Category: English

While vacationing in Saint Augustine with my dad, my wife’s male assistant suddenly sent me a photo of a man stripped naked and covered in blood. It was accompanied by an arrogant voice message: “Tom Sterling, do you country folk just love to take advantage of things?” “Ms. Harper just bought this villa, and you let your old man, your deadbeat dad, crash there? As Ms. Harper’s assistant, I have every right to protect her property from intrusion.” “This is what happens when your dad trespasses into the villa!” I froze, then looked across at my dad, who was sitting there perfectly fine. I then zoomed in on the photo Tom had sent. My heart plummeted. Isn’t that my father-in-law? I immediately called Tom Barclay. “Tom, have you lost your mind? That’s Seraphina Harper’s father!” Tom scoffed dismissively, “Ms. Harper said, your dad is your dad, and her dad is her dad. She never considered your dad family.” 1 Tom hung up immediately after that. I didn’t dare delay, quickly booking a flight for that day and rushing to the airport. At the same time, I dialed Seraphina’s number. “Seraphina, Dad was beaten by Tom at your new villa, you need to go there…” “Alright, I know what you’re going to say.” Seraphina cut me off, her voice chilling. “I think Tom’s lesson was appropriate.” I was stunned. “What did you say?” Seraphina sighed, sounding a bit exasperated. “Tom, even though we’re married, your dad should have some basic boundaries. He can’t just take advantage of my being your wife, always trying to get something for free or seek small benefits from me.” I was getting agitated. “You’ve got it all wrong, he’s your…” “Enough!” Seraphina snapped impatiently. “So what if he’s my father-in-law? I’m not obligated to indulge his greed.” “Today he dares to freeload at my villa, tomorrow he’ll just come to my company demanding money.” “Tom disciplining him, making him learn his lesson, is also for his own good.” Seraphina’s words instantly chilled my frantic heart. My dad might be a countryman, but he had lived a life of kindness and simplicity, never taking advantage of anyone, and for Seraphina, he had only given, never asked. When Seraphina’s company was starting up and she was short on funds, my dad had unhesitatingly pulled out all the retirement savings he had accumulated his entire life. Knowing she had a weak stomach, no matter how busy he was, my dad would always find time to make various stomach-nourishing foods, traveling miles to deliver them to the city. Yet, such a simple, kind old man who treated her like his own child, was, in Seraphina’s words, a greedy leech with no boundaries who deserved to be taught a lesson. My heart ached with desolation, and my voice grew colder. “Seraphina, Dad seems seriously hurt. I advise you to quickly send someone to take him to the hospital. After all, it wasn’t easy for him to raise you.” Seraphina immediately flared up. “Tom, are you sick? When has your dad ever raised me?” “No wonder Tom couldn’t help but teach your dad a lesson. With a son like you, he deserves the beating!” “My dad is coming back from overseas soon. I still need to prepare a surprise and a welcome party for him. I don’t have time for your messy, petty problems.” With that, Seraphina hung up. On the way, I saw Seraphina had posted an update. Just a short sentence: “My father is returning home. I can finally show him my filial devotion properly.” I silently liked the post. A morbid curiosity arose in me. What would her devoted reaction be when she realized her dad was beaten black and blue by Tom? By evening, I arrived at Seraphina’s hilltop villa. The villa’s courtyard was adorned with flowers and balloons, and a magnificent golden archway proudly displayed large letters: “Welcome Home, Dearest Father!” Beneath the arch, all of Seraphina’s family and friends were gathered. Seeing me, everyone’s expressions turned complex. As I stepped into the courtyard, I noticed a body covered by a white sheet, tucked away in a corner of the yard! Seeing the body, my entire being stiffened. Just then, Tom stepped forward, feigning regret, “Tom, I just meant to teach your dad a simple lesson. Who knew he was so fragile? He suddenly had a heart attack and died on the spot.” “You won’t blame me, will you?” So, my father-in-law was murdered by Tom? My heart pounded wildly. I was about to speak. But Seraphina stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Tom, and gently comforted him, “Tom, this isn’t your fault. You were just looking out for me.” “Blame it on his dad for being short-lived and always causing trouble.” “It’s already merciful that you haven’t demanded emotional damages from Tom.” With that, Seraphina glared at me with a dark expression, her voice chilling, “Tom, look at what your dad has done.” “Dying in my villa not only frightened Tom but also cast a shadow over the welcome party I specially prepared for my dad.” Seeing her righteous indignation, I found it utterly laughable. I couldn’t help but point at the covered body and say seriously, “Seraphina, I suggest you lift that white sheet and take a good look at who’s actually dead!” Seraphina frowned. “Isn’t it your dad? What’s there to see?” “I don’t want to pollute my eyes!” My sister-in-law, Chloe, also chimed in with disdain, “My sister bought this villa especially to give to our dad when he came back. He hasn’t even lived in it yet, and your dad comes to freeload first? How disgusting?” “If you ask me, he deserved to die. It saves him from embarrassing us again in the future.” “Do you really think that just because you married into the Harper family, your whole family gets to ride on our coattails?” 2 Seeing Seraphina and Chloe both siding with Tom, Seraphina’s relatives and friends also quickly took sides, declaring their positions: “Exactly! Such a freeloading father-in-law is a parasite on society even when alive.” “This time he embarrassed us among family. If he embarrasses us outside next time, who knows how others will mock the Harper family.” “Exactly. Anyone who doesn’t know us might think the Harpers are raising a family of beggars.” “So, Assistant Barclay handled this perfectly. It’s a permanent solution for the Harper family.” In an instant, everyone was praising Tom. It was as if the person who died by his hand was a heinous criminal, and he, Tom, was a great hero who had rid the Harper family of evil. Tom glanced at me with a smug look, then, the next second, he timidly said to Seraphina, “But Ms. Harper, the deceased is Tom’s father, after all. What if he causes trouble for me?” Seraphina looked at him with tender affection. “Don’t worry. With me here, no one can harm you.” With that, Seraphina immediately had someone draft a letter of understanding and handed it to me. “Tom, your dad was in the wrong first. His death is just bad luck, not Tom’s fault.” “For the sake of our marriage, I won’t pursue the matter of your dad trespassing in my villa and dying here, affecting my father’s welcome party.” “But you must sign this letter of understanding, guaranteeing that this matter ends here and you won’t cause trouble for Tom.” Chloe also stood with her arms crossed, condescendingly stating, “Tom, your dad brought this upon himself. Don’t even think about pinning anything on Tom. Be smart and sign the letter of understanding.” The two sisters imperiously ordered me, waiting for me to sign the letter of understanding. But I pushed the letter back to them, calmly saying, “If anyone’s signing, it’s you. I’m not qualified.” 3 Seraphina, assuming I was refusing, immediately snapped, “Tom, don’t be ungrateful.” “Your dad was just an unemployed drifter, completely worthless in this world. Tom is still young, with a bright future ahead of him. Are you really going to ruin him for a dead man?” Chloe also frowned, echoing, “Exactly! Your dad was just a waste of food when he was alive. Tom has done society a favor.” “You don’t even thank him, and you’re still thinking of extorting him?” I calmly explained, “You’ve got it wrong. What I mean is, the person who died is your father. This letter of understanding can only be signed by you.” Chloe, hearing me say this, instantly became agitated. “Tom, are you insane? How dare you say such unlucky things and curse my dad at his welcome party?” Seraphina was also enraged. “Tom, it seems I’ve spoiled you too much all these years, letting you become so arrogant, you don’t even know how to show basic respect to your elders.” “My dad is the most important person in my life. I won’t allow anyone to disrespect him, not even if you’re my husband!” With that, she suddenly turned and barked at a bodyguard nearby, “Go throw that old man’s body into the cesspit!” The bodyguard hesitated, glancing at me. “Ms. Harper, this… this might not be appropriate?” Seraphina sternly said, “He won’t sign the letter of understanding, won’t he? He likes to curse my dad, doesn’t he? Today I’ll make him realize the consequences of disrespecting my dad!” “Do as I say! Any problems, I’ll take responsibility!” Seeing Seraphina’s anger, the bodyguard dared not disobey and immediately went to carry out the order. The guests on site shook their heads repeatedly, murmuring among themselves: “Tom has truly touched Ms. Harper’s raw nerve this time.” “Exactly. Ms. Harper’s mother passed away early; Mr. Harper raised the two sisters alone. Everyone knows Ms. Harper cares most about Mr. Harper. This Tom is truly insane, cursing Mr. Harper at his welcome party!” “No wonder his dad died. With such an ungrateful son, what parent could live long?” The chatter of the crowd was jarring but didn’t affect me in the slightest. I ignored everyone, looking at Seraphina, and said, word by word, “Seraphina, are you sure you want to go this far?” Seraphina looked down at me from her superior position, her voice sharp. “Tom, this is all your own doing.” “Your dad’s death is entirely because he was shameless and loved petty advantages.” “You shouldn’t, because of this, repeatedly curse and bring bad luck to my dad at his welcome party.” “If you ask me, your dad deserved to die early, having an ungrateful, disrespectful son like you!” The words had barely left her mouth. My dad suddenly walked into the villa, looking at Seraphina, and asked in confusion, “Who died?”

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The call came in the middle of the night. It was my colleague, Jessica. Her mom was in critical condition and needed Rh-negative blood. I was a match. So I went and donated 400cc. Her family didn’t offer a single word of thanks. They didn’t even make me a bowl of soup. Six months later, the phone rang again. “The blood we got last time wasn’t enough. We’re going to have to trouble you again.” I held the phone to my ear and spelled it out, one word at a time. “A 400cc intravenous donation. Compensation for nutritional supplements, lost work, and emotional distress. The total comes to twenty thousand dollars.” “Wire the money first. I’ll go as soon as it hits my account.” 01 On the other end of the line, Jessica Bell’s voice cut out as if the signal had died. The silence was absolute, stretching for three long seconds. It was followed by a volcanic eruption of rage. “Alex, are you fucking insane? This is extortion! My mother is lying in a hospital bed, and you’re demanding money from me?” I moved the phone slightly away from my ear to escape her piercing shriek, my gaze drifting to the inky blackness outside the window. Tonight’s sky was just like the one six months ago—a thick, suffocating darkness that refused to yield. My voice was calm. “That’s my price. If you accept, transfer the money. If not, find someone else.” “Do you have a conscience? This is a human life we’re talking about! How can you just stand by and watch someone die?” Jessica screamed into the phone, her voice cracking. Each word was a sharp, moral dagger, trying to nail me to a pillar of shame. A conscience? An image from six months ago flashed, unbidden, before my eyes. Two in the morning. The donation center at City General Hospital. The needle slid out of the vein in my arm as 400cc of my crimson blood flowed through a tube into a sterile bag. The nurse told me to press down on the cotton ball and get some rest. I was dizzy and nauseous, my face as pale as a sheet, sitting alone on a cold bench in the corridor. Not far from me, Jessica and her father, David Bell, were gathered around the doctor who had just emerged from the operating room. They were showering him with emotional questions and endless words of gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor, thank you! You’re our family’s savior!” “You must be exhausted, Doctor. Please, have some water!” Not once did either of them so much as glance in my direction. I was like a spare chair in the hallway, used and then forgotten, an object of no concern. The warmth that left my body with the blood was nothing compared to the chill seeping into my heart. I sat there alone until the dizziness subsided, then used the wall to steady myself as I shuffled out of the hospital, one slow step at a time. The frigid pre-dawn wind cut through my thin clothes. I pulled my jacket tighter and hailed a cab. As the car passed by Jessica’s apartment building, I could smell it, even through the closed window: the rich, savory aroma of chicken soup wafting from her kitchen. It must have been for David, a nourishing meal to help him recover after a long, stressful night. And me? The person who had just given 400cc of life-saving blood? I hadn’t been offered so much as a glass of water. The memory was a needle, piercing my heart and reawakening the long-suppressed humiliation and coldness. I let out a bitter laugh into the phone. “I’ll say it again. Twenty thousand dollars. I’ll go when the money arrives.” Then, I hung up. Without a moment’s hesitation, I found Jessica’s contact and blocked her number. The moment I did, my world fell blessedly silent. But the screen lit up again almost immediately. An unknown number. I didn’t answer. I let it ring, persistent and demanding. Soon, the text messages started flooding in. “Alex you son of a bitch! You’ll get what’s coming to you!” “If anything happens to my mom, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life!” “Please, Alex, I’m begging you. Just consider it a loan, okay? We have to save her!” “You heartless monster. I hope you die a horrible death!” The tone shifted from desperate pleading to venomous curses in a heartbeat, a perfect reflection of Jessica’s true, self-serving nature. Expressionless, I screenshotted every single message and saved them in a newly created folder I named “Evidence.” Then, I switched my phone to airplane mode. The buzzing, frantic world finally went quiet. I knew this was only the beginning. They had grown accustomed to my “kindness,” to me being “easygoing.” Now that my kindness had a price tag, they could only see it as a betrayal. Since they had no decency, I would teach them about value. 02 The moment I stepped into the office the next day, I could feel the oppressive weight in the air. Colleagues were whispering in hushed clusters, their eyes on me filled with a mix of curiosity and unconcealed disdain. I knew instantly. Jessica’s smear campaign had already begun. Sure enough, just as I sat down, my desk phone rang. It was a call transferred from the front desk. The second I picked up, David Bell’s voice, sharp enough to pierce my eardrum, exploded through the receiver. “You heartless little bastard! How dare you show your face at work!” His voice was so loud and strained that I could hear the whistle of his breath, ragged with fury. I instinctively winced and held the receiver a little further from my ear. The colleague in the cubicle next to me immediately perked up, pretending to shuffle papers while his eyes were glued to my every move. “Our Jessica is such a good person! She thought of you as her best friend, and what do you do? You take advantage of our crisis! What kind of sick game are you playing?” David began to sob, his voice thick with a nasal whine, as if he were the most aggrieved man on earth. “My wife is still lying in the hospital! The doctors say she could go at any moment, and you won’t help save her life for twenty thousand dollars? Can you even sleep at night? Is your blood made of gold?” His words were a dull knife, sawing at my nerves. Especially that line, “Is your blood made of gold?” It was an echo of Jessica’s accusation from the night before. No, my blood isn’t made of gold. But it is a part of my body, the very essence that keeps me alive. Why should I be expected to give it away for free, just to satisfy their sense of entitlement? I calmly turned in my chair, shielding myself from the prying eyes around me, and pressed the record button on my cell phone. “Mr. Bell, if you have something to say, say it. Yelling won’t solve anything,” I said, my tone as placid as if I were discussing the weather. My composure seemed to enrage him further. “Solve anything? Twenty thousand dollars! Why don’t you just rob a bank? You’re trying to ruin us!” “We were doing you a favor by asking you to donate! We were giving you a chance to do a good deed! And you threw it back in our faces!” That sentence ignited the fury I had been suppressing all night. Doing me a favor? So, in their eyes, my sacrifice was nothing more than a gift they had bestowed upon me. I cut him off, my voice cold. “The first time I donated, it was a favor, not an obligation. You people couldn’t even be bothered to say a simple ‘thank you.’ What right do you have to come asking me for anything now?” There was a brief, choked silence on the other end. Then David immediately switched to full-blown tantrum mode. “I don’t care! You have to go to the hospital today! If you don’t, I’ll come to your office and cause a scene! I’ll let everyone see what kind of person you are! A cold-blooded monster who values money more than a human life!” “You just wait! I’m on my way! I’ll make sure you can’t work there anymore! I’ll destroy your reputation!” He was threatening me, his voice growing shriller with every word. I held the phone tightly and replied, each word deliberate. “You’re welcome to try. It will be a perfect opportunity for everyone to judge for themselves who the truly cold-blooded one is: the person who ignored someone for six months, only remembering them when they needed more blood.” “And by the way, every single word you’ve just said, including your insults and threats, has been recorded.” “If necessary, I will be forwarding this recording to my lawyer as evidence.” The line went dead silent, except for the sound of David’s ragged, furious breathing. I didn’t give him another chance to speak. I hung up. I renamed the audio file “Threats from David Bell” and uploaded it to my cloud for backup. I knew a much bigger storm was brewing. They wouldn’t give up this easily. And I was ready to see it through to the end. 03 The office was eerily quiet. Everyone pretended to be busy, but I could feel their stares, invisible threads weaving a suffocating net around me, pressing in from all sides. Jessica was wearing a faded, worn-out t-shirt today. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were bloodshot, and dark circles were bruised beneath them. She wasn’t at her desk. Instead, she was making the rounds in the breakroom, “confiding” in different colleagues. As I got up to get some water, I could clearly hear her voice, strained with suppressed “sobs.” “…My mom is still in the ICU. The doctor says it’s not looking good, she needs a transfusion urgently… I’m just so desperate…” “I thought Alex was my best friend. Last time, he helped without a second thought. I assumed it would be the same this time…” She paused for dramatic effect, letting out a heavy sigh that dripped with helplessness and disappointment. “But who knew… he demanded twenty thousand dollars. Not a penny less, he said. My mom’s life, in his eyes, is only worth twenty thousand dollars…” A male colleague who was friendly with her patted her on the shoulder, his voice filled with righteous indignation. “That’s inhuman. Kicking someone when they’re down like that.” Another female colleague chimed in, “Exactly. Alex always seemed so quiet. I never thought he could be so heartless. It’s a person’s life on the line!” Jessica looked at them with her bloodshot eyes, a grateful expression on her face, before shooting a venomous, wounded glare in my direction from across the room. She had successfully painted herself as a poor, devoted daughter, pushed to the brink and betrayed by a friend. And I was the villain. The cold-blooded opportunist. I walked back to my desk with my water, the weight of their contempt and judgment clinging to my back. A female colleague who had been on decent terms with me walked past my desk, carrying a stack of files. She let out a loud “Hmph.” It wasn’t loud, but in the silent office, it was sharp and clear. Then, as if she’d lost her balance, the files in her hands went flying. “Whoops!” Half of them landed on my desk, knocking over my glass of water. Warm water spilled everywhere, soaking my keyboard and mousepad. “Oh, my bad,” she said, her voice devoid of any real apology. She slowly picked up her papers one by one, never once making eye contact with me. I silently grabbed some tissues and started cleaning up the mess, not saying a word. I was completely ostracized. Just then, my desk phone rang. It was the internal line from my department head, Mr. Rogers. He wanted to see me in his office. I walked straight in. Mr. Rogers gestured for me to sit, his face arranged in a look of paternal concern. “Alex, I’ve heard about what’s going on with Jessica’s family,” he began. He steepled his fingers on his desk and leaned forward slightly, adopting the posture of a man ready to “solve my problems.” “We’re all colleagues here. When someone is facing such a difficult time, we should help if we can. This isn’t just about helping Jessica; it’s about maintaining unity within our department.” I tried to explain. “Mr. Rogers, it’s not what they’re saying. Six months ago, I donated blood, and they…” He cut me off with a wave of his hand, a flicker of impatience on his face. Or maybe, he simply didn’t care about the truth. “Regardless, a life is at stake. For you to just name a price like that… it doesn’t reflect well on the company if word gets out. What will people think of us? That we’re all a bunch of cold, indifferent people here?” His words were a soft blade, each one twisting in a vulnerable spot. He didn’t care about the facts or my feelings. All he cared about was the “company’s image” and “department unity.” “Alex, I need you to look at the big picture and handle this properly. Don’t let your personal feelings affect your work, or your own future here.” That last sentence was a clear warning, a veiled threat. If I didn’t handle this “properly,” my annual performance review, my chances for promotion, would all go up in smoke. This was blatant corporate pressure. I walked out of his office feeling as though the walls were closing in. The rumors, the accusing stares, the pressure from management—it was all converging, layer by layer, threatening to crush me. I sat at my desk, feeling utterly drained. Humiliation, anger, helplessness… they churned inside me. But I didn’t cry. Tears are the cheapest currency in the world. They don’t buy you sympathy, only more contempt. I opened my laptop, ignoring the flashing notifications from work applications, and launched my web browser. In the search bar, I typed, word by word: “Rh-negative blood,” “paid donation,” “legal statutes,” “related case law.” They thought they could break me by isolating and pressuring me. They were wrong. The more they pushed, the more determined I became to fight back. If no one was going to stand with me, then I would become my own armor and my own weapon. 04 Over the weekend, all I wanted was to lock myself away at home, shutting out the noise of the world. But peace was a luxury I wouldn’t be afforded. Around two in the afternoon, the doorbell began to ring, not just rung, but assaulted—a frantic, furious rhythm that threatened to break the button. It was immediately followed by the sound of David Bell’s hysterical wailing. “Alex! Open this door! You murderer! Get out here!” I peered through the peephole. He looked like a madman, his hair disheveled, pounding on my security door with his fists, his face twisted in a mask of rage. A few of my neighbors were already peeking out of their doors. I didn’t open mine. I had no desire to engage with him. My silence only fueled his frenzy. He threw himself on the floor of the hallway, wailing and beating the ground. “Everyone, come and look! It’s the young man in this apartment! His heart is blacker than ink!” “My daughter treated him like a friend, and what does he do? He tries to extort twenty thousand dollars from us while my wife is dying!” “He’s watching her die! There’s no justice in this world! If anything happens to my wife, I’ll haunt him forever!” His voice was shrill and piercing, carrying down the entire hall. Soon, a small crowd of neighbors had gathered. Their whispers seeped through the crack under my door like ants crawling into my ears. “Oh my, he looks like such a quiet young man. How could his heart be so cruel?” “I know, that poor man sounds so pitiful. His wife is waiting for that blood.” “Twenty thousand dollars? That’s no different than murder.” Every word was an invisible knife. I couldn’t stand this public trial, this humiliation. I yanked the door open. I just wanted him to shut up. The moment he saw me, a vicious light flared in his eyes. Like a starving wolf spotting its prey, he sprang up from the floor and lunged at me. He grabbed my arm, his nails digging deep into my flesh, and tried to drag me out into the hallway. “You’re coming with me to the hospital! You’re donating today whether you like it or not! You don’t have a choice!” His strength was astonishing. I struggled, but he held me in a death grip. In the chaos, David raised his hand and, with all his might, brought it down across my face. CRACK! The sharp, echoing sound reverberated through the hallway. A searing, white-hot pain exploded across my left cheek. My ears rang. I was completely stunned. Stunned by the blow. And completely awakened by it. In that instant, all the humiliation, the anger, the restraint—it all coalesced into a cold, hard flame that shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. With every ounce of strength I had, I shoved him away. David, caught off balance, stumbled back several steps and landed hard on the floor. I retreated inside, slammed the door, and threw the deadbolt, my back pressed against the cold metal, my heart pounding in my chest. Without hesitating, my trembling hands dialed 911. The police arrived quickly. The second David saw the uniforms, he transformed into a master actor. He collapsed onto the floor and began to cry even more theatrically than before. He pointed at my closed door, sobbing to the officers that not only had I refused to save a life, but I had also assaulted him, an elder. Just then, the sound of frantic footsteps came from the stairwell. Jessica had arrived. It was as if she had timed it perfectly. She rushed up to the officers, breathless, her face a mask of grief and desperation. She pointed a shaking finger at my door and screamed at the police. “Officers, it’s him! That’s Alex!” “My mother is in the hospital waiting for blood to save her life, and he’s using it to extort twenty thousand dollars from our family!” She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it up to the officers, her face contorted with a triumphant grimace, as if she held irrefutable proof. “I have a recording! He admitted it himself! Officers, this isn’t extortion—it’s attempted murder!”

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The year I turned eighteen, my brothers adopted a new sister. And that’s when I, with my clouded mind, became a nuisance. If her painting got dirty, it was my fault. If she caught a cold, it was my fault. Later, when she was kidnapped because of me, my brothers finally broke. “Skylar, please, for our sakes, will you die for Lily?” I looked up, seeing the redness in my brothers’ eyes, and simply said, “Okay.” So, under the cloak of night, I secretly slipped away, exchanging myself for Lily from the kidnappers. And I was thrown into the churning ocean. I thought I would die, but I didn’t. Instead, I met Lucas Vance. He never once scorned my simple mind, treating me like precious porcelain. I truly believed he was different from my brothers. But then, one rainy night, six years later, Lucas carried a girl, soaking wet, through the door. I overheard whispers that she was his first love, the one who had framed him, landed him in prison, and then vanished abroad without a trace. … My simple mind didn’t grasp the full meaning of this, nor could I decipher the pity and sympathy in others’ eyes. I only saw Lucas and the girl, drenched to the bone, and rushed over with a towel, my worry etched on my face. “Dry off… cold… medicine… bitter…” The next second, my hand was harshly slapped away, the towel fluttering to the floor. Lucas, who had never once raised his voice at me in six years, now looked at me with a chilling, savage gaze. He spoke, his voice a low warning, “Get away from her. Don’t touch her!” I froze, stunned, my hand unconsciously touching my bleeding knuckles. I looked up, meeting Lucas’s eyes, which were filled with nothing but the girl in his arms. A wave of confusion washed over me. It felt like… I was about to lose my home again. Immediately, the household doctors, already on standby, swarmed in. They habitually, anxiously, surrounded me. One was about to bend down to bandage my hand when Lucas’s furious reprimand cut through the air. “Are you all blind? I called you here to save Eve, not to fuss over some idiot!” The doctors froze, and even the servants, secretly watching the drama unfold, were stunned. For the past six years, the word “idiot” had been strictly forbidden in the mansion. Lucas would go ballistic if anyone ever dared to call me that. There was a time when a maid, feigning kindness in front of him, would privately sneer and curse at me behind his back. She called me an idiot, a shameless parasite. She accused me of clinging to Lucas, usurping Mrs. Vance’s position, and making him a laughingstock among his business associates. During that period, my arms and thighs, hidden beneath my clothes, were often intentionally bruised by her, old injuries overlapping with new ones. But I never dared to tell Lucas. I feared he would lash out with a knife, just like he had when we were vagrants, ready to fight anyone who wronged me. Injuries hurt. I didn’t want Lucas to hurt, nor did I want him to be misunderstood as mentally unstable because of me. So, even when the pain made it impossible to eat or sleep, I endured it. But then, Lucas eventually discovered the wounds. He raged, a furious storm, and swiftly dealt with the maid. Yet, that very night, he held me, weeping heartbrokenly, his voice choked beyond recognition. “Skylar, next time, don’t keep secrets from me, okay?” “Don’t be so cruel to me. Don’t shut me out of your world.” “Can you try to trust me a little more, please?” Lucas’s crying face looked strangely familiar. In a daze, I reached out to wipe his tears, comforting him anxiously. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, brother. It’s Skylar’s fault; Skylar will change, she will change…” Lucas froze. The next second, his arms tightened around me, his voice seeming to constrict with the movement. He said, “Skylar, I’m Lucas Vance, not your brother. You’ve mistaken me again.” Lost, I snapped back to reality, then guiltily lowered my head, accustomed to apologizing to him. “I’m sorry.” That night, Lucas, distraught by my mistake and my undisclosed injury, held me, stewing in quiet anger all night. But the next morning, he was back to his routine, cooking for me, waking me up, and gently wiping my face. He even hired a professional medical team to stay at the villa, solely for my check-ups and treatments. The servants in the villa had all been replaced, each personally interviewed and hired by him. So, Lucas’s deep regard and care for me were well-known to these doctors and servants. Which made it all the more shocking that after six years, the first person to call me an idiot was Lucas himself – the husband who had cherished me as if I were a fragile treasure. But everyone’s stunned silence lasted only a moment. After all, this villa was Lucas Vance’s domain. He now cared for the girl in his arms, so the doctors abandoned me and turned their attention to her. I blew on my throbbing hand, watching the scene unfold before me, a familiar, hazy feeling washing over me. My nose stung, and a warmth pricked my eyes. It truly was… so similar! So similar to when my brothers had all rallied around their adopted sister. They hadn’t seen the scalding on my leg, nor the tears in my eyes. They’d only been angry, exhausted, scolding me, questioning if I could be more sensible, and stop causing them so much trouble. A sudden dread seized me. If my brothers could treat me like that, what about Lucas? Would he too start to grow impatient with me? Disgusted by my foolishness, perhaps even screaming at me, like my brothers had, asking why I wouldn’t just die? My vision blurred. I blinked, and a tear splashed onto the carpet with a soft pat. I looked down, staring blankly at it for a long time. When I looked up again, the living room was empty. Lucas had carried the girl back to our bedroom. Fearing I would anger Lucas again, fearing I would hear him tell me to get lost, I didn’t dare go upstairs. Instead, I curled up on the sofa. It was strange. I felt cold, yet my body seemed to be burning up. My consciousness drifted, and I thought I heard footsteps. I looked up, hopeful, thinking Lucas had finally remembered me. But what greeted my eyes was a girl with disheveled hair, wearing my pajamas. My gaze fell upon her exposed neck, and I froze. It was covered in mottled red marks, thick and numerous, some even bearing teeth marks that had broken the skin. The girl shyly adjusted her clothes, her voice laced with embarrassed annoyance. “Oh, I’m sorry. Lucas was… a bit too eager. Please excuse me for this display.” After a brief pause, she met my gaze and uttered the familiar title: “Mrs. Vance.” I froze, thinking Lucas had, as before, lost his temper and hurt someone. Fearing the girl’s anger, I dragged my weak body, rummaging through boxes and drawers in a corner of the living room. Then, under the girl’s curious gaze, I carefully retrieved several adhesive bandages. “Bleeding, put these on, won’t hurt anymore!” “Don’t… don’t scold Lucas, don’t be angry, okay?” The girl’s face initially registered surprise, then, after a moment, she let out a sudden giggle, her eyes taking on a strange glint. “Outside, they make you out to be some kind of legend, saying you have Lucas Vance wrapped around your finger! I thought you were truly formidable!” “Turns out, you’re just an idiot!” I froze, pressing my lips together, a deep ache in my chest. Actually, I never used to care about these things. When others called me an idiot or a fool, I’d simply pretend not to hear, smiling foolishly up at them. But Lucas cared profoundly. So, through his repeated defense of me, I gradually learned to feel anger. I looked up at the woman, my voice serious. “Apologize. Don’t call me an idiot.” A sneer flickered across the girl’s face as she slowly approached me. The next second, she raised the steaming cup of water in her hand, her expression menacing, and splashed it towards me. The scalding water that had once burned my calf still ached terribly whenever the weather turned bad. So, instinctively, I reached out and pushed the woman. A sharp cry of pain suddenly echoed in the air. “Ah! My hand… it hurts so much… Lucas, boohoo… it hurts…” Before I could even comprehend what had happened, a sharp, stinging pain erupted on my face. The resounding slap reverberated through the empty living room. My head snapped to the side, and I stood frozen. I looked up, meeting Lucas’s cold eyes, his right hand still raised. My ears rang, and a wave of nausea swept over me. I felt so awful, so awful, but Lucas, who had always been so kind to me, didn’t notice a thing. He bent down, carefully lifting Eve onto the sofa. Then, he turned, his gaze cold as he asked, “Skylar, have I been too lenient with you?” “Come here, apologize to Eve.” Six years ago, I constantly made mistakes in front of my adopted sister. When paint got into my eyes and blurred my vision, causing me to accidentally knock over her painting, I had to apologize. When my simple mind embarrassed her in front of her classmates by picking her up from school, I had to apologize. When I somehow mistakenly wore her dress at a birthday party, making her cry, I had to apologize. So, when I rescued a dying Lucas from the roadside, I instinctively apologized. If he coughed, I apologized. If he was injured, I apologized. Even when he was angry and sad because I called out for my brother in a dream, I apologized. It was Lucas, again and again, holding me, correcting me, saying, “My Skylar is the best Skylar in the world; you don’t need to apologize to anyone.” For six years, Lucas corrected me nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine times, curing my habit of apologizing to everyone. And now, it was Lucas who said, “Skylar, don’t be temperamental. Apologize to Eve.” I looked up, staring at Lucas for a long time. So long that he started to look uncomfortable, wanting to avert his gaze. Then, slowly, I walked to Eve. I bowed, my head low, and said, “I’m sorry, I made a mistake!” I’m sorry! Skylar made another mistake. Perhaps I bowed too quickly. When I straightened up, my vision swam. I seemed to hear Lucas’s startled cry. The next instant, my body went limp, and I lost consciousness. … “My Skylar! The cutest, most beautiful child in the world, the apple of her brothers’ eyes, their precious treasure.” “Don’t be scared, don’t be scared, it’s not our Skylar’s fault. Big brothers will take our Skylar to buy cake to calm down.” “Skylar, come here, let your brothers hug you…” Joyful, exuberant scenes flashed through my consciousness, frame by frame. Not far away, my older brothers, Caleb and Adrian, stood with open arms, their faces wearing my familiar smiles, seemingly waiting for a hug. So, I took heavy steps and ran towards them. Caleb, Adrian, Skylar had such a terrible, terrible nightmare… But before I could reach them, the illusion shattered instantly. The next second, a girl appeared between Caleb and Adrian. They smiled, introducing her to me. “Skylar, this is Lily, your sister. Will you let her play with you from now on, okay?” “Skylar, don’t bully Lily…” “Skylar, apologize to Lily…” “Why, why wasn’t it you who was kidnapped?” “Why wasn’t it you who was threatened to die, but innocent Lily?” “Skylar, we beg you, just die? Will you just die? Please don’t cause us any more trouble!” One moment, it was Caleb and Adrian’s hateful, red eyes. But the next, I was being held between my two brothers, sitting on the eaves. They were smiling, pointing at the stars in the sky for me, their voices light with joy: “Caleb and Adrian, we’ll always be Skylar’s guardian stars.” Brothers, do guardian stars also fall? I called out for my brothers, crying as I woke up, meeting Lucas’s shadowed eyes. “Skylar, you… called out for your brother in your sleep again…” He raised a hand, reaching towards me. The next instant, I closed my eyes, recoiling sharply, instinctively adopting a defensive posture. Lucas froze, and I dared not move. After a long silence, I heard his hoarse, strained voice, asking in disbelief, “Skylar, are you… afraid of me?” Seeing his expression, I instinctively apologized. “I’m sorry…” But the words only seemed to deepen the sorrow on Lucas’s face. He spoke, his voice thick, “Skylar, don’t apologize to me.” I remained silent. Lucas glanced at me, closed his eyes for a moment, then, with great effort, continued, “Skylar, I’m sorry. Last night, finding out the truth so abruptly, I lost control and hurt you.” “I’ve already… punished myself.” “So, Skylar, please don’t be afraid of me, okay?” As he spoke, Lucas stripped off his shirt, revealing a back covered in whip marks. My eyes widened. I sat up abruptly, tears streaming down my face in distress. “Hurts… hurts… no, no punishment…” Lucas smiled nonchalantly, reaching out to grasp my hand, his eyes sparkling. “I knew it. Skylar cares about me most; she wouldn’t want me to hurt.” “So, Skylar, will you forgive me, okay?” My mind was entirely filled with the sight of Lucas’s injured back. Hearing his words, I nodded frantically, wanting him to apply medicine. But before I could speak, Lucas’s grip on my hand tightened involuntarily. When he spoke again, his words were different. “Eve and I are childhood sweethearts.” “We went to the same elementary school, the same middle school, and then the same university, from childhood to adulthood.” “We dated for seven years, got engaged at eighteen, and planned to get married right after graduation.” “But then, my family ran into trouble, and Eve slandered me, landed me in prison, and left without a word.” “I used to wish she would die, but this time, when the Thorne family fell on hard times, she came back. That’s when I found out.” “Everything she did back then was forced by her family. She’s had a truly hard life all these years.” Lucas spoke with such intensity that it was impossible to interrupt him. So, I remained silent, blinking, listening to him recount this past I knew nothing about. When he spoke of Eve’s youthful antics, his lips curved into a soft smile. When he mentioned Eve’s suffering abroad, his brow furrowed with tenderness. By the end of his story, his long-held hatred had transformed back into his initial, pure love. Finally, Lucas concluded, saying, “Skylar, I can’t let Eve down. She’s suffered so much all these years.” I nodded, cooperatively asking, “What do you need me to do?”

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I got into a massive fight with Ashton because he ate a grape fed to him by Layla. The next day, he had my sister’s targeted therapy medication discontinued. That day, I knelt on the living room floor of the Crawford estate for six solid hours. Only then did he relent, pinching my chin and saying, “Seraphina, your sister’s life is a gift from me. When I want you to be good, you will be good.” So the next time I saw Layla slip a hotel key card into Ashton’s pocket, I stood in the darkest corner of the room, slowly finished the wine in my glass, and didn’t even flinch. 1. At the celebratory banquet for the auction, my director pushed me forward to make a toast. Ashton was surrounded by a crowd. Layla was practically plastered to his side, holding a champagne flute, her smile sickeningly sweet. As I approached, I overheard her say, “Ash, I’ve booked the suite upstairs. I even have some tea ready for you to sober up.” As she spoke, her hand slid naturally into the pocket of his suit jacket. A key card, pushed in by her slender fingers. A few men around them exchanged glances. Someone whistled. “Mr. Crawford, looks like little Layla is planning to take care of you all night.” “You’re a lucky man, Ashton.” Ashton said nothing, just glanced down at his pocket. When he looked up again, his gaze cut through the crowd and landed squarely on my face. I knew that look all too well. It was scrutinizing, expectant, with a hint of defiance. I walked over, holding my wine glass. He smoothly wrapped an arm around my waist, his palm warm against my skin. “What took you so long?” he asked. “I was double-checking the numbers,” I said, handing him my glass. “The director wanted me to give you a toast.” He took it and drank, his brow furrowing slightly. “This wine is terrible.” Layla immediately chimed in. “I have a better one in the suite. An ‘82 Lafite.” Another round of knowing chuckles went through the group. Ashton ignored her, his eyes fixed on my face. “You look pale.” “Just a little tired,” I said. “Then you should leave early,” he murmured, leaning closer. “I’ll have the driver take you.” “No, it’s fine.” I took a small step back. “I’ll get a cab.” His hand suddenly tightened, pulling me back into his embrace. His voice hardened. “Be good.” The words were quiet, but they carried an undeniable weight. My mind flashed back to that night three months ago. It was a similar party. Layla had fed him a grape. I had smashed my glass on the spot. The next day, the hospital called, their voice urgent. “Ms. Xie, your sister’s targeted therapy medication wasn’t approved. Stopping the treatment could have serious consequences. You need to do something, quickly.” “What do you mean?” My voice was trembling. “Everything was fine last week…” I called Ashton like a madwoman. He finally picked up on the seventeenth try. “Ashton, Willow’s medication…” “Yeah, I stopped it. You’ve got quite a temper, don’t you?” I cried. I begged. Finally, in resignation, I knelt on the floor of his living room. He sat on the sofa, reading a document, not even looking at me until my voice was raw from sobbing. “Learned your lesson?” I nodded, tears splashing onto the marble floor. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. “Give her a week’s supply.” After hanging up, he walked over, bent down, and gripped my chin. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating. “Seraphina, your sister’s life is a gift from me. When I want you to be good, you will be good. Understand?” I nodded frantically. “Seraphina?” Ashton’s voice pulled me back to the present. I snapped out of my daze and found him staring at me. Layla sidled up, linking her arm through his. “Ash, should we head upstairs then?” Ashton didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow at me. I picked up my purse and smiled at him. “You two have fun. I’m going to head home.” As I turned to leave, I heard someone whisper, “Wow, she can really take it.” The elevator doors closed, and the reflection in the mirror showed a pale face with perfectly applied lipstick. My phone vibrated. A message from Ashton: “Really? No scene?” I stared at the words, typed and deleted a reply several times, and finally wrote back: “Get home safe.” The city lights blurred past the car window. I looked down, remembering what my sister had asked me last time. “Sera, is the medicine really expensive?” I had smiled and stroked her hair. “Not at all. You just focus on getting better. Don’t worry about things like that.” But the truth was, I couldn’t afford it. Eighty thousand a box, one box a week. Without Ashton, I couldn’t even afford a single pill. So what was Layla slipping a key card into his pocket? Even if she walked into that hotel room with him right in front of my eyes, I would have to smile and close the door for them. Because my sister couldn’t stop her medication. If she did, she would die. So I had to be good. Extra, extra good. 2. At Layla’s birthday party, she publicly put a diamond pinky ring on Ashton’s finger. Ashton was visibly taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. He glanced down at the ring, then up at Layla’s expectant face, and finally smiled, slipping the ring onto his little finger. Layla immediately stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Ashton didn’t push her away. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Layla’s face instantly turned crimson, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she smiled. I retreated to the darkest corner, drinking one glass after another. I was gripping the rim of my glass so tightly my fingertips had turned white. Halfway through the party, I escaped to the terrace. I heard familiar, steady footsteps behind me. Ashton leaned against the railing next to me. “What are you hiding out here for?” I didn’t speak, my gaze fixed on a cruise ship on the river in the distance. He took out a cigarette case. Smoke curled from his lips, dissipating into the night. “About the ring,” he paused, “she didn’t tell me beforehand.” I still said nothing, just tightened my grip on my glass. “It’s just a childish game,” he said, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Don’t take it seriously.” The night wind blew past, carrying the scent of cedarwood and smoke from him. I used to love that smell. Now, it just made me feel suffocated. “Ashton,” I finally said, my voice barely a whisper in the wind. “Willow’s latest test results are back.” “She needs to switch to a new medication.” I turned and looked him straight in the eye. “Two hundred thousand a box. One box a week.” He took a slow drag from his cigarette. He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke. “Next month, Layla is going to Europe for a three-month course.” My heart sank. “You’ll go with her.” He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to face me fully. “The day she comes back, the medication starts.” “Willow can’t wait three months,” my voice began to tremble. “Then find a way to make her wait.” He took a step forward, his shadow completely enveloping me, exuding an oppressive aura. “Or, you could find a way to make Layla come back sooner.” I looked up at the face I had loved for three years. “Ashton,” I heard my own voice shaking, “that’s your sister you promised to take care of. You said you would cure her.” “And I am taking care of her.” He took another half step forward. “I’m giving her a chance. I’m giving you a chance.” His breath, laced with the scent of tobacco, fanned across my face. It was a smell that had once captivated me. Now, it just made me sick. “A chance for what?” I asked. “A chance to prove you’re worth it.” He raised his hand, his fingertips brushing against my cheek. “To prove you’re more sensible than Layla, more deserving of my investment.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, I looked at him and said, word by word, “Fine. I’ll go.” He smiled, a victor’s smile, laced with a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. He reached out to stroke my hair, but I turned my head, avoiding his touch. His hand froze in mid-air. After a moment, he let it drop. “Get some rest,” he said, then turned and walked back into the blindingly bright party. I leaned against the railing, watching his back disappear behind the glass door. The music from the ballroom started up again, light and cheerful. It seeped through the cracks in the door, like a sound from another world. 3. The Parisian winter was bone-chillingly cold. Layla lived in Ashton’s luxurious apartment, sleeping in until noon every day. I stayed in a cramped guest room, preparing breakfast before she woke up and redoing her schedule over and over under her critical gaze. She had endless demands. The coffee had to be at a precise temperature, her clothes had to be perfectly ironed, and even the temperature of her bathwater had to be measured with a thermometer. When she was in a good mood, she would tell me about her Parisian adventures. When she was in a bad mood, she would take it out on me. Every time she frowned, every time her tone held a hint of dissatisfaction, I would think of Willow in the hospital, of the two-hundred-thousand-dollar medication. I would swallow whatever I wanted to say and just lower my head and say, “I’ll do it again.” In the third week, she took me to a gallery opening. A French man stared at me all night. His fingers would “accidentally” brush against my waist, my arm. Layla chatted with him in French. They would laugh from time to time, their eyes sweeping over me. I knew they were talking about me. The flirtatious glances, the suggestive smiles, said it all. On the way back to the apartment, Layla leaned against the car window and said suddenly, “That Frenchman wants to be your sugar daddy. He’s offering a lot.” I didn’t say anything, just continued to fold the shawl she had tossed on the seat. “But I turned him down,” she smiled. “I told him you belong to Ashton, and you’re off-limits.” The car drove along the Seine, the lights from the banks reflecting on the water. I stared at the lights and said nothing. The next morning, before dawn, I was jolted awake by my phone. The caller ID was from the hospital back home. I answered, and the doctor’s urgent voice came through. “Ms. Xie, your sister’s condition has suddenly worsened. She needs surgery immediately!” I shot upright. “What kind of surgery?” “The tumor is pressing on her main airway. She’s having severe difficulty breathing. Without surgery, she has three days at most.” My hand started to shake so badly I could barely hold the phone. “The cost…” “We estimate around eight hundred thousand. And,” the doctor paused, his voice low, “Mr. Crawford isn’t answering his phone. We need a family member to sign the consent forms immediately.” I hung up and, with trembling fingers, called Ashton. Once, twice, three times. All went to voicemail. I called his assistant, who told me apologetically that Mr. Crawford was in a crucial meeting and had given strict instructions not to be disturbed. “My sister is dying!” I screamed into the phone. “Make him answer!” “Ms. Xie, I really can’t…” I hung up and, with shaking fingers, booked the fastest flight back home. The earliest was in six hours. I jumped out of bed and started throwing things into a suitcase. The noise woke Layla. She came out in a silk robe, frowning. “What’s going on? It’s so loud.” “Willow is in critical condition. I have to go back.” “Now?” Her face fell, her tone displeased. “But we’re supposed to go to Versailles tomorrow. Everything’s arranged, the hotel, the guide, it’s all booked.” I stopped what I was doing, looked up at her, and said, enunciating each word, “My. Sister. Is. Dying.” She took a step back, biting her lip. Seeing that I was serious about packing, she turned and went back to her room. The door wasn’t fully closed. I could hear her on the phone with Ashton, her voice choked with tears. “Ash, Seraphina is insisting on leaving. She doesn’t care about my feelings at all, everything was already planned…” I didn’t listen to the rest. I zipped up my suitcase, grabbed it, and walked out of the apartment. The door closed behind me, cutting off her plaintive voice. I didn’t sleep a second during the thirteen-hour flight. The hospital called one after another. Willow’s condition was getting worse. Finally, the doctor said, “Ms. Xie, your sister is waiting for you. She’s holding on, she said she wants to see you one last time.” I covered my mouth, tears splashing onto my phone screen. I landed at four in the afternoon, local time. When I rushed into the hospital, the surgery had already started. A nurse handed me a stack of forms. My hands were shaking too much to sign. The pen kept slipping from my fingers. Finally, I gripped the pen with all my might and carved out my name, one stroke at a time. The surgery lasted six hours. I sat in the hallway for six hours, staring at the red light above the operating room door until my eyes were sore and aching. Every minute felt like a year. The light finally went out. The doctor came out, his face exhausted, his scrubs stained with blood. He looked at me and slowly shook his head. I stood up, my legs giving out from under me. I had to grab the wall to stay upright. “We did everything we could,” his voice was hoarse. “We were too late. The tumor was too deep, and there was massive bleeding during the surgery…” I couldn’t hear the rest of what he said. A nurse wheeled a gurney out, a white sheet covering a small body. I walked over and lifted a corner of the sheet. Willow’s face was so pale, so peaceful. Her long eyelashes made her look like she was just asleep. “Willow,” I whispered, my voice trembling uncontrollably. “Sera’s here.” A nurse tried to take the gurney, but I shook my head and pushed it myself. Down the long hallway, into the elevator, into the morgue. An attendant asked me to fill out some paperwork. I signed, swiped my card. As the machine spit out the receipt, I remembered Ashton saying, “two hundred thousand a box,” and “the day she comes back, the medication starts.” Not anymore. It was all over.

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The day they dismembered me, Evelyn Lewis’s voice was filled with mockery: “I’ve assigned him the country’s top bodyguard team; how could anything happen to him?” Her female assistant reported anxiously: “Ms. Lewis, Mr. Harris used your written authorization, claiming you had new instructions, and dismissed all the bodyguards. And you forgot, Mr. Miller was a retired narcotics officer; I’m worried his old enemies might have come for him?” Evelyn let out a cold laugh, her eyes full of disdain. “Enemies? How many of his so-called enemies would dare to make a move on my territory?” “I merely entered a business marriage with the Harris family, and he’s using such a pathetic tactic to get attention? Does he even look like the master of the Lewis household?” “Tell him, if he’s going to throw a tantrum, it can wait until after Adrian and my engagement party is over!” Ten days later, she finally appeared at our wedding villa. Seeing me asleep on the bed, she sneered, a disdainful curl of her lips: “I knew it; you’d only use this method to force me back.” But the next second, her female assistant, face filled with horror, reached out to support me: To her shock, my head tumbled from beneath the covers. 1 “Ms. Lewis, we found a severed arm at an abandoned cartel hideout. That lone wolf tattoo… we’ve confirmed it’s Mr. Miller’s.” The female assistant’s voice trembled uncontrollably. Evelyn Lewis merely let out a cold laugh, throwing the crystal pen holder onto her expensive office desk: “Isn’t he supposed to be in the heavily secured villa? How could he have gone out? How much hush money did he give you to put on this pathetic act with him?” The assistant broke into a cold sweat, terrified: “Absolutely true! Ms. Lewis, even if I had boundless courage, I wouldn’t dare to deceive you about something like this!” “Enough!” Evelyn flung a pen, her voice thick with irritation and disdain: “A lunatic who only uses extreme tactics to grab attention, playing disappearing acts just because I’m getting engaged to Adrian, and now escalating to being dismembered? Do you really think I’d believe such a lie?” “He’s just relying on having been an undercover agent for a few years and earning some merit, thinking he’s some great hero who needs me to indulge his every whim? I’d be thanking my lucky stars if he wasn’t secretly tripping Adrian up or using his dirty tricks to harm people!” The assistant’s face turned ashen, not daring to utter another word. “What’s more…” Evelyn rose, her gaze imperious: “Although I kept him confined to the villa, the guards I left were all elite special forces. Even if he wanted to court death, it would be difficult.” With that, she strode toward Adrian Harris, who was waiting by the floor-to-ceiling window, never looking back. My soul floated in mid-air, involuntarily twisting into a desolate smile. She seemed to have forgotten, she had given Adrian full authority to mobilize all resources under her name. She had once declared in front of everyone: “Everyone listen closely, Adrian’s commands are my commands! They must be followed and executed one hundred percent.” The excuse, ostensibly, was her fear that I, this “madman,” might harm her pure and flawless Prince Charming. It was precisely because of such overwhelming favoritism that day at the villa, Adrian dared, in front of me, to mock my father, who died in the line of duty, calling him an idiot. And she truly adored Adrian. Just because I, in my anger, punched Adrian, she had me completely confined. She was always so self-righteous. While cursing me to “drop dead outside,” she simultaneously set up an inescapable net, claiming it was to prevent me from causing trouble. But Adrian’s authority superseded everything. He used Evelyn’s authorization to easily dismiss all security. And he deliberately leaked my location to the cartel’s remnants. Those desperate individuals, hell-bent on avenging their cartel boss. That day, they burst in. With my last breath, I broke three ribs and incapacitated one man’s arm. But in the end, I was overwhelmed and held down. When I was found, all that remained were dismembered pieces, packed into several boxes. It was my mother, a retired female detective, who, using all her personal connections, painstakingly gathered “me” piece by piece. She looked at the fragments that even the medical examiners shook their heads at, her wrinkled hands trembling violently. She could only force out three hoarse words: “Put my son… back together.” Her former comrades asked her when the funeral would be. My mother caressed my badge: “My little hero hasn’t even had his thirtieth birthday yet.” Late at night, my mother brought in her old medical examiner, a friend of many years. By dawn, my wounds were all stitched, I was dressed in my favorite suit, clean and composed, lying on my bed with my eyes closed, as if asleep. “My dear sister, we’ve done our best. At least… he can leave with dignity.” My mother carefully straightened my collar, smiling softly, but her tears fell onto my face: “My little Owen, could you… wait until after your thirtieth birthday to leave, please?” She whispered. “You said when the mission was over, you’d wear a suit one more time for Mom. Mom bought it for you, do you like it?” I lay there, eyes closed, motionless. My mother gently picked me up, just like when I was a child, letting my head rest on her shoulder. She hummed a tuneless lullaby, over and over again. 2 Evelyn Lewis hadn’t heard from me in three days. In the past, whenever Adrian and I had any friction, I would never swallow my anger; I would always stir things up, leaving her no peace. More importantly, our anniversary was tomorrow. Every year, I would prepare a unique surprise for her. But now, she hadn’t even received a single demanding call from me, which inexplicably irritated her. The villa’s guards were all former special forces, battle-hardened veterans. The assistant saying Adrian faked her orders to disband security was simply preposterous! Adrian was innocent and kind; he couldn’t even watch bloody scenes in movies, let alone joke about human lives. Why, then, did Owen have to be so mad? To frame Adrian, he would actually stake his own life! She looked at the anniversary cake that had just arrived on the table, and with a bang, swept it to the floor: “Owen Miller, when will you stop being so crazy!” My soul floated in mid-air, hearing those words. That heart, which had long stopped beating, felt as if another hole had been carved into it. I was no madman. I simply couldn’t forgive betrayal. We met during a life-or-death kidnapping; I was undercover, she was the target I protected. I took a knife for her, and she promised me a future free of darkness. She said she’d give me a home once I took off my uniform. Our relationship, forged in the crucible of blood and fire, was already inseparable. It wasn’t until that mission ended, and I retired due to injury, that she brought news. She was entering a business marriage with Adrian Harris, the scion of the influential Harris Group. Evelyn said it was her fastest move to clear obstacles in the business world. And Adrian was the most sensible, most harmless man she had ever met. She said it was merely a transaction; the person she loved was still me. That’s when our paths began to diverge. She never understood my vigilance: “It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just Adrian is genuinely innocent; he hasn’t seen as much darkness as you have. As the stronger one, why can’t you protect him a little more?” She continued, “Besides, you’re not a police officer anymore. Why do you always treat everyone like a criminal? Your hostility is too heavy. Are you truly more suited to be the master of the Lewis household than Adrian?” I would always coldly retort: “It has nothing to do with strength. It’s just that in my world, Owen Miller’s world, there’s no room for betrayal and lies!” With that, I would kick out the psychologist she’d hired to “guide” me. In our last argument, she even accidentally shattered the portrait of my father, who died in the line of duty. She saw my reddened eyes, froze for a moment, then grabbed my hand: “Owen, look at yourself now. Is it worth it, for someone who has already passed away?” She sighed. “Adrian is just a naive young man, who innocently said a few offensive things about your father.” She looked at me, her gaze filled with disappointment. “Your gun isn’t aimed at the real enemy. Instead, because of a few idle words, you want to harm a vulnerable person who needs protection. You’re too prejudiced.” I laughed through my tears then: “Me, prejudiced?” I demanded. “Then is Adrian Harris, who said my father deserved his death, not prejudiced?” She fell silent. She pulled the trembling Adrian close, protecting him: “Knowing there’s danger and still rushing forward, in a sense, yes… it’s not very rational.” But she forgot. My father had bravely charged forward precisely to protect the peace of the land she stood on! That day, I refused Evelyn’s demand that I apologize to Adrian. Even when she threatened to freeze all my accounts, I didn’t back down. She sneered: “The biggest regret of my life is meeting a man like you, a persistent shadow who only brings trouble.” 3 The anniversary quickly arrived. She never received my call, not even a single demanding text message. Unexpectedly, she actually came to the villa herself. The entire villa was eerily silent, deathly quiet. Evelyn, familiar with the layout, arrived at the door of my bedroom. Moonlight filtered through the blinds. She could see a figure lying quietly on the bed, seemingly sound asleep. “Owen, may I come in?” No response. She gently knocked on the door: “Owen?” Still no answer. A sigh. She softened her voice: “I’ll handle things with Adrian; he’s just a business tool.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. “After all these years, our relationship doesn’t need to be this fractured over an outsider. It’s our anniversary today; can we talk properly?” In private, she rarely spoke to me with such a negotiating tone. I still offered no response. Her hand rested on the doorknob. She hesitated for a moment, then let it fall disheartened. Turning, she leaned against the doorframe and sat down on the corridor floor, without a word. I was stunned. During that mission, I was gravely wounded, running a high fever. She had stood guard at my door just like this, never leaving, saying she was afraid I would die inside. Evelyn Lewis, what are you doing now? “Owen.” She spoke softly, a trace of weariness in her voice: “If you’re truly so against it… then I’ll listen to you.” I froze. “My feelings for him are purely utilitarian; love… there’s simply none. I didn’t expect you to protest in such an extreme way.” She paused, her voice tinged with a strange mix of resignation and hope. “If this marriage alliance causes a complete break between us, that’s not what I want.” She continued, “How about this? The engagement party is just a formality, a show for the Harris family. Next month, on your birthday, we’ll go register our marriage. I’ll make you the only recognized master of the Lewis household, alright?” Still no response. “If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes.” A long silence. Evelyn smiled, a hint of confident control in her demeanor. I had always been like this. When we had a disagreement, I would use silence to confront everything. She would then try every possible way to “solve the problem,” proposing various solutions. If I didn’t accept, I would directly interrupt her. But if I tacitly agreed, yet was too proud to reconcile immediately, I would remain silent. She would then know I had compromised. But this time, it wasn’t. “Then, it’s settled. Next month, we’ll get married.” 4 The very next day, Evelyn Lewis regretted it. She stormed into the villa with her bodyguards, holding a trembling Adrian Harris, whose lips were bruised and white shirt stained with dirt. “Owen Miller! I already agreed to your terms! Why did you still send someone to attack him?” Adrian leaned weakly against her shoulder, his voice trembling: “Evelyn… don’t blame Owen. I just lost my footing… maybe Owen’s people just wanted to scare me, it wasn’t intentional…” Evelyn held him tighter, her bloodshot eyes fixed on my bedroom door: “Owen, come out and apologize.” No response. Through the crack in the door, she could see me lying on the bed in my pajamas, turned to my side. “Owen! Don’t force me to kick down this door!” Still, dead silence. “Owen!” Evelyn completely lost control, raising her foot to kick. “Ms. Lewis, what are you doing?” My mother’s voice suddenly rang out, hoarse yet steady. She had appeared at the end of the hallway, her figure slender, but her eyes sharp as an eagle’s. “Ms. Lewis, just because your family is powerful, you think you can storm a private residence with your people and threaten my son?” Evelyn gritted her teeth, lowering her foot. “Let him come out himself; there’s still room for discussion.” Her voice was bone-chillingly cold: “After all, last night, I already agreed to marry him.” My mother looked at her as if at a monumental joke, then said, word by word: “He is dead.” “What?” 5 Evelyn Lewis frowned, looking at the bedroom. Through the crack in the door, my figure lay motionless. “Mrs. Miller, are you calling a sulking person ‘dead’?” “Believe it or not, I have no obligation to explain to you.” My mother looked at her coldly: “Worst case, you, Ms. Lewis, with your vast influence, can have this old woman of mine locked up. It would be… a good way for me to join my son.” Evelyn’s brow furrowed even deeper: “Mrs. Miller, you’re overreacting.” She looked at me in the room again: “Owen, this is your last chance.” A dead silence. “Owen, it’s just an apology. I won’t do anything to you. When did things between us need to escalate to this point?” She truly had never laid a hand on me. During my undercover career, I had suffered countless knife and gunshot wounds, but none of them hurt more than her casual word, “trouble.” “Never mind, Evelyn, it’s Adrian’s fault…” Adrian struggled to stand upright in her arms, his eyes red-rimmed but stubbornly holding back tears: “Adrian knows he shouldn’t have appeared, causing trouble for you and Owen. I’ll leave now, and I won’t bother you anymore…” With that, he offered Evelyn a desolate smile and turned to leave. Evelyn grabbed his swaying form, pulling him back into her embrace, holding him tightly. Turning, she faced my room, her voice as cold as ice: “Owen Miller.” His only response was silence. “Guards!” she roared, giving orders to the bodyguards behind her: “Go in, and smash his father’s urn… smash it!” 6 “No!!” When my father’s ashes scattered across the floor, my mother instantly went mad. “Evelyn Lewis! You beast! How dare you!” “Dying for a bunch of irrelevant people, does he even deserve to be revered?” Evelyn Lewis’s voice was icy as she kicked open the door and entered. My mother was held firmly by two bodyguards, her eyes bloodshot, her voice hoarse: “My husband was a hero! He did it to protect people like you! You can disrespect him, but you cannot insult him like this!” “If your son thinks so too, he should come out and contradict me now.” Evelyn walked to the bedside, looking down at the gray and white ash on the floor. She raised her expensive high heel and savagely stepped on it, grinding it in. “No!” My mother’s and my voice rang out simultaneously. Evelyn glanced at me on the bed, still motionless. Her eyes hardened, and she used her sharp heel to grind my father’s ashes even finer, mixing them into the carpet fibers! “Father!!” I rushed forward. But I could only pass through her cold body, watching her ruthlessly trample my father. I was just a soul. I couldn’t protect anything. Seeing me on the bed, still motionless, Evelyn, her eyes red, straightened up and scraped her heel across the carpet: “Even like this, you still won’t come out and see me?” She stared fiercely at me on the bed, then turned. Her gaze seemed to say: Owen Miller, how unyielding is your pride? 7 After leaving with Adrian Harris, Evelyn Lewis’s mind was fixated on my motionless figure. “Does he hate me that much? Preferring his own father’s ashes to be trampled under my heel rather than coming out to look at me!” She swept the crystal decanter crashing to the floor. The staff in the villa were terrified, holding their breath. Her fist slammed onto the bar, knuckles white: “Owen Miller, just because of a business marriage, you insist on tormenting me this way, is that it?” “Send word.” She spoke, her voice hoarse: “Adrian’s and my engagement party will proceed as scheduled.” She paused. “At the banquet, Owen will be my escort, and will personally adjust Adrian’s tie.” “Yes, Ms. Lewis!” Her chest heaved violently. From childhood, she had never pushed him this far. This time, she would use the harshest method to make him surrender! The news quickly reached the villa. My mother, dressed in black, listened to the assistant’s message with an expressionless face. Upon learning this, the inexplicable anger in Evelyn’s heart slightly subsided: “Still willing to listen to messages, that means he hasn’t completely lost his mind.” She asked the assistant: “What was Owen’s reaction to me smashing his father’s urn?” “Ms. Lewis… I didn’t see Mr. Miller himself.” Evelyn rubbed her brow: “Still the same stubborn silence.” 8 My thirtieth birthday. It was also Evelyn Lewis and Adrian Harris’s engagement party. Evelyn Lewis’s motorcade pulled up to the villa, and she came personally to demand that I fulfill my duty as her “escort.” My mother smoothed the last stray strand of my hair, embracing my cold body one last time: “My little hero, happy birthday.” When Evelyn walked in, I was sitting quietly in a wheelchair, wearing the custom suit she had sent. It was as if I was truly waiting for her to push me out the door. “I knew it; you were just playing games with me.” She let out a sigh of relief, her tone laced with an unconscious blend of ease and exasperation. “From childhood, you’ve only ever used this method to test my limits.” She reached out, intending to cup my chin as she used to. But her fingertips met only coldness and stiffness. This touch… it was wrong. “Owen?” She grabbed my hand, which rested on the armrest. It was cold… hard… “The hour has come! Send the hero’s soul home!” My mother’s voice suddenly rang out. The curtains in the living room, previously drawn, were yanked open with a swish. It was an entire wall draped with white chrysanthemums, a memorial. In the center of the living room, my mother shed her jacket, revealing a traditional funeral garment underneath. The old butler and my comrades, who had been waiting outside, also solemnly donned black armbands. “Lead the way! Farewell to the martyr, Owen Miller!”

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The day I went to buy a crib for our unborn child, a strange woman burst into the private viewing room and plunged a knife into my pregnant belly. “How dare you flaunt another man’s bastard in your belly?” she snarled, twisting the handle with a crazed smile. The cold steel pierced my womb, and the agony sent me crumpling to the floor. She crouched down, patting my cheek. “Did you really think a little tramp like you could use a baby to claw your way up? The title of Mrs. Donovan… is it something you can even dream of?” Blood poured from the wound and pooled beneath me. Only then did it all click into place. My husband—the man I had loved for seven years, been married to for three—was really keeping a mistress. “What? Not happy about it?” she gloated. “Even if I kill you right here, with my status as Mrs. Donovan, nothing will happen to me!” Watching her preen, I shakily pulled out my phone and dialed my brother’s number. “Alistair, come get me at the baby boutique.” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “The Donovan family… they have no reason to exist anymore.” … My unborn child was dying inside me. The tiny heartbeat I could once feel through my own skin was fading to nothing. My consciousness blurred as the blood drained from my body, but the searing pain in my abdomen was a cruel anchor, keeping me tethered to the horror of the moment. A cold rage sent shudders through my entire body. I’d heard the rumors, of course—that Donovan was keeping a mistress. But I had given him a chance to come clean. And this was the result. His mistress hadn’t given me a chance. She hadn’t given my baby a chance. For a man like Donovan, who struggled with fertility issues, I thought he, of all people, would understand what this child meant. “Audrey, is it? Does Donovan know you’re doing this?” My eyes were bloodshot as I stared her down. “Did he forget to tell you that if you ever laid a hand on me, my family—the Sinclairs—would make you pay in blood?” The air in the room went still for a beat, then erupted in derisive laughter from her entourage. “Wow, mistresses these days sure are feisty.” “Don’t you get it? She’s pregnant. And Mr. Donovan wants a kid so badly, she thinks she’s hit the jackpot.” The cutting remarks were like a physical assault. Audrey just sneered, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow. “The Sinclairs? In Southcrest, the only name that matters is Donovan.” “It’s hard enough for my Donovan to have children. Who knows whose bastard you’re even carrying?” “As Mrs. Donovan, it’s my duty to clean up his messes!” She kept saying it, over and over. Mrs. Donovan. But if she was Mrs. Donovan, then who was I? I pressed my hands to the gushing wound in my stomach, but the hot blood just streamed through my fingers, staining my skin red. There was no time to regret coming out without my bodyguards. I cast a desperate look at the people around me, silently pleading for help. All I got back were cold stares and mocking smirks. And the whispers. The constant, accusing whispers. They were calling me “the other woman.” Fighting back waves of agony, I met Audrey’s gaze, my own eyes cold and murderous. “I’ll say it again. My name is Sinclair. As in, the Sinclairs.” “You can run, while I’m still deciding whether or not I want you dead.” “What damn Sinclairs!” Audrey’s face contorted with rage. She lifted her foot and viciously kicked my wound with the pointed toe of her designer heel. “In Southcrest, the sky belongs to the Donovans! Who the hell do you think you are, talking to Mrs. Donovan like that!” A blunt, crushing pain exploded through me. A mixture of blood and amniotic fluid gushed from the wound. If this went on any longer, I’d die from an embolism. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Donovan had waited on me hand and foot for eight months, all for this child. And now, because of his child, and his mistress, I was on the verge of death. “I’m going to the hospital. Now. And you will get Donovan on the phone and tell him to get his ass over there. Immediately.” I was done playing games with her. My voice was ice. “Because if something happens to me today, he’ll kill you first.” “And then, he’ll follow me to the grave.” Audrey’s eyes were filled with contempt as she burst into hysterical laughter. After a moment, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Who in God’s name do you think you are? Demanding my husband come running to the hospital?” As the words left her mouth, she lifted her foot and stomped it down on my stomach. The thin stiletto heel sank into the wound, and her eyes glinted with malice as she ground it back and forth. The gash was ripped open wider. The sharp heel churned my insides. The pain was so intense it felt like my heart was being torn apart. My screams echoed through the room, mingling with Audrey’s maniacal laughter. Just then, the screech of tires tore through the air outside. A dozen Maseratis slammed to a halt in front of the boutique. A relieved smile spread across my face. I clutched the gaping wound in my abdomen. Staring straight into Audrey’s eyes, I enunciated each word with chilling clarity. “Remember this. In Southcrest, the sky belongs to the Sinclairs. Victoria Sinclair.” “Now, my brother is here. Are you ready to die?” 2 “Victoria!” My brother, Alistair, roared my name as he sprinted towards me. He was already shrugging off his bespoke suit jacket, frantically draping it over my body. One arm wrapped around me, holding me tight, while the other pressed down hard on my bleeding stomach. The familiar warmth of his presence was a comfort. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.” His voice was soft and warm, but when he turned to face Audrey, it dropped to a lethal chill. “You’re the one who did this to my sister?” Audrey was completely unfazed. She shot my brother a scornful look. “Well, well. So protective. Don’t tell me the bastard in her belly is yours?” “Yeah, I’m the one who took care of her. What are you going to do about it? Now I’m going to take care of you and your little lover, too!” The moment the words left her mouth, her bodyguards moved to surround us. Alistair gave a single, sharp look. His own security team surged forward, and in a blur of motion, they had every one of her men on the ground. But as I looked past them, I saw more of Audrey’s men pouring in from outside. My heart sank. “Alistair, why did you only bring a few people?” I asked, a new wave of fear washing over me. “It happened so fast. I was nearby, so I just brought the guys who were with me. Don’t worry, Dad is on his way.” He soothed me patiently. “Let’s see who dares to touch my sister while I’m here.” I relaxed slightly. Then I saw Audrey, gritting her teeth as she looked at her downed men, and pulling out her phone. Her voice instantly became sickly sweet. “Hubby, some people are bullying me! Aren’t you going to do something about it?” “Of course, I will!” Donovan’s voice—so familiar, yet so foreign—crackled from the speakerphone Audrey had deliberately activated. Familiar, because it was unmistakably him. Foreign, because the doting, gentle tone was one I had never heard him use, not even with me. A flash of bitterness cut through me, chipping away at the guilt I felt over my child’s death. Audrey shot a triumphant look at my brother and me, her voice a saccharine whine. “It’s this guy, Alistair Sinclair. He’s already taken out a bunch of my bodyguards, and he’s threatening to kill me!” “I’m so scared, you have to come quick, okay?” “Ali… Alistair Sinclair?” Donovan’s voice went sharp, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat. “Which Alistair Sinclair?! What the hell did you do?!” The string of questions made Audrey’s expression falter. She quickly switched off the speakerphone. But we could still faintly hear Donovan’s enraged shouting. “Stay right where you are! Don’t do anything! Do you hear me? Don’t do a damn thing! I’m on my way!” Audrey mumbled her location and quickly hung up. She took a deep breath, her arrogant smirk returning. “You’re both dead meat! My husband is on his way!” “He said if you end up dead, so be it. We’ll just throw some money at the problem. Who the hell is Alistair Sinclair anyway? Never even heard of him!” With a wave of her hand, her remaining bodyguards swarmed us. My brother’s men, as skilled as they were, were outnumbered. One by one, they fell. A dozen burly men closed in on us. Alistair stood up, shielding me with his body. After just a couple of exchanges, bloody gashes appeared on his arms. Seeing the blood welling from my brother’s wounds, my vision turned red. I struggled to grab the knife that had been dropped on the floor. Staggering to my feet, I lunged at Audrey, who was shouting with glee. She reacted instinctively, shoving me hard. The dagger, which I had managed to plunge into her side, was ripped from my grasp. The pain was even worse than before. Audrey’s screams grew even more shrill. Her bodyguards froze. She clutched her side, her eyes spitting venom at me as I lay on the floor. “What are you all standing there for! Kill them! Kill them!” Her men sprang into action, and a rain of clubs fell upon us. Alistair threw himself in front of me, taking the brunt of the blows. The sickening thud of the weapons hitting his body echoed in my ears. Suddenly, a warm drop of blood landed on my lips. My brother’s body convulsed, and he collapsed on top of me. “Alistair…? Alistair? Wake up…” There was no response. Dazed, I managed to turn my head. I could see blood pouring from a wound on the back of his head. Before I could even process my terror, the bodyguards dragged us to the roof. They bound us tightly and hung us over the side of the shopping mall. Their rough handling tore at the wound in my stomach, and my clothes were soaked with blood. My brother, hanging a few feet away, had a dark, spreading stain on the back of his white shirt. The biting wind kept me conscious. But my unconscious brother just swayed limply in the breeze. A crowd had gathered below, and their jeering accusations drifted up to me. “Heard she’s the mistress, got pregnant by some other guy to try and trap the husband. The wife caught them, so now they’re both getting what they deserve.” “Tsk, tsk. Serves her right. Can’t even be a proper mistress!” I could only keep talking to my brother, hoping my voice would wake him. The minutes stretched on. My own consciousness was fading, and there was still no response from Alistair. Audrey’s arrogant voice echoed from the rooftop. “Oh, still alive?” The sight of her made my blood boil. I clenched my jaw. “Audrey, you better let us down right now. When my father gets here, you won’t be able to handle the consequences.” She just laughed, a wild, unhinged sound, and took a compound bow from one of her men. “Oh, really? Then I’d better hurry up and kill the two of you, so I have some company in hell.” She drew the bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed at my brother’s swaying body. “You know, Donovan and I met at an archery range. You know how good he is, right?” “Unfortunately, my skills aren’t quite as polished.” My heart plunged. The archery range… I had funded it for him. I never imagined it would be the place where he began his affair. The next second, a searing pain shot through me. An arrow was embedded in my shoulder. I bit down hard to keep from screaming. “So annoying. I was aiming for your brother. How did I miss by that much?” The bowstring twanged again. This time, the arrow flew true, piercing my brother’s chest. The agony jolted him awake. He let out a furious roar. Seeing our situation, his eyes blazed with a tangible fury. “Audrey, is it? I swear to you, I will tear you limb from limb!” But Audrey just laughed maniacally, mechanically drawing, nocking, and firing. Alistair thrashed wildly, trying to shield me with his own body. In moments, he was riddled with arrows, his body a canvas of crimson. A choked, gurgling sound escaped his throat. On the rooftop, Audrey seemed to tire, leaning on the railing, panting. Suddenly, my phone, which she had, started ringing. She answered it, confused. Donovan’s frantic voice came through. “Victoria, where are you? I’ll explain everything about Audrey, I promise. Just please, don’t hurt her!” “You don’t want me to hate you for the rest of my life, do you?” I laughed. “Donovan! It’s me and my brother who are about to be killed by your little pet canary!” “And the child you wanted so badly is already gone!” I screamed towards the phone, but the wind snatched my words away. The only voice that carried was Audrey’s, hesitant and suspicious. “Hubby? Why are you calling her?” “Don’t worry, I’ve handled it. But… you might have to pay a little something…” Donovan was silent on the other end. All we could hear was his heavy breathing. A moment later, his furious roar erupted. “Audrey! What the hell did you do to Victoria Sinclair?! Don’t you know who she is? She’s the fucking Sinclair heiress! I…” Audrey abruptly hung up. She frowned, staring at the number on the screen, lost in thought. Her eyes darted back and forth as she muttered to herself. She looked up at my brother, who was on the verge of death, and at me, still struggling. “What damn Sinclairs…” 3 “You’re Victoria Sinclair?” Audrey stood over me on the rooftop where I’d just been hauled back up, her pupils dilating wildly. I gave a cold laugh in response. “What? You believe me now?” “Never seen Donovan that panicked before, have you?” But the next second, her trembling stopped, and a crazed look flashed in her eyes. “Impossible! It’s absolutely impossible!” “I’m Donovan’s wife! I’m the rightful Mrs. Donovan!” She pulled a marriage certificate from her purse and threw it at my chest. “You! You’re just some dirty little secret!” I hesitantly opened the certificate, my brow furrowing. The bright red seal, the clear security watermark, the official serial number. Everything about it screamed that it was real. My mind flashed back to our wedding three years ago. Donovan had insisted on going to the registrar’s office alone, saying he didn’t want me to get tired. I suddenly laughed. Laughed at how stupid I had been. To be fooled for so many years by that piece of trash. I looked up at Audrey, my eyes filled with nothing but boundless hatred. “Perfect. The two of you can be a legitimate couple on your way to hell.” “But you’re the mistress, why are you acting so righteous?” Audrey suddenly shrieked. She was panting, her voice dropping to a low growl. “But… Donovan has never yelled at me before. That’s right. It must be you, you bitch, you’ve bewitched him!” “You knew how badly he wanted a child, so you just found some random guy to knock you up, didn’t you?” “This child can’t be Donovan’s… it’s impossible…” A manic light gleamed in Audrey’s eyes. She snatched the dagger from the ground and raised it high above me. “After I kill the bastard in your belly, you’re next!” As the blade began to fall, I finally realized what she was about to do. I twisted my body, trying to dodge. Seeing my resistance, Audrey screamed, “Hold her down! When she’s dead, Donovan will only love me!” The bodyguards pinned my arms and legs. I watched in horror as Audrey raised the dagger again. “Audrey! You dare—” “Aaargh!” The searing pain of the blade piercing my flesh cut off my words. I could feel the cold steel sawing across my stomach. Waves of tearing agony washed over me, forcing me to stay conscious. The cool wind on my exposed abdomen dropped my body temperature to freezing. I screamed until my voice was raw, then my head fell weakly to the side. I saw my brother, who had been on the brink of death, suddenly stir. He began to crawl towards me, his voice strained. “Victoria… wait for me… I’m… coming to save you…” His eyes were bloodshot with desperation, tears streaming from the corners. With every inch he moved, the arrows embedded in his body pushed deeper. Seeing the trail of blood he left behind, my vision swam with rage. “Alistair! Don’t move! Just go! Leave me!” But he kept crawling, his words growing fainter. “I’m… not leaving… I can’t… watch my sister… suffer…” And I had never seen my brilliant, charming brother so broken and battered… I struggled uselessly against the hands holding me down, regret solidifying in my heart. If… if I hadn’t insisted on marrying that scumbag Donovan. If I hadn’t given him a second chance when I first heard the rumors. My child wouldn’t be dead. My brother wouldn’t be in this state. I turned my head, locking my eyes on Audrey, and screamed with every ounce of strength I had left. “Audrey! You and Donovan will pay for what you’ve done to my brother and my child! You will pay in blood!” But Audrey was lost in her own world. She reached into my sliced-open stomach and grabbed my lifeless child. “This bastard doesn’t even look like Donovan! You lied to him! You all have to die!” “Stop!” Donovan stumbled through the rooftop door, his face turning ashen at the scene before him. The next second, the sky above the rooftop was filled with the roar of dozens of private helicopters. My father, William Sinclair, stood at the open cabin door, looking down at the carnage below. “You dare to touch my children? You’re looking for death!”

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For six years, Taylor White and I, Caleb Clark, had been together, talking marriage. Then, suddenly, she asked me to wait. She said she had to have a grand wedding with her first love, Leo Hayes, before she could marry me. It was the dying wish of Leo’s mother, who was battling a terminal illness. Taylor couldn’t bear to see the old woman pass with regret, and tearfully promised at her bedside that she would give Leo a home. But she forgot my own mother had also long awaited my wedding. Stunned, I asked her what about me. She impatiently snapped: “Can’t you have some empathy? It’s just two more months. Are you that desperate to get married, like some weak woman?” I told her my mother had a heart condition and couldn’t handle stress. But right in front of me, she booked a marriage registration appointment: “Regardless, the groom for this wedding can only be Leo. Even if your mother can’t wait and actually dies, she’ll have to wait in line for me to marry you!” Watching her resolute back, I dialed home: “Sis, for the wedding in ten days, help me find a different bride!” 1. My sister, Chloe Clark, was shocked to hear I wanted a new bride. “What’s going on with you and Taylor, Caleb? Marriage isn’t a game, and Mom can’t handle that kind of stress!” It was precisely because I knew Mom couldn’t handle the stress that I turned to my sister for help. Fortunately, Taylor and I had dated for six years, and she had consistently refused to meet my parents. Mom only knew I had a girlfriend but never knew who she was. “Sis, I’m serious. Taylor and I can’t get married anymore!” I certainly didn’t want to commit bigamy. I expected my sister to scold me for being thoughtless, but she only paused for a moment before comforting me: “Back when she started seeing you behind my back, I warned you to be careful. If I hadn’t seen how much you liked her, I wouldn’t have even called her my honorary sister! This works out perfectly!” “Actually, before Mom and Dad knew you were dating, they’d already picked out someone for an arranged marriage for you—that girl you mentioned, the one who looks completely enchanted every time she sees you. She’s been waiting for you to break up, and just a few days ago, she even joked that if your wife wasn’t as good as her, she’d crash the wedding…” As soon as my sister mentioned it, I remembered who she meant. My parents had indeed brought it up, but at that time, Taylor and I had already been secretly dating for two years. My heart and mind were completely consumed by Taylor; how could I be willing to marry someone I barely knew? After I hung up the phone, Taylor, consumed by jealousy, kissed me fiercely to assert her claim: “Caleb Clark, you’ll never marry another woman besides me in this lifetime!” With tear-filled eyes, she begged me to grow old with her, finally admitting to my sister that we had secretly pledged ourselves to each other. She let my sister scold her for being a bad woman who had betrayed her trust without a single word of protest. At the time, my sister asked if she had truly moved on from him. Taylor immediately knelt and swore to heaven that she would only love me in this life. Her “lifetime” turned out to be terribly short. The wedding was in ten days; time was pressing. I cut my sister off directly: “Then let her be my bride. No need for a dramatic wedding crash.” The moment I finished speaking, Taylor, who had returned to retrieve her ID, pushed the door open and froze: “Wedding crash? You’re going to crash a wedding?” She glared at me as if I were the enemy: “Caleb Clark, I told you I would marry you, and I will. If you still want to marry me, don’t cause trouble! If you dare to crash and ruin Leo’s and my wedding, don’t blame me if I disown you!” I hadn’t even uttered a word, and she had already imagined me as the villain. 2. Hadn’t she already disowned me when she told me to wait for her wedding with Leo Hayes? For six years, every birthday, she would say we’d marry next year. But every “next year,” she had various reasons to avoid meeting my parents and postpone the wedding. For example, she said I was too young and shouldn’t be constrained by marriage. Or that she wanted her career to be more stable so she could assist my family’s business after marriage. Every reason, she claimed, was for my good. I loved her, so I truly believed she had my best interests at heart, and I constantly tried to placate my sister, who had long wanted to punch Taylor. After six years of waiting, even friends joked that we’d hit the “seven-year itch” before getting married. Only then did she accept my tenth proposal. The date was set, the wedding was being prepared, yet she still refused to meet my parents, saying she wanted to give them a big surprise at the wedding. But then, Leo Hayes returned to the country with his gravely ill mother. That’s when I realized I was a joke. I gave a self-deprecating smile, retrieved Taylor’s ID from the drawer for her: “Don’t worry, I have no interest in other men’s wives.” This statement seemed to sting Taylor. She frowned: “How many times do I have to explain for you to understand? This is just a fleeting, symbolic wedding. Afterward, I’m entirely yours. What more could you want?” “I understand. Go ahead and get your marriage certificate. It’s best to commit fully to the act.” The sincerity on my face made Taylor’s hand, reaching for her ID, tremble. She seemed a little guilty and explained: “I won’t actually register with Leo; it’s just a formality at the civil registry…” A formality also requires an ID? I casually hummed in response. Taylor seemed momentarily lost, taken aback by my unusual behavior. She stepped forward, intending to console me with a kiss. Then, Leo Hayes, who had apparently been listening outside the door for an unknown period, suddenly entered, squeezing between us. His movements were too forceful, and he subtly exerted pressure, pushing me backward. I stumbled, losing my balance, and fell to the ground. He, meanwhile, pulled Taylor, who had almost been knocked over, into his arms. Taylor clung to him tightly, frightened, and the two, pressed close together, uncontrollably tumbled to the floor. I watched coldly as Taylor sat atop Leo, while Leo, his face flushed with embarrassment, said in a voice just loud enough for me to hear: “Taylor, you… you’re hurting me…” Taylor cleared her throat, her cheeks crimson, but her hand remained on Leo’s abs, refusing to move. Leo looked at Taylor, his eyes full of yearning, then feigned helplessness and apologized to me: “Caleb Clark, I’m so sorry. You can hit me or yell at me, just don’t hurt Taylor! If she gets injured…” Not wanting to see the sickening pair still clinging together, I stood up on my own and walked out: “Whether she’s hurt or not, you can check for yourself. Do you need me to close the door for you?” This made Taylor’s passion-flushed face instantly turn a dark shade, whether from holding her breath or anger, I couldn’t tell: “Caleb Clark! How could you be so crude?” Me, crude? She was sitting on Leo, flushed with shyness, refusing to get up. Who was truly crude? I thoughtfully closed the door for them. While waiting for the elevator, Leo, with suspicious moisture on his face, came out and stopped me: “Caleb Clark, I’m sorry, don’t misunderstand Taylor and me. It was truly a misunderstanding! If it weren’t for my mother needing to see the marriage certificate to feel at ease, I wouldn’t trouble Taylor! Please, for my filial piety, don’t cause trouble at the wedding!” 3. “Once the time is up, Taylor and I will divorce, and I’ll give her back to you!” Saying this, he actually tried to kneel before me. Taylor, her face now back to its normal color, immediately rushed over, pulled him up, and glared at me: “Caleb Clark, I’m warning you, don’t overplay your hand and make it irreversible!” “From today until the end of the wedding, you are to stay put at home. I’ll assign a bodyguard to watch you!” With that, she called her assistant, requesting someone be sent to monitor me, to prevent me from causing trouble. Then, she checked the time and, without delay, took Leo to the civil registry. As the elevator doors closed, I didn’t miss the triumph and provocation in Leo’s eyes. Nor did I miss Taylor’s question: “Leo, did you bring your ID?” This wasn’t merely an act for Leo’s mother; it was clearly an act for me. Before her assigned bodyguards arrived, I quickly drove to the bridal shop to pick up the wedding dress. It was a handmade gown I had specially ordered from Italy to marry Taylor. But because she had recently lost a little weight, some parts needed to be altered to be smaller. There was no reason for her to marry someone else while keeping the wedding dress I ordered; it was illogical. To my surprise, when I arrived at the bridal shop, the owner looked puzzled: “Mr. Clark, your fiancée picked up the wedding dress a few days ago! She even brought a man with her to try it on. I wasn’t in the shop at the time…” The owner, seeing my troubled expression, immediately checked the security footage. On the monitor, Taylor, wearing the wedding dress I had ordered, slowly walked towards Leo, who was stunned and captivated: “Leo, do I look beautiful?” Taylor’s face radiated a smile I had never seen before. Leo’s eyes, meanwhile, gleamed with an almost green light: “Beautiful, even more beautiful than you were in my dreams! Taylor, pinch me, let me see if this is a dream. All these years, I could only marry you in my dreams…” With that, he actually choked up. Taylor, her heart aching for him, stood on tiptoes and kissed away every tear from Leo’s face: “Silly, it’s a good thing you came back in time, otherwise I would have married someone else…” The owner, watching the two passionately embracing in the video, apologized to me with extreme embarrassment: “Mr. Clark, I’m so sorry, this was my employee’s oversight… I’ll find an excuse to get the dress back for you right away!” Anyone could tell I had been cheated on, and my wedding dress stolen. The owner, furious, quickly called Taylor. The moment the owner spoke, Taylor erupted in anger: “Did Caleb Clark tell you to demand the wedding dress back? Tell him I’ll wear this dress to marry him; don’t go looking for trouble! If he causes any problems at my wedding to Leo, he’ll regret it!” I never expected Taylor to be so shameless. Why would she think I would still marry her? The owner looked at the beeping phone, embarrassed, and offered me compensation. I believed in dealing with people justly, so I immediately sent a screenshot of the original wedding dress order to Taylor. Taylor’s phone rang immediately: “Caleb Clark, what is the meaning of this? You’re asking for money because I wore the custom dress early? Shouldn’t you feel it’s worth more, having been worn an extra time?” But then, Leo said he wanted to keep the wedding dress as a treasured memory, and Taylor promptly hung up and transferred the money to me. “You quickly find the owner to custom-make another handmade wedding dress for me. It has to be even more beautiful than this one, otherwise, I won’t marry you!” 4. Six years of love, and for the first time, I realized I never truly knew Taylor White. Watching her location marker stop at the civil registry, I expected to feel heartache, but in reality, I felt nothing. I had just turned off the shared location on our couples app when Mr. Jenkins, her assistant, arrived with two bodyguards. “Mr. Clark, as long as you don’t cause trouble, we won’t interfere with your movements!” Mr. Jenkins, who had once been incredibly warm towards me, spoke polite words, but his gaze was full of disdain. I couldn’t be bothered to speak with such a fickle person. After handling my resignation at the company, I drove home. However, the automatic gate to the underground parking couldn’t recognize my car. The security guard checked the system and told me the parking space was now registered to another vehicle. After scanning my way back into the garage, I saw a new car parked in my spot. It was a birthday gift Taylor had said she would give me two months ago. But now, the person getting out of the car was Leo Hayes. He saw me at once but pretended not to, deliberately waving a bright red marriage certificate as he asked Taylor: “Taylor, as soon as the civil registry opens tomorrow, I’ll go with you to file for divorce, so it won’t delay your marriage to Caleb.” Even redder than the marriage certificate were Leo’s eyes. Taylor squeezed his cheek, coaxing him: “Silly, why are you in such a hurry? Caleb won’t marry anyone but me anyway. Even if he has to wait another ten or eight years, he’d be happy to.” I stared at their backs as they walked into the house together, and booked a hotel for myself. Feeling annoyed, I went for my usual run at a nearby park. After completing one lap, I encountered Taylor and Leo, who never liked night runs, strolling hand-in-hand, exchanging sweet nothings. Taylor leaned against Leo, appearing utterly devoted. I had no interest in their romantic words, so I put on my headphones and headed in the opposite direction, unaware that I was being followed. As I was injected with a sedative, my mouth and nose covered, and dragged into a car, I struggled with all my might. But the person choked my neck, refusing to let go. In the reflection of the car window, I saw a face that bore a strong resemblance to Leo. “You dare to steal my son’s woman? You deserve to die!” I waved desperately at Mr. Jenkins in the distance, but he seemed not to see me. He answered a phone call, then drove off with the two bodyguards. The woman behind me possessed incredible strength, not at all like someone terminally ill with only days to live. When I woke again, utterly weak, Leo’s mother lay pale in a pool of blood. Before I could understand what was happening, Taylor and her people kicked open the door. Leo, seeing his mother like this, shrieked: “Mom, what happened? Don’t scare me…” He clutched his mother tightly, roaring at me: “Caleb Clark, what did I ever do to you that you would so cruelly harm my mother? She has only a few days left to live…” Taylor, who suffered from hemophobia, barely dared to look at the pool of blood. But that didn’t stop her from calling an ambulance while simultaneously kicking me hard in the chest: “Caleb Clark, you’ve truly disappointed me!” As she reached for her phone to call the police, Leo stopped her: “Taylor, forget it. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you for help. Now I just want Mom to be safe…” Taylor, enraged, turned her fury on Mr. Jenkins:

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“When is she going to quit?” The voice from the breakroom wasn’t loud, but every word was crystal clear. I stood at the doorway, cup in hand, motionless. “Should be soon. It’s been three months.” “I bet she’s gone by the end of this week. A round of hot pot on it.” “You’re on.” I turned and walked back to my desk. My desk was next to the restrooms, a place with a permanent, 24/7 odor. I sat down, opened my laptop, and continued working on my spreadsheet. No one knew what I had been documenting for the past three months. And no one knew just how long the list I was going to read at the annual meeting would be. 1. My name is Anya, and I’m 32 years old. Three months ago, I was transferred to this branch office with the title of “Specialist.” No specific duties, no clear reporting line, not even an official ID badge. The HR manager’s explanation was: “It’s a transitional period. Just get acclimated for now.” I didn’t ask what “transitional period” meant, nor did I ask what I was supposed to be getting acclimated to. I just swiped in on time every day, sat at my desk, and created spreadsheets that nobody wanted. In the first week, people still said hello. By the second week, the greetings became sparse. By the third week, out of more than twenty people in the department, not a single one looked my way. When I walked over, they scattered. When I sat down, they lowered their voices. When I went to the breakroom, it fell silent. I’m not an idiot. I knew what was happening. But I said nothing. I just came on time, left on time, and did what needed to be done in between. On Monday morning, I discovered my desk had been moved. It used to be by the window. Now, it was next to the restrooms. “Anya,” the young woman from administration said with a sweet smile, “it’s quieter over there. Better for you.” I glanced at her but didn’t say a word. Fine. So be it. I carried my laptop over, arranged my files, and got back to work. The restroom door swung open and closed, releasing waves of unpleasant smells. Someone walked by, covering their nose and snickering. I pretended not to see. At noon, the department went out for a team lunch. I was the last to find out. Or more accurately, I didn’t “find out,” I “discovered.” At 12:30, the entire office was empty. I went to the breakroom for some water and heard laughter echoing from the elevator. Back at my desk, I opened my phone. There was a group photo in the department chat. “Mr. Peterson is treating! Cheers, everyone!” The picture showed a table laden with food, with over twenty people raising their glasses, all smiles. I scrolled through the chat history. No one had tagged me. No one had asked, “Anya, are you coming?” It was as if I didn’t exist. At two in the afternoon, they returned. Veronica, the manager, led the way, her face flushed from the wine. She paused as she passed my desk. “Oh, Anya, you didn’t go to lunch?” I looked up at her. “No one told me.” She froze for a second, then laughed. “Oh, dear. We forgot. Next time, then.” And with that, she walked away. I lowered my head and continued typing. A colleague nearby whispered, “What an act. Still waiting for a personal invitation.” Another one chuckled. “She’s got thick skin. Let her wait.” I didn’t turn around. But I did open a new document. In the first line, I wrote: December 3rd. Department lunch. I was not informed. Participants: Veronica, Mark, Tina… I wrote down every name. Then I saved the document and closed it. And went back to my spreadsheets. At four o’clock, I finished a market analysis report. It was a task I had assigned myself. No one had asked for it, and no one wanted it. But I did it anyway, and I did it meticulously. I sent the report to Veronica, and CC’d the general manager, Mr. Peterson. “Veronica, here is the Q4 market data I compiled, for your reference.” Five minutes later, Veronica replied. “Got it.” Two words. That was it. The next day, I saw my report featured on Mr. Peterson’s social media. His caption read: “Veronica’s team is killing it! This report is incredibly professional!” Below were dozens of likes and comments. “Veronica is a rockstar!” “Stick with Veronica and you’ll go far!” “The data analysis is so detailed. Great work, Veronica!” I scrolled to the cover page of the report. In the author field, my name was gone. It had been replaced with “Veronica’s Team.” I stared at those two words for a long time. Then I opened my document and wrote on a new line: December 4th. My market analysis report was credited to “Veronica’s Team.” Author: Veronica. I saved it and closed it. In the following days, similar incidents piled up. The PowerPoint I made became Tina’s. The data I compiled became Mark’s. The proposal I wrote became the “department’s collective effort.” Every single time, I recorded it. Date, content, people involved. Entry by entry, crystal clear. On Friday afternoon, Veronica called me into her office. “Anya,” she said, sitting back in her chair with her legs crossed. “How long have you been with the company?” “Three weeks.” “And how do you find it?” “It’s fine.” She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine? You think your performance is ‘fine’?” I remained silent. “Anya, let me be blunt,” she leaned forward. “You’re not a good fit for our department.” “Oh.” “Look at you. You don’t socialize, you’re not proactive. You just sit there every day like a block of wood.” “Mm-hmm.” “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” I looked at her and said calmly, “Veronica, what would you like me to say?” She was taken aback for a moment, then sneered. “I’d like you to have some self-awareness. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll write your resignation letter. The company will give you a severance package.” “And if I don’t?” “If you don’t?” She leaned back again. “Then don’t blame me for playing rough.” I stood up. “Okay, I understand.” “Understand what?” “I understand you’re going to play rough.” I turned, walked out, and gently closed the door behind me. Back at my desk, I opened my document and wrote: December 8th. Meeting with Veronica. She suggested I resign and threatened to ‘play rough’ if I refused. Saved. Closed. I glanced at the calendar. Three months to go. That was plenty of time. 2. Starting the fourth week, the isolation escalated. Before, it was just not inviting me to lunch or talking to me. Now, it was— Not notifying me of meetings. My expense reports getting “accidentally” lost. The printer always breaking down the moment I needed to use it. My requests for office supplies were never approved. The stapler I used, I bought myself. The pens, I bought myself. Even the A4 paper, I brought from home. Once, I went to administration to get a notebook. The young woman smiled. “Anya, your request isn’t in the system.” I said, “I submitted it last week.” She shrugged. “Must be a system glitch. Can you submit it again?” I submitted it again. A week later, still no approval. I stopped submitting requests. I went to the convenience store downstairs, bought a pack of notebooks, and used my own. On Wednesday afternoon, I overheard the bet in the breakroom. “I bet she resigns this week.” “I’ll take next week.” “What’s the wager?” “A hot pot dinner, how about it?” “You’re on!” I stood at the doorway, cup in hand, completely still. The people inside hadn’t noticed me. “Seriously, why doesn’t she just leave? She’s so thick-skinned.” “Probably holding out for a payout.” “A payout? Who does she think she is, demanding a payout?” “Exactly. She brought this on herself by not taking the hint.” Their laughter drifted out, grating on my ears. I turned and walked back, my steps light. At my desk, I opened my document: December 11th. Breakroom conversation overheard. Tina, Mark, and Jenna made a bet on when I would resign. Wager: a hot pot dinner. Saved. I looked at the screen and suddenly smiled. Hot pot, huh? Sounds good. I’ll treat you all later. In the afternoon, Veronica struck again. This time, it was a meeting. The department’s monthly meeting, the kind everyone had to attend. Ten minutes before it started, I saw everyone packing up their things. I asked Jenna, who sat next to me, “What meeting is it?” She glanced at me, said nothing, and walked away with her notebook. I caught up to Mark. “What time is the meeting? Which conference room?” Mark didn’t even turn his head. “I don’t know.” I stood there, watching them disappear one by one down the hall. The office was empty. I was the only one left. I checked my email. No meeting invitation. I checked the department chat. Nothing there either. I sat back down at my desk and opened my document: December 13th. Department monthly meeting. I was not notified. After writing that, I thought for a moment and added another line: [Meeting content to be investigated.] Half an hour later, they returned. Veronica was at the front, looking displeased. She paused by my desk. “Anya, why weren’t you at the meeting?” I looked up. “No one notified me.” “We did,” she frowned. “It was posted in the group chat.” “I checked. It wasn’t.” “Well, maybe you just missed it,” she said, a hint of mockery in her voice. I didn’t reply. She said nothing more and walked away. I took out my phone and screenshotted the entire group chat history for the day. There was indeed no meeting notice. Not a single one. I saved the screenshot to my folder. Evidence +1. Friday was my birthday. No one knew, and no one asked. I sat alone at my desk, eating a rice ball from the convenience store, looking out the window. Outside, the sky was a dreary gray, filled with one office building after another. I was 32. Ten years ago, I was a fresh graduate, full of ambition. Five years ago, I was promoted to management, convinced the future was bright. One year ago, I was transferred to this branch, to start all over again. Now, I was sitting next to a restroom, eating a rice ball on my birthday. My phone buzzed. It was an email. Sender: HR. Subject: [Notice of Termination Discussion] I clicked it open. “Ms. Anya Shen, please report to the HR department at 3:00 PM on December 15th for a termination discussion.” I stared at the email for a long time. A termination discussion. They didn’t even bother to speak to me first, just sent an email. I didn’t reply. I just opened my document and wrote: December 13th. My birthday. Received email notice for a termination discussion. After writing, I closed my laptop. I stood up, grabbed my bag, and left. The elevator was empty. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and suddenly smiled. Three weeks. They had no idea who I was. They had no idea why I was here. And they certainly had no idea what was going to happen at the annual meeting in three months. I pressed the button for the ground floor. No rush. Let’s take this nice and slow. 3. On the day of the termination discussion, I arrived on time. The HR manager’s name was Collins. He was in his early thirties, wore glasses, and looked perfectly professional. But his first words told me exactly what kind of person he was. “Anya Shen, right? Have a seat.” I sat. He shuffled some papers and looked up at me. “You’ve been with the company for almost a month now.” “Yes.” “How are you finding it?” “It’s fine.” He smiled, a practiced, corporate smile. “Anya, I’ll be direct. The company is not satisfied with your performance.” “In what way?” “Across the board, really.” He shrugged. “You’re not a team player, not proactive, and your work output is low…” I cut him off. “My market analysis report, the one Mr. Peterson praised on his social media? I wrote that.” He blinked. “That… wasn’t that from Veronica’s team?” “It was credited to Veronica’s team, but I am the original author.” He frowned. “Do you have proof?” I smiled. “Mr. Collins, I’m here today to listen to what you have to say, not to argue with you. Please, continue.” He was momentarily flustered but recovered quickly. “In any case, the company’s position is that we hope you will resign voluntarily. As compensation, we can offer you the standard severance package.” “And if I don’t leave?” “If you don’t leave?” He took off his glasses and wiped them. “Well, that would be more complicated. You know how it is in the corporate world…” He didn’t finish, but the message was clear. Don’t leave, and the harassment will continue. I stood up. “Okay, I understand.” “Think about it and give me your answer tomorrow.” “No need to think about it.” “Oh?” “I’m not leaving.” He stared at me, stunned. I looked him in the eye and said calmly, “Mr. Collins, I will not be resigning voluntarily. If the company wishes to terminate my employment, please follow the proper procedure. Labor laws require written notice stating the grounds for dismissal.” “You…” “And I’d also like to remind you,” I paused, “that I have records of every instance my work has been credited to someone else, and every time I have been deliberately isolated. If the company wants to take this to court, I’m ready.” His face changed. I said nothing more, turned, and walked out. Leaving the HR department, I took a deep breath. Round one was over. Not a win, but definitely not a loss. When I returned to my desk, the atmosphere had shifted. Before, it was like I was invisible. Now, it was— Hostility. Naked, undisguised hostility. The door to Veronica’s office was open. She stood in the doorway, staring at me. Her gaze was like a knife. I pretended not to notice, sat down, and opened my laptop. Five minutes later, she marched over. “Anya.” I looked up. “What did you say to HR just now?” “Nothing much.” “Nothing much?” She sneered. “Did you threaten him?” “I just told him I have evidence.” The look in her eyes changed. “What evidence?” I looked at her and said slowly, “Veronica, for the report you put your name on, I have the original draft. For the meetings you didn’t notify me about, I have screenshots. For my desk being moved next to the restroom, I have photos.” I paused. “Would you like to see?” Her face went white. But only for a second. She quickly regained her haughty composure. “Anya, who do you think you are? You think you can fight me?” “I don’t want to fight you.” “Then what do you want?” I smiled faintly. “I just want to do my job properly.” She stared at me for a few seconds, then snorted and stalked away. I lowered my head and went back to work. But I knew, from this day forward, everything was different. She would get crazier. She would become more reckless. She would use every trick in the book to get me fired. I wasn’t afraid. This was exactly what I was waiting for. The bigger the scene she made, the more evidence I would have. And the more evidence I had, the longer the list I would read at the annual meeting. I opened my document. It was already several pages long. Date, incident, people involved, source of evidence. Every entry was clear and precise. I scrolled down and saw the very first entry. The one I wrote on my first day. I knew back then what would happen. Because before I even arrived, I had done my homework. This branch had been at the bottom for performance for three years straight. This department had had issues with expense reimbursements for two consecutive years. This manager, Veronica, had a salary of over a million dollars, but her performance was practically zero. Headquarters had wanted to make a move for a long time. They just didn’t have the proof. So they sent me. Ostensibly as a “Specialist.” In reality— I am the Head of the Corporate Audit Team. I didn’t come here to be fired. I came here to fire them.

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My sister, Sophie, had this uncanny ability to be everyone’s favorite. Family, strangers—it didn’t matter. No one was immune. One complaint from her about needing a room to practice her dancing, and just like that, I was shipped off to the school dorms. Through the haze of my insecure and sensitive teenage years, Jax was my only lifeline. So when I heard Sophie was transferring to our school, a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even hear the final bell. A lazy grin on his face, Jax tapped me on the head. “That scared I’ll get snatched away?” “Shit, who the hell isn’t watching where they’re going…” The next second, Jax’s cursing died in his throat. My sister was standing there, bathed in sunlight, smiling right at him. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I bumped into you.” The next day, I went to find Jax in his classroom for our usual tutoring session. But then I heard his laid-back voice drift out. “Tsk, her sister’s not as bad as she makes her out to be.” “Kinda cute, actually.” 1 The chatter and laughter from the classroom carried on. I stood at the back door, my vision blurring as I slowly blinked. A tear escaped, hitting the tiled floor with a soft splat. “Sophie’s not as bad as Ivy makes her out to be.” Jax’s voice was casual, punctuated by a soft click of his tongue. “Kinda cute, actually.” My knuckles turned white as I clutched the notebook in my hand. His friends immediately started hooting. “Known her for one day and you’re already an expert?” “Shut up, man.” Jax laughed, aiming a light kick at the guy’s leg. “She bumped into me yesterday, spilled her bubble tea all over my uniform.” “She went out of her way to add me on Insta this morning to send me money for the dry cleaning.” The laughter in the room grew louder. “Ooh, I bet she just thought you were hot. A different guy wouldn’t have gotten the same treatment…” “Wait, so does that mean you accepted her follow request?” “Hahahaha, since when does our ‘Campus King’ Jax add girls?” Just yesterday in the hallway, Sophie had smiled and said, “Any friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine! It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Sophie.” Jax had pointedly ignored her outstretched hand, letting her smile freeze on her face. “I’m your sister’s friend. That’s all.” That evening, as he walked me back to my dorm, he’d been so proud of himself. “Ivy, see? I’m always on your side. Anyone you don’t like, I won’t have anything to do with them. Promise.” The lamplight was a dim yellow, but his eyes shone brighter than stars. In that moment, I truly believed the nightmare that had haunted me for years was finally over. But now, reality had just slapped me across the face. I scrambled to wipe my tears away, turning to leave. But I moved too quickly. A pen slipped from my pocket, clattering onto the floor. The conversation inside the classroom stopped cold. I bent down to pick it up, my fingers just brushing against the cool plastic when Jax rushed out. “Ivy?” “How long have you been here?” Jax had beautiful eyes—almond-shaped, with a slight upward tilt at the corners. I used to love sketching them. But looking at them now, they felt like a stranger’s. “Just got here.” I pulled my hand back, my voice so calm it surprised even me. “You guys seemed busy catching up. Didn’t want to interrupt.” “You’re being too sensitive.” Jax ran a hand through his hair, a rare flicker of panic on his usually carefree face. “She was just being persistent this morning, insisting she had to pay me back. I figured if I just took the money, that would be the end of it, and we wouldn’t have to deal with any misunderstandings.” “So it’s over now.” I looked him straight in the eye, enunciating each word. “If I asked you to delete her, right now, would you do it?” Jax’s expression froze, then hardened with a flicker of annoyance. “Ivy, don’t be like that. Just deleting someone out of the blue? How awkward is that? She was just trying to apologize. Is it really that big of a deal?” Is it really that big of a deal? Those words were like a dull knife, carving me up piece by piece, leaving me a bloody mess. Something inside me shattered. I slowly pulled my hand from his grasp, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes, it is.” The situation was laughable, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. Tears started falling, hot and fast, and I couldn’t stop them. Jax was stunned. He reached out, about to wipe them away. “Ivy, I’m sorry, I messed up…” Before he could finish, another voice cut in. Sophie was coming up the stairs. Her hair was in a high ponytail today, bouncing in the sunlight, looking painfully bright. “Jax!” She jogged over, her smile sweet as sugar. “Thank you so much for agreeing to tutor me! I just transferred and don’t know anyone. I was so scared…” Her gaze landed on me, paused for a beat, then her eyes crinkled into another smile. “Oh, is Ivy here for tutoring too? Perfect, we can study together!” My head snapped up, my eyes wide with disbelief as I stared at Jax. A chill washed over me. Jax was a top student, but he was also known for his pride. Teachers had often asked him to share his study methods or help struggling students. He’d turned every single one of them down. Except for me. All this time, I had cherished that special treatment, thinking it was just for me. But for Sophie, it was just another thing she could have for the asking. Seeing my silence, Sophie’s voice softened. “We’re sisters. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Ivy?” My whole body was trembling with emotion. I took a deep breath and said evenly, “I mind.” Sophie’s eyes instantly welled up with tears, her expression a mask of confusion. “Ivy, are you mad at me?” “Then… then I won’t do it. Just please, don’t be mad.” Jax stepped in front of her, his brow furrowed. “Ivy, she was a dancer before this. Her grades are really bad, and switching to this academic track now… she really needs the help.” So, he already knew that much about her. “Then she can get a private tutor.” My voice started to shake. “Why does it have to be you?” “Ivy, please don’t be angry…” A single, perfect tear rolled down Sophie’s cheek. “I won’t do it, really. I don’t want you two to fight because of me.” She clutched her textbooks and ran off, her steps frantic. Maybe because she was in such a hurry, she stumbled on the stairs. “Ah!” Sophie clutched her ankle, her face twisted in pain. Jax instinctively moved to go after her. I called out to him, my voice firm. “Jax, if you go after her right now, we are done. For good.” Jax stopped and turned back to look at me. My eyelashes fluttered, a tiny spark of hope igniting in my chest. But he just let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with disgust. “Ivy, no wonder even your own parents don’t like you.” The hallway suddenly felt vast and empty. A draft blew through, and I shivered. The notebook had fallen from my hand at some point. It lay open on the floor, its pages flipping in the wind, revealing the math problems Jax had stayed up all night to organize for me. I knelt to pick it up, my vision so blurry I couldn’t make out the words. A tear splashed onto the page, spreading into a wet, circular stain, like a faded memory. I guess that’s what Jax and I were now. Just a watermark. Soon to dry up, leaving nothing behind. 2 I stumbled back to my classroom in a daze. I couldn’t help it; I collapsed onto my desk and wept. My shoulders shook with each sob. I don’t know how long I cried. Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the back of the room. Startled, I shot upright. In the last row, a pair of long, pale fingers pushed aside a school uniform that had been draped over a desk. A cool, sharp-featured face was revealed. Rowan. The genius who perennially held the top rank in our year, and Jax’s sworn rival. He always slept in the back of the classroom but still managed to beat Jax on every single exam. “So damn loud.” Rowan sat up, the uniform sliding into his lap. His voice was raspy, thick with sleep. “S-sorry…” I hastily wiped away my tears. “I didn’t see you there…” Rowan didn’t respond to my apology. Instead, he stared at me for a few seconds before speaking slowly. “What are you doing here? Don’t you usually go to Jax for tutoring around this time?” I froze. How would Rowan know about that? He was a total loner, never paying attention to anyone else’s business. Once, our homeroom teacher asked him to collect names for a competition. He glanced at the sign-up sheet and said flatly, “Who’s this?” “In our class? Oh. Don’t recognize them.” But his family was so prominent that even the principal greeted him warmly. No one at school dared to gossip about him. “How did you know…?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “The so-called ‘Campus King’ practically lives in our classroom. It’s not exactly subtle.” “The gossip is everywhere. Hard not to know.” Rowan’s tone was flat, impossible to read. “So, why the tears? Because he’s not tutoring you anymore?” I looked down, unsure how to answer. “Yeah…” “He’s only second in our year. What’s so great about that?” Rowan raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with his usual indifference. “With his level of understanding, what could he possibly teach you?” It was such an arrogant thing to say that I couldn’t help but retort, “You’re first in our year, of course you don’t care…” “Then I’ll tutor you.” “What?” I blinked, sure I had misheard him. Rowan stood up and walked over to my desk. He was tall, even taller than Jax. Standing beside me now, he cast a long shadow over my desk. Looking up at him this close, I realized how strikingly handsome he was. If it weren’t for his anti-social nature, the title of ‘Campus King’ probably would have gone to him, not Jax. “I said, I’ll tutor you.” Rowan looked down at me, repeating himself slowly, deliberately. “R-really?” I felt like I’d just won the lottery. I was completely stunned. “But on one condition.” Rowan leaned down slightly, bringing his face level with mine. His eyes were unique—not almond-shaped like Jax’s, but long and narrow, with a faint mole at the outer corner. “What condition?” “From now on, the breakfast you bring for Jax, you bring for me.” Rowan spoke slowly, as if observing my reaction. “Oh, and the water you bring him after his basketball games? That’s for me now, too. Basically…” He paused, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a barely-there smile. “From now on, you’re my sidekick.” It wasn’t a difficult request. And it worked out perfectly, since I had no intention of having anything to do with Jax ever again. “Okay.” I heard myself agree. “I promise.” “Tomorrow morning. Cafeteria, second floor, window three. The breakfast sandwich.” He turned and started walking toward the classroom door, his tone cool. He paused at the doorway and glanced back at me. “And get milk. I don’t drink soy milk.” “Mission accepted.” I gave him a solemn nod. 3 The next morning, I was stopped just as I was leaving the cafeteria with breakfast in hand. Jax had dark circles under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t slept well. “Ivy,” he said, his gaze falling to the bag in my hand. His brow relaxed slightly. “I knew you wouldn’t stay mad at me…” “I was wrong yesterday. I said some harsh things.” As he spoke, he reached for the bag as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “This isn’t for you.” I sidestepped, moving the bag out of his reach. Jax’s hand froze mid-air, the expression on his face stiffening. “What did you say?” “It’s for Rowan.” I looked him in the eye, my tone perfectly even. Jax’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. After a moment, he let out a cold laugh. “Ivy, are you done with this little tantrum?” “Do you have any idea what the doctor said yesterday? Sophie’s sprain was serious. If she hadn’t gotten to the hospital when she did, she might not have been able to dance properly ever again.” He sighed in frustration, his tone softening a little. “So, in that situation, I would’ve helped a complete stranger. Can you just stop overthinking it?” “You can help whoever you want. You don’t need to explain it to me.” “The food’s getting cold. I have to go.” “Ivy.” Jax grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “Stop joking around. Rowan? Everyone knows he’s arrogant as hell, not to mention his family background.” His fingers tightened, digging into my skin. It hurt. “There’s no way he’d ever give you the time of day…” Before Jax could finish, a cool voice cut him off. “What’s taking so long?” Rowan had appeared out of nowhere. His eyes were fixed on the hand Jax had clamped around my wrist. The morning light outlined his tall frame. His usually distant face was expressionless, but it radiated an unexpected pressure. Rowan casually took the bag from my other hand, completely ignoring Jax. “Did you do the problems I sent you last night?” It took me a second to process. “Y-yes, I did.” “Good. Give them to me.” Rowan held out his hand. “I’ll correct them during morning study hall.” “Come find me after class to get them back. I want them revised before school ends. I’ll go over them with you then.” I immediately started digging through my backpack as I fell into step beside him. “Here.” I pulled out the neatly completed worksheet and handed it to him. Rowan took it, his eyes scanning the page. “Hmm, not bad. You got most of the multiple-choice questions right.” He turned, then glanced back at me after a few steps. “What are you waiting for? Study hall is about to start.” “Oh, right!” I hurried to catch up, ready to learn. “But for the long-form problems, I’m still a little fuzzy on that type of derivative question, especially the second part…” Jax stood frozen in place, his face ashen as he watched the two of us walk away together. 4 The final bell rang, but I was still staring blankly at my physics worksheet. Rowan sat across from me, his red pen flying across the page, leaving a trail of precise marks. He read through the problems incredibly fast, but every correction was scarily accurate. “Your force analysis is wrong,” he said, tapping my paper. “Right here. Gravity and the normal force aren’t a balanced pair. You forgot friction.” “Got it…” I quickly started making the correction. The classroom door opened quietly. Sophie stood in the doorway, her eyes red and puffy. She was wearing a pale pink dress that made her skin look incredibly fair. She had her school uniform, but she never seemed to wear it. “Ivy,” she said softly, “can I talk to you for a second?” My hand paused, then I went back to my work. Sophie bit her lip and walked in anyway, stopping by my desk. “Ivy, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I didn’t know you didn’t want me asking Jax for help… Can you forgive me?” The tip of my pen stalled, bleeding a small black dot onto the paper. “You’ve said what you wanted to say. You can go now,” I said without looking up. “I’m studying.” “I’m not leaving until you forgive me.” Sophie stood her ground, her voice catching with a sob. “Then you can stand there all day.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. The room was quiet except for the scratch of my pen on paper and the soft rustle of Rowan occasionally turning a page. The minutes ticked by. Sophie must have been getting tired of standing. She suddenly turned to Rowan, her eyes glistening. “Rowan, have we met before?” Rowan didn’t reply, but she wasn’t deterred. “Can you help me convince my sister? I just really want her to forgive me…” At the sound of his name, Rowan looked up. My heart gave an odd little squeeze. A hopeful light flickered in Sophie’s eyes. Then, Rowan spoke flatly. “Move. You’re in my light.” Sophie’s expression froze solid. I blinked, a strange feeling stirring in my chest. Outside, the sky was growing dark. The security guard came by on his rounds. “Still studying? C’mon, time to go home. I’ve gotta lock up.” I only just realized it was almost eight o’clock. “That’s enough for today.” Rowan packed up his books and pulled a packaged pastry from his bag, holding it out to me. “It’s late. Eat this for now.” He was surprisingly thoughtful, completely at odds with his cold exterior. “Thanks…” I started to reach for it. Suddenly, Sophie swayed, grabbing the desk for support. Her face was pale. “I… I stood for too long, and I haven’t eaten… I think my blood sugar is low…” She looked at the pastry in Rowan’s hand. “Um… could I have that? I feel really sick…” Rowan looked at me. “It’s yours. Your call.” I didn’t quite understand. “She’s asking you,” Rowan repeated patiently. “If you want to give her the pastry.” I turned to Sophie with a fake smile, my voice clear and calm. “Oh. I’m not obligated to give it to you.” A crack appeared in Sophie’s carefully constructed expression. “But… but I really don’t feel well…” She didn’t give up, turning her pleading eyes back to Rowan. “Don’t you have another one? I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow…” Rowan zipped up his backpack and said, without a trace of emotion, “Sorry. I’m a germaphobe.” A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Sophie’s face flushed red, then went pale. Finally, she stormed out in a huff. Now it was just me and Rowan in the classroom. “Tomorrow, I want the shumai from the first cafeteria.” Rowan’s expression was neutral. “Rowan.” I called out to him. “Thank you.” He turned back, raising an eyebrow. “For what?” “Nothing,” I smiled, hugging the pastry to my chest. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

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While I was preparing our seventh-anniversary dinner, Renee suddenly told me she wanted a divorce. “Arthur has depression, and I need to be with him for his treatment.” “We’ll remarry in a year.” In my past life, I waited for her, year after year, only to learn she was pregnant and remarrying her childhood friend. I crashed the wedding, questioning her hysterically. But it only led to her endless revenge and torment. In the end, my family went bankrupt. My parents died, one gone, one driven mad. Even I was thrown into the ocean by creditors, my body never found. Reborn, I didn’t argue or make a scene. I took off my apron and quickly packed my bags. When I went downstairs, she stood with her arms crossed, a look of mockery on her face. “You don’t have to pretend to be so eager. I’m not falling for that playing-hard-to-get act.” “Since I promised we’d remarry, we will.” My hand paused briefly as I signed the divorce papers, then continued quickly and steadily. I was indeed eager, but not to get her attention. It was because I had already signed a top-secret project. From now on, I would disappear completely from her world. 1 As I signed, my mind flashed back to the classified documents I’d signed three days prior. “Adam, you need to be absolutely sure. This isn’t just any confidential project.” “Once you join, all your information will be completely erased.” “Adam Reynolds will cease to exist in this world.” My feelings when signing then were the same as now: calm, resolute, and without hesitation. The last letter, and a heavy weight in my heart, settled together. I handed the agreement to Renee, who stood nearby. “It’s signed.” Seven years of marriage, and the woman’s allure had only grown. Now, however, it held a hint of shattered cruelty. “Adam Reynolds, don’t you have anything to say?” In my past life, I was the one who asked that question. Renee back then had been utterly annoyed and indifferent. “Arthur has a delusional disorder and sees me as his whole world. Only a divorce can calm him down.” “You can choose not to sign, but I have my ways.” My past heartbreak had transformed into present composure. I shook my head. Renee snatched the agreement, her grip so fierce it seemed she meant to rip it apart. She clenched the pen, its tip hovering, reluctant to descend. A scene flashed in my mind. I immediately took off my wedding ring, worn for seven years, and placed it next to the document, adding casually. “I don’t want the car, the house, or the company shares. They’re all yours.” In my past life, to avoid divorce, I had manipulated the assets. When Renee discovered this, she hired the top lawyers from a prestigious firm to fight the case. It left me with nothing, stripped bare. Now, I wanted none of it. Besides, I no longer had the time to divide assets with Renee. Better to make a clean break. The woman let out a cynical laugh. “Fine, Adam Reynolds. You’ve got nerve.” She gripped the pen, barely making a mark, then abruptly looked up. “I’m not cooking. Go make Arthur his favorite black chicken soup.” “Once the soup’s ready, I’ll sign.” My heart, which had been steady, now leaped into my throat. I was somewhat puzzled. Renee not only knew how to cook, but she was an excellent chef. However, in the seven years I had cooked for her, I never knew this. Because she only cooked for Arthur. I took a deep breath and turned into the kitchen. Renee followed close behind. The seafood soup she loved was still simmering in the pot. Now, it was all poured down the drain. She stood by, casually directing me. “Arthur doesn’t like chunky radishes, chop them finer!” “Go easy on the pepper, Arthur’s stomach has been sensitive lately; he can’t handle spicy food.” Once, I had hoped she would understand me as intimately as she did Arthur. But when I was rushed to the hospital for the tenth time, throwing up violently after eating the chestnut dessert she bought, She remained completely unconcerned. “You’re allergic to chestnuts? Really? How would I know? Did you ever tell me?” A pang of sorrow passed. I turned the heat to maximum, wishing the soup would be ready immediately so I could finally break free from Renee. Two hours later, I placed the freshly made soup on the table, then turned to take off my apron. Renee, after taking just one sip of the soup, suddenly slammed the bowl onto my back. “You were trying to poison Arthur, weren’t you?!” 2 Soup drenched my back, the scalding pain reaching deep into my heart. I flinched from the sudden agony, turning back inexplicably. Renee’s face was filled with fury. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Arthur breaks out in a rash every time he eats Szechuan peppercorns.” “I think you did this on purpose. No wonder you seemed so indifferent earlier. You wanted to use this as an opportunity to hurt Arthur!” I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath. Just as I was about to explain that she hadn’t mentioned the allergy at all, she suddenly stood up, grabbed her bag, and walked out without a backward glance. “I’ll give you two more hours. Make the soup and bring it to the hospital.” “Don’t let me catch you playing petty games again.” I grabbed the divorce agreement and chased after her, only catching the fumes of her car. After a long while, I returned to the kitchen, starting the soup again. Before leaving, I had to finalize the divorce. I couldn’t give Renee any chance to find me. While the soup simmered, I opened my social media. The first post was from Arthur. He had shared a photo of the new car Renee bought him. A flashy red, with even the license plate number thoughtfully set to his birthday. [Whatever I want, she always gets it for me immediately.] I stared at the words, a long-buried wound in my heart aching faintly. In my past life, Renee, who was never interested in cars, suddenly asked me to buy her one. After I gifted her the car, she never brought up remarrying. Unable to bear it, I went to find her. I happened to catch her and Arthur kissing passionately in the new car. My own clown-like, bitter smile was reflected in the car window. At the time, she was still lying to me, saying that appropriate physical contact would speed up Arthur’s recovery. Thinking about it now, it was so ridiculous. I had actually chosen to believe her because I was too afraid of losing her. Two hours later, I arrived at the hospital on time, carrying the soup and the agreement. The autumn evening was chilling, with a biting wind. Renee’s phone kept going straight to voicemail. I rubbed my frozen hands, then resolutely headed upstairs, stopping outside the VIP room. Inside the room, Renee was sitting by the bed, peeling an apple for Arthur, her voice tender in a way I had never heard. “Adam and I are divorced. You focus on getting better, I’ll stay with you.” My hand, poised to knock, fell. A pang of emptiness settled in my heart. I sat on a nearby bench. A moment later, Renee finally emerged from the room. The moment she saw me, the tenderness on her face instantly transformed into fury. She anxiously pulled me away. “Adam Reynolds, you came here on purpose to provoke Arthur, didn’t you?” “Get out, don’t appear in front of Arthur!” I shook the soup container, then produced the divorce agreement. “I came to bring Arthur his soup, and also, you haven’t signed this yet…” Renee raised her hand and knocked over the soup container, her anger intensifying. “You want to divorce me that badly?!” As she spoke, Arthur walked out of the room. The moment he saw me, his face turned deathly pale, his lips trembling. “Adam, are you here to take Renee away from me?” He suddenly knelt down, pleading desperately. “Adam, please don’t take Renee away. I truly can’t live without her!!” “If she leaves, what reason do I have to live?!” “I might as well just die right now!” Renee pulled him up, looking at me as if I were her sworn enemy. “Adam Reynolds, are you satisfied now?” “Apologize to Arthur immediately! Swear you’re not here to take me away. Hurry up!” This absurd scene made me chuckle involuntarily. “Renee, can you please be reasonable?” Indifference spread across the woman’s eyes. She waved a hand towards the distance. Two burly bodyguards stepped forward resolutely, one gripping each of my arms and legs, forcefully pushing me down. Excruciating pain shot through me. My legs trembled uncontrollably, and with a thud, I slammed hard onto the floor. The moment my dignity was trampled, a chill pierced my heart. This wasn’t the first time I had knelt for Arthur. 3 The first time was in my past life. I crashed into the wedding venue, hysterically demanding to know why Renee had lied to me. She shielded Arthur behind her, her eyes filled with annoyance. “Why so many questions?” “When love is gone, it’s gone. Now, even looking at you for a second annoys me.” I stood frozen, stiff all over. Arthur had another episode, collapsing on the floor, convulsing. Renee blamed everything on me. Under her relentless pressure, our family factory soon went bankrupt and closed down. My father, burdened with tens of millions in debt, collapsed and jumped from a building. My mother witnessed it all, suffered a severe shock, and had a mental breakdown. In my darkest despair, I knelt before Renee, begging her for mercy. She pointed to Arthur, lying unharmed in the hospital bed. “The person you owe an apology to isn’t me, it’s Arthur.” My dignity and self-respect were utterly gone. I numbly kowtowed, head after head. But I never received any mercy from Renee. In the end, unable to repay the enormous debts, I was thrown into the icy sea by creditors. At the same time, Renee was on a cruise ship, watching fireworks with Arthur. The pain of my past life surged back, suffocating and despairing. I stopped struggling, numbly kneeling on the ground. “I swear to God, from this day forward, I will never approach Renee again.” The kind of solemn vow I once couldn’t utter, now came as easily as drinking water. Arthur instantly calmed down. But Renee’s face remained clouded with anger. She frowned, utterly impatient. “Now, get out!” The bodyguards released their hold. I stood up, picked up the agreement, and dusted it off. “You sign this.” Arthur, who had just calmed down, suddenly went wild again, snatching a small knife from a bodyguard’s belt, his eyes bloodshot. “So you two aren’t divorced yet?!” “Renee, you’ll go back to him anytime, leave me, won’t you?!” “Renee, if I can only have you for a short time, I’d rather just die now!!” He was frantic, the small knife hovering inches from his arm’s artery. Scarlet blood trickled down, and Renee was terrified. “Arthur! Don’t do this!!” “I’ll divorce him, I’ll divorce him right now!” The woman who had just been hesitant signed resolutely, then forcefully threw the agreement at my forehead. “Get out!” Blood dripped into my eye. I clutched the agreement as if it were a treasure. I felt no pain, only immense relief. After one last glance at Renee, I left the hospital without looking back. While waiting for a car, I received a call from my parents. They already knew I would be leaving. Though reluctant, they were very supportive. As their familiar words of caution rang out, my eyes welled up uncontrollably. My father’s dying words from my past life echoed involuntarily in my ears. “Adam, after I’m gone, you must take good care of your mother…” At the same time, Mother texted me, saying she was bringing sparerib soup to the factory. “Adam, as long as our family is together, even if the sky falls, it’s not a big deal.” In my past life, before I died, I visited Mother at the nursing home. She held my hand, her expression dazed. “Adam, the sparerib soup is ready. Remember to take it to your father.” “He loves that the most, you know.” In this life, I wanted nothing. Only for my parents to be safe and healthy. The call ended, and I took a deep breath. Just then, the car picking me up arrived. As I prepared to step forward, a sharp pain shot through my back. Then, I lost consciousness. 4 When I woke, I was lying face down on an operating table. Renee and the doctor’s conversation chilled my heart, inch by inch. “Ms. Vance, skin graft surgery without anesthetic is no different from torture. Perhaps…” “I said no anesthetic means no anesthetic. Pain will teach him a lesson, so he won’t intentionally provoke Arthur again.” “Hurry up with the surgery. Arthur hates scars on his body the most.” I wanted to struggle, but my body felt paralyzed. The cold scalpel sliced across my back, the distinct pain piercing my very bones. The air was thick with the smell of blood, making me nauseous several times. More than once, the pain was so intense I blacked out. When I next awoke, I was in a hospital bed, my back burning with fiery pain. Renee sat by the bed, her fingertip pausing at the corner of my eye, her gaze complex. “Was it that painful? You were crying even in your coma.” My eyes were like stagnant water. “Don’t touch me.” Renee, unusually, wasn’t angry, her tone confident. “Stop being so dramatic. It’s just a divorce for a year. Are you really that dependent on me?” Before I could speak, an assistant appeared at the door. “Ms. Vance, Mr. Maxwell is awake.” The woman rose and left without hesitation. I calmly pulled out my phone. The latest message was from my project team leader. [Adam, the car picking you up is at the hospital entrance. Why haven’t you come down?] I immediately replied. [Teacher, I’ll be right down.] I changed my clothes and resolutely left. But as I went downstairs, I saw the one person I least wanted to see. Arthur had shed his previous erratic behavior, his eyes now full of scorn. I ignored him, wanting only to leave quickly. As we brushed past each other, the man scoffed. “A defeated opponent, nothing more.” My fists immediately clenched. “What did you say?” Arthur became even more arrogant. “I said, I’m seeing a useless man like you for the first time!” “I really don’t know what Renee ever saw in you. Do you even deserve to marry such a wonderful woman as Renee?” “You don’t know yet, do you? You and Renee actually had a child once.” I froze, Arthur’s wild voice piercing my eardrums again and again, leaving them raw and bleeding. “But she promised me that her first child could only be mine, so she quietly aborted that child.” “I told her to tell you she was just tired from work, that her face looked bad, and you actually believed her, even massaging her and washing her feet every night.” “How pathetic are you?” “I heard your dad has a weak heart. What if I send him those photos and videos of Renee and me? Would he die of anger?” Arthur shook his phone, utterly pleased with himself. My rage completely ignited. I grabbed his arm and slammed it hard against the wall. “You’re looking for death!” Arthur looked up, pouting. “Coward, go ahead and hit me if you dare!” Hatred surged through my chest, no longer containable. I raised my fist, just about to strike. From the end of the corridor, Renee’s scream echoed. “Adam Reynolds, stop it!!” Bodyguards rushed over, one seizing the fresh wound on my back. I gasped sharply and fell directly to the ground. Arthur cradled his bleeding arm, whining. “Renee, I just came to tell Adam to stop bothering you, but he suddenly hit me.” “He even threatened me, saying if I tried to seduce you again, he’d kill me!” I struggled to lift my head, looking at Renee’s utterly disgusted face, and roared. “Renee, don’t listen to his nonsense! I didn’t!” The woman’s gaze turned cold as she looked at the bodyguards. “Hit him! Keep hitting him until he breaks!” Countless fists rained down on me like meteors. The wound on my back quickly reopened, blood soaking through my shirt. I curled up on the ground, my internal organs feeling displaced, my mouth full of blood. After an unknown period, Renee finally called for a stop. Just as I thought she had relented, she raised her high heel and savagely ground it into my right hand. “Just now, you used this hand to hurt Arthur, didn’t you?” “Break this hand!” A bodyguard grabbed my right arm and, with effortless force, bent it downward. The crisp snap of bone traveled along my marrow to my heart. It sounded precisely like the discordant notes that fell when Renee taught me to play the piano years ago. “Adam, this is my favorite piece. When you learn it, will you play it for me?” Now, the music had ended. And we, too, should part ways. “Arthur! Wake up, don’t scare me!” “Call a doctor, quickly!” I lifted my bloodied face, watching Renee’s retreating back. All love and hate transformed into smoke, completely dispersing. I stood up, unable to tend to my broken right hand, and limped out of the hospital. After getting into the car, I snapped my phone’s SIM card and tossed it out the window. The car drove north, never stopping again.

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