth wedding anniversary. At least, have dinner with me.” Jonathan paused, then reluctantly said, “Kathy, why are you doing this?” He thought I was desperate. “The day after tomorrow, I promised Maya I’d go with her for her prenatal check-up. If this is the only way you’ll sign, I’ll make time to come back.” Just then, Maya called. “Jonathan, my tummy feels a bit uncomfortable. I wonder if the baby misses you too much.” She was only two months pregnant; the baby wasn’t even fully formed. Yet, Jonathan’s eyes softened instantly, and a look of doting affection I’d never seen before appeared on his face. “Okay, I’ll come right back and give him a good talking to.” Before leaving, Jonathan paused. “Kathy, this is the home I’ve always wanted.” He had said those very words years ago, when he broke ties with his family for me. Such a privileged man, living in a drafty rented room, yet he still found it cozy. All because I was there. “Kathy, you are my home.” Today, that home, me, had become the hell he was desperate to escape. The unfinished beef stew had grown cold. I stood up, tossing the bowl and its contents into the trash. Then, I made two calls. One to a lawyer, asking him to draft a stock transfer agreement for me. The other was to a moving company. I wanted every single item connected to Jonathan removed. That night, he didn’t return, as expected. Maya sent a photo of him bare-chested, warming milk. There were fresh hickeys on his chest. [The baby’s gone and you still won’t divorce him, Sister? Aren’t you pathetic?] [See? Only with me can he be unrestrained, truly wild.] [He must have been so miserable holding back with you; he even wanted me while I was pregnant.] Once, seeing these things would have sent me into a furious frenzy. Like a madwoman, I’d throw out all the disinfectant in the house, then cut up his long-sleeved pajamas. I’d ask him again and again why he avoided me like a disease. I’d ask myself again and again why I’d made that choice all those years ago. But now, I no longer asked. I just calmly saved the messages, then turned off my phone. I was very clear. Apex Holdings, under Jonathan and my leadership, was now worth hundreds of millions. Our joint assets alone amounted to nearly a billion, not to mention our standing in the Chamber of Commerce. My goal was now unambiguous. I wanted all the money and all the power. 2 The next day, I went to the lab where the memory chip had been developed. It was ironic, really. The head of that lab, Ethan Reed, was a brilliant but impoverished student whom Jonathan had initially refused to fund. Back then, our company was just getting on its feet, and funds were limited. Jonathan claimed he saw his past self in Maya and insisted on sponsoring her. Unwilling to see Ethan’s talent hindered by his background, I secretly funded a lab for him, allowing him to earn money through his own abilities. After Jonathan’s incident, Ethan worked tirelessly for a month, developing that memory chip for me. Maya, meanwhile, chose to climb into Jonathan’s bed. “Ms. Thorne, the chip implanted in Mr. Goode’s brain will expire in less than 48 hours, but the data isn’t ideal.” Ethan pushed up his glasses, a hint of worry in his eyes. “When the chip was first implanted, I warned you that forcibly extending its lifespan could cause irreversible neurological damage to Mr. Goode.” He still thought I was the same person who would do anything to save Jonathan’s life. He didn’t realize I had changed. “Let nature take its course.” I closed the report, not even asking a single follow-up question. Ethan paused. “Ms. Thorne, I actually have a backup plan here…” “No need.” I stood up and picked up my bag. “Just save the data.” I didn’t need to imagine how Jonathan would react once his memory returned. But I wouldn’t make the same stupid mistake twice. Walking downstairs, Jonathan called, asking me to attend the graduation ceremony at our alma mater, Kingston University, with him that afternoon. “We usually attend together every year. I don’t want to be gossiped about before we’re divorced.” I knew he was protecting Maya’s reputation. After graduating from Kingston, she had stayed on as a teacher with Jonathan’s help. Rumors about them had been circulating for a while. But I didn’t expose them. After all, I didn’t want any additional complications right now. At the university, the moment Maya saw me, all traces of yesterday’s malice vanished. Instead, she clutched her stomach and spoke nervously. “Kathy, you’re here.” In front of Jonathan, she was always so careful and cautious. And he fell for it every time. Even when Maya pushed me and caused my miscarriage, he believed I was the one making things difficult for her. Just like now, he immediately stepped in front of her. “Kathy, you’re a rational person. Don’t disappoint me.” He was warning me. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Move aside.” With that, I pushed past him and sat down. Jonathan paused, clearly surprised by my composure. “Kathy, you…” He was interrupted by Maya. “Kathy, what happened last time was my fault.” She said, hinting at something. “To make it up to you, I’ve specially prepared a surprise for you today.” It wasn’t until she went on stage to give a graduation address to the students that I understood what she meant by “surprise.” She played a video, claiming it was AI-generated, based on an old kidnapping case in Kingston City years ago. A girl, blinded by vanity, was lured abroad, subjected to abuse, and ultimately became a man’s plaything. Every frame focused on that terrified, pained face. Piercing screams, heavy gasps… Though no private parts were shown, the entire audience was still in an uproar. Because that face was mine. 3 The year Jonathan was kidnapped, our company was about to go public, and couldn’t afford any negative press. I had no choice but to block the news. I used all my money and connections to reach out to the local Chinese Association and rescue him. But I never expected that the ordeal would drive him mad. His physical wounds could be healed. But the trauma in his mind, even hypnosis couldn’t mend. After Jonathan’s ninety-ninth suicide attempt, Ethan Reed suggested the memory chip. It could forcibly alter that memory, and it wouldn’t be affected by any emotions or events. However, the underlying pain still needed to be healed so that when the chip expired, Jonathan wouldn’t try to end his life again. So I chose to sacrifice myself. Because I believed love could conquer all difficulties. But it turned out that Jonathan not only found it repulsive, but he also turned it into a knife to stab me with at any given moment. When the video finished, Maya’s gaze subtly swept towards me. “Some people, though alive, have long lost their dignity and become parasites clinging to others.” “So I hope everyone can learn from this, learn to protect themselves, and uphold their bottom line.” After the ceremony, as Maya approached, Jonathan frowned and spoke. “Maya, what you did was too risky.” He wasn’t blaming her. Maya looked innocent. “Jonathan, I put that up because I admire Kathy’s courage and wanted her to be a role model for the students.” Then she adopted a concerned expression for me. “Kathy, this video is something I’ve prepared for a long time. I just want to motivate you, help you move past that incident sooner, and stop being a burden to others.” Hearing this, a doting look crossed Jonathan’s eyes. “Oh, you’re just too kind.” Then he looked at me. “Kathy, Maya meant well. Be more generous.” I stared at him coldly. “Do you know what impact this video will have on me?” “What impact could it have?” Jonathan suddenly became impatient. “The truth always comes out. Did you really think you could hide it forever? Besides, Maya said the video was computer-generated and didn’t name names. Even if someone talks, just don’t take it personally, right? No need to throw a baseless tantrum!” So, in his eyes, such humiliation was my own fault. “Fine.” I didn’t press the issue, instead smiling faintly at Jonathan. “I hope you won’t regret it.” With that, I left, leaving him with a stunned expression. The rumors spread faster than I could have imagined. As if pre-arranged, within an afternoon, numerous versions circulated online. My face was edited into various obscene short videos, and even turned into memes, spread everywhere. With my identity exposed, coupled with the deliberately misleading captions in the video, I was subjected to endless curses and humiliation. [Turns out the Mrs. Goode from Apex Holdings was messed up years ago, no wonder she hasn’t had kids all these years.] [Poor Mr. Goode, so handsome, but he’s the oblivious cuckold.] [AI was too subtle; she clearly sounded like she was enjoying it, where was the pain?] The group’s stock price fluctuated as a result. The next day, my position was suspended by the board of directors. Jonathan spoke to me on the phone in a business-like manner. “Kathy, it wasn’t easy for Apex to get to where it is today. It can’t be ruined by your indiscretions.” He completely forgot that this was all thanks to Maya. “Don’t worry, as long as you sign, I’ll give you the compensation you deserve.” I gripped the phone tightly. “Your so-called compensation is to step on my reputation, kick me out, and force me to sign the divorce.” Jonathan was silent for a moment. “Kathy, don’t blame me.” He didn’t deny it. “Maya is innocent and insecure. If we continue to work together, she won’t be able to handle it.” “I just want to protect my home.” He still didn’t know that his so-called home was on a countdown. Only ten hours remained until the chip expired. And at this critical juncture, the media leaked photos of Jonathan taking Maya to a prenatal check-up.

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The morning after, a woman knocked on my door. “Is your dad home?” “Who?” “Jonathan Czuchry, your father.” The woman smiled gently. “You must be Chloe, right? I’ve seen your photo in Jonathan’s wallet. I never expected such a big, rough man to raise such a refined daughter.” “My dad?” Lost in a daze, the woman handed me a bag containing a set of keys and a familiar pair of men’s boxers. “These are what your father left at my place last night. I’ve already washed them clean.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy blush on her cheeks. “He didn’t go to the office today, so I took the liberty of bringing them over. You’re an adult now, so please don’t be offended. Your mother’s been gone for so many years; it’s natural for your father to find someone.” I stared at the items in her hand, frozen. I had no idea that my husband, fourteen years my senior, had inexplicably become my “dad.” … The woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with a darker complexion. While not strikingly beautiful, she had a pleasant demeanor. I struggled to maintain my composure and let her into the house. She made herself quite at home, pouring a glass of water and settling in, then began to share the story of how she and Jonathan had met. “Your father and I met two years ago in Kenya. I was sold there by traffickers, forced into working as a hostess. One time, a customer was giving me a hard time, and your dad, he couldn’t stand it. He used every penny in his account to buy me out – over a million dollars, can you believe it?” I felt an icy dread seep into my bones. Two years ago, Jonathan had returned from a business trip to Kenya, crestfallen, telling me his investment had failed, and over a million dollars had vanished. I comforted him, saying that as long as he was safe, it was all that mattered. Turns out, the money had all been spent on her. My gaze fell on the slender wrist she wore. The woman raised her hand, showing off a glistening jade bangle. “This was your grandmother’s heirloom,” she explained with a smile. “Your dad gave it to me. He said the most important things should go to the most important person.” The luminous jade bracelet sharply pricked my eyes. The year Jonathan and I married, he was just starting his company. We were tight on money, so I asked for nothing, not even the traditional gold jewelry. Later, after his mother passed, I hinted repeatedly that I hoped he would give me his mother’s bangle. But he always said that things from the dead were bad luck. The woman’s voice continued, “I’m an orphan. Your dad kindly brought me back to the States, set me up with everything, and even got me a job as his secretary in his company. Gradually, as we spent time together every day, feelings developed between us.” “Your dad is busy with work, but he always makes time for me. I have a sensitive stomach, and he even learned to cook for me.” “Last time my stomach was bothering me, he missed your grandmother’s funeral to take care of me. But he said my health was more important than anything.” Listening to her words, my heart felt as if it were being flayed, bleeding profusely. When my own mother died, Jonathan had claimed he was too busy with work to return for the memorial. I had believed him, shouldering all the criticism and accusations on his behalf. Now, everything seemed so utterly laughable. A sudden wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I clutched my lips, dry-heaving violently, a dull ache in my lower abdomen. “What’s wrong?” The woman realized her blunder, asking cautiously, “I’m sorry, Chloe. I shouldn’t have told you all this. Are you… having trouble accepting your dad remarrying?” I shook my head. It must be the little one in my belly grieving for me. The woman, sensing my low spirits, added me on social media and then discreetly left. I sat at home all day, lost in a daze. That evening, Jonathan finally returned. I looked at the man before me, nearing forty. Time hadn’t etched many lines on his face; he was still strikingly handsome, composed, and mature. “Jonathan Czuchry,” I handed him the keys, my voice hoarse. “A woman brought these over earlier.” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of panic crossing his face. “What did she say?” “Why are you so flustered?” I averted my gaze, speaking calmly. “She just said she was your secretary, and you left your keys at the office last night while working late.” Jonathan tugged at his tie, clearly relieved. He had just sat down when his phone rang, and his expression instantly changed. “Sweetheart, something urgent came up at the office. You go to sleep, don’t wait up for me tonight.” Jonathan stayed for less than ten minutes before rushing out again. Two hours later, I saw a post from Olivia on social media. [My stomach started hurting again. Luckily he came just in time, making me porridge and soup. I’m so happy~] I stared at the words, feeling as though I was plummeting into a bottomless abyss. Two years ago, Jonathan had suddenly taken an interest in cooking. He not only taught himself over a hundred dishes but also how to make various nutritious soups. I had been deeply touched, believing he learned to cook for me. Now I realized I was a complete and utter joke. Sleep was impossible. The next morning, I woke to excruciating pain in my lower abdomen and bleeding. Jonathan’s phone was unreachable. I endured the pain, driving myself to the hospital. After a series of examinations, the doctor shook her head with regret. “Your progesterone levels are too low, and the emotional distress led to a miscarriage. You’ll need a D&C.” Miscarriage… The two words floated lightly, yet they drained all strength from my body. My baby was gone. My marriage was collapsing. That afternoon, Jonathan rushed to the hospital. He was panting, sweating profusely, one shoe missing. “Chloe, I’m so sorry…” Jonathan sat by my hospital bed, his eyes red, slapping himself in self-reproach. “I was so busy today, I just saw your message! I’m such an idiot, not being here for you immediately for something so important.” His choked sobs and sorrow didn’t seem fake. I thought, he must love me, right? I couldn’t condemn him so easily based on a few words from someone else. I had to get to the bottom of this. Just as I was about to speak, Jonathan glanced at his phone, his expression subtly uneasy. “Chloe, I have to step out for a moment for something.” The moment he left, I followed. At the end of the hallway, I saw Olivia clinging to Jonathan’s arm, her voice sweetly complaining, “Jonathan, why didn’t you tell me your daughter was hospitalized? I have to go see her. After all, I’m her elder, you know.” “Olivia, don’t go.” Jonathan stopped her, his face flustered. “Chloe… she’s not quite ready to accept me moving on with new relationships.” Olivia paused. “No wonder she looked so unhappy yesterday.” “What did you say?” Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “What did you tell her yester…” But Olivia suddenly hugged his waist, burying her face in his chest. “But Jonathan, I really want to be part of your family. I really want your daughter to accept me. I truly love you, and I don’t want to break up because of outside reasons.” Her voice was fragile and pitiful. Jonathan patted her back, his movements familiar and tender. “Foolish girl, what are you thinking? I won’t leave you. I know you only have me in your world.” Watching this scene, my heart felt like it was being brutally torn in two. Her entire world was him. And wasn’t mine the same? I had been with Jonathan since I was eighteen. Back then, he had nothing, not a penny to his name. My family and friends all said I was crazy, finding an old, poor man who had nothing but good looks. Later, Jonathan started his business. To show his sincerity, he transferred all his initial company shares to me. He pledged his entire fortune to my father, promising that he would prove, with his actions, that my choice was not wrong. But now, he had fallen in love with a woman his own age. The fourteen-year age gap between us had become an unbridgeable chasm. I returned to my hospital room, utterly distraught. A moment later, my hands trembling, I sent a message to my best friend. [Skylar… Jonathan cheated on me.] I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. [Contact a lawyer for me. Jonathan spent millions on his mistress during our marriage. I want all that money back.] [Also, find a time to sell all my shares in Czuchry Industries.] Just as I put my phone away, Jonathan entered. He poured a glass of warm water, placing it by my bedside, then tentatively asked, “Sweetheart, did… my secretary say anything to you yesterday?” “No, nothing,” I feigned calmness, speaking indifferently. “She just dropped off the things and left.” Jonathan’s brow relaxed. He sat down and patted my shoulder. “Sweetheart, don’t be sad… you’re still young. We’ll have more children later.” There won’t be any more, I repeated in my mind. Jonathan, there’s no ‘later’ for us. “Sweetheart, have some soup.” Jonathan bustled about, personally making me a bowl of hot chicken soup. Looking at the steaming bowl in his hands, I recalled Olivia’s social media post. My stomach suddenly churned, and I couldn’t help but gag. Jonathan frowned, patting my back. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” I pushed him away. “Just felt a bit nauseous.” As I spoke, a clear female voice rang out from the doorway: “Jonathan.” Jonathan’s face froze. He turned around in a panic. “Olivia, what are you doing here?” Olivia smiled, carrying a basket of fruit as she walked in. “After thinking it over, I felt I really should come see Chloe.” Olivia sat by my bed, intimately taking my hand. “Chloe, Jonathan told me you’re in the hospital for some women’s health issues? Your mom passed early, so if there’s anything you don’t understand, you can always ask me…” “Olivia!” Jonathan interrupted anxiously. “Something urgent came up at the office. You need to come back with me.” He then said to me, “Chloe, rest well. I’ll come back to see you later.” With that, he pulled Olivia and left in a hurry. I knew. He was panicking. He was afraid of being exposed. This seemingly upright man, with one lie, had deceived two women. Half an hour later, I once again scrolled past Olivia’s social media post. [Called me out under the pretense of overtime, but it was actually to give me a huge surprise~] She posted a photo of a property deed. [I finally have a home in this city! A 3-million-dollar brownstone, it’s his unique gift to me!] The name “Olivia” on the property deed burned my eyes. I even wondered. Was she truly unaware of the truth, or was she deliberately provoking me? I still couldn’t resist. I called Jonathan. It wasn’t until the eighth try that the call connected. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” “Jonathan Czuchry, come back immediately. I have something to ask you.” In the past, Jonathan would have sensed the distress in my voice. But now, he merely lowered his tone. “Chloe, I’m very busy right now. I’ll come back to be with you later.” “I want you to come back now!” “Chloe, don’t make a scene,” Jonathan’s voice grew impatient. “Just wait for me. I’ll be back later.” He hung up. Before the dial tone, I heard Olivia’s voice, playfully complaining, on the other end. “Jonathan, I’m so happy today.” My tears suddenly fell. She was very happy. But her happiness was built upon my suffering. Half an hour later, I received a message from Olivia. [Chloe, don’t you like me? If there’s anything you’re unhappy with about me, you can say it.] [Even though I worked as a hostess in Kenya, my personal life is very clean. Your father is my first man.] [And I’m pregnant with your dad’s child. I will treat everyone equally in the future and try my best to be a good stepmother. I hope you can accept me!]

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It was my fiancée, Sophia, who first suggested a getaway with her best friends. I should have seen it coming. Her male best friend, Arthur, was in charge of the snacks. He’d swapped out the beef sauce on the pizza for crawfish paste, something I’m severely allergic to. After I took a bite, tiny red patches immediately flared across my face. Arthur just chuckled, “See? You can eat it, can’t you?” I frantically searched for my epinephrine auto-injector, only to find the storage box completely empty. Sophia, seeing my reaction, merely paused for a moment before explaining, “Arthur is scared of needles, so I threw them all out. Just drink some water, you’ll be fine.” But the red rash was already spreading, crawling across my face and down my neck, an angry tide. “How could I have left them where he could see them? I could die!” I stammered, my voice tight with panic. She, however, looked annoyed. “Who hasn’t had an allergy before? How serious could it be? Don’t be such a drama queen.” She then turned, pulling her now-sobbing male friend into a comforting embrace, murmuring soothing words. I couldn’t utter another sound. My fingers fumbled for my phone, sending a desperate text to my father: “Dad, I ate seafood, but Sophia threw away all my injectors.” … My hands clutched at my face, the burning sensation almost unbearable. “Sophia, tell me, where did you throw them?!” Perhaps my voice was too loud. Arthur flinched, as if startled, which only made Sophia tense up further. “Finn Marston! Aren’t you suffocating with your hands over your face? Can’t you act like a man?” My face was already swelling, but Sophia just gave me an impatient glare, her words dripping with ice. “You know I have a severe allergic reaction to seafood, Sophia,” I tried to reason again, hoping she might show a flicker of concern. But she merely rolled her eyes, her gaze already fixed on her phone, fingers flying across the screen. Her friends’ phones chirped continuously, and they kept stealing glances at me, giggling behind their hands. My heart sank. I stood numbly outside the hot spring, utterly lost. Arthur, however, walked closer, and with a sudden jerk, pulled my hands away from my face. “Oh, big brother’s face is a little flushed. Could it be from seeing Sophia’s friends in bikinis?” He let out a snicker, and the women around us, hearing him, huffed in indignation and splashed water at me. The hot spring water was lukewarm, but the splash drenched my upper body, and the burning sensation intensified, spreading like wildfire. Despite Sophia’s disapproving glare, I grabbed Arthur’s collar, though I barely had the strength to hold on. “Tell me, where did you throw them?!” Arthur shoved my hand away, a sneer twisting his lips, the cruelty in his eyes now starkly visible. “So eager to know?” He stepped closer, forcing me back a few staggering steps. My foot accidentally landed on some scattered women’s underwear on the ground. By the time I realized what had happened, it was too late. “Ugh, a pervert! That’s my freshly changed underwear! Sophia, control your boyfriend!” “Seriously, Sophia, what kind of person do you bring home?” I lifted my foot in shock, my gaze meeting Sophia’s. “Finn Marston.” Her voice was low and dangerous. “Are you done making a scene?” I was too stunned to explain, too mortified to meet her eyes. My body felt as if a thousand ants were crawling under my skin. “Sister, it’s not his fault. He accidentally stepped on it when he grabbed me. It wasn’t on purpose.” Arthur seized the opportunity to slink back to Sophia, his voice soft and innocent. “Arthur was just trying to be concerned, and you laid hands on him?” Sophia’s anger flared once more, expertly stoked by him. I was about to explain, but Arthur cut me off. “Finn, I’ll pour you a glass of water. Calm down, and forgive me.” With that, he scurried to the outdoor water dispenser. As he filled the cup, he cast a wary glance at me. Then, I saw him squeeze some unknown liquid into the water. “Finn, it’s all my fault you and Sister Sophia are fighting. Have some water to cool down.” As soon as the water was brought to me, a sharp citrus scent assaulted my nostrils. The itching on my body intensified. I endured the discomfort, and under Sophia’s watchful eye, took the glass. The moment our hands met, Arthur suddenly pressed hard on the bottom of the cup, splashing water all over my face. “Ah— Arthur, what are you doing!” The acidic liquid, combined with my sensitive, reddened skin, ignited an even more intense stinging, making me cry out in pain. All eyes turned to me, but Arthur’s tears came first. He darted behind Sophia. “I didn’t do anything! Finn isn’t trying to frame me for splashing water on himself, is he? I was just trying to show some concern for him when he suddenly knocked over the water…” Sophia’s face hardened. She strode towards me. Then, a sharp, stinging slap landed hard on my cheek. “Finn Marston, have you made enough of a scene? So he gave you seafood, but you’re fine now, aren’t you? What more do you want?!” The lemon juice continued to irritate, and my entire body began to swell. After Sophia’s slap, my lips started to turn blue. “Sophia! Where are they?! I’m seriously going to die!” I was on the verge of falling to my knees, ready to abandon all dignity in front of everyone. But Sophia was completely unmoved. “You dare to yell at me?” she said, her expression alien. A ripple of whispers ran through the women. “Finn, your emotions are so unstable. If you’re like this around Sister Sophia, you might become abusive…” Sophia’s gaze sharpened, piercing me with accusation. I wanted to defend myself, but no words came. In the silence, Arthur naturally took Sophia’s hand, swaying gently. Sophia looked at him with a tenderness I had never seen her direct at me. “Sister, you know I can get very overwhelmed by sharp objects…” My eyes burned as I stared at their intertwined fingers, a sharp pain piercing my chest. Just as I was about to speak, Sophia’s gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by an expression of pure disgust as she looked at me. “Enough. I think you just want to use those stupid needles to hurt Arthur. How can you be so malicious? Don’t you dare bring that up again.” I briefly glanced at Arthur, wanting to speak again, but a sudden shortness of breath seized me. Then, my vision swam, and I collapsed painfully to the ground. Everyone was momentarily startled by my collapse, but it was just a moment. “Sophia, did you find this boyfriend at a circus? He’s quite the entertainer.” “Look at his nose, so red. Doesn’t he look like a clown?” “Hahaha…” Sophia heard the escalating laughter of her friends, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She then kicked me again. “If you’re not dead, get up. Get out.” The kick landed squarely on my chest. My chest, already suffering from the allergic reaction, seized up violently. “Cough… cough!” Blood spewed from my mouth. Seeing me like this, her disgust only deepened. “Sister, why don’t you go play with your friends? I’ll take care of Finn. Don’t let him ruin your mood.” Arthur spoke first, putting on a show of “easing her burden.” After Sophia turned and re-entered the hot spring, he squatted beside me, pulling at my ear. “Finn Marston, you’re all red and disgusting,” he whispered. “How about I tell you? Your medicine? It’s in the trash can at the foot of the mountain. Are you going to go?” My face was flushed, my body racked with intense itching, too weak to even shake off his hand, let alone stand up and walk the ten miles of winding mountain road to the foot of the hill. “Foot of the mountain… why…” I moaned in agony, but Arthur’s eyes sparkled with more excitement. In a haze, I noticed my messenger bag under the table. I remembered it contained my best antihistamines. While not as effective as the auto-injector, they could slow down an acute reaction. A flicker of hope ignited within me. Ignoring Arthur’s taunts, I hunched forward, reaching my hand under the table. Just a little more, and I’d have it. I strained my body, my fingers almost touching the pills. But Arthur suddenly stood up. With a swift kick, he sent the pills skittering into the nearby pool. My heart plummeted with them. “Arthur! What are you doing!” I screamed hysterically, my eyes blazing with furious fire. “Doing? My foot slipped.” Arthur brutally stepped on my outstretched hand, watching me with amused interest. “This medicine isn’t as good as the injector, is it? I’ll escort you to the gate, you can go get that one, Finn.” With that, he grabbed my arm and dragged me, face-down, forward. The path around the hot spring was covered in jagged, colorful gravel. My exposed upper body scraped against the ground, the intense tearing sensation threatening to make me pass out. He dragged me like this for a full mile. By the time we reached the gate, my back was raw, a bloody mess of torn skin. Arthur then urinated on me. The overwhelming stench choked me. I couldn’t open my eyes, but the vile liquid made me sickeningly aware. Aware of the agonizing pain throughout my body—the swelling, the lacerations, the acidic burning… and the profound humiliation. Seeing me in such agony, unable to open my eyes, Arthur contentedly zipped up his pants. Then, footsteps approached. “Arthur? I saw a puddle of rotten flesh and a lot of blood on the road! The girls are terrified!” Sophia, in her high-heeled sandals, walked up, failing to notice me hidden just outside the villa gate. Arthur visibly panicked for a moment, then quickly composed himself, adopting his usual “puppy dog” expression. “Sister, the cook accidentally spilled some scraps of meat, I haven’t had a chance to clean it up yet.” “But what about Finn? He’s not really hurt, is he? He really is allergic to crawfish…” Hearing Sophia’s concern for me, Arthur cast a jealous glance my way. I let out a cold laugh, though my lips instantly screamed in pain. “I couldn’t argue with Finn. He asked me where the injector was discarded, so he ran off to look for it.” He then added, “See, my hand is all bruised from him pulling on it.” Bruised? Yes, that was true, but it was from when he beat me. “What! He hit you again, that despicable man, so vicious!” From my spot in the corner, I watched as Arthur’s hand was taken, gently caressed, and mourned. “Don’t mind him. Sister will take you to put some ointment on it.” When Arthur’s back disappeared from my sight, I finally passed out completely. I don’t know how much time passed, but large raindrops pelting down roused me from unconsciousness. The sudden coolness brought some relief to the burning pain on my body, but blood still flowed relentlessly from beneath me. The door creaked open again. Arthur, holding a clear umbrella, slowly approached me, examining me carefully. “Didn’t you say you were dying? How come you’re not dead yet?” He pulled an engraving knife from his chest pocket. The blade glinted, momentarily blinding me. “Your face is handsome, it’s no wonder Sister Sophia likes you. But if I carve a line across it, will she completely despise you?” he said nonchalantly, a truly grotesque smile on his face. “Arthur, so you’re this despicable because of your inner insecurity?” I struggled against the swelling on my face, forcing my eyes open as wide as possible, mercilessly mocking him. He seemed to have been struck by something personal. His expression hardened, and the engraving knife slashed across my face, leaving a long, deep gash. Pain. This time, I didn’t cry out. I just silently registered the agony on my face. “Arthur. Let your death countdown begin.” “When I die, my father will flay you alive. Your pain won’t be a single fraction less than mine. It will only be more, not less.” “But, I also can’t die from such humiliation.” “After all, I am the son of the richest man in the city.” “And now I’m enduring this bastard’s torment, to be secretly done to death by him.” “And Sophia, she’s just the daughter of a small-time business owner.” “I meticulously maintained her self-respect, yet she simply threw my dignity to the ground and crushed it.” “I refuse to accept this.”

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I lived with Larry Evans for three years. We occasionally slept together, but we never kissed. It was the purest form of “friends with benefits.” Until I accidentally saw him and his secretary acting intimately, her freely entering and leaving his private space. I understood, and discreetly packed up my things. That night, as I left, I sent him a farewell text: “I’m going back home to get married. Let’s not keep in touch anymore.” Later, I was seeing off a blind date. I turned around and met Larry’s gaze. He could no longer maintain his facade of gentle rationality, pressing me against the wall in a fit of rage: “What does he have that I don’t? Money, power… or is he just better at pleasing you?” 1. Near the end of the workday, a sudden heavy rain poured down. My colleague, Maya Chen, had forgotten her umbrella and sidled up to me, hoping to share mine. I didn’t refuse. As I looked down, opening the umbrella, I heard Maya sigh with envy: “It really is best to be a secretary, isn’t it? First dibs. Anna Miller has only been here three weeks and she’s already sharing an umbrella with Mr. Evans. After three months, will we all be calling her Mrs. Evans?” I looked up. My gaze pierced through the rain, settling on the black umbrella. Two figures walked side-by-side. Larry strode ahead, and Anna jogged to keep up behind him. She ran too quickly, lost her balance, gasped, and stumbled towards the ground. Larry reached out just in time, steadying her by the waist. The scene unfolded perfectly, like a classic romance drama on TV. I averted my eyes, shook the umbrella handle, and thousands of raindrops plummeted to the ground, creating ripples. “Aren’t you going? If the rain gets any heavier, we won’t be able to leave.” I prompted. Maya, seeing I wasn’t responding, poked my arm helplessly. “That’s Mr. Evans, young, accomplished, and impeccably principled – everyone at the company puts him on a pedestal. Aren’t you even a little tempted?” She finished, not waiting for my answer, then made a dramatic gesture, clutching her heart as if in pain. “Anyway, my heart is aching to see someone else claim Mr. Evans’s passenger seat.” Maya’s theatrics made me chuckle. I took out my car keys and pressed the button; the lights of my Audi on the roadside flashed on. I playfully lifted her chin and smiled, “You might not get to sit in Mr. Evans’s passenger seat, but how about sitting in mine?” 2. Dropping Maya off took a bit longer than expected. When I pushed open the door, Larry had just finished placing the last dish on the dining table. He was wearing comfortable loungewear, and the apron he had on seemed to be a matching couple’s set the mall had given us during our last grocery run. Under the warm yellow light from above, the usual aloofness that came from his immersion in the business world melted away, leaving only a gentle, soft demeanor. Larry stepped forward, took my bag, and hung it on the coat rack. Then he bent down, taking out my slippers and placing them by my feet. His fingertips naturally brushed against the ankle strap of my high heel, a warm sensation against my cold skin. I stiffly took half a step back, declining his help. “I can do it myself.” Larry paused, but said nothing. “I made your favorite pork ribs with pumpkin. Go wash your hands and eat while it’s hot.” I silently changed my shoes and walked to the sink. As the water ran through my fingers, my thoughts drifted. Three years of living together, and Larry and I had done quite a few things that crossed the line. Helping me take off my shoes was a trivial matter. But just now, as Larry leaned in, an unusual sense of resistance welled up inside me. I knew why, but I didn’t want to admit it. It was because of Anna, and because of myself. Over these three years, living together day after day like a frog slowly boiling in warm water, I’d forgotten that Larry and I’s beginning was nothing more than a drunken, passionate haze. I’d forgotten that his kindness towards me was simply good manners. I had uncontrollably fallen in, mistaking physical needs for love. Anna’s appearance had jolted me awake, a harsh realization. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late to pull away now. 3. I ate that meal without much enthusiasm, taking only a few bites before putting down my chopsticks and going upstairs to wash up. When I came out of the bathroom, Larry was waiting outside the door. His brow was furrowed, and his gaze, fixed on me, was filled with worry. For a moment, I didn’t know how to act towards Larry, so I simply ignored him. As I brushed past him, Larry grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, as if he meant to leave an indelible red mark on my skin. “Today, you…” I sensed what Larry was about to ask. So, I cut him off. “Is it… time?” A flicker of surprise crossed Larry’s eyes. I didn’t give him a chance to react, stepping onto my toes and initiating a kiss. But gradually, Larry took over the lead. His palm pressed against the back of my head, deepening what had started as a tentative kiss. Larry couldn’t even wait the few steps back to the bedroom. He pushed me back into the bathroom. The humid steam hadn’t yet dissipated in the bathroom. Through my thin nightgown, I was pressed against the cold, damp tiles. Larry was my only source of warmth. I could only wrap my arms around his neck, forced to endure everything he brought. I bit my tongue, suppressing the tremor in my throat. It felt like a competition; speaking first would be revealing my hand, losing everything. I didn’t want to lose too badly. Sweat matted my hair to my forehead. Larry reached up and pushed it away. He lowered his head, tenderly kissing away the tears that spilled from my eyes. “Don’t hold back, call my name, please?” It was always like this. Larry was always like this, using soft, coaxing tones, weaving illusions of love that made me fall into them. Before an uncontrollable sob could escape, I bit hard into Larry’s shoulder. Even tasting the metallic tang of blood, I didn’t let go. Larry grunted in pain, then chuckled softly in my ear, “I really can’t do anything with you.” In the end, I had no strength left. Larry carried me back to the bedroom. In a daze, I felt my left hand being gently stroked. I curled my fingertips and asked in a hoarse voice, “What’s wrong?” Larry seemed not to have expected me to still be awake. He coughed lightly, as if covering something up, then intertwined our fingers. “Nothing, go to sleep.” 4. Everything that happened on that rainy night dried up with the bright, clear day. I had been on a business trip for over half a month, working non-stop, and had no mind to revisit those memories. So, when I carried my suitcase and entered the password, only to run directly into Anna, I couldn’t help but feel a moment of bewilderment. Anna was wearing a lace slip dress. I recognized it immediately as the one I had tucked away in Larry’s closet. Anna’s gaze, initially joyful, turned into a subtle hostility when she saw it was me. She curved her lips into a smile and, in the tone of a hostess, greeted me: “Miss Reed, is there something you need?” I rubbed my temples, which ached from exhaustion. I didn’t shriek questions at Anna about why she was there, nor did I press Larry about his whereabouts. I simply returned a calm smile. “I’m just packing up some things, and then I’ll be leaving.” After all, I had lived there for three years. I went up and down several times before managing to pack all my belongings. I even took the rose bush I’d grown on the balcony, even though Larry had been the one watering it all these years. I was loaded down with bags. Anna glanced at me and prompted, “Miss Reed, you should check carefully to see if you’ve left anything behind.” She tilted her chin, a hint of sharpness in her otherwise sweet, compliant face. “After all, there’s a new person here, and old things should be thrown out. If anything’s left behind, it would be a shame for you to have to pick it out of the trash.” The curve of my lips didn’t change. “Now that you mention it, I just remembered… I do have one last thing I haven’t taken.” My gaze swept over Anna, my eyebrows slightly raised. “The slip dress you’re wearing is mine. Do you want to take it off for me?” “You!” Anna covered her chest, her face flushing with indignation. I didn’t want to descend into a verbal battle with her. I waved my hand and said blandly, “Never mind. I have a bit of a germ phobia. It’s yours.” 5. I returned to my old rented apartment with my heavy luggage. Even after moving in with Larry, I had never given it up. Probably because I was too pessimistic, feeling that everything with Larry was nothing but a mirage. Eventually, I would wake from the dream. It was fortunate that I was so pessimistic, allowing me a place to stay now. I quickly washed up. Unable to fight off the exhaustion from working non-stop, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke again, it was already evening. Endless darkness swallowed me. My heart suddenly skipped a beat, filled with an indescribable loneliness. This feeling was like being abandoned by the world. Fortunately, this mood didn’t last too long, broken by the sudden ring of my phone. I picked up, and my mother’s voice reached my ear. What she said wasn’t new. It was just the same old worries, asking if I was eating and sleeping well, if work was going smoothly—the same familiar questions she’d repeated for years. I listened quietly, responding occasionally. Finally, a slight catch in my mother’s gentle voice. “Audrey, are you coming home for the holidays this year?” I wasn’t sure why my mother was asking about holiday plans so early, but I answered truthfully: “Not sure yet. Why?” There was a pause before she replied, “It’s nothing. Mom just hasn’t seen you in a long time and misses you a bit.” Her words hit me like a hammer to the chest. A dull ache of sadness welled up. I grew up in a single-parent home. My concept of family was always vague. My childhood memories were only of my father, idle and drunk every day. He had a bad reputation, involved in gambling, drinking, and womanizing. When he won money, my mother and I had it better; at least we weren’t beaten. But when he lost, it was different. He’d get violent from the alcohol, grab my mother’s hair, and drag her into the bedroom, where only a single bare bulb dimly glowed, like a butcher dragging prey to slaughter. The old house was in disrepair, and the door didn’t close tightly. At just five years old, I was forced to watch my mother suffer through a narrow crack in the door. Inside, my mother’s piercing screams echoed. Outside, I cried, my hands bruised and bloody from hitting the door. I couldn’t break it down. I couldn’t stop the torture from continuing. This went on for a long time. Until the day my father’s veined fist landed on me. My usually submissive mother suddenly fought back. She grabbed a kitchen knife and swung it wildly. “You animal! If you dare touch Audrey, none of us will live!” Her black hair was disheveled, and blood seeped from the wound on her forehead. At first glance, she looked like a demon crawled out of hell. My father was startled and stormed out, cursing. My mother put down the knife, suddenly losing all strength, and pulled me into her arms. Tears dripped, soaking my hair, and her voice choked out, “Don’t be afraid, Audrey. Mom will take you away.” Later, my mother single-handedly supported our home. She fought tooth and nail to put me through school. All I could do was study hard, work hard, and succeed so she could enjoy a peaceful life. But these years, I had only focused on making money, forgetting that what she truly needed was companionship. I looked at my savings; that string of zeros was enough for me to be set for the rest of my life. I no longer had a reason to stay in the city. After realizing this, I spent a week settling work handovers and processing my resignation. That night, as I left, I felt completely unburdened. I didn’t even bring a suitcase. Before boarding the plane, I sent Larry one last text message. It was a period at the end of our three years. “I’m going back home to get married. Let’s not keep in touch anymore.”

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On my wife, Eleanor’s, wake, I overheard her sister’s phone call. “Ellie, that fake death of yours is truly impressive. Your husband’s burying you at the cemetery, and you’re still up all night at an e-sports hotel with your little brother.” “Save a spot for me, I’ll be right there.” I froze instantly, subconsciously following them to the e-sports hotel. I watched Eleanor Stone, usually so formidable in the Stone family. Now, she was leaning against a red-haired man, smiling, enjoying him teaching her to smoke mouth-to-mouth. The moment she raised her arm, her sisters cheered. “Ellie, haven’t you washed off that temporary tattoo yet?” A sliver of white skin showed at Eleanor’s waist. On her slender lower back, black and red lettering was strikingly clear: Joshua Vance’s Exclusive. “Never. Joshua’s exclusive hand-drawn piece. I’ll never wash it off.” A chill ran down my spine, and I stumbled out of the hotel in a daze. As soon as I got home, my mother-in-law, Clara, her eyes red and swollen from crying, gripped my hand. “Adrian, Ellie had no luck. I’ve found a good girl for you from a respectable family. If she’s suitable, I’ll go with you to propose.” 1. In the private room, Eleanor spoke flatly: “Did Adrian take care of all the arrangements for my funeral?” Her sister laughed. “Everything’s handled, Ellie. Meticulous and respectful, just Adrian’s style.” “He was practically bursting with tears, yet he maintained that self-controlled, proper demeanor. Truly from a refined family!” Snap! Eleanor slowly exhaled a puff of smoke, then passed the cigarette to Joshua Vance with her mouth, her face full of indulgence. Through the swirling smoke, I saw a flicker of annoyance in Eleanor’s eyes. “That’s Adrian for you, emotionally numb, no feelings whatsoever.” “His life is a precise schedule—eating, dressing. Even in bed, he’s restrained and proper, so rigid.” “Even if I really died, he’d still faithfully keep vigil, taking care of the Stone family and my mom for me.” Her sister chuckled: “Just one marriage certificate, and he’s utterly devoted to you, Ellie, and to the Stone family. Quite a bargain.” “Who knows, maybe Adrian will even be happy about your resurrection, Ellie.” Everyone roared with laughter, a painful sting to my eardrums. The bitterness in my chest almost overflowed. It took several deep breaths to swallow back my tears. For her final dignity, I had suppressed my emotions to arrange the funeral. Every mourner praised my meticulous and respectful conduct. I had never found it difficult. For Eleanor, at home, in every aspect of life, I always maintained propriety, never letting her worry. Outside, I was Eleanor’s most capable assistant. I helped her secure the Stone family’s largest project in a decade. I always thought we were soulmates, moving forward together. But in the end, all I got was a mere “bargain.” “Ellie, when you’re with me, can you stop talking about your family’s old-fashioned ways!” Joshua Vance yanked off his headphones, throwing them forcefully onto the table. “I want you to divorce him! And I want you to tattoo my name over your heart! That’s the only way it’s real love!” My heart clenched. I was suddenly terrified of Eleanor’s answer. Eleanor only hesitated for a few seconds before quickly nodding. “Okay, if Joshua says divorce, I’ll divorce. Shall we go get the tattoo now?” My entire body felt cold, and a violent headache threatened to tear me apart. For the first time in my life, I lost control, stumbling frantically out of the e-sports hotel. On the crowded streets, Eleanor’s wedding vows echoed ceaselessly in my ears. “Adrian, in the Stone family, there’s no divorce, only widowhood. I will only ever have one husband, you.” How ridiculous. The validity of Eleanor’s vow lasted barely three years. I wandered the streets, distraught, my phone buzzing. My mother-in-law’s tired voice came from the other end. “Adrian, you’ve worked hard these past few days. I’ve taken it upon myself to find you a good match. Consider bringing her home.” 2. I don’t know how much time passed, but then I heard my own trembling voice. “Okay.” Hanging up the phone, I realized I had unknowingly walked to the entrance of an amusement park. This time, I bought a ticket and went in alone. As the elevator ascended, I felt as if I saw Eleanor from three years ago again. Before I met Eleanor, my life was lived meticulously, within the strict boundaries set by my parents. We were educated from childhood to be rational, to walk on a razor’s edge. One step out of line was unacceptable. The most my father ever said was, “You enjoy more wealth than ordinary people, so you must shed superfluous emotions.” I wanted to rebel, but I knew I had no right. For an elite family like ours, if I became disobedient, someone could immediately replace me. I would become worthless, lose everything. And Eleanor was the first person to make me drop my mask. “Adrian, life’s too short for all this formality.” “Why not live for the moment, enjoy the present?” Eleanor took me, helping me evade the bodyguards my parents had arranged. She took me drag racing. As the wind roared past my ears, I held her tightly. That was the first time I ever broke free from the rules, letting out a wild shout. Eleanor was one of the few redemptions in my life of self-restraint and proper conduct. I loved the rebellion in her bones, her fierce capacity to love and hate. The engine suddenly roared, and I gripped the brake, my heart trembling. Eleanor’s phantom blurred for a moment. Just like her odd behavior, which I couldn’t quite grasp. Six months ago, Eleanor had changed. She would come home after I had already fallen asleep. I would wake early for work, and Eleanor would still be asleep. I subtly questioned her secretary, who only stammered that Eleanor was entertaining clients. But the strong smell of tobacco on her clothes couldn’t be faked. My ingrained upbringing prevented me from making a scene; I only offered a calm reminder. “Be careful not to get food poisoning from eating out so much.” That was the first time Eleanor had smashed plates and cutlery in front of me, the splashing soup raising a row of blisters. “Adrian, aren’t you the most disciplined and proper? What is this now, jealousy? If you want to know something, then go find out.” Eleanor knew me, a fatal blow. She knew my upbringing and my restraint wouldn’t allow me to track her movements, so I could only let it go. Now, I regret it. If I had intervened earlier, Eleanor and I might not have ended up like this. “Sir, is this your first time drag racing? Safety precautions…” The staff member waved, interrupting my thoughts. I came back to myself and shook my head: “I know all the safety precautions.” The staff member nodded and opened the gate. I looked at the red motorbike, walked over, and twisted the throttle. One kick, and my breathing quickened. That long-dormant heart began to beat again. As the wind roared past once more. Eleanor’s playful tone, her mocking smirk, all were swept away by the wind. The story began here. It should also end here. 3. Coming down from the ride, the tears on my face had already dried in the wind. My mother-in-law, Clara, conveniently texted me the address of the person she was introducing me to. I set the destination on my GPS. Just as I was about to leave, there was a knock on my car window. I looked up, and Joshua Vance’s face appeared unexpectedly. “Hey, old man, you know me, right? You saw everything at the e-sports hotel, didn’t you?” He forcefully smashed my car window with the baseball bat in his hand. Bang! Shards of glass flew past my eye, burning like fire. Joshua Vance grabbed my hair, yanked me out of the window, and leaned close to my ear. “I’m just here to tell you that since you heard Eleanor wants to divorce you, you should cooperate. Eleanor doesn’t like you.” “Nowadays, free love is all the rage. Eleanor hates boring men like you the most. Please, old man, step out of our love story.” I met Joshua Vance’s challenging gaze: “You call that love?” Joshua Vance’s smirk froze, his eyebrow piercing glinting even more sharply in the light. “Adrian, to see if a woman loves you, you look at whether she’s willing to spend money on you, understand, old man?” “And even if she hasn’t spent money on me, she’s given me her time. What about you? Is she willing to spend time with you, old man?” My heart skipped a beat. I stared straight at him, my voice hoarse. “You think Eleanor truly loves you? You’re just the cheapest novelty she found! Once the novelty wears off, there will be a second you, a third you…” Joshua Vance’s face instantly flushed crimson, as if I’d struck a nerve. “You’re judging me and her now?!” He dragged me directly out of the car. Rip! I felt a sudden rush of cold beneath me; my collar had been torn. He pointed his phone at me, taking pictures, his voice grating. “You think you have any right to be near Eleanor? Tell me, if I post online that an old man like you is a gold-digger, what would people think?” His strength was surprisingly immense, the skull ring on his hand leaving red marks on my face. I stumbled backward, enraged. “You’re breaking the law!” Joshua Vance sneered: “Breaking the law? Do you think I’m scared?” He smiled and made a call. “Bring everyone over! I’m in a fight at the Star Court! Come give your Eleanor’s husband a proper welcome!” I frowned, trying to grab his phone, but Joshua Vance slammed the car door shut on my hand. The intense pain in my bones made me tremble uncontrollably. I endured the crushing pressure of the car door, gritting my teeth and yelling for help. “Security! Security!” No one answered. Despair slowly permeated me. This time, I couldn’t stay calm. I frantically searched for something to defend myself with. No one was coming to my rescue; I had to rely on myself! Catching sight of a fire hydrant in the distance, I was about to struggle free from the car door when I heard a familiar yet puzzled voice. “Adrian?”

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