Category: English

Hollywood heartthrob Jack Holloway rocked by secret marriage and love child scandal. I dialed my daughter: “You had a baby? Without telling me?” Kelly, on the other end, was sobbing, barely able to breathe: “Mom! I want a divorce!” 1 By the time I arrived at Kelly’s house, the place was already a disaster zone. The nanny had silently locked herself in her room, clearly unwilling to be caught in the crossfire. No one was cleaning up the mess. Jack Holloway sat on the sofa, his face utterly devoid of emotion, watching my daughter hurl objects. Kelly, her voice raw, was practically tearing the place apart. “Nine years, Jack! From your days as a struggling bit player, I was there, unwavering, supporting your every move, bankrolling your struggling years, ensuring you could chase that impossible dream.” “My mother absolutely forbade our relationship. I battled her for three agonizing years until she finally relented. I pushed boundaries she never thought I would, going to extreme lengths to make her see that you were the one. Only then, finally defeated, did she agree to open her coffers and propel your career.” “All these years – TV shows, movies, singles… What did you ever want to try that our family didn’t help you with? How do you think you became an Oscar-winning actor, Jack? Do you honestly have no idea?” “Nine years of my life, my sacrifice, and this is how you repay me?!” After her furious outburst, Kelly could no longer stand. She leaned against the wall, collapsing into gut-wrenching sobs. Jack ran a hand over his face. “Kelly, please, let me explain. It was just that one time, I was drunk, and it was a mistake with her! But she wouldn’t terminate the pregnancy, what was I supposed to do?” I stepped through the shattered entrance in my high heels, tossed my designer bag onto the nearest table, and fixed him with an icy glare. “Alright, spill it. What happened?” Kelly rushed into my arms, tears streaming. I patted her back, ushering her to her room. “Go rest, darling. I’ll handle Jack.” Jack looked utterly repentant in my presence. “Eleanor, I’m so sorry…” Turns out, over a year ago, the very night Jack received his Oscar, his entire team celebrated through the night. Kelly was abroad at the time, deep into her PhD studies, and hadn’t been back to see him for ages. The alcohol, coupled with a long period of loneliness, led him to a regrettable one-night stand with his agent, Ava Miller. Later, terrified of exposure, he gave Ava a substantial sum of money and told her to leave the agency. But to his shock, she turned out to be pregnant. She then secretly gave birth to the child, and a few months later, reappeared with the baby, claiming they were helpless, a single mother and child with nowhere to turn. Out of concern for the infant, Jack kept their existence under wraps for months, quietly supporting them. Finally, a few days ago, the child developed a severe fever from a viral rash that wouldn’t break. Last night, the fever escalated into a febrile seizure, requiring an emergency trip to the hospital. Jack, worried sick, snuck in to check on the baby. And that, of course, was when the paparazzi snapped their photos, blowing the whole story wide open. The particular gossip kingpin who broke the story hadn’t even bothered to negotiate. Jack had publicly scorned him on camera once, and his fans had mobbed the guy online. I listened calmly to the entire sordid account, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll have my assistant draft the divorce papers immediately. You and Kelly are done.” To my surprise, Jack immediately dropped to his knees. “No, Eleanor! Please, I don’t want to divorce Kelly! I truly love her!” 2 An A-list actor, an untouchable idol admired by millions… And this is what he’s reduced to. I’d always known the entertainment industry was a cesspool. That’s why, from the moment Kelly met Jack, I scrutinized him for five years before I even allowed them to get a marriage license. Yet, I remained wary, insisting they keep their marriage private. My biggest fear was a day like this, where my daughter would become a public spectacle. My daughter was born into privilege, coddled and adored for thirty years, sailing through life without a single major setback. But precisely because of this, that hothouse flower had blossomed into a hopelessly romantic fool. One could say Jack Holloway was the only real ‘disruption’ in her perfectly curated life. And now? The ‘secret marriage’ is exposed, but the ‘wife’ they’re all clamoring about isn’t my Kelly. Kelly, listening from her room, couldn’t contain herself. She burst out, eyes still red-rimmed, “Mom…” “I told you long ago, you two aren’t suited.” I forced myself to maintain a patient tone with my daughter. “You always scoffed at my business connections, claiming the trust-fund babies I introduced were shallow and insufferable. See now? The entertainment industry is nothing but a playground for capital. How high do you truly believe their moral compass extends?” Kelly bit her lip, glaring at me, her eyes filled with resentment. Jack scrambled to defend himself. “No, Eleanor, this was truly just an accident. My feelings for Kelly have never wavered.” “It’s just… the baby is innocent, after all. That’s why I’ve been so conflicted…” I waved my hand, cutting him off. “Spare me the details. I’m a woman who only cares about results.” Just then, the doorbell chimed. This was an upscale gated community; not just anyone could get in. I turned to Jack, my gaze sharp. He frowned, attempting to ignore the persistent chime. But my foolish daughter, bless her heart, couldn’t contain herself. She stomped to the door and flung it open. Standing outside was a woman with an innocent face, cradling a baby who looked about six months old. My eyes swept over her, and she immediately dropped to her knees on the doorstep. These people, it seemed, had knees made of rubber; they could kneel without a second thought. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hayes! This was all my doing! I seduced Mr. Holloway that night, and I decided to have the baby on my own, and later, it was me who used the child to threaten him! None of this is Mr. Holloway’s fault!” She cried as she spoke, a picture of tearful vulnerability, enough to melt anyone’s heart. No wonder Jack couldn’t control himself. But… I smiled. “Child, don’t rush. Give me a few days, and I promise, I’ll ensure the baby’s father returns to your side.” Jack immediately looked distressed, trying to speak but stopping himself. To my astonishment, Ava gently placed the baby on the doormat, crying as she declared, “Every mistake is mine, all mine! The baby is innocent! Please, I beg you, raise him yourselves! I swear I’ll never bother you again!” With that, Ava turned and ran, her desperate figure vanishing down the driveway in a blink. 3 A six-month-old baby, barely able to sit up, and she truly dared to just leave him with strangers. I raised an eyebrow, turning back to my own daughter. Kelly, in her thirty years, had never experienced anything like this. She was stunned, watching the baby flail on the doormat, wailing pitifully. I knew her impeccable upbringing wouldn’t permit her to simply abandon a crying infant on the doorstep. Jack, of course, knew this too. He quickly stepped inside, called out the nanny, and instructed her to bring the baby in before he cried himself sick. My headstrong daughter, incredibly, just stood there watching. “Still standing there, Kelly?” I gave her a pointed look. “Mom, I… this…” She stomped her foot in exasperation. Jack seemed about to break the awkward silence, but I cut him off. “Since someone has already brought their love child into your home, aren’t you going to pack your things and come with me?” At that, my foolish daughter finally snapped out of it. She fumed, “I don’t even know if these things in the house have been touched by that… person! I’m a clean freak, I can’t stand it! I don’t need to pack anything. Mom, let’s go!” I nodded. Not bad. At least she had some backbone left. Though once we were home, she reverted to tearful despair. By the next morning, however, her tears had transformed into a raging inferno. Early that day, as I was having breakfast downstairs, a disheveled but frantic Kelly rushed down from upstairs. “Mom! Look at this!” Kelly slapped her tablet onto the table. I glanced at it. It was a new exposé from Mark Jenkins, the gossip kingpin. The report claimed to have unmasked Oscar-winning Jack Holloway’s secret wife: Kelly Hayes, the young heiress of Hayes Group, a brilliant, well-educated socialite who had studied abroad. If I hadn’t taken her from that house yesterday, she would surely be surrounded by a barrage of cameras and reporters right now. At that point, even if the child wasn’t hers, it would be. She’d be damned if she could ever clear her name. People always preferred to believe the initial reports, to cling to their first impressions. If everyone already believed the child belonged to Kelly and Jack, any clarification from Kelly would only make it worse. By then, a love child could easily be whitewashed into a legitimate heir. I sipped my coffee, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Jack’s former agent, Ava. Her tactics are quite something.” I met Kelly’s bewildered gaze. “They’re not just trying to walk all over you, Kelly. They’re trying to force you to swallow their mess.” 4 That same day, the Hayes Group’s official account released a statement. Three simple words: “No children.” Less than half an hour later, comments soared past a hundred thousand. “Fewer words, bigger scandal!” “Please, don’t fall for it. You believe what the paparazzi say? Our ‘Jack’ probably doesn’t even know who this ‘heiress’ is. Maybe she’s just trying to hype up her family company.” “Are you in junior high? Do you know what Hayes Group is? One of the nation’s leading corporations! Your ‘Jack’ isn’t even fit to carry Ms. Hayes’s shoes.” I paid no mind to these trivial squabbles. Right now, Jack stood before me, his agent’s boss practically groveling. “Mrs. Hayes, you see how this has blown up. It’s really unnecessary! After all, Jack and Kelly have been together for so many years…” “Get to the point,” I interjected, glancing at my watch, a flicker of impatience in my eyes. My North American regional general manager was due for a negotiation soon, and having them loitering in my office was unseemly. Jack knew my temperament well. If I got truly annoyed, I wouldn’t hesitate to have them physically escorted out. So, he stepped forward, his expression solemn. “Eleanor, I know I messed up. I’ve already spoken with Ava. I’ll send her and the baby abroad, and they’ll never be allowed to return. We can say the child is a relative’s, and Mark Jenkins’ report was a fabrication…” “You can tell that to your fans, they’ll believe anything. But what about the Hayes family’s reputation?” This boy truly thought our social circles were filled with brainless schoolchildren. Ultimately, I had them ushered out. When I got home, Kelly told me Jack had also contacted her today, promising a litany of concessions. I asked her, “What do you want to do?” “Mom,” Kelly covered her eyes, her voice muffled with despair. “I just don’t know what to do…” Nine years of a relationship, her first love at that – it wasn’t easy to let go, especially for someone so hopelessly romantic. Ultimately, I gave Jack two options. First, retire from acting, move into the Hayes estate, and accept that all future decisions would be made by the Hayes family. Second, divorce, and walk away with nothing. Kelly initially thought I was being too harsh, but I immediately replayed the surveillance video of Ava placing the baby on our doorstep three times. After that, Kelly tacitly accepted my decision. However, the very next day, Jack directly posted his marriage certificate with Kelly online, accompanied by a lengthy, ambiguous, and emotional caption. He effectively cut off all of Kelly’s escape routes. By doing so, he, the principal party, had publicly “confirmed” that the child was indeed his and Kelly’s, attempting to create a false image of a happy family of three. What a preemptive strike. He had guts. I never thought he possessed such cunning or audacity. Kelly hadn’t expected Jack to do something like that either. She stopped moping at home and rushed to my office, her face a mask of disbelief. “How could he do this?!”

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1 A new saying spreads across the Arcane Realms: “In good times, trust the First Blade. In hard times, the Second Star. In despair, only the Junior Disciple can save you.” Thanks to Grandmaster Elara’s new apprentice Rosalyn, our Celestial Apex Order now has all three legendary roles: Kaelen (First Blade): The righteous leader Lyra (Second Star): The silent warrior Rosalyn (Junior Disciple): The charming actress But I’m Fiora, the forgotten Third Disciple. While others shine – like handsome Alaric (Fourth) and sharp-tongued Theron (Fifth) – I tend my vegetables and chickens, invisible to all. When Grandmaster entered seclusion a century ago, she declared: “The Order’s future rests on them!” Yet I remain a ghost in these halls. I once overheard some Inner Circle Adepts offering new initiates advice: “The First Blade upholds rigid decorum. The Second Star’s combat lessons are brutal. The Fourth Disciple is handsome and harbors no grudges. Don’t cross the Fifth Disciple; he has royal backing. And the new Junior Disciple is innocently charming.” The initiates, fresh from the Outer Circle after years of grueling effort, wore expressions of utter bewilderment. “The Third Disciple? Is that a brother or sister? Which glorious battle claimed their life?” The Inner Circle Adept hesitated, his confidence wavering. “Uh… the Third Disciple should be alive.” “And what about warnings concerning the Third Disciple?” “I… I can’t recall. Hey, you, Senior Adept! Do you remember anything about the Third Disciple?” Listening to them discuss me, I calmly responded, “I don’t remember.” I didn’t even bother to watch their flustered expressions, simply returned to digging for earthworms. Today’s gossip from the Celestial Apex Order: “Junior Disciple cried after delivering a potion for the Second Star. Poor dear.” “The First Blade reprimanded the Second Star for being cold-hearted, now they’re in a cold war. Scary, scary.” “The Fourth Disciple encountered an old foe, chose to let bygones be bygones. Admirable, admirable.” “The Fifth Disciple gave nicknames to various Elders and is now wanted for insubordination. Curious, curious.” “That pair of white rabbits in the back garden had a litter of black kits, sparking rumors of infidelity. Such a pity.” “…” Even the rabbits get more mentions than me. The Third Disciple is so low-key, it’s as if I don’t even exist. I drifted against the flow of students leaving their blade lessons, admiring the overflowing basin of earthworms. All that hard work hadn’t gone to waste. But when I pushed open my courtyard gate, I found all the main characters from today’s gossip already there. Kaelen, the First Blade, a man of imposing bearing, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, lecturing: “How could you say the Elder of Lore looks like an eggplant, the Elder of Runes like a potato, and the Elder of Discipline like a bell pepper?” Theron, the Fifth Disciple, slouched lazily in my favorite sun-drenched rocking chair. “One purple, one yellow, one green,” he drawled. “Makes for a perfect stir-fry of three garden delights.” Beside him, Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, a youth of peerless beauty, lifted a sleeve, a faint, ethereal smile gracing his features. “Worms! First Blade, I’m so scared!” Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, a delicate and charming girl, flung herself onto Kaelen. I could clearly see Lyra, the Second Star, her sword hand free, her fingertips white with suppressed tension. This Junior Disciple was Grandmaster Elara’s latest apprentice, taken on three years ago when she unexpectedly emerged from seclusion for half an hour, only to descend the mountain and return with Rosalyn. “Innocently charming” was the general consensus among the male apprentices. “A manipulative charmer” was the common opinion among the female apprentices. As for what I thought… This was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on her. Was this truly the savior in times of despair? Grandmaster Elara’s second departure into seclusion made the initiation ritual a hurried affair. I hadn’t made it back from the village below in time, and no one had even noticed my absence. All of Grandmaster Elara’s chosen scions were supposedly present. As for the other four, it had been a hundred years since I last saw them, hadn’t it? Kaelen, the First Blade, continued to soothe Rosalyn’s feigned sobs. It was a long while before he finally noticed me, squatting on the ground, dividing earthworms, utterly lacking in presence. He looked at me. “Uh…” I nodded in understanding. “No need to say my name.” Kaelen’s handsome face flushed with embarrassment. “Third Disciple, the Mystic Realm has opened.” I snatched my little chick, nearly bald from Theron’s excessive petting, from his hand. “I’m not going.” 2 Theron, the Fifth Disciple, stared at his empty palm, his neck stiff. “This fat chick is ugly anyway. Who cares about looking at it?” Kaelen, the First Blade, spoke with firm conviction: “All Inner Circle Disciples from every Order are required to participate in the Mystic Realm.” I calmly continued dividing the earthworms. “No one will notice my absence.” “Third Disciple, how can you be so devoid of loyalty to the Order? And to claim no one will notice is simply absurd…” I listened to his passionate lecture, then murmured drily, “First Blade, I’m right behind you.” In the end, I went. The Mystic Realm, it turned out, required the presence of every Order’s Inner Circle Disciple to activate. Unless a Soul-Fire was extinguished – a literal death – the portal wouldn’t open if even one was missing. My condition for going? They had to gather a full bucket of live earthworms. My chicks needed their rations, after all. Kaelen reluctantly agreed. The sheer quantity of live worms needed meant even Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, was dragged along to help. After an entire day. Rosalyn returned clinging to Kaelen’s arm, her face streaked with snot and tears, completely devoid of her usual delicate image. Lyra, the Second Star, narrowed her cold eyes, a rare hint of satisfaction in them. With the tip of her blade, she nudged the wooden bucket forward. A few worms wriggled onto the ground. Her tone, usually detached, held a surprising note of camaraderie as she spoke to me: “Third Disciple, is this enough?” Rosalyn’s face went white. “First Blade, does the Second Star dislike me? I’m so scared~” Kaelen frowned in displeasure, scolding Lyra: “Must you always be so difficult with the Junior Disciple?” Lyra flinched visibly at his words, then turned and strode away. I’d heard this same charade had been playing out for five years, always the same tired script. I didn’t bother to watch, simply picked up the bucket and headed towards the chicken coop. There, I saw Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, bending over a pile of plump, fluffy chicks, sighing. “Third Disciple, you really are… unique.” Most people raise magical beasts or spirit familiars. Half my courtyard is for vegetables, the other half for chickens… Could he recognize me without hearing my voice? I asked curiously, “Fourth Disciple, has your… condition improved?” Alaric’s smile stiffened. He turned and drifted away with his usual elegant stride. Guess not… Even Kaelen, the First Blade, didn’t know that Alaric was face-blind. The reason he constantly flashed that dazzling, almost blinding smile at everyone he met was simply because he couldn’t tell anyone apart. We were to depart in three days. I busied myself with my courtyard, watering, fertilizing, and pulling weeds. On the journey. Unlike the others, who were arrayed in their finest ceremonial robes, I had simply changed into a disciple’s tunic that wasn’t covered in mud. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, ever the caustic wit, sneered. “You’d grow two extra biscuits by your side if you slept at the foot of the mountain. Don’t tell anyone you’re my Senior Disciple out there, alright?” Kaelen uttered a low reprimand, but it couldn’t stop Theron’s sharp tongue. “You’re carrying a mere Satchel of Holding? That’s so shabby! Aren’t you using a larger Dimensional Pouch for the Mystic Realm?” My voice was earnest. “I don’t have a Dimensional Pouch.” Theron nearly bit his tongue. The Inner Circle Adepts around him looked at him with clear disapproval. Kaelen, feeling a surge of responsibility, offered me a high-grade Rune-Carved Pendant, a charm of storing. Rosalyn, unaware of the conversation, rushed to Kaelen, her eyes brimming with feigned tears. “I can’t believe the Second Star cares so little. It pains me to see First Blade’s kindness wasted like this.” Everyone looked up at Lyra, who had just arrived, holding a Rune-Carved Pendant identical to the one Kaelen had offered me. Then they glanced at the somewhat awkward Kaelen. Kaelen, it turned out, had given one storage pendant to Lyra and one to me. Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, clearly wanted one too. I held it out to her, offering it. She scrutinized me from head to toe. “Third Disciple… you should keep it for yourself.” Even though the pendants were identical, even a manipulative charmer like Rosalyn felt too awkward to outright snatch mine. Compared to them, I was just… too obviously poor. They didn’t understand, and I didn’t understand them. Why would you wear new clothes to an adventurous, dangerous expedition? I held out the pendant, offering it to each of them. Seeing their collective shakes of the head, I calmly put it away. When I returned and sold it at the Shadow Market, it should fetch a decent sum, shouldn’t it? 3 The new generation of paragons from the three Orders and four Guilds had gathered outside the Mystic Realm. The Celestial Apex Order’s six Inner Circle Disciples and fourteen Outer Circle Adepts stood in formation. Kaelen, the First Blade, stood at the front of the line, his presence refined and composed as he calmly reminded everyone of the dangers. Lyra, the Second Star, stood at the very end, an aura of cold detachment around her. Though young, she had already achieved the Grand Magus stage, and her renowned blade, ‘Frostbane,’ hummed faintly, as if eager to be drawn. Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, in robes of moonlight white, exuded an air of elegant grace, his eyes, dark as deep pools, shimmering with a gentle smile that met every probing gaze. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, leaned casually, his body askew, his sharp tongue freely assessing the combat prowess of the other Orders. And Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, with her lively, playful demeanor, drew curious murmurs from many. As for me, my appearance was ordinary, my abilities unremarkable. Even my clothes were plain, allowing me to fade seamlessly into the crowd. I was perfectly content with this; I was merely here to make up the numbers. “The Umbral Vault… opens!” We would be gone for a month in the outside world, but within the Umbral Vault, we had three months to seek out opportunities and grow stronger. Kaelen, the First Blade, skillfully led the way, guiding everyone smoothly forward. Wherever he stepped, a silent pressure descended, awe-inspiring and formidable. The twelve Outer Circle Adepts could form a variety of Blade Formations, in groups of six, four, or three, to engage foes. Lyra, the Second Star, her Blade-Song roaring like a crimson rainbow, served as the disciples’ unwavering shield, ensuring their safety during the arduous trials. Her combat prowess was truly maxed out! My confidence in the Order’s future soared! Midway, we encountered our sworn enemies, a contingent from the Starfall Covenant. Kaelen, ever mindful of his standing, wished to avoid a verbal spat. Lyra, the Second Star, seemed to be calculating the odds of simply cutting them down. But then Theron, the Fifth Disciple, with his incessant sharp tongue, and Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, with her sly, honeyed words, delivered such passive-aggressive barbs that the Starfall mages turned green, then purple, then a mottled grey before retreating in disarray. Their verbal artillery was truly unparalleled! My confidence in the Order’s future increased tenfold! The air grew progressively hotter, and Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, began to wilt, her chatter ceasing. Seeing this, I pulled a waterskin filled with the Celestial Apex Order’s Aether-Spring water from my Dimensional Pouch and offered it to her. The Order’s future couldn’t afford any mishaps. She drank it all in one gulp, and her pale complexion improved slightly. Seeing her reaction, I pulled out another waterskin. She drank that one too, and a faint blush returned to her cheeks. I heard the sound of swallowing. I turned to see the Inner Circle Adepts looking at me with envious eyes. The disciples had prepared for a near-certain death within the Mystic Realm, but they had forgotten the most basic necessity: water. Of course, there was water in the Realm, but one sip could kill three people without a problem. And while you could sustain yourself on aether and not eat, no one said you didn’t need to drink. I held my Dimensional Pouch in one hand, digging inside, pulling out waterskin after waterskin: one for you, one for her, one for him… It was the first time the disciples truly looked at me, and they all spoke in unison: “Thank you, Third Disciple!” I looked at Lyra, the Second Star – even the ‘God of Hardship’ shouldn’t die of thirst – and handed her two waterskins specifically. Lyra seemed at a loss for words. “How much water did you bring?” I looked at the number of waterskins in everyone’s hands, then silently reattached my Dimensional Pouch to my waist. “You might want to ration it. I… I think I’m out now.” Theron, the Fifth Disciple, suddenly realized he’d been tricked. “How can a mere Satchel of Holding have so much space? You must have an Arcane Relic, you were deliberately misleading everyone!” Before I could speak, Kaelen, the First Blade, came to my defense. “It’s common knowledge that the Umbral Vault has extremely hot zones. The Third Disciple is meticulous. To empty a Satchel of Holding solely for water isn’t misleading; it’s foresight.” Everyone nodded in agreement, expressing their thanks. I looked at their appreciative gazes and offered a small smile. We soon arrived at a dense forest. I stood beside them, listening to the disciples’ unbridled discussions. “The Third Disciple is so poor… but what a kind soul.” “When we get back, let’s pool our resources and buy her an Arcane Relic.” I glanced at the “mountain” of Dimensional Pouches stacked inside my own Satchel of Holding, the one labeled “Aether-Spring” sitting right at the front. Wasn’t it just easier to organize things this way? Besides… Aether-Spring water was a shared resource of the Celestial Apex Order; it didn’t cost anything. 4 Beasts roared, blades flashed in a chaotic dance. Four of us were protected for various reasons: Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, was an Alchemist. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, wasn’t suited for direct, brutal combat. Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, lacked experience. And I… well, I was simply forgotten by everyone. This life of fighting five battles a day, three of them deadly serious, was utterly intolerable. I spotted a gnarled, leaning tree about three hundred paces ahead, planning to slip away and lie low there. I’d just reappear when the trials ended and leave with them… Two hours later, a thick-trunked black python crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud. The disciples supported each other, exhausted but victorious. Rosalyn, the Junior Disciple, scurried over to them, offering concerned words. The male disciples: “The Junior Disciple is so kind! She’s even crying out of sympathy.” The female disciples: “No, she just took a tonic from the Fourth Disciple.” Alaric, the Fourth Disciple, despite having his credit stolen, didn’t show the slightest displeasure. His smile even widened. Everyone praised him for his beauty, kindness, gentleness, and generosity. But I had just seen him pacing in distress, clutching a pouch of potent tonics. To him, every injured person on the ground looked the same. It would have been all too easy to administer the wrong one! Then Rosalyn snatched the tonic, her voice syrupy sweet. “The Fourth Disciple has been frightened. Let me take care of everyone, okay~?” I mused on her cunning. A century, and no one had noticed he was face-blind. Theron, the Fifth Disciple, specialized in heavy mauls, a singular fighting style. Against a beast like the giant python, with its impenetrable defenses, he could only hang back. Now, he grumbled, taking out his hammer to vent his frustration, pummeling the frenzied, man-eating black python until it was nothing but a bloody pulp. At the front, Lyra, the Second Star, wiped black blood from her blade. Kaelen, the First Blade, shakily rose to his feet, counting heads. “This area is dangerous. We must leave quickly.” I seized the opportunity, slipping behind the gnarled tree and hiding. I watched them, a weary procession, pushing onward. With a grunt, I began to climb the leaning trunk, ready to rest, when I saw a scattered group lying ahead. Why were the future pillars of the Order sleeping on the ground? The Celestial Apex Order contingent, all nineteen of them, had been poisoned. I saw the white mist swirling above their heads. I tore a strip from the hem of my old tunic and tied it over my nose and mouth. This was the benefit of old clothes; no heartache over tearing them. The Umbral Vault was indeed a place where death lurked around every corner, not just a rumor. If a beast appeared now, there would be no survivors. I trusted Kaelen; they must have known there was danger. They just didn’t know a single breath of that mist could bring them down. It took me over half an hour to drag my Senior and Junior Disciples out of the mist-shrouded area. I was panting, completely exhausted. Thankfully, all those years of dragging fertilizer had given me some useful experience. I leaned over them, checking for breath. They were all alive, but even slapping their faces wouldn’t rouse them. This was a job for Alaric, the Fourth Disciple. He definitely had antidotes on him. I knelt, gripping his slender wrist, straining with all my might to pull off his storage bracelet. “Third Disciple, what are you looking for?” I gasped in surprise. “You’re awake?” Alaric’s eyes, usually sparkling, held a resentful glint. “I was in pain, so I woke up.” He flexed his wrist, then rummaged through his bracelet for the antidote. Perhaps my gaze was too eager, for he offered an explanation. “I often test potions on myself. I’m immune to most poisons.” At his words, I patted his shoulder, ready to slip away. With you here, I can comfortably lie down. But his eyes, usually so welcoming, were now filled with scrutiny. “Third Disciple, why did you stray from the group just now? Are you up to something… unsavory?” My hand instinctively clenched, a cold dread creeping up my spine at his words. Alaric continued rummaging through his vials and jars. “Third Disciple must be wondering how I knew.” He was right. It was impossible. For a hundred years, we’d attended lessons together, often crossed paths. Back then, Alaric treated me no differently from anyone else. “Why?”

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At a wedding, I accidentally caught the bride’s bouquet. Right there, in front of everyone, Fred, my fiancé, publicly lambasted me, accusing me of being manipulative and trying to force him into marriage. Then, he chased after his tearfully distraught assistant, Chloe, who had run off. I tried to follow, to explain, but he drove off, dragging me for over ten yards before I managed to break free. It was a stranger who rushed me to the hospital for emergency treatment. After a near-death experience, I finally called my mother. “Mom, that arranged marriage you mentioned? I agree to it.” 1 After a week in the hospital, I took a taxi home alone. Standing before the familiar front door, I fumbled with my keys, but they wouldn’t turn the lock. There was no choice but to call Fred. The moment the call connected, Chloe’s sugary, high-pitched voice purred through the phone: “Fred’s in the shower. Olivia, is that you back?” Before I could reply, the door opened from the inside. The moment Chloe saw me, she bounced towards me like a startled fawn. “Olivia, I’m so clumsy! I lost the key, and Fred said he was worried a bad person might find it, so he changed the lock. You don’t have the new key yet, do you, Olivia? I’ll give you one later.” My eyes took in Chloe, wearing Fred’s oversized black shirt. And Fred, clad only in a bath towel. A misty haze clung to both of them, radiating an unsettling intimacy. I simply nodded, then dragged my luggage inside. Seeing my silence, my lack of protest, Fred dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair and explained, “Chloe’s pipes burst at her place, so she’s staying with us for a few days. Don’t misunderstand.” In the past, seeing a scene like this would have left me deeply unsettled. But now, I just felt bone-weary. The wound on my back hadn’t fully healed, a faint, taut ache reminding me of it. Looking at Fred’s face, all I could see was that day: his frantic search for Chloe, completely oblivious to me, trailing behind his car, bleeding onto the asphalt. In that moment, my love for him had completely dissipated, along with my fading consciousness. “I didn’t misunderstand.” I walked straight towards the bedroom, not looking back, dragging my suitcase behind me. “She’s just a young girl, with no family nearby. It’s not easy for her. I just wanted to lend a hand.” I met his gaze, silently. He had probably forgotten that I had been separated from my parents since childhood. That kind of hardship… no one understood it better than I did. “I said, I didn’t misunderstand.” Seeing him block my path, I had to stop and reiterate. “Olivia, you’ve been giving us dirty looks since you walked in. Can you just listen to me for a moment?” He tugged at my suitcase, chattering on. My patience snapped. I released the handle, frowning as I said coldly, “I told you, I really didn’t misunderstand!” The suitcase crashed to the floor with a dull thud. Ignoring Fred’s stunned expression, I walked around him and pushed open the bedroom door. Following the light filtering in from the living room, my eyes immediately landed on the black lace lingerie scattered across the bed. Only then did Chloe rush in from behind us, like a panicked deer. She scurried over, snatching the lingerie into her hands, her innocent wide eyes brimming with tears. “Olivia, this is my laundry, I put it here to dry. Please don’t overthink it.” I scanned the messy bedroom. “Hm,” I hummed, then turned and walked into the guest room without another glance. 2 By the time I finished showering, my mother happened to call. “Olivia, I’m glad you finally saw sense. Your father and I are getting old, and you’re our only daughter. All these years, you wouldn’t come and be with us because of that Fred boy, and you don’t know how much your father and I missed you. If he treated you well, it would be one thing, but it’s been ten years, and he’s still just dragging you along, clearly not truly sincere.” “Since you’ve finally decided to come back to us, how about we set the wedding date for ten days from now?” At my mother’s words, my hand, which had been drying my hair, paused. In the past, when my mother gave such advice, I would always firmly contradict her, telling her that Fred loved me. But this time, only silence remained. “Let’s push the wedding date to half a month from now. I want to celebrate Aunt Carol’s birthday before I leave. For everything else, you can decide.” I had just hung up the phone. The sound of the door closing echoed from the hallway. Fred strode over to me, carrying a takeout bag of “spicy seafood boil” he’d picked up on the way. He placed the bag on the table, then frowned, leaning in to try and see my phone. “What wedding date? I’ve told you many times, we’re still young. I don’t want to get married so early.” I pressed the phone screen dark, looking at his overly defensive posture. “It’s just a cousin on my father’s side. She’s inviting me to her wedding.” Hearing this, Fred dropped his guard. He opened the food containers on the table. When he mentioned Chloe, his eyes unconsciously softened into a smile. “I’ve settled Chloe in a hotel. The girl saw you weren’t happy, so she specifically bought this for me to bring back to apologize. She usually doesn’t even buy this for herself. Try some.” Looking at the shrimp and clams swimming in red oil, I didn’t pick up my chopsticks. Fred’s eyes flashed with displeasure. “Olivia Reed, that’s enough. Dragging this out won’t do anyone any good.” I smiled. “Ten years together, and you don’t even know I’m allergic to seafood?” With that, I turned and went back to my room. Fred followed me, his lips parted as if to speak, then closed again. The old Fred would remember my period dates, remember my headaches on rainy days, remember every significant anniversary for us. And he would remember, the first time he discovered my seafood allergy, how he’d held my hand, crying silently all night at my hospital bedside, consumed by guilt. Now, it wasn’t that he’d forgotten; it was just that Chloe liked seafood, and she happened to occupy his heart. He simply got confused. I didn’t look at him, raising my hand to arrange the ointment the doctor prescribed, one by one, on the nightstand. When he saw the scars on my back, his guilt intensified. He picked up the ointment from the table, about to apply it to my back. I was about to refuse when his phone rang at the perfect moment. It was so close, I clearly heard Chloe’s panicked sobs. “Fred, dearest, someone keeps knocking on the door! Is this hotel a shady place? I’m so scared! I heard some criminal gangs target girls living alone like me. Can you come and stay with me?” Hearing this, Fred clenched his phone tightly. “Don’t be afraid. Turn on all the lights in the room, and block the door with chairs or anything. Don’t open it, no matter what. I’m coming for you right now.” After hanging up, he explained to me, earnestly and seriously, “Olivia, Chloe might be in danger right now. I have to go out. I swear, I really just see Chloe as a sister. Don’t make a fuss about her anymore.” Without waiting for my answer, he hurried to the door. The ointment bottle was swept off the table by his coat, spilling most of its contents. I looked at the closed door and curved my lips. Every time he and Chloe crossed a line before, I couldn’t help but feel jealous and angry. And every time, he would call me petty and unreasonable. But Fred, rest assured, from now on, I will never argue with you again. 3 From that day on, Fred never came back. Chloe’s social media, however, updated frequently. Each post, subtly or overtly, boasted about how much Fred doted on her. I quietly added her to my blacklist. Then, on the wall calendar, I crossed off one date after another. Thirteen days left. I started busy preparing my resignation letter. My team leader, seeing the words “Getting Married” boldly written as my reason for leaving, chuckled and teased me about expecting an invitation to my wedding with Fred. She even suggested that marriage didn’t necessitate quitting my job. Not until I told her I wasn’t marrying Fred. She sighed regretfully, then stopped prying into my personal life. These days had been consumed by handing over my work. Once the handover was mostly complete, I suddenly found myself with free time, staring blankly at the calendar, which now showed “five days left.” I patted my cheeks, then began to pack my belongings. Fred and I had known each other for so long. This house was filled with our photos. I carefully tore out my half of all our joint pictures. Then, from the deepest corner of my closet, I pulled out a small wooden box. Inside was a camera, holding gigabytes of videos and photos we’d taken over the years. Besides the camera, there were also a thousand paper cranes he had folded for me in high school. The evening gown I wore for my college performance. Hundreds of love letters he had written… Looking at these things, my heart still felt heavy, a dull ache. After all, the Fred of old had truly cared for me. He hadn’t wanted to miss a single moment of my life. Sometimes, I would tease him, asking if he didn’t feel like he was wasting time remembering so much. He would just smile and playfully tap my nose, saying, “Of course not. I want to record it all, so when we’re old, we can sit in rocking chairs and look through them together.” After flipping through them for a while, I took all these items to the yard. Without hesitation, I set fire to the past, burning everything to ashes. 4 Time flew by. Fred never returned. These past few days, I had been constantly cleaning the house. I didn’t stop until I was sure not a single trace of my presence remained in the home. I looked at the calendar, a large “3” circled prominently. I began to select a birthday gift for Aunt Carol. Ultimately, I chose a jade peace buckle pendant. I hoped that in my absence, Aunt Carol would remain healthy and safe. Once all the arrangements were made, it was Aunt Carol’s birthday, the day before the wedding. In the interim, Fred had sent me a message explaining that he had an unexpected business trip, but I hadn’t replied. Later, he called again, questioning why I had sent insulting text messages to Chloe. He demanded I apologize to Chloe, saying that if I just admitted my mistake, Chloe, being pure and kind, wouldn’t hold a grudge. I found it ridiculous. After all these years, he actually believed I was capable of such a vulgar act. I simply hung up. His text messages bombarded me immediately: [Olivia Reed, you’re something else!] A few minutes later, another message arrived: [Olivia, I really don’t understand. Why have you become like this?!] … Aunt Carol was my mother’s best friend and Fred’s aunt. When my parents went to another city for business, they entrusted me to Aunt Carol. Later, Fred’s family moved in next door to Aunt Carol’s. Fred and I were in the same class, walked to and from school together every day, and slowly became close. After college, he confessed his feelings, and we naturally started dating. After we started working, he said he was worried it wouldn’t be safe for me to rent a place alone. He specially bought a house near my company and asked me to move in with him. Everything between us seemed to happen so naturally. The eighteen-year-old Olivia Reed probably never would have imagined this day with Fred, even if you killed her. Pushing down the chaotic thoughts that suddenly surfaced, I carried the cake and my carefully chosen gift, and knocked on Aunt Carol’s door. The moment she saw me, Aunt Carol warmly pulled me inside. After I confessed about the arranged marriage, she was utterly shocked. “But you and Fred, you two…” Yes, everyone who knew us thought we were a couple. This was why I wanted to leave quietly. I didn’t want to hear their constant sighs of regret. “We’re not right for each other,” I explained, offering no further details. But Aunt Carol took my hand, her eyes filled with pain. “Olivia, I know you have a good heart. There are things you can’t easily say, but I know in my heart. I heard about what happened at the wedding and with Chloe. You’re a good child, and Fred has wronged you. I had planned to make him apologize to you, right in front of you, and give him a good talking to, but since you’ve already made up your mind, then that scoundrel Fred is simply out of luck. You’re going to your parents to enjoy your life. It’s just… it breaks my heart to let you go.” “But you and Fred have been together for so many years. Does he know about this?” All these years, without my parents by my side, I had developed a tolerant and patient nature. Lying in the hospital bed, unable to find a single friend or relative to stay with me, I hadn’t cried. When Fred blamed me, when I saw him and Chloe together, I hadn’t cried. When I decided to give up on Fred, I hadn’t cried either. Yet now, tears uncontrollably welled up, as if all the grievances and sorrow of these past days had finally found an outlet. “I’ll tell him later,” I said, slowly lowering my head, letting the tears fall, one by one, onto the back of my hand. As for Fred… he never intended to marry me anyway. Telling him or not wouldn’t make much difference. Aunt Carol hugged me again and again, her eyes filled with sorrow. “How could this happen? Fred is so foolish, he used to love you so much.” I didn’t want to continue the conversation. After comforting Aunt Carol for a moment, I prepared to leave. But as I opened the door, I came face to face with Fred and Chloe. Chloe was clinging to his arm, her small face still flushed with excitement, and she planted a loud kiss on Fred’s cheek— “Fred, dearest, this trip made me so, so happy! You’re just too, too good to me!!!” Seeing me, Chloe awkwardly shrunk her neck, hiding behind Fred. “Olivia, you’re here too. Don’t misunderstand… I was just so happy.” Hearing Chloe’s words, Fred shielded her, his eyes wary as he looked at me. “She’s young and doesn’t know any better. Don’t hold it against her.” I curled my lips in a self-deprecating smile. The old Olivia Reed, seeing this, would surely have cried all night, wouldn’t she? Thank goodness, thank goodness, I truly didn’t love him anymore. “Hm, no offense taken.” Unwilling to get entangled with them, I mumbled a perfunctory reply, then turned sideways, trying to leave. But Fred deliberately blocked the exit. He frowned, scrutinizing me, as if searching for something on my face. But all he saw was my serene profile. There wasn’t a single hint of jealousy or sadness. This was simply too strange! His doubt intensified. He felt as if something was slipping from his control. The unease made him involuntarily clench my wrist. I couldn’t break free, and I didn’t want to cause a scene at Aunt Carol’s birthday, so I let him pull me inside. Aunt Carol’s eyes were still red. Seeing Fred and Chloe, she didn’t give them a kind look. “It’s a family birthday. What kind of behavior is this, bringing an outsider?” Chloe stiffened, her pitiful gaze falling on Fred. Fred finally released me, walking over to place their gifts together. “Aunt Carol, Chloe is my assistant. How can she be considered an outsider?” After saying that, he cast a cold glance at me. I knew he was angry about me blacklisting Chloe and about my supposed insulting messages to her. I pretended not to see, lowering my head and picking at my food. During the meal, he kept peeling shrimp for Chloe, his sharp gaze occasionally flicking my way. It was always like this… ever since Chloe appeared. Whenever I upset him, he would deliberately do things that made me sad and humiliated. And every time, I would become jealous, break down, apologize to him, begging him not to be angry. A wave of bitterness spread from my heart. My fingertips trembled, and my chopsticks accidentally fell to the floor. Aunt Carol glared fiercely at Fred, then handed me a new pair of chopsticks. Fred, across from me, had a glint of perverse satisfaction in his eyes. I ignored his gaze fixed on my face. Composing myself, I put a piece of plum-glazed ribs into my mouth. Two drama queens, let them act as much as they want. Aunt Carol’s cooking, though, would be hard to find once I left. Seeing this, Fred snorted, his actions growing even more outrageous. Not until Fred gently wiped Chloe’s mouth, their noses almost touching, did Aunt Carol finally lose her temper and slam her chopsticks down.

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I was secretly married to the movie star for five years. His life was a whirlwind of rumored affairs, yet he never once acknowledged me as his wife. On a variety show, when the others asked if I had ever been in a relationship, even he joined in, smiling. “Professor Thorne, I have plenty of reliable men in my circle. Should I introduce you to one?” In my past life, on this very day, I couldn’t contain my anger and flashed my wedding ring. The rising starlet, Celia White, ran out in tears. On the surface, Damien Sterling said nothing, but afterward, he grew colder and colder towards me. When I was rushed to the operating room, hemorrhaging during my pregnancy, he was at a Michelin-star restaurant, celebrating Celia’s birthday. When I begged him for help after being assaulted by thugs Celia had hired, he just watched, his expression detached. It was only then that I understood. In his heart, I was nothing more than a decoration, something to be kept hidden in the shadows. Reborn into this life, I simply smiled. “I have. He’s not in the industry. We’re getting married at the end of the month.” 1 A chorus of gasps rippled through the room. No one had expected me to announce my relationship on a live show. Damien’s face darkened, the cup in his hand deforming under his grip. He started to speak, but Celia, sitting beside him with a radiant smile, beat him to it, her eyes wide. “Wow, Professor Thorne, you’re so secretive! If you hadn’t lost at Truth or Dare, were you planning on hiding this from us forever?” It was a live variety show, and Celia’s words instantly sent a tidal wave through the online chat. 【Sucks to be Joanna Thorne’s fans! Your idol just ditched you for a relationship!】 【Hehe, at least our Celia is focused on her career! So driven! Men, please step aside!】 【??? Why would we feel ditched? Joanna is an actress. She conquers us with her talent. She’s already won every major award. What’s wrong with her being in a relationship? Unlike a certain someone who still hasn’t made a name for herself!】 【Besides, our Joanna has said for years that she’d find someone when the time was right.】 I smiled faintly. “Secretive or not, at least I’m the main event.” In my past life, I had always believed Celia didn’t know about my relationship with Damien, that she was just another victim of his deception. It wasn’t until I was on my deathbed, and she came to flaunt Damien’s affection for her, that I learned she had known from the very beginning. Celia’s expression flickered, but the other guests didn’t notice. They crowded around me, their curiosity piqued. “Joanna, who is he? Do you have a picture for us?” “He’s not in the industry, but to be worthy of our Joanna, I’m so curious!” I smiled. “He’s a bit camera-shy. I’ll introduce you when I get the chance.” The moment the words left my mouth, a derisive snort cut through the air. Celia raised an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with a challenge. “Professor Thorne, don’t tell me he doesn’t actually exist, and you just made him up. After all, you’re not getting any younger. It would be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t have someone special in your life. Don’t you think so, Mr. Sterling?” Celia batted her eyelashes at Damien, sticking out her tongue playfully. I clenched my fists. The next second, I heard Damien’s clipped, cooperative “Mm.” Celia’s smile grew wider. I mocked myself internally. Just a moment ago, I had still been holding onto a sliver of hope. The other guests tried to smooth things over. “Joanna, don’t be upset. Celia is just joking!” “This is Professor Thorne’s private life. We shouldn’t be prying.” I was about to speak when a man’s voice came from the doorway. “Excuse me, is Joanna here? I’ve come to pick her up.” 2 All heads turned. A young man stood in the doorway, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. His black hair was styled in soft curls that swept across his forehead, his brow as sharp as a chiseled ridge, his face fair and strikingly handsome. When our eyes met, I was taken aback for a moment. He smiled at me. “Joanna, work’s over.” The live chat exploded. 【HOLY CRAP, WHO IS THIS GUY?! HE’S SO HOT! Is this Joanna Thorne’s non-celebrity boyfriend?!】 【Damn, I thought Joanna was lying! But her boyfriend is actually here to pick her up!】 I stood up from my chair and gave a small wave to the others. “I’ll be going then.” From the moment I stood up, I could feel a pair of eyes fixed on me. I didn’t look back. Just as I was about to walk out the door, Damien’s cold voice stopped me. “Joanna Thorne!” I paused and turned to him. “Yes, Mr. Sterling?” His face darkened, his eyes pooling with displeasure. Celia’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s my birthday party tonight. Damien is celebrating with me. Are you coming, Professor Thorne?” I glanced at Damien. He said nothing. “No.” I turned away and walked out. “Happy birthday. I have other plans.” 3 The intense gaze on my back didn’t vanish until I had settled into the backseat of the car. I turned to the man beside me and thanked him. “Thank you, Julian.” Julian Ford replied, “Don’t mention it, Professor. I was watching the live stream and just happened to be passing by.” I smiled faintly, not pressing further. He didn’t ask any more questions either, just said, “Where are you headed? I’ll give you a ride.” I gave him my home address. We arrived quickly. Before I got out, Julian took out his phone and gave it a little shake. “Professor, can I get your number?” I hesitated for a moment. He chuckled softly. “Who knows, maybe one day I’ll need your help with something.” Hearing this, I nodded and took out my phone. “Okay.” After exchanging numbers, Julian drove off. I turned and went inside. This house, the one Damien and I had bought before we got married, wasn’t huge, but it was filled with our memories. Back when we had breaks from work, we used to curl up in this house, playing games and binging TV shows. I hadn’t moved after we got married. But now, Damien rarely came home. The moment I stepped inside, my manager’s call came through. “Joanna, check the trending topics! Now!” 4 【Damien Sterling x Celia White, Official Relationship Announcement!】 【What a perfect match!】 I had thought that in this new life, my heart would be as still as water. But the few short lines on the screen still stung my eyes. 【Damien Sterling V: Let me introduce you all to my girlfriend. My one and only. @CeliaWhite】 【Celia White: Here’s to a long future together, always by Mr. Sterling’s side~】 I had been with Damien for five years, married for five years. I had waited ten years for an official announcement. And now, Damien had given it to someone else so easily. My manager, Kate’s, voice continued. “There are rumors online that Celia White is the other woman! This is Damien’s way of defending her! How could he? But Celia is the other woman, isn’t she? You and him have been married for years, and he never…” “Kate.” I cut her off, my voice soft. “When will the visa be ready?” Kate went silent. “You’ve really decided to quit and go abroad?” I nodded. Ten years ago, I had given up my dream for Damien Sterling. Now, I wouldn’t let him ruin my life a second time. 5 Damien and I were childhood sweethearts. We grew up together. My parents died when I was young, and I was a shy, introverted child living under someone else’s roof, constantly bullied by the other kids. Damien would always stand in front of me, protecting me, fighting my battles. Until we were fifteen. His parents’ business went bankrupt, and they took their own lives, leaving him alone with a mountain of debt. He was devastated, on the verge of suicide several times. I was the one who held him, who comforted him. We were each other’s light in the darkness, depending on one another to survive. When we were eighteen, I received an offer from a prestigious university abroad, the school of my dreams. That day, Damien said nothing. He just held my hand, his eyes red, and stood with me all night. After that night, I rejected the acceptance letter and, instead, accepted an offer from a talent scout, entering the entertainment industry. I was going to pay off Damien’s debt. He was still young, with a long road ahead of him. He couldn’t be dragged down by this. But the entertainment industry wasn’t an easy place. I auditioned and acted day and night, taking on any job I could get. I drank at dinner parties until I vomited blood. Finally, in my fifth year, after a hit show, I managed to clear the Sterling family’s debt. People close to me asked if it was worth it. At the time, watching Damien cook for me every day, staying by my side, I felt it was all worth it. But now… A notification on my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a call from Damien. I thought for a moment and answered. His voice was cold. “Quite the actress, aren’t you? Hiring other men to put on a show? Trying to make me jealous? You miscalculated. I know how much you love me. I wasn’t provoked at all.” I held the phone, saying nothing. A familiar female voice came through the line. “Damien, come cut the cake with me!” Damien answered, “Coming.” Then, to me, he said, “You know Celia and I have a new show coming out. Once it’s aired, I’ll break up with her. Don’t overthink it. Be good and wait for me at home tonight. I’ll bring you your favorite dish.” 6 My mind drifted back. Damien had entered the entertainment industry after being spotted by a director while visiting me on set. I had immediately refused on his behalf. Damien’s dream was to be a research scientist. If he started acting, his dream would be over. But I never expected Damien to go see the director privately. Afterward, he had held me, his eyes red. “Joanna, I don’t want you to live a hard life with me. I want to make a lot of money, to make your life better and better.” From then on, Damien gave up his dream for me and focused on his career in entertainment. As we both got busier, we saw each other less and less. The first time a rumor about him surfaced, he took a five-hour flight to be by my side, holding me and apologizing, telling me it was a misunderstanding and he would handle it. He told me not to worry. When I suggested we go public with our marriage, he said it would affect his career and hurt his fans, that it wasn’t the right time. But he promised me that I would be his only wife, the only one by his side. In the end, I thought of his career and let it go. Until later… The appearance of Celia White. She was at a banquet, about to be taken advantage of, when she ran, fell into the water, and was rescued by Damien. She seemed like a delicate white flower, pure and innocent, lying soaked in Damien’s arms. That night, they were all over the trending topics, with gossip accounts running wild. That time, Damien didn’t say a single word.

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I am a lady’s maid in a world obsessed with perfect pairings. In my last life, my mistress, Lady Arabella, forced me into a marriage with her fiancé’s valet, all “for my own good.” She’d said it with a bashful smile. “My horse is a match for the Viscount’s horse, my dog for his dog… so it’s only right that my maid should be paired with his valet. It will show the world how perfectly matched the Viscount and I are.” The man was a philandering brute who beat me when he was drunk. I was trapped in a living hell. But when I pleaded with my mistress for help, she turned a blind eye. When I finally escaped, she personally dragged me back to that monster’s side. “You are such an embarrassment to me,” she said, her voice like ice. “If you weren’t so defiant, a good man like Sterling would never have laid a hand on you.” In the end, six months pregnant, I was beaten to death. … When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that same moment. Lady Arabella was holding my hand, her face beaming with warmth. “Aurora,” she said, “I have found you the most wonderful match. When you marry Sterling, you can continue to serve me for the rest of our lives.” “You’ve been with me since we were children. I’ve always thought of you as a sister. I am to marry Viscount Langley, so it is only fitting that my handmaidens marry his retainers. It’s a match made in heaven, isn’t it?” My heart seized. A dull ache spread through my chest, and I had to fight to keep my body from trembling. I was reborn. It was the exact same scene as before. Last time, seeing her so delighted, I couldn’t bear to disappoint her and agreed. But my marriage was hell on earth. Sterling was indeed a loyal valet to his master, but he was a degenerate in his private life. Though he kept no mistresses openly, he had a legion of “confidantes” scattered across the city. When he drank, his personality twisted, and he would beat me until I was black and blue. I suffered two miscarriages at his hands. And my mistress, the one who had sworn to be my champion if I ever faced any trouble, ignored my desperate cries for help. “Aurora, you are too headstrong,” she would lecture. “How can a man like Sterling ever love a woman like that? What man doesn’t have a few dalliances? You must learn to be soft, gentle, and submissive if you want to keep his heart.” She had found her perfect match. She and the Viscount were a picture of marital bliss, their love the talk of the town. Meanwhile, I was drowning, tormented daily. With her tacit approval, Sterling grew ever more brazen. The beatings became more frequent, and he would often withhold food as punishment. Through it all, she demanded I plaster on a smile and listen to her tales of domestic happiness. I finally escaped, only to be hunted down by her and her men. She personally returned me to Sterling’s clutches. And so, six months pregnant with my third child, I died under a torrent of his enraged blows. This time, I will not be her pawn. I will not repeat the mistakes of my past. Lady Arabella was still chattering excitedly, pulling me down to sit beside her. She dangled a jade pendant from her waist for me to see, her cheeks flushed. “Look, the Viscount and I have a matching everything. The other day, he gave me a parrot and kept one for himself—a perfect male and female pair.” “And this pendant, it’s a set of a dragon and a phoenix. He has one, I have the other. I was just thinking, perhaps I should buy a male dog to send to the Viscount. It would be a perfect match for my little Snowball, and they could have puppies.” Snowball was a tiny female terrier. My mistress had owned her for three years. Ever since she had met her future husband, every mosquito that flew past had to be paired with one from the Viscount’s estate. She once had four personal maids. Chessie was already married off. Two months ago, she dispatched both Artemis and Calliope to marry two of the Viscount’s other men. One was sent to a desolate border post, never to be seen again. The other’s new husband died in battle a month later. She cared nothing for our wishes, obsessed only with creating these “perfect pairs” with the Viscount’s household. Now, the other maids in the manor were terrified at the prospect of being assigned to her service. Though I already knew the answer, I had to try. “My lady,” I began tentatively, “I am already betrothed. My fiancé, Thomas, and I have been promised to each other since childhood.” “My lady… must I marry Sterling?” The blush on her face faded. She frowned at me, her expression one of utter bewilderment. “That Thomas is just the son of the head butler. What future does he have? How could he possibly compare to the personal valet of a Viscount?” “Besides,” she continued, her tone firming, “I have four maids, and the Viscount has four valets. It’s a perfect set. It is fate. In two weeks, when I am married, you will be married alongside me.” I pleaded with her for three days. At first, she tried to persuade me gently, extolling Sterling’s virtues. By the end, her face was a mask of cold resolve. “Aurora, do not be ungrateful. I am offering you this wonderful match because I am fond of you. As for that Thomas, forget him. I have already asked my mother to arrange a marriage for him with one of her second-tier maids. They will be wed quietly and quickly.” Staring at the woman I had served for more than a decade, a chilling numbness spread through my heart. If she could be so cruel, then I would be ruthless. I had already sacrificed myself for her once in my past life, fulfilling my duty as a servant. This life was for me and me alone. I went to her elder sister, Lady Cordelia. Viscount Langley had originally been Cordelia’s fiancé. But after Cordelia’s mother died, her stepmother—Arabella’s mother—had schemed to swap the betrothals, leaving Cordelia engaged to the Viscount’s younger brother, a notorious rake. While the Viscount was brilliant and respected, his brother was a wastrel. In my last life, Cordelia’s marriage had been miserable. She died in childbirth after delivering a frail baby girl. “My lady,” I said to Cordelia, “I can help you marry the Viscount. On the wedding day, with the help of your maids, we can switch the bridal carriages. Once the deed is done, no one can say a thing. Besides, you were the one who was supposed to marry the Viscount in the first place. This is simply setting things right.” Now that Arabella had married off her other maids, I was the only one she trusted. I knew I could arrange the switch. Cordelia had been living under her stepmother’s thumb for years, simmering with resentment over the stolen betrothal. She considered my proposal for only a day before agreeing. In exchange, she promised to grant me my freedom. We began our preparations for the double wedding in two weeks. On the surface, I continued to serve Arabella as diligently as ever. One day, she sent me to a remote courtyard to pick peach blossoms. “My lady,” I said, confused, “we have peach trees in our own garden. Why must I go to that deserted courtyard?” Her eyes darted away for a second. “Just do as you’re told. The blossoms in this garden are for viewing. No one sees the ones in the old yard, so go pick them for me.” I went as ordered. The courtyard was overgrown and desolate. “Aurora.” A man in a fine green livery stepped out from behind a crumbling wall. It was Sterling. A sly smile played on his lips as his eyes raked over my body. My blood ran cold. My hand clenched into a fist as the horrific memories of my past life flooded back. “Sterling,” I said, my voice sharp. “What are you doing here? Who allowed you into the private courtyards of the manor?” “Why, your future mistress, of course,” he said, his voice smooth as oil. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, his smile turning lecherous. “Aurora, we’re to be married soon. Surely you won’t deny me a kiss…” He pulled me into a forceful embrace. Panic seized me. I dropped my basket and struggled wildly. “Let go of me! Get off!” Picking flowers was just a pretense. Arabella had arranged a private meeting for us. A chill shot up from the soles of my feet, freezing me to the core. She was so cruel. Though I was just a maid, I came from a respectable family. I would not endure such humiliation. In my struggle, I bit his arm, hard. Sterling yelped in pain and released me. Then, his face twisted in anger, and he slapped me across the face. “You bitch! How dare you bite me!” Crack. The blow stunned me for a moment. I stumbled back, nearly falling. My cheek was already swelling, hot and painful. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and fled. When Arabella saw me return with a bright red handprint on my face, she frowned, setting down her teacup with a clatter. “What happened? Sterling told me you bit him for no reason. Do you have any idea what a wonderful opportunity I created for you? Why are you so unappreciative?” The questions I wanted to scream died in my throat. All that remained was a profound, icy coldness. The answer was perfectly clear. She had never truly respected me. She didn’t see this as a humiliation, as an assault on my dignity. “My lady,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “Sterling tried to force himself on me. That is why I bit him. And I must ask you not to do such things again. It is improper for a man to be allowed into the inner courtyards. If word got out, my reputation would be ruined, but more importantly, it could damage yours.” Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “When two people are in love, isn’t it normal to get carried away? Why must you be so difficult?” She flicked her sleeve in frustration and stormed out. “Fine! I wash my hands of this! No good deed goes unpunished.” The entire manor was abuzz with festive preparations for the two weddings. I was busier than anyone. The wedding gown, the handkerchiefs, the slippers for the in-laws—all the things the bride was supposed to make herself were handed to me. “We are like sisters,” she’d said sweetly. “It doesn’t matter who does it. I trust you more than anyone.” With so little time, I was serving her during the day and sewing late into the night, getting less than an hour of sleep. My eyes were raw and sore. She checked my progress daily, allowing no rest. One day, to my surprise, Thomas came to find me.

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In front of the orphanage, Lauren Murphy, the charity case I’d sponsored for years, stared at me with pure disgust. “If you don’t let Aaron get in the car, I’m not going to your house either.” If this had been before, my love-addled brain would have caved instantly. I would have meekly given in. But this wasn’t before. I had been reborn. Looking at the two people who had orchestrated my brutal death, a tidal wave of fury crested within me, transforming into a cold, sharp smile. “Then stay. You can rot here with your precious Aaron.” My voice was laced with ice. “After all, trash belongs in the trash heap.” … Everyone froze. They were used to the old me, the loyal lapdog who followed Lauren Murphy around, practically begging her to live at my house. The old me who, just to make her happy, had come here with her to invite Aaron to become the adopted young master of the Sterling family. The same two people who, when I fell ill, conspired to murder me and seize my inheritance. I remembered my last days, sick and helpless, as Lauren Murphy, heavily pregnant, stood over my hospital bed with Aaron at her side. “Did you really think this baby was yours?” she’d sneered. “If I hadn’t been pregnant with Aaron’s child, do you think you would have ever had the chance to be my husband?” Aaron had wrapped his arm around her, his face a mask of mockery. “How could my Murphy possibly carry the child of a moron like you? It would probably be born an idiot.” Now, seeing them standing before me, alive and well, I wanted nothing more than to tear them limb from limb. Go to my house? Go to hell. Aaron’s arrogant expression flickered with panic for a second before he regained his composure, looking down his nose at me. “Julian Sterling, so what if your family is rich? It’s all inheritance your father left you. You think you’re so great, flaunting the money he died for? If it weren’t for Murphy, I wouldn’t waste a second of my time on a brainless fop like you.” In my past life, he had said the same thing. I’d thrown away my pride and begged him for half an hour before he’d “reluctantly” agreed to come home with us. He’d acted as if he were the true heir to a great fortune. I let out a derisive snort and dropped the suitcase I’d been holding for him. It burst open, spilling a few designer clothes onto the pavement. In my past life, I’d carried his luggage like a servant while he and Lauren Murphy had swaggered into my car as if they were the masters of the house. After getting them settled, I had been about to get in the car, drenched in sweat, when Lauren Murphy had slammed the door shut. “I hate the smell of sweat,” she’d said. “You can ride in another car.” She was never kind to me, but she always justified it by saying, “I’m only so blunt with you because I see you as one of my closest friends.” Funny how she never used that “bluntness” on her dear “brother” Aaron. I kicked at the scattered clothes on the ground. “Is the orphanage that well-funded these days? Or are these just some high-quality fakes bought by someone desperate to look rich? You pretend to despise money, yet you’re obsessed with brand names. You really want to have your cake and eat it too, don’t you, Aaron?” His face flushed red, and he opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off with a dismissive glare. “My father’s death was an accident, but the money he left me is more than I could spend in several lifetimes. Other people can only watch and be jealous.” Seeing the envy twisting his features, a weight lifted from my chest. “What can I say? I was born lucky. Unlike some people, born to be thrown away by their parents.” I remembered him in my past life, sitting by my bed, sipping the nourishing broth meant for me. “Julian, you’re dying anyway,” he’d said with a click of his tongue. “No amount of this stuff will help you. I’ll enjoy it for you. No need to thank me.” The urge to kill him right then and there was overwhelming. The sight of him made me sick. I turned to get in the car, but Lauren Murphy grabbed my sleeve, her face dark. “Julian Sterling, how could you say that to Aaron? Apologize to him right now! Or I’ll never forgive you!” I shoved her away as if she were something filthy. She thought she still had me under her thumb. “Can’t you just put away your spoiled rich-boy attitude for once?” she snapped, her voice rising with impatience. “We had a deal to bring Aaron home. Are you backing out now just because he opened the car door for me? If you’re going to be this selfish and petty, then I have nothing more to say. I’m not leaving Aaron here by himself. You figure it out.” In my past life, whenever I displeased them, she would threaten to leave, and I would always cave. She thought it was her irresistible charm, but my concessions were born of a love that had made me blind and foolish. Lauren Murphy had spent a lifetime chipping away at my love until nothing was left. Now, she was nothing more than a pile of sickening filth to me. I rolled my eyes, mimicking her tone of disgust. “You’re the one who needs to figure it out. Go back to the Sterling mansion and enjoy your life of luxury, or stay here and suffer with your precious Aaron. The choice is yours. But I’m sure a person as loyal and righteous as you would never abandon her dear brother, right?” She was cornered, speechless. Just then, the orphanage director, Mr. Hoffman, chimed in. “Julian, this is your fault.” Mr. Hoffman was not only the honorary director of the orphanage but also the chancellor of our university, with a seven-figure salary—all funded by my family’s Sterling Group. Yet here he was, lecturing me. “The paperwork is all done, and now you’re backing out. Have you thought about the trouble you’re causing? You’re in your twenties, yet you’re still so immature! Is this what we teach you at the university? Now, stop this childish tantrum and take Lauren Murphy and Aaron home. No more nonsense!” After my father’s death when I was just a teenager, Mr. Hoffman had subtly inserted himself into my life as a father figure. Over time, he’d started to believe he actually was my elder and could scold me as he pleased. Looking at his self-righteous face now, I could only laugh. “Mr. Hoffman, as they say, don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Is Lauren Murphy paying your multi-million-dollar salary? Is Aaron? No. The Sterling family is.” In my past life, under their influence, I’d developed a people-pleasing personality, always backing down, always giving in. They’d walked all over me. Now, I was going to make it clear that they couldn’t just take what they wanted anymore. “Mr. Hoffman, if you can’t remember your place, if doing your job is too much trouble, you can resign. Or I can fire you.” I slammed the car door, leaving them staring in stunned silence, and told the driver to go. As the trees blurred past the window, the fury in my heart began to subside. I thought of my father, of the empire he had built, and I slapped myself, hard, several times. In my past life, I was a lost cause, a love-sick fool. I had failed them. This time, I would not repeat my mistakes. But when I got home, I found Lauren Murphy, Aaron, and my mother, Cassandra, sitting on the sofa, looking for all the world like a happy family. Before I could say a word, my mother stood up, walked over, and slapped me across the face. “Bullying your peers, disrespecting your elders! Julian! You are a disgrace to your father’s name! Do you think you can just do whatever you want out there with no consequences? As long as I’m alive, you will not use your power to bully people! First, apologize to Murphy and Aaron! Then, go to Chancellor Hoffman’s house and bow to him!” My cheek burned, swelling instantly. Lauren Murphy shot me a look of contempt, while Aaron’s eyes glinted with provocation. I pushed my tongue against the inside of my throbbing cheek and looked at my mother, my voice cold. “Use my power? I am the rightful heir of the Sterling family. I am the power. But you… you hit your own son for the sake of outsiders, without even asking what happened. What kind of mother are you? I’m not apologizing to anyone. Now, get this trash out of my house!” My father had established the orphanage to build good karma for me, and as a child, my parents often took me there to volunteer. I used to chase after Lauren Murphy, while my mother took an instant liking to Aaron. She’d even wanted to adopt him back then, but my father had refused. “I have one good son, Julian,” he’d said, hugging me. “That’s enough.” My mother was a kept woman, a canary in a gilded cage. She didn’t dare defy her benefactor, so she’d just bring Aaron extra gifts every time we visited. The designer clothes in his suitcase were from her. In my past life, when I’d asked her to adopt Aaron to please Lauren Murphy, she had smiled at me with genuine happiness for the first time. But now, I would not allow these vipers to defile my home. I told them to get out, but Aaron just smirked, stood up, and took my mother’s arm. “Mom, he’s just a spoiled brat. Don’t mind him. Let me give you a shoulder rub. Getting angry is bad for your health.” Lauren Murphy looked at me as if she were delivering a royal decree. “Auntie has already adopted Aaron. From now on, you and Aaron are brothers. You’re both young masters of the Sterling family, so stop trying to one-up him all the time. Oh, and Aaron will be starting at our university soon. You know how snobbish everyone is there, so Auntie and I have decided to tell everyone that Aaron is the younger Sterling son, who was raised abroad and just returned.” She then took Aaron’s arm, smiling sweetly. “Come on, let me show you your room. Auntie had them give you Julian’s old room. It’s the biggest and sunniest in the house.” Their shamelessness was astounding. I raised an eyebrow and stopped them. “Stay right there.” My voice was dangerously low. “Who gave you the audacity to be so presumptuous in my house?” I put extra emphasis on the words “my house.” Aaron’s brow furrowed. He strode over to me. “Julian, you’re being incredibly childish! Mom has already agreed. When an elder has spoken, you have no say in the matter!” Lauren Murphy chimed in with a huff. “Julian, I know you’re just jealous because Aaron is so much better than you. You’re afraid that Auntie and I will like him more, so you’re trying to stop this. But being so domineering will only backfire.” She stared at my face, a smug look on hers. “It will only make… us… despise you even more.” She waited, expecting to see me crumble, like a dog being disciplined. In my past life, their constant emotional abuse had turned me from a cheerful boy into a sensitive, insecure wreck. I’d even convinced myself that my life was only meaningful if they liked me. But my life was not theirs to dictate. I crossed my arms and gave them a mocking smile. “Oh, really? Well then, go ahead. Despise me all you want. Just get out of my house first. Then you can despise me to your heart’s content. Like I give a damn.” Lauren Murphy blinked, stunned. Aaron’s eyes were like daggers. “Julian, you’re just trying a new trick to get Murphy’s attention, aren’t you? But I suggest you quit while you’re ahead before you make a fool of yourself. You don’t want to end up crying and begging for her to look at you again, like a pathetic dog. It’s so embarrassing. Oh, right, you’ve never had any shame when it comes to chasing Murphy. I heard everyone at school calls you the ‘Simp Master,’ right? What a disgrace to the Sterling name.” Buoyed by his own twisted logic, Lauren Murphy lifted her chin again, confident that she had seen through my “hard to get” charade. “Some people are born into money, but they still reek of cheapness. Not like our Aaron. He’s so charming and well-liked wherever he goes.” I had no interest in arguing with dogs. My gaze fell on Cassandra, who had remained silent. “Are you just going to stand there and listen to these outsiders slander your own son?” Cassandra’s face was pale. She gritted her teeth. “Outsiders? I told you, I’m adopting Aaron. You deserve to be scolded for being so arrogant!” Seeing me raise an eyebrow, she quickly added, “But if you can get along with Aaron from now on, there’s still a place for you in this family. Julian, your father is gone. You have no other relatives in this world. I’m adopting Aaron to keep you company. Don’t be so ungrateful…” In my past life, Cassandra had trapped me in a vortex of emotional neglect, making me cling to her like a drowning man to a life raft. But when Lauren Murphy and Aaron had intentionally run me over with a car, and I had screamed for her help, she had simply turned up the volume on the TV, annoyed that my cries were disturbing her show. She’d even given a false testimony, claiming I was a jealous lunatic who had thrown myself under the car. She’d used the Sterling Group’s legal team to help the two murderers walk free. Now, she was trying the same trick again. But I wasn’t falling for her lies anymore. “Well, Mom, since you have a new son, why don’t you and your new son get out of my house together? And you don’t need to go to the company anymore either. After all, everything the Sterling Group owns was left to me, and me alone.” Not just the house, but all the assets of the Sterling Group, all the shares—my father had left them all to me. All Cassandra got was a room full of designer bags and clothes. In my past life, she had managed my assets until I came of age. I had been so lost in the emotional prison they had created for me that I’d never even thought about my inheritance. But I understood now. I had the money. That was enough. Before coming home, I had already been to the family trust and taken control of my assets. From now on, Cassandra would need my approval to spend a single penny of the Sterling family’s money. I clapped my hands twice, and two teams of security guards entered the room. “Throw this trash out.” Lauren Murphy and Aaron were still shouting, not understanding what was happening. As Lauren Murphy was being dragged away, she screamed at me, “Julian! You’ve gone too far this time! I’ll never forgive you, not even if you get on your knees and beg!” I clicked my tongue, and someone immediately gagged her. Aaron roared, “Stop! Do you know who I am? I’m the young master of the Sterling family! I’m your boss! Who dares to touch me! Don’t you want your jo— ah!” The guards were more efficient with him. A single punch to the face, and he spat out blood and two teeth. Cassandra was white with rage. “Julian! How dare you do this to your own mother! You will be struck by lightning! Aren’t you afraid of being cursed by everyone? Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?!” She raised a hand to point at me, but a guard grabbed her finger and bent it back. A sharp scream echoed through the room. After they were thrown out, I had all their belongings burned in a bonfire on the lawn. Seeing her luxury goods go up in flames, Cassandra tried to rush into the fire, weeping. Aaron, still in the dark, held her back. “Let him burn it! Mom, I’ll buy you new things!” Lauren Murphy, furious, jumped up and down outside the gate. “Julian! If you want my forgiveness, you’ll have to piece this pile of ash back together!” I ordered the guards, “Take these barking dogs and dump them in the middle of nowhere.” That night, I fell asleep in front of my father’s memorial tablet. I woke up the next morning and lit three sticks of incense, bowing my head reverently. I had a feeling my father had given me this chance at a new life.

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Do you know just how spineless parents can be? Have you ever seen people with wealth and power get pushed around and humiliated by their dirt-poor relatives? My name is Stella. My uncle is a small-town security guard, a man from the absolute bottom rung of society. My father is the chairman of a publicly traded company. My mother is the Chief of Medicine at a prestigious hospital. And yet, from 2009 to 2016, every single time I reached for food at the dinner table, my uncle would slap my hand. Four times. My parents saw it. They said nothing. This cast a long, dark shadow over my childhood. It’s why, all through middle and high school, I chose to live at a boarding school. This year, I graduated from college. I came home for a celebratory dinner. When I reached for a piece of food, my uncle raised his hand to strike me again, a grim replay of an old, familiar horror. But this time, I slammed my chopsticks right into his face. This time, I was done being silent. … To celebrate my graduation and welcome me home, my parents had invited a few relatives and friends over for dinner. “Stella, eat up. I made all your favorites,” my mother said with a warm smile, setting down the last dish, a fragrant seafood chowder. It had been so long since I’d been home, and my parents were clearly thrilled to have me back. Dad opened a bottle of expensive single-malt Scotch. “Go on, dig in. Your mother’s been in the kitchen since dawn getting ready for you.” I stared at the steaming, vibrant dishes spread across the table, a sense of unreality washing over me. So many years had passed, and the resentment I held for my family had been worn down by time, faded almost to nothing. I nodded, picking up my chopsticks to grab a piece of food. But just then, my uncle, who was sitting beside me, rapped his chopsticks sharply on the table twice. He stared at me, his face a mask of cold indifference. “Who said you could start eating?” My hand shot back as if I’d been burned, my heart instantly hammering against my ribs. To the outside world, my family was the picture of success and respectability. My father ran a successful company, and my mother was a renowned physician. It was no exaggeration to say we were powerful. My uncle, Rick, on the other hand, was a relic from a different world. All I knew was that he’d run with a gang in his youth, and in a fight that went too far, he’d killed someone. Manslaughter. He served twelve years, getting out in 2009. My mother, Eleanor, torn apart by a mix of pity and fear that he’d fall back into his old ways, brought him to the city to live with us. She even got him a job as my father’s driver. From his wedding to the birth of his children, he has been completely dependent on my mother’s charity. He’s been a fixture in our lives ever since. I was eight years old in 2009. That was when the ritual began. Every time we sat down to eat, he would slap my hand with his chopsticks. He’d always assume the posture of a disciplining elder, lecturing me with the same tired lines. Things like: “The adults haven’t even started. You dare take a bite? You think you’re better than us?” “I’m hitting you for your own good. So you don’t grow up offending people without even knowing it.” “Don’t think you can just coast on your parents’ money. You have to make your own way in this world.” I was just a kid. I didn’t understand what he meant, or why he was saying these things to me. So, I learned to wait. I wouldn’t touch my food until one of the adults had taken the first bite. But, predictably, he’d still hit me. I’d ask him, my voice trembling with unshed tears, why he still hit me. He wouldn’t answer directly, probably because he couldn’t find a new fault. Instead, he’d tap his empty plate. “Get me some food.” Other times it would be, “Bring me a glass for my drink.” I never understood why he singled me out, what I had done to deserve his relentless torment. But I had been raised to be polite, to never talk back to my elders. So, I would just lower my head in silence, picking at the rice in my bowl. My father, Mark, saw it all. And he remained silent. For a long time, I would ask him, “Dad, why does Uncle Rick always hit me?” Sometimes he wouldn’t answer at all. Other times, he’d just parrot the same excuses Rick used, telling me to just do as he said, so he’d have no reason to pick on me. But it never worked. The next time, Uncle Rick would always invent a new reason to strike me. Over time, it carved a deep wound into my psyche. Mealtimes became an ordeal, a source of profound anxiety. I became timid, jumpy, constantly walking on eggshells. It didn’t stop at the dinner table. He started finding fault with me everywhere, lecturing me in front of my parents for hours on end. From the day my uncle moved in, I never had another truly happy day. My life was a suffocating coil of tension and oppression. It wasn’t until I went away to boarding school for middle school that my mental state began to improve. The distance was a balm. As I grew older, I developed the ability to see things for what they were. A bitter resentment toward my parents began to fester. I couldn’t understand why they were so spineless. Why did they let him bully me? Why was it that this man, who lived off our family’s generosity, could treat us with such contempt, ordering me around like a servant? Even at boarding school, I still had to come home at least once a month. My animosity towards my uncle ran deep, and I did my best to avoid him. Sometimes he’d eat out, or my dad would take me to a restaurant, just the two of us. I’ll never forget the winter break of my eighth-grade year. I was running around on the lawn of our villa when I accidentally bumped into him. He hit me across the face with a ruler. My parents were right there, inside, watching TV in the living room. My first instinct was to run, but he grabbed the back of my down jacket, his grip like iron. “What do you have eyes for?” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “You stand right here. Don’t you move.” From the corner of my eye, I saw my parents glance in our direction through the large glass window. I was trembling, frozen with fear, as I watched my uncle walk back into the house. He reemerged moments later holding a long, thick plastic ruler. The color drained from my face. Tears streamed down my cheeks before I could stop them. I held out my hands, trembling, expecting the blow to land there. But the heavy ruler cracked across my face. I was thirteen. I was at that age where looks and pride mean everything. I couldn’t bear the humiliation, being beaten so viciously, so utterly without dignity, right in front of my own parents. The ruler fell on my left cheek, then my right, again and again. I cried, I begged, I stumbled backward. The pain was so sharp I instinctively tried to cover my face, but he just violently tore my hands away. I thought, surely, my parents would come out. They would at least try to stop him. But they didn’t. I screamed myself hoarse for what felt like an eternity, and they never even came to the window. I don’t know how many times he hit me. I only know that I felt the skin on my cheeks split open, the warm trickle of blood running down my face. My throat was raw. He spat on the ground, gave me one last shove that sent me sprawling, and walked away. I shattered. I lay on the cold grass and cried for a long, long time. When I finally ran out of tears, my gaze vacant and numb, I touched my swollen face and walked back into the living room. My parents were still on the sofa, still watching TV. But something about their posture was stiff, unnatural. “Mom,” I croaked. My mother’s eyes flickered toward me for a split second. When she saw the state of my face, she shot to her feet, a flash of anger in her expression. “Why does he always have to make such a scene over nothing? It’s so irritating!” Then she pulled me into a room to treat my wounds. My father never once looked at me. In the bedroom, as my mother dabbed antiseptic on my cuts, she muttered to herself. “How could he hit you like this? He’s so vicious.” “Your face is so swollen… this won’t go down for a while.” Her words only made the tears start again. “Mom,” I sobbed, “why didn’t you come out?” Her hand paused for a moment. “Come out for what?” “To tell him to stop.” My mother pressed her lips together. After a long silence, she finally said, “Next time, just be more careful. You know how he is. Just stay away from him.” It was a heart-chilling response. But it was also the first time she had ever verbally admitted that she didn’t approve of his actions. Most of the time, in stark contrast to my father’s silence, she would side with my uncle and criticize me, even if she didn’t believe it herself. Last year, my cousin Jessica stole over twenty thousand dollars from my credit card. Everyone begged me to let it go, but I was resolute and called the police. That was the first time I ever saw my uncle scared. He wept, he pleaded with me not to press charges. My parents joined in, begging me, saying, “We’re family, just drop it.” I felt a surge of helpless fury. The incident led to a massive fight, and I didn’t come home for a long time afterward. I thought that seeing my uncle so humbled might have taught him a lesson, that he might finally show some restraint. I was wrong. He hadn’t changed at all. If anything, he was worse. And now, here we were. At the dinner table. Not just with my parents and my aunt, but with two of my father’s old friends, important business partners. By humiliating me in front of outsiders, my uncle wasn’t just putting me in my place. He was emasculating my parents, reveling in the intoxicating thrill of inverted power. But this time, his pathetic little power trip was about to end.

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Thanksgiving week, my dead high school group chat pinged me: “Eleanor, Jessica’s getting married. Quit playing dead.” Scrolling 99+ messages, I learned: Jessica Reed—our former queen bee—was marrying over the holidays. Entire class invited. “Can’t come. Abroad,” I replied. Her minions attacked instantly: “Too scared to face her after stealing $500?” “Pretending to be overseas? Audacity!” Jessica “graciously” intervened: “Ancient history, Ellie! You must come!” The chat erupted praising her “kindness” to a thief like me. Joke. She’d framed me for that theft. Then I saw the groom’s name: James Cole. Family tree says he should call me Great-Aunt. “I’ll be there,” I typed, smiling coldly. 2 After sending that message, I immediately had my bags packed and a flight back to the States booked. When my mother learned I was returning for James Cole’s wedding, she told me to be gracious and to pick out a suitable gift on her behalf. After all, he worked directly under her, and he’d earned our corporation a significant amount of money over the years. James was competent, no doubt about it. But his taste in women was abysmal. Of all people, how did he end up with Jessica Reed? Grumbling aside, I had my butler select some appropriately lavish gifts and load them into the car. After landing, I had the driver take me straight to the wedding venue. The scene was exactly as I’d expected. Jessica was the center of a fawning circle, basking in their sycophantic praise. “Jessica, you’re still as gorgeous as you were in high school. You truly were the queen of our class. And you landed such a brilliant husband! A Vice President at Aurelian Global at his age!” “Totally! If it weren’t for Jessica, we’d never get to set foot in a five-star hotel like this for a wedding!” “I know, right? My husband works at Aurelian too, and he heard that Jessica’s husband is getting promoted to CEO next month! Congratulations, Jessica! I guess we’ll have to start calling you Mrs. CEO soon!” The title “Mrs. CEO” was thrown around like confetti, and Jessica was blooming under the attention. The moment I walked in, the faces that had been beaming at Jessica instantly froze over, their expressions shifting to undisguised contempt. “Eleanor Brown. You actually have the nerve to show up?” “Seriously. Do thieves have no shame these days? Showing up at your victim’s wedding, bold as brass. Unbelievable.” “And you came empty-handed? Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” “Oh, come on. She’s a thief, what do you expect? She probably can’t afford a gift. Look at her outfit—head-to-toe knockoffs. Probably stole those, too.” Every other word was “thief,” each one meant to grind me into the dirt. I laughed coldly to myself. That five hundred dollars had been a gift from my mother for concert tickets. The cash hadn’t even been warm in my pocket before Jessica accused me of stealing it from her. Later, after the principal investigated and found the truth, he asked me to keep it quiet. He said Jessica’s family was struggling and five hundred dollars was a huge amount for them. It was only out of respect for him that I didn’t press the issue and let her keep the money. I never imagined that after all these years, not only would she feel no gratitude, but she would also keep the lie alive. I couldn’t be bothered to argue with them. I just wanted the bellhop to bring up the gifts from the car so I could drop them off and leave. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, I decided to go downstairs and check myself. But in the next second, Jessica rushed toward me, and her hand cracked across my face in a vicious slap. “Eleanor Brown!” she shrieked. “After all these years, your hands are still just as sticky! Did you really think you could steal my ring and just walk away?” 3 The blow left me stunned, a smear of red lipstick tracing the path of her hand across my cheek. “What makes you think I stole it?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage. “We were all in the back taking photos together! You were the only one out here in the main hall! If it wasn’t you, who was it?” Jessica shook out the contents of her purse, which she’d left in the hall. It was empty. “I can’t believe you haven’t changed a bit!” she cried, her voice ringing with theatrical despair. “That was a ten-carat, flawless diamond James bought for me from South Africa! It’s worth millions!” Her words hung in the air, and every eye in the room swiveled to me. “You shameless bitch!” one of her friends spat. “Jessica was just defending you in the back, telling us not to give you a hard time. And you turn around and steal her wedding ring?” “Once a thief, always a thief. A leopard can’t change its spots. Girls, let’s get her! For Jessica!” Before I could even react, Jessica’s pack of hyenas descended on me. One after another, their hands flew, each slap a fresh sting of humiliation. My hair was torn from its pins, cascading in a messy tangle around my shoulders. I tasted blood, a tooth chipped and sharp against my tongue. But that wasn’t enough. They ripped the emerald earrings from my lobes, tore the necklace from my throat, and yanked the designer watch from my wrist. A searing pain shot through my ear as the stud was torn out, and hot blood trickled down my neck. The skin on my throat was raw and red. “Don’t hold back, girls! Don’t stop until this bitch gives back Jessica’s ring!” “I didn’t steal it…” I tried to explain, but they were like a pack of rabid animals, deaf to reason. The slapping stopped, only to be replaced by kicks. I was shoved to the floor, my dress shredding under their assault. I had never felt such profound humiliation. I tried to cover myself, to preserve some shred of dignity, but they gave me no quarter. They grabbed ice-cold bottles of champagne and red wine from the bar and poured them over my head and body. The frigid liquid shocked my system, an icy fire that made my body tremble uncontrollably. I tried to hug myself for warmth, but my arms wouldn’t obey. “Eleanor, just admit you took the ring,” Jessica said, her eyes unnervingly cold. “For old times’ sake, I can let this go.” I was about to speak when someone shouted, “Mr. Davison is here!” Mr. Davison, our old high school homeroom teacher, entered the room and immediately began fawning over Jessica. “Jessica, you haven’t changed a bit. Still as beautiful as ever.” Jessica offered a brittle smile in return. Then, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back to present my bruised and battered face to our former teacher. “Mr. Davison, you’re just in time. Tell us, right here, right now. Did Eleanor Brown steal five hundred dollars from me back in high school or not?” Mr. Davison flinched at the sight of me, his eyes darting away nervously. For a fleeting moment, I thought he might finally tell the truth. I was wrong. “Oh, that? Wasn’t that case closed years ago?” he said with a sigh. “At the time, to protect Eleanor’s dignity, I didn’t announce the details publicly. But yes, it’s true. She’s the one who took your five hundred dollars.” His words were the final verdict. The crowd erupted in sneers and disgust, some of them spitting in my direction. “See? Even Mr. Davison says so,” Jessica sneered, her voice dripping with triumph. “Stop playing innocent, Eleanor. You can keep the five hundred dollars as a charity case. Now, give me back my ring!” A bitter, cold laugh formed in my heart. So, Jessica had bought him, too. Before coming to the wedding, I’d had my butler do a background check on Jessica’s most ardent defenders in the group chat. Every single one of them was sucking up to her because she was marrying James Cole, currying favor with the future wife of an Aurelian Global VP. Even Mr. Davison was no exception. He was siding with her in the hopes that Aurelian Global would fund a new building for his school. What none of them knew was that they were betting on the wrong horse. And in doing so, they had just made an enemy of the one person they could never, ever afford to cross. 4 “You know damn well whether I took that ring or not,” I seethed. “And that five hundred dollars? That was money you stole to—” Seeing I was about to expose her, Jessica lunged forward and slapped me twice more, hard, before giving her friends a pointed look. In seconds, they were on me again, dragging my broken body from the hotel lobby and out onto the cold pavement. Just then, the hotel bellhop who was carrying my gifts from the car saw the scene, his jaw dropping in shock. “Ms. Brown! What happened to you?” I was a mess of bruises and blood, my mouth too swollen to form a coherent reply. Jessica and her cronies saw the bellhop speaking to me, their eyes falling on the luxury gift bags in his hands and then to the gleaming black Mercedes parked at the curb. They put two and two together. “Look at that, the bitch drives a nice car,” one of them sneered. “Probably a gift from her sugar daddy. Must be some old man’s kept woman.” “My ring is worth millions!” Jessica shrieked. “That piece of junk isn’t even worth a fraction of it! Girls, don’t be shy. Smash it!” At Jessica’s command, they grabbed loose bricks from a nearby planter and went to work on the car. The windows, headlights, and hood were shattered and dented in a frenzy of violence. Not satisfied, they tore open the gift boxes in the trunk, flinging expensive perfume bottles and a ruby necklace onto the asphalt. “What is this garbage? She actually thought this was a worthy gift?” They continued their rampage, slashing the leather seats and prying open a deep compartment in the trunk, pulling out a picture frame. My heart stopped. It was the only photograph I had of my late father and me. On the back was a message he had written by hand. It was the only one in the world. “See! I told you she was some old man’s plaything! Here’s the proof!” “Look, there’s even a note from him on the back! ‘To my darling Eleanor, may you be happy and healthy forever.’ Ugh, how disgusting!” With a sharp crack, the frame was thrown to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces. I scrambled to my feet to stop them, but I was too late. Shards of glass sprayed across my skin. The photo itself was torn into confetti and showered over my head. As I sobbed, trying to gather the pieces, Jessica’s stiletto heel slammed down on my hand, pinning it to the pavement. “Still won’t admit you stole my ring, Eleanor?” she taunted. “And you’re trying to piece together your little love note from your sugar daddy? Pathetic!” Pure hatred, cold and sharp, coiled in my gut. “Jessica,” I bit out through clenched teeth, “you are so, so finished. I will never let you get away with this.” My threat was met with howls of laughter. “Did I hear that right? A kept woman is threatening our future Mrs. CEO? That’s rich!” “Yeah, who the hell do you think you are? With one word, our Mrs. CEO could make sure you never work in this city again! And you have the nerve to threaten her?” “Looks like the bitch hasn’t had enough yet. Girls, let’s give her some more!” Jessica and her friends marched back into the hotel and emerged with a large can of red paint, ready to douse me in it. Just then, a top-of-the-line Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to a silent stop at the hotel entrance. The man who stepped out of the back seat was none other than today’s groom, James Cole. “Wow, now that’s a real power move! The VP of Aurelian Global! That’s a real luxury car, not like that cheap Mercedes some sugar baby drives after begging her old man!” “Jessica, you’re so lucky! Once you’re the CEO’s wife, don’t forget all the hard work we put in for you today!” Jessica preened like a peacock. “Don’t worry. All my friends who helped me today will be rewarded. When I’m the CEO’s wife, you’ll all get what you deserve.” Her friends gushed with thanks, ecstatic at the promise of future favors. Jessica, radiating triumph, ran into James’s arms and burst into tears. “James, thank God you’re here! Someone stole our wedding ring!” James’s brow furrowed. “Who would be so bold? To steal our wedding ring? They must have a death wish.” He stroked her hair. “Don’t cry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll make sure you get justice.” “It’s okay, honey,” she sobbed. “I already taught the thief a lesson. But you have no idea how stubborn she is. No matter what we did, she wouldn’t confess. If she doesn’t give back the ring, what will happen to our wedding?” Hearing this, James’s face darkened with fury. He was ready to fight for her honor. He strode over to where I lay on the ground. “This is the bitch who stole the ring?” he snarled. Everyone nodded eagerly, pulling out their phones to record, their faces alight with anticipation of the beatdown to come. My hair was a wild, matted mess, and my face was so swollen and bruised I was practically unrecognizable. James grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head up to get a clear look at my face. And then he froze. His face went pale with shock, and he stumbled backward, collapsing onto the pavement. “Great-Aunt… Eleanor? What… what are you doing here?”

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The day my two daughters-in-law—who on the surface appeared to be pining for my sons’ affections but were in reality master shoppers—decided to fake their deaths, I grabbed them and refused to let go. “Not unless you take me with you.” They told me that the woman returning from abroad wasn’t just the one true love of my two sons, but also the daughter of my husband’s long-lost flame. The three men in my life were about to conspire to have me adopt her. According to them, I wouldn’t discover the truth until I was seventy. But I’m only fifty now. “To hell with that,” I spat. “Why should I suffer for another twenty years?” I decided to “die” on the very road those three were taking to “rescue” her. Let them live with the guilt forever. In the end, my husband, Howard, lost his mind. My two sons were consumed by regret. And my two daughters-in-law? They took me on the ride of a lifetime, a life of glorious, unapologetic indulgence. Ten handsome young masseurs surrounding us, kneading our shoulders and feeding us fruit. 1 I was fifty years old when I overheard it from my two daughters-in-law. The “one true love” returning to the country, a woman named Sienna Crest, was the daughter of my husband Howard’s old flame, Serena Crest. My daughters-in-law had decided it was time to bolt. My eldest son’s wife, Olivia, was dumping a torrent of diamonds, gold, and precious gems into a suitcase. “I refuse to end up like you, Mom,” she said to the other. “I want a divorce. You?” My younger son’s wife, Maya, was tapping away on her phone. “You’re leaving, I’m leaving. No way am I having sons who grow up to be obsessed with their father’s ex-girlfriend’s daughter. Let me just check how much I’ve managed to siphon off of Jack these last three years… Aha! A cool nine and a half million in my secret account. That should be enough for the two of us to live a little.” She looked up. “So, how do we do this? You think Jack and Adrian will just let us divorce them?” Olivia considered this. “If we ask directly, they’ll never agree. They’ll probably freeze our credit cards. You’d be sitting on a fortune you couldn’t spend a dime of. When Dad’s old flame, Serena, came back to town years ago, Mom asked for a divorce. He refused and froze all her accounts. She didn’t even have enough money for a rental deposit. Then she found out she was pregnant with the twins. For the boys, she had no choice but to stay. “But what she never knew,” Olivia continued, her voice dropping, “was that five years later, Howard started taking the boys on ‘business trips’ abroad. He said it was to ‘cultivate their business acumen from a young age.’ In reality, he was taking them to play with Serena’s daughter. He told our husbands to protect Sienna like she was their own sister. That’s why Adrian and Jack have been practically joined at the hip with her since childhood. “And now, according to the script of this ridiculous life, as soon as Sienna returns, the three of them are going to manipulate Mom into adopting her, showering her with affection. Where does that leave us? Our days of lavish spending and carefree living will be over. I say we fake our own deaths.” Maya instantly agreed. “I’m with you. I’m going to pack my valuables right now. All the jewelry and designer bags I bought with Jack’s money over the last three years will fetch a pretty penny. We won’t starve.” She turned to leave Olivia’s room and walked straight into me. I had been standing outside the door, listening to every word. Maya’s face went white. “Mom,” she stammered. “H-how much did you hear?” A chill ran down my spine, but my chest felt like it was on fire. I was a paradox of ice and flame. I clenched my fists. “Is it true? Everything you said? That girl, Sienna… she’s really Serena’s daughter?” Maya looked helpless, glancing back at Olivia. “What do we do now? She’s not going to tell Adrian and Jack and ruin our plan, is she?” I grabbed each of them by the arm, my grip like iron. “Oh, I will,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Unless you take me with you.” 2 I thought back to last night, when Howard had wrapped his arm around me. “Darling,” he’d murmured, “haven’t you always wanted a daughter? A dear friend of mine in Europe passed away, leaving his only daughter all alone. She’s coming back to the States. Why don’t we adopt her? She could live with us, be the daughter you never had.” My sons, Adrian and Jack, had been there too, chiming in enthusiastically. “Yeah, Mom! Her name is Sienna. She’s amazing with adults. You’ll love her.” Ha. Oh, yes. Wonderful. The three most important men in my life were conspiring to stab me in the back. No wonder my eldest son, Adrian, had stormed home this morning and had a vicious fight with Olivia, grabbing her by the throat, his eyes bloodshot. “Sienna went missing right after her plane landed! Did you have her kidnapped?” I’d rushed in, telling him to let go, asking if there had been some misunderstanding. But Howard had pulled me aside, his anger even greater than our son’s. “What misunderstanding could there be? Olivia, tell us right now! Where did you take Sienna?” It all made sense now. Of course Howard was more frantic than his own son. Sienna was the daughter of his one true love. A flood of memories washed over me. I remembered a conversation between Adrian and Jack when they were five. “Daddy, can Sienna’s mommy be our mommy?” “I really want Sienna’s mommy to be our mommy.” “Then Sienna could be our sister and live with us!” “We want to play with Sienna and protect her forever.” I had asked them then, “Who’s Sienna?” I remembered Howard’s stern face as he reprimanded them. “Don’t talk nonsense!” Then he’d turned to me, his voice strained. “Just the daughter of a friend from abroad. She’s adorable, and these two rascals took one look and are already fighting over who gets to be her big brother.” I had ignored how his eyes darted away, how his voice was laced with guilt. How utterly laughable. I had sacrificed my career, my ambitions, everything, for these three men. And this was how they repaid me? I felt as if all the strength had been drained from my body. I swayed on my feet. I looked at my two daughters-in-law, who saw the world with such brutal clarity. When your man loves you, you shop. When he doesn’t, you pack your bags and go. In that moment, I felt like the biggest fool in the world. Fearing they would think I was too old and refuse to take me, I made a decision. “Howard has a safe in his study,” I said, my voice firm. “Inside, there are one hundred 500-gram gold bars. If you take me with you, I’ll go empty it right now. From now on, whatever you want to eat, drink, or buy, it’s on me.” 3 Their eyes lit up. They looked like they wanted to kiss my feet. Olivia spoke first. “Mom, honestly, we’ve wanted to team up with you and burn this whole script to the ground for ages. The truth is, we’re not from this world. Three years ago, my best friend and I were in a car crash and woke up here, married into the Hawthorne family. Some ‘system’ told me my mission was to win over the CEO brother, while she had to be the devoted fangirl to the surgeon brother. “But the story dictates that as soon as the real heroine, Sienna, returns, your sons will go completely insane for her. They’ll even convince you to adopt her. You’ve always dreamed of having a daughter, and Sienna is meant to fill that void. You’d spoil her rotten, buy her anything she wants. You wouldn’t find out who she really is until you’re seventy, and then you’d divorce him in a rage. But that’s no way to live. It’s better to wake up now and get the hell out.” Maya gritted her teeth. “She’s right, Mom. If you want daughters, let us be your daughters. We’ll show you how to live. With your money, we can find any young, handsome boy toy we want. The other day, Olivia and I went to a spa and hired ten gorgeous male therapists to wait on us. It was divine. We’ll take you next time. Isn’t that better than waiting on a stuffy old man?” She had a point. Good men were a dime a dozen. Why was I wasting my life on those three ungrateful wolves? My heart was a wasteland of ashes, but I managed a tearful smile. “Alright. I’m going to go clean out their secret stashes right now. And then, we’re faking our deaths.” 4 I went to the master bedroom to raid Howard’s safe. One hundred gold bars. I stuffed every last one into a large suitcase. As I grabbed the final bar, my fingers brushed against a hidden button. A secret compartment clicked open. Inside was an old photograph. The background was a breathtaking ski resort. There were five people in the photo. Two young boys were teaching a little girl how to ski. The two adults with them were a younger Howard and Serena Crest. In the photo, Howard was dashing, and Serena was young and vibrant, her long hair blowing in the wind. It was a candid shot. They looked like a perfect, happy family of five. I clutched the photograph, my world shaking, my hands trembling uncontrollably. This was worse, so much worse, than what my daughters-in-law had told me. A sharper, more vicious blow to the heart. So it was all true. I wanted to storm up to Howard, throw the picture in his face, and demand to know why. Why had he done this to me? It wasn’t me who had refused the divorce all those years ago. Why cling to me with one hand while secretly taking our sons on dates with his old flame? And turning my own sons against me, making them worship her daughter? It was disgusting. I felt sick. Suddenly, a low voice came from behind me. “What are you doing in my safe? Why are all the gold bars out?” 5 It was Howard. A jolt went through me. I couldn’t let him find out my plan. Before he could ask another question, I went on the offensive. I threw the photo at him, my eyes welling with tears. “What is this? Explain this to me! Howard Hawthorne, how could you do this to me?” His eyes flickered with guilt for a split second before his usual calm, authoritative mask settled back into place. “It’s just an old photograph, Eleanor. Don’t make a scene. It’s ancient history. Not worth mentioning.” Seeing my tear-filled eyes, he softened his tone. “If you must have an explanation, fine. Serena’s daughter had a rare form of autism back then. Her therapist said that interacting with her peers could help. I only took the boys to go skiing with them because I felt sorry for the child. That’s all. There was nothing between Serena and me.” He was still lying to me. If there was nothing between them, why hide the photo in a secret compartment of his safe? A sharp pain lanced through my heart. I fought back the tears. “I want a divorce.” Howard’s eyes widened in shock. “What did you say?” I zipped up the suitcase, my heart cold and empty. “I said, a divorce. I’ll take the gold bars, you can have everything else. It’s a fair deal.” He was so angry he used my full name. “Eleanor Hawthorne, have you lost your mind? I’m giving you one more chance. Take back what you just said.” No more chances. I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “I’m not the crazy one here. That missing girl you’re all so frantically searching for, that’s the girl in the picture, isn’t it? And you wanted me to adopt her? Howard, what is wrong with you? Are you even human? Since you want her as a daughter so badly, I’ll step aside. I’ll make way for her. Isn’t that what you want?” He panicked, grabbing me in a fierce, possessive embrace, just like when we were young. He snatched the photo from my hand, threw it on the floor, and ground it under his heel, as if that would prove his point. “See? I don’t care about this old picture. Stop this nonsense, Eleanor. Be good.” I shoved him away with all my might and slapped him across the face, hard. I was done being good. “Eleanor, get back here!” I dragged the suitcase filled with one hundred gold bars and ran like my life depended on it.

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My husband is incredibly wealthy, but I don’t love him. Back in college, he moved heaven and earth trying to win over my roommate, Chloe. Lavish gifts arrived one after another, and he once famously had nine thousand roses delivered to the front of our dorm building. All the girls in our hall got a piece of the action, hauling armfuls of roses back to our rooms like we were looting a botanical garden. The only one who remained unimpressed was Chloe herself. She even warned Julian Payne to never bother her again. “He’s rich, and he’s not bad-looking. Are you sure you don’t want him?” I asked one night, my face covered in a sheet mask, finally voicing the question that had been nagging at me. She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, yet she spent all her time with a broke upperclassman who juggled four part-time jobs. “No way. He’s so stuffy and serious. If you want him, you go for it,” Chloe said with a dismissive sniff. I rested my chin on my hand, gave it a moment’s thought, and nodded. “Fine.” “I will.”

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