Category: English

I was lying gutted on a table in some black-market organ harvesting clinic, my insides being scooped out. Meanwhile, my A-list celebrity husband was blowing the five million bucks he got for selling me in a high-stakes Vegas casino. My husband, Ethan Cole, was the entertainment world’s golden boy, praised by everyone as a positive role model. But he was also a gambler. He gambled away everything we owned. Then he conspired with our accountant to steal the hundred-million-dollar emergency fund meant to save my dad’s company. He lost it all overnight. The shock killed my dad. I was completely disillusioned. I wanted a divorce. I wanted him in prison. But he got on his knees, begging, using the fact that he’d once given me a kidney to guilt-trip me. In the end, I softened. I let him go. I never imagined my moment of weakness would lead me straight to hell. He and the rich older woman bankrolling him teamed up to sell me to a black-market organ trafficking ring. Strapped to a cold metal table, fully conscious, I watched them slice open my stomach and remove my organs. The overwhelming pain and terror plunged me into darkness. When I woke up again, I found I’d been reborn. I was back on the exact day I was about to turn Ethan in, the day he pleaded desperately for me to stop. 1 My head throbbed as I slowly opened my eyes. The man kneeling at my feet clutched my legs, sobbing uncontrollably. “Liv, please, let me go,” he choked out. “Don’t hand over the evidence, okay? I’ll go to jail! I’m a celebrity! You’ll ruin my life! Liv, don’t you remember how much I loved you? When you were sick, I gave you my kidney! You can’t be this cruel.” This scene… it was so familiar. It was… right after I discovered my husband, Ethan Cole, had embezzled my dad’s emergency company funds for gambling, lost it all overnight, causing my dad to die of a heart attack. The moment I was ready to send him to prison. Had I… been reborn? It seemed even fate couldn’t ignore my simmering rage, my bottomless hatred. Since I get a do-over, Ethan Cole, I swear you’ll die a dog’s death! Remembering the agony he inflicted on me and my dad in my past life, my hatred boiled over. I lashed out with my stiletto heel, kicking the unprepared Ethan hard. He crumpled to the floor, howling in pain. “Aaaah! It hurts! Liv, are you crazy? I saved your life! How could you do this to me?” Ethan curled up on the floor, whimpering for a long moment before shouting at me in disbelief. Ha. Same old routine. In my past life, every time Ethan screwed up, he’d pull the “I gave you my kidney” card to shut me up. And every damn time, I fell for it. Not anymore. I wouldn’t be fooled again. Ignoring his cries, I decided to strike while the iron was hot. I grabbed a nearby ceramic vase and smashed it over his head. Ethan let out a bloodcurdling scream. Unfortunately, he managed to partially block it with his leg. It didn’t kill him instantly, but it definitely took him out of commission. My fury wasn’t quenched. The memory of being sliced open, the excruciating pain… I turned and headed to the kitchen, selecting the sharpest knife I could find. Seeing me approach like that, Ethan looked terrified, practically melting into a puddle on the floor, trembling. Blood from his injured leg stained the expensive rug. “Liv… what… what are you doing? Calm down! Killing someone is illegal!” “You killed my father. I’m going to make you join him,” I hissed, advancing on him like a vengeful spirit clawing its way out of hell. “I… I didn’t! It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t know Dad’s company was in trouble! I thought I’d win the money back quickly! It was just bad luck that I lost it all! It’s not my fault! Besides, your dad wasn’t healthy anyway! How can you blame his death on me?” Ethan was frantic now, a suspicious yellow puddle spreading beneath him. His words stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t believe someone could be so utterly shameless, so despicable. 2 In my previous life, my dad’s company hit serious trouble. Cash flow dried up, forcing him to take out a mortgage loan against assets. But shortly after the loan money came through, it vanished from the company accounts. The investigation pointed to the accountant, who had transferred all the funds into Ethan’s account. When we contacted Ethan, his account was empty. He’d blown through over a hundred million dollars in a single night of gambling. Hearing the news, my dad suffered a fatal heart attack. He couldn’t be revived. Afterward, god knows what Ethan promised the accountant, but the guy confessed, claiming Ethan had nothing to do with it. He even produced records showing the transfers were ‘gifts,’ with notes explicitly stating they were voluntary donations. There was no paper trail linking them professionally for this transaction. But I knew Ethan was behind it. I’d accidentally found his burner phone, the one with chat logs detailing his conspiracy with the accountant. I confronted him, hoping he’d confess. But Ethan used the ‘life-saving’ kidney donation to emotionally blackmail me. And fool that I was, I let him off the hook. 2 And his repayment? Selling me to an organ harvesting ring. This time, there would be no second chances. Snapping back to the present, I ignored Ethan’s pathetic screams. I put down the knife, found a roll of duct tape, and tightly bound his hands and feet. I slapped a piece over his mouth and dragged him down to the basement, locking the door. I needed to calm down, think clearly. I didn’t just want Ethan dead. I wanted him ruined, disgraced, suffering unimaginable agony before he died. I wanted him to experience everything I went through. And I wanted to bring down that entire black-market operation that butchered me. I searched Ethan’s room and found all his phones. Using his face, I unlocked each one. Not only did he have multiple phones, but each phone also had a dual operating system, like a hidden partition. What I found inside was explosive. Absolutely insane. I found multiple group chats dedicated to high-stakes gambling. Perfect. Conspiracy to gamble, check. Then there were dozens of hookup groups. Endless transaction records for escorts and call girls. Great. Solicitation, possibly organizing illicit activities, check. Shady contracts suggesting tax evasion. Embezzlement of massive company funds. … The list went on. All these charges combined had to mean decades in prison. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I combed through everything, determined not to miss a single dirty secret. I wanted to expose every rotten piece of him, show his adoring fans, show the whole world, the monster hiding beneath Ethan Cole’s perfect skin. The deeper I dug, the more horrified I became. It was hard to believe the man I’d shared my bed with for years was this kind of scum. I couldn’t help myself. I went back down to the basement, ripped the tape off his mouth just long enough to slap him hard across the face. I felt one of his teeth loosen. Ethan could only glare at me with pure hatred, like he wanted to tear me apart with his bare hands. Then, in a chat with a contact saved as “Doc,” I found a strange message: [Boss approved. 5 mil. Three days. 1 AM. Address is…] [Received. Pleasure doing business.] I tried scrolling up, but older messages were deleted. Something felt very wrong. The level of caution suggested something illegal and serious. Just then, a notification popped up on another phone. The contact was saved as “Red”: “Ethan baby, I miss you. Come crawl into my arms.” Swallowing my disgust, I scrolled through their chat history. So, this was the rich cougar bankrolling the scumbag. I screenshotted a few things and was about to switch phones when another message came in. Red: “How’s that bitch doing? Her dad’s dead, and I bought out his company for pennies. She must be clinging to you for dear life now. When are you finally going to deal with her? My patience is wearing thin!” She was talking about me. So these two lowlifes had conspired against my family from the start. My chest ached with fury and guilt. I had let this wolf into our lives, and it cost my father everything. I thought for a moment, then typed back, “Soon. She’s already agreed to the divorce.” “Divorce? Don’t play dumb with me, Ethan. Why would I want a divorce? I want her ruined. I want her dead, and suffering.” … “Okay,” I typed back. Fine. You want to play games? I’m ready to play. 3 I ripped the tape off Ethan’s mouth again and shoved the phone in his face. “Who is Red? Why is she targeting me?” “Liv, I was wrong, I really was! Hit me, yell at me, I deserve it! Just forgive me, please? I hurt all over,” Ethan whined, smart enough to know screaming was useless in this secluded mansion in the hills. His only option was to beg. “I might let you go,” I lied smoothly, subtly turning on my phone’s camera. “If you tell me, was it this ‘Red’ who put you up to going after me and my dad?” “…” “Fine,” I sighed theatrically. “Then I’ll just package up all your dirty laundry and send it off to TMZ and The Insider. By tomorrow, you’ll be the next disgraced A-lister heading for prison. You’ll never work in this town again.” “Okay, okay! I’ll talk! Just don’t send anything!” Ethan pleaded, terrified. “All I know is she was your dad’s business rival. She was the one who convinced me to… access your dad’s company funds. I don’t know why she hates you specifically. Maybe… maybe I’m just too irresistible, and she couldn’t stand the competition for my affection? But Liv, my heart only belongs to you! Red and I… it was just business, an act! Remember, I gave you my—” “Stop! Don’t make me sick,” I cut him off. “Our family paid back any ‘debt’ for that kidney years ago through your career.” God, I was so stupid. It took dying once to finally see the truth. My husband, Ethan Cole, was a top-tier Hollywood star. He had that innocent, boy-next-door look, could sing, could act. He cultivated a ‘single and searching’ image that captivated millions of young women. What his fans didn’t know was that he was married – to me, Olivia Miller, or Liv. I was the only daughter of the CEO of one of LA’s biggest entertainment companies. During my senior year of college, I was diagnosed with end-stage kidney failure. My dad used all his connections and offered a fortune online, searching desperately for a donor. Just when I was losing hope, Ethan Cole appeared. He contacted my dad, offered to get tested, and miraculously, he was a match. 3 Back then, Ethan was just some unknown actor signed to my dad’s company, barely scraping by. He was young, around my age. My dad felt uneasy about taking a kidney from someone so young and planned to compensate him generously after the surgery. But after the transplant, Ethan refused any compensation. He told me he’d had a secret crush on me for ages, that giving me his kidney was something he wanted to do, asking for nothing in return except for me to be healthy. At the time, I thought it was the stuff of epic romance. My dad suspected ulterior motives, but I was insistent, head over heels, and eventually, he gave in and let us be together. After we got married, my dad poured resources into Ethan’s career. He even went head-to-head with rival studios to promote him. This corporate warfare put immense strain on my dad’s company, leaving it vulnerable. But Ethan? He soared to A-list status. Looking back now, it’s laughable how I let him use that ‘gift’ to manipulate me for years. This time, he’d learn what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you. I remembered from my past life, around this time, Ethan was invited by a major non-profit to be their official Anti-Gambling Ambassador. There was going to be a huge ceremony, live-streamed nationally. That was the day after tomorrow. Perfect. Before then, I’d just add some fuel to the fire. Let everyone see exactly what kind of ‘anti-gambling’ this ambassador was really doing. 4 The next morning, I went down to the basement, untied Ethan, and even tended to his wounds, applying antiseptic and bandages. Ethan didn’t dare make a sudden move. Maybe it was the kitchen knife I was casually holding, or maybe he was just biding his time, looking for an opportunity. “Ethan,” I started, forcing tears into my eyes. “I shouldn’t have hit you yesterday. But losing Dad… you causing it… I just lost control. Thinking about it now, I feel horrible. You gave me your kidney, and I treated you like that. I was wrong. Please, can you forgive me? You’re all I have left now.” I put on my best repentant act, though inwardly I felt nauseous. I stole a glance at the tiny hidden camera tucked behind a potted plant. I had to keep this up. Ethan looked stunned by my sudden 180-degree turn. “Are… are you serious?” “Of course, Ethan. Please tell me you can forgive me?” “Put the knife down first,” he demanded. I tossed the knife casually onto the floor. Seeing this, Ethan scrambled to pick it up, his true colors instantly showing. He pointed it at me. “Give me all the evidence you have! And my phones! Or I’ll kill you!” “Ethan! What are you doing? Don’t! You’re scaring me! Boo hoo,” I fake-cried. “Cut the crap! Give it to me! Now!” “Okay, okay! I’ll give it to you! Here’s the proof of your gambling, stealing Dad’s millions, losing it all overnight… it’s all on this drive,” I said, handing him a USB stick. I watched him meticulously delete everything from it, a smirk playing on my lips. “Ethan, the evidence is gone now. Can you forgive me? I know you still love me. Why else would you have donated your kidney when I was dying?” I put on a pitiful, wronged expression, tears welling up in my eyes. Delete it? He wished. I had backed everything up a hundred times over, stored in multiple secure locations. “Liv, you really think highly of yourself, don’t you?” he sneered, dropping the act now that he thought he was safe. “I might as well tell you the truth now. I only donated that kidney because I knew your dad could make me a star. The resources, the connections to get me to the top… that’s all I wanted. Did you really think you were some kind of siren who could charm a man into giving you his heart? You’re pathetically naive.” “What? No! You’re lying! That’s not true! You loved me! All these years, you were so good to me… it couldn’t have all been fake!” I committed fully to the role of the devastated, love-blind fool, nearly gagging on my own performance. “I was good to you so your dad would be even better to me,” Ethan spat, his face full of smug satisfaction, utterly devoid of remorse. “He went to war with half of Hollywood for me, got himself crushed in the process. Don’t blame me for that. Blame yourself and your father for being idiots.” I couldn’t take it anymore. My hand flew out, slapping him hard across his smug face. Ethan froze, stunned. Then, recovering his senses, he lunged at me with the knife. Instinctively, I threw my hand up, catching the blade. Bare-handed. Ethan’s expression was priceless. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be crazy enough to try and catch a knife. He panicked, his hand trembling so badly he dropped the knife onto the floor. I picked it up and handed it back to him. “It’s a plastic prop knife, Ethan. What are you so scared of? See? My hand is perfectly fine.” Good. This little charade had served its purpose. Just then, Ethan’s phone rang. It was his agent, rushing him to get ready for an event – a fan meet-and-greet today. Limping, Ethan headed out, clutching his bruised face. Before leaving, he shot me a look full of menace and muttered, “Just you wait.” Once Ethan was gone, I carefully reviewed the video I’d secretly recorded. Everything looked good. It would be perfect for the big reveal the day after tomorrow. Then, I took a small clip from the footage I’d captured the night before – the part where Ethan admitted Red was just a means to an end – and sent it anonymously to ‘Red’. I was betting that as soon as Red saw that clip, she’d summon Ethan for a confrontation. And I was ready. I’d already planted a tiny listening device on him and had his phone’s GPS tracked. 5 Things unfolded exactly as I expected. After Ethan’s fan event, the two had a furious argument over the phone. They finally agreed to meet at a five-star hotel downtown, in their ‘usual room’. Usual room? The audacity of these two. Carrying on like this for so long without getting caught by the paparazzi was almost impressive.

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Five years ago, I helped the Shaws get back on their feet. I was the woman working tirelessly behind the scenes for Ethan Shaw. He used to say, “Scarlett, you’re the only one I’ll ever need.” Five years later, he wants to call off our engagement for another woman. I agreed. Then I turned around and started making arrangements for his imminent downfall. 1 Ethan spent five years overseas expanding into the international market. “Mr. Shaw got back yesterday afternoon,” my assistant reported. “He had a girl with him. They went back to the Shaw family home together.” After saying this, my assistant sensed my displeasure and lowered her head, falling silent. I waved a dismissive hand. “Get some gifts together. We’re going over to the Shaws’ tonight,” I said coldly. Five years apart, and it seemed my fiancé had developed some new ideas. When I arrived at the Shaw residence that evening, it was dinner time. A girl sat next to Ethan. When she saw me, she stood up along with him to greet me. My eyes swept over his face. His features were sharper, more defined than when he was younger. Dressed in a black custom suit, he looked tall, imposing, coolly sophisticated. I clicked across the floor in my heels and sat down opposite Ethan. I glanced around at the standing figures, a perfectly innocent smile playing on my lips. I raised an eyebrow at the girl. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Ethan frowned slightly, discreetly taking the hand of the girl beside him. “This is Miss Reed. And this is—” Before he could finish, the girl interrupted, eagerly introducing herself with a face full of excitement. “My name is Sophie Bell. I’m Ethan’s girlfriend.” I glanced down at her for a split second, not bothering to respond directly. I turned my head to look at the expressionless Ethan and let out a soft scoff. “Well, isn’t that convenient. You’re his girlfriend, and I’m his fiancée.” Sophie didn’t raise her voice or question me. Instead, she calmly withdrew her hand and smiled. “I know. He told me everything.” I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, radiating confidence. “So you knew, and you still dare to call yourself his girlfriend.” Sophie linked her arm through Ethan’s, putting on an innocent face. “But Ethan already told you he wanted to break off the engagement, didn’t he?” Ah, right. I did get a text from him yesterday. Something about calling things off. However. “He says break it off, we break it off? That depends on whether I agree.” I shifted my gaze to Ethan’s father, waiting for him to weigh in. Five years ago, when the Shaw family business hit rock bottom, it was my family, the Reeds, who bailed them out. That huge overseas market? Without the Reed family’s backing, Ethan never could have handled it. Seeing the tension, Mr. Shaw quickly tried to smooth things over. “Scarlett, have you eaten? Why don’t you join us?” “Sure,” I replied sweetly. I pushed the plate of shrimp in front of me across the table. “Miss Bell, would you mind peeling these shrimp for me?” Ethan immediately pushed the plate back towards me, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “Sophie isn’t a servant. If you want shrimp, peel them yourself.” I propped my elbows on the table, resting my chin in my hand, a half-smile playing on my lips. “She won’t do it? Then how about you?” Mr. Shaw frantically signaled Ethan with his eyes. Ethan clenched his jaw, then visibly forced himself to relax his fist and began peeling the shrimp with grim determination. Soon, a plate of perfectly peeled shrimp sat before me, arranged neatly in a circle. I picked up the plate and walked over to Ethan’s side. I lifted it high above his head, then tilted my hand. The entire plateful of shrimp slid down over his hair and onto the floor. Sophie shrieked, immediately grabbing napkins to wipe the grease from his face. I leaned down close to his ear and whispered a warning, “I don’t care how big you think you’ve gotten. If you make me unhappy, I can break your wings just like that.” I looked up and met Sophie’s furious glare, her teeth gritted as she stared at me. “Keep looking, and I’ll gouge your eyes out.” I held up two fingers, mimicking the action. Ethan instinctively grabbed my wrist. “Scarlett, don’t go too far,” he growled. I yanked my arm back, freeing myself from his grip. I picked up Ethan’s soup bowl, took a delicate sip, and savored it. “You touched what’s mine. Now you face the consequences.” Standing tall, I gave one last look at each member of the Shaw family, nodded politely in farewell, and left. On the drive back, my assistant gave me a detailed report on Ethan’s overseas business development. I fiddled with my watch, gazing out at the passing scenery. “Five years,” I mused aloud, “is long enough to change a person’s heart.” Sophie Bell was a student the Shaws had sponsored. She studied abroad, working part-time to support herself. During his years overseas, Ethan had kept in touch with her. Apparently, he was moved by her “sincerity” and “resilience,” and naturally, they hooked up. A pure, innocent little flower? I tossed the file aside, scoffing at how blind and foolish Ethan was. The attitude of the Shaws tonight was even more chilling. I’d let things slide for too long. It was time for a little reminder. 2 I instructed my assistant to inform the Reed family’s overseas team: Take down the Shaw’s market share, piece by piece, no matter the cost. When it came to financial power, Ethan Shaw was still leagues behind. If I hadn’t had some lingering feelings for him back then, the Shaws would have been begging on street corners long ago. A few days later, I received an invitation to a celebration party hosted by the Shaws. My parents wanted to use the opportunity to defend my honor, but I stopped them. “Not yet,” I said. “Slow burn. I’m going to boil this frog slowly.” Dylan Troy was Ethan’s biggest rival. We’d gotten closer over the past few years. He was always talking about chasing after me, usually while trying to get some business advantage out of me. In a private room at the club, Dylan lounged in a flashy deep purple suit. With his long, elegant fingers, he pushed a limited-edition designer bag across the table towards me. He sighed dramatically. “You know, you promised me the South Hills development project. Now that Ethan’s back, you’re not really going to back out, are you?” I swirled the drink in my glass, truly looking at Dylan for the first time. Unlike Ethan’s ruggedness, Dylan had a certain refined, almost feline grace. When his almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, he looked like a cunning fox. Yet, somehow, he seemed to possess a surprisingly genuine core. In all the time he’d spent by my side, he’d never crossed any lines. After all, the infamous Scarlett Reed, known for her arrogance, didn’t have many friends. Dylan was perhaps the only one. Just then, the door pushed open, and a Little Miss Innocent type appeared in the doorway. Dylan’s first reaction was, “Who the hell are you?” The colorful club lights flashed across the girl’s face. Sophie? Recognizing her, I put down my drink and settled into a more comfortable position. “That’s Sophie Bell. Ethan’s little sweetheart.” Hearing this, Dylan immediately wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ew.” He looked her up and down with those foxy eyes and delivered his verdict: “Doesn’t hold a candle to even one of Scarlett Reed’s fingers. Is Ethan blind or something?” Sophie seemed to summon all her courage before finally lifting her head to meet my gaze, trembling slightly. “Miss Reed, when are you going to break off the engagement with Ethan? He doesn’t love you anymore. Can’t you please just stop clinging to him?” I watched her, amused, tapping my finger idly against my watch face. Dylan saw the gesture and knew my patience was wearing thin. He gestured to the bodyguards standing behind Sophie, signaling them to remove her. The burly guards surrounded Sophie, frightening her so much she dropped to her knees with a thump. She started crying, tears streaming down her face, making it look like we’d actually done something horrible to her. I rose and strolled over to her. Bending down, I tilted her chin up with my finger, my voice lazy and distant. “If you want the engagement called off, you should have Ethan come talk to me. You don’t have the standing to make demands here.” Footsteps hurried closer, and suddenly, Ethan appeared. He must have run, as his hair and shirt were slightly disheveled. He rushed forward, helped Sophie to her feet, his eyes, usually like calm pools, now dangerously cold, his brow furrowed. “Scarlett, do whatever you want to me, but you can’t use your dirty tricks on an innocent person.” Ha! That was rich. “Innocent?” I advanced on him, my voice sharp. “She knew you had a fiancée and still hooked up with you. You dare call her innocent?” “What position is she in to come here demanding I break off our engagement? You dare call her innocent?” “We haven’t even officially broken up yet, and she’s already crawling into your bed. You dare call her innocent?” Behind me, Dylan chuckled. “Sounds like a classic snake in the grass to me. Didn’t realize Mr. Shaw had such low standards.” At that, Ethan’s pupils contracted, his annoyance written all over his face. “Dylan, you’re nothing but Scarlett Reed’s lapdog. Who are you to judge anyone?” Did Ethan really just say that? I was stunned.

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Seven months pregnant, and my husband’s childhood sweetheart poisoned the town’s water supply, causing an epidemic to sweep through Maple Creek. She burst into the Senator’s manor, demanding to use my unborn child as the key ingredient for a cure. I didn’t fight back. I let her take the premature baby. Because in my past life, I had pleaded with my husband, Ethan, to let me keep the child. Then, heavily pregnant, I went out to treat the sick townspeople myself. I saved their lives, but they were left with chronic, debilitating headaches. Olivia, his sweetheart, also caught the plague and died from it. Ethan comforted me, saying it was the best possible outcome, told me to rest and focus on the baby, that he would handle everything else. Then, on the day I went into labor, he had me and our newborn son dragged to the town square and publicly tortured to death. Before I died, I saw the twisted hatred on his face. “If you hadn’t poisoned the water, none of these people would have suffered! Olivia wouldn’t have died! You did this horrific thing for your own selfish reasons. Dying like this is getting off easy!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Olivia stormed the manor, demanding my child for her cure. … I closed my eyes in despair amidst the curses of the townspeople outside. I couldn’t believe it. I had run a clinic in the Capital for six years, saved countless lives, yet not a single person believed I was innocent. Even the man I loved believed I was the poisoner. As I opened my eyes again, my assistant Chloe’s voice was firm, “Ms. Hayes, our mistress has a unique constitution. Her pregnancies go to twelve months for a full term. If you take the baby now, at only seven months, it won’t survive.” Olivia scoffed, “Normal women carry for nine months, and a seven-month fetus can survive. Why is your mistress so different?” She raised an eyebrow at me, “Sarah, don’t tell me you’re unwilling to give up the baby to save everyone?” Chloe was furious. “Even if it’s to save people, you can’t do it like this! My mistress is a brilliant doctor herself! Maybe she can cure this epidemic! Why must you take her child for a cure? It’s barbaric!” Olivia couldn’t be bothered arguing. She waved her hand dismissively. “Taking the child saves the whole town! Don’t hesitate, people, get her!” Urged on by her, the crowd forced Chloe and me back against the wall. Every face was fierce, eager to cut open my belly and take the premature child to save themselves. Chloe shielded me desperately, screaming, “This is the Senator’s wife! How dare any of you touch her!” Her shout made them pause. Everyone knew Senator Vance adored his wife. Seeing this, Olivia grew anxious. “The Senator owes his position to the support of the people! We’re just asking for a little blood from the baby’s fingertip after it’s born. She won’t even make that small sacrifice for the town? She doesn’t deserve to be the Senator’s wife!” The crowd turned menacing again. “She always claimed to be compassionate, dedicated to healing, but now there’s an epidemic, she hides in this fancy manor, afraid of getting sick herself! What kind of doctor is that!” “Why should you rich folks stay safe while we common people die? I don’t care if it’s the Senator’s kid or the President’s kid inside her, I’ll take it for my own child’s sake!” A few inflammatory words whipped the crowd into a frenzy. They lost all reason. Just then, the door was kicked open. My husband, Ethan, entered with several security guards. Seeing him, Chloe scrambled over like he was her last hope, kneeling. “Senator, you’re finally back! They want to take the mistress’s baby! It’s a matter of life and death, please save her!” Olivia instantly changed her tune, looking fragile and pitiful. “Ethan, the blood of a newborn from the Bai family can cure any poison. We’re doing this for everyone in town.” Chloe cried beside her, “Senator, the mistress’s constitution is special! Taking the baby now will kill it!” Ethan’s expression shifted. Just as Chloe thought they were saved, he abruptly raised his hand and asked his men, “Where is the labor-inducing drug I asked you to prepare?” A bowl of dark brown liquid was brought forward. Chloe’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what was happening. She tried to run towards me. Ethan’s guards swiftly intercepted her, grabbing her arms, holding her fast. Ethan held the bowl in front of me, his voice ice-cold. “Drink it.” Looking at his face, my heart shattered, but I clung to a sliver of hope. “Ethan, this is your own child in my belly. Are you truly going to take him out now?” “That’s why I found you the best midwife,” Ethan replied flatly. “I’ve asked around. A seven-month fetus can survive with careful nursing. I will protect him.” “But…” Before I could explain, Ethan lost his patience. He struck me hard across the face. “Sarah, after the evil you’ve done, just having you deliver the baby early is letting you off easy!” The force knocked me to the ground. My head hit a cabinet, ringing. Warm blood trickled down my forehead. Accusations rained down on me from everyone in the room. “Her family have been doctors for generations, how could they produce such a menace!” “So selfish and afraid to die! She’s ruining the Senator’s reputation!” The accusations were sickeningly familiar, dragging me back to my previous life. Me and my son, hung from the town walls. Ethan handed knives to the townspeople, allowing them to slice pieces of my flesh. Those same people who once called me their savior, holding knives in one hand, chili water in the other. The same expressions as they tortured me to death. That terror surged back into my heart. I took a breath and looked at Ethan. “I can drink it. But you have to grant me one request.” My quick agreement seemed to make Ethan frown. “What do you want?” I took the bowl. Before drinking, I stared straight at him. “I want a divorce.” 2 Hearing the word “divorce,” Ethan froze for a second, then sneered, “Is this some new trick?” I was too tired to argue. “If you agree, I’ll drink it now,” I said indifferently. I expected him to agree without hesitation. Instead, he crouched down, grabbed my hair, pinched my jaw open, and forcibly poured the medicine down my throat. The bitter liquid choked me, tears streaming down my face. I suddenly remembered a time I caught a cold because of Ethan and refused to take my medicine. He had paced anxiously beside me, only coaxing me gently, never saying a harsh word. That day, for every bowl I drank, he drank two, telling me with red eyes that he’d never let me suffer again. The man then and the man forcing medicine down my throat now were like two different people. After pouring it all, Ethan smashed the bowl on the floor. “You’re in no position to make demands,” he spat viciously. He left with his guards and Chloe, leaving only Olivia and the midwife in the room. An hour after drinking the medicine, my belly remained quiet. The midwife examined me again and again. “The mistress grew up around herbs and remedies,” she concluded. “She might be resistant to this drug. Should we ask the Senator about giving her another dose?” Olivia shook her head. “We’ve already wasted an hour on this medicine. Trying another type will just waste another hour. Let’s try a simpler method.” She pulled out a dagger. The midwife paled. “Ms. Hayes, you mustn’t! Cutting her open directly could kill her!” “Who cares about her life at a time like this?” Olivia laughed triumphantly. “Is anyone worried about the lives of the townspeople outside?” Seeing the dagger, I panicked too. I scrambled off the bed, trying to run. Olivia ordered the two midwives to hold me down. They pinned me but looked up, asking if they should check with the Senator. “Don’t you understand the Senator’s intention? This baby must come out today.” She approached me with the knife, aiming the tip directly at my belly. As the blade sank in, I screamed, my whole body convulsing. Blood pooled on the floor. The pain was so intense I fainted instantly. Moments later, agony jolted me awake again. Olivia applied more pressure, slicing my belly open from top to bottom. I gasped for breath, pain overwhelming me, tears falling. Outside the door, Ethan asked, “Why is she screaming like that?” Olivia clamped her hand over my mouth. “Childbirth is always painful, Ethan,” she called back. “Please don’t come in. It’s bad luck for a man to be in the delivery room.” Silence fell outside. Olivia roughly pulled my baby out. The baby let out an immediate cry. Hearing that sound, I looked up, my heart clenching inexplicably. Olivia cleaned him off. As she was about to leave, I couldn’t help but plead, “Olivia, after you take the fingertip blood, please bring him back to me.” Olivia snorted coldly and left. I heard her say to Ethan outside, “It’s wonderful, Ethan! The townspeople can be saved!” Outside, Ethan cooed over the baby twice. “Let’s go. We’ll save the townspeople right now.” Everyone left, forgetting about me, still bleeding profusely. The blood flowed faster, the pain intensified. My consciousness faded, and I passed out again. When I woke next, I heard Chloe’s crying. “Mistress, wake up…” Chloe grew up with me, my personal maid who came with me when I married. In the Senator’s manor, she was the kindest person to me besides Ethan. In my past life, she died protecting me and my son, beaten to death. I opened my eyes. Her crying grew more desperate. “Mistress, you’re awake! How do you feel? You lost so much blood…” 3 I forced myself to sit up and told her to get the small box hidden in my cabinet. Inside was a special medicinal pill, a Bai family heirloom. After swallowing it, I felt much of my strength return. I had Chloe bring me a needle and thread, and I stitched up my own abdomen. After doing all this, I used my own blood to write down a prescription and a letter, telling Chloe to deliver them to the Capital. I only learned later that someone infected had fled to the Capital, causing the epidemic to spread there too. Even the Governor and his wife had fallen ill. The cure I developed in my past life, while effective against the epidemic, left patients with chronic headaches as a side effect. But the headaches were treatable. While waiting to give birth, I had shared the treatment method with the local doctors, asking them to help the townspeople. I never imagined this act would be twisted into me seeking fame. They claimed I deliberately left them with the affliction so they would constantly remember my name. The thought chilled me again. My family had practiced medicine for generations, guided by the principle of saving lives. The Bai family name was already renowned. Why would I need to seek fame like that? But people only believe what they want to believe. So later, when someone accused me of poisoning the water, not a single person defended me. The formula I sent to the Governor was an improved version. One dose would cure the illness completely, with no side effects. After Chloe left, exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I fell into a deep sleep. Soon, I developed a fever. In my delirium, I thought I saw Ethan pacing anxiously by my bedside. But I must have been mistaken. He wouldn’t come. He was surely with Olivia, busy “saving” the town. I must have slept for about seven days when a splash of cold water woke me. I opened my eyes to see Olivia standing over me. “While Ethan and I worked tirelessly saving people, you slept soundly.” I lifted my heavy eyelids. “What do you want?” “Came to return your baby, of course.” Olivia smirked wickedly and tossed the bundle in her hands into the air. I screamed, scrambling out of bed, collapsing to the floor as pain flared from my wound. Thankfully, I caught the baby. My son in the bundle had his eyes closed, his face deathly pale, no sign of breath. I took his tiny hand. A deep gash marked his wrist. Dead. He was dead. A roaring filled my ears. My mind went blank. I looked up at Olivia, my eyes filled with hatred. “Didn’t you say you’d only take a little blood?” Because of my family’s constitution, while others carried for nine months, Bai women needed twelve. My seven months were equivalent to someone else’s five. I had hoped if she only took a little fingertip blood, I could still nurse him back to health. But she had drained nearly all the blood from his tiny body. Olivia sneered, “Sarah, you’re a doctor too. How could a tiny bit of fingertip blood possibly save so many people?” Seeing her nonchalance, I glanced down at the lifeless child in my arms and couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled out the dagger I kept hidden and lunged at Olivia. “Go to hell!” She easily pushed me down, then took the dagger and tapped my face with it, her expression hideous. “Sarah, pathetic as you are, you think you can kill me? Are you…” She stopped mid-sentence, her expression changing dramatically. She twisted her hand, letting the dagger graze her shoulder, making it look like I had stabbed her from behind. “Mistress! Why would you do this?” Before I could react, someone kicked me forcefully. I rolled across the floor, instinctively clutching my dead child tighter. At the same time, a ginseng root landed near me. I recognized it instantly – it looked like rare, potent ginseng. I remembered once telling Ethan that ginseng was the best thing for a mother’s postpartum recovery. Ethan had smiled then. “I’ll definitely send someone to find the best thousand-year ginseng for you. I couldn’t bear for my Sarah to suffer even a little.” Could Ethan have brought this? “Sarah, you venomous woman! How dare you harm Olivia!” Ethan’s furious roar snapped me back to reality. I looked up at him, the last embers of love in my heart extinguished. Strangely, he froze when he saw me. He let go of Olivia in his arms and hurried towards me. Only then did I realize the kick had torn open the stitches on my abdomen. Blood gushed out again, instantly soaking the floor. Ethan’s face was grim as he lifted my clothes. Seeing the horrifying wound, he sucked in a sharp breath. His voice trembled. “Sarah, what happened to your stomach?”

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I spent two weeks learning how to make the perfect chicken soup for Justin King, and he turned around and gave it to his new assistant. That same night, I saw a message from the assistant: “I drank it all! Your girlfriend won’t be mad, right? Before I could even get angry, Justin insisted we break up. As I desperately tried to change his mind, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in my head. All the memories flooded back instantly. I quickly took a step back, my eyes filled with suspicion as I looked at Justin. “Well then, good riddance!” 1 He picked up the phone, his cool voice on the other end. “Hello? Who’s this?” I stood downstairs from his bustling office building, clutching the thermos, my heart bubbling with excitement. “I made you soup! Remember to buzz me in.” He didn’t answer right away. After a long pause, he just mumbled a soft “Mm.” I ignored the weird silence in between, too caught up in the joy of seeing the guy I loved. The elevator numbers climbed steadily. The reflection in the mirrored walls showed a happy little woman, beaming. Justin’s office door was open. I walked in, practically skipping. “Come try the soup I made! I spent over two weeks learning how.” The words had barely left my mouth when I saw the girl standing nervously by his desk. I stopped talking. “And this is?” Justin kept his eyes glued to the contract on his desk, not even glancing my way. “My new assistant.” I didn’t think much of it and put the thermos down on his desk. “Go on, try it while it’s hot. See my new skills.” The assistant, who hadn’t said a word, timidly looked up. “Maybe I should go, I don’t want to interrupt—” I looked over at her and noticed her eyes were getting misty, like I’d committed some horrible crime. My heart sank. I instinctively looked towards Justin. Just then, Justin looked up, and I saw the impatience clear in his eyes. Before I could even register that, I heard him say, “Wendy, I’m working. Can you head home now?” The smile froze on my face. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I quickly pulled myself together. I knew Justin hated being disturbed when he was working. “Okay, I’ll go then. Make sure you finish the soup while it’s hot.” I repeated the reminder, feeling a weight in my chest, then walked out with heavy steps. Halfway down the hall, I realized I’d left my wallet on his desk. Normally, I’d just ask Justin to bring it home after work, but this time, some strange impulse made me turn back. Through the glass door, I saw Justin push the thermos towards the girl he called his new assistant. He was smiling, eyes crinkled, saying something that made the assistant giggle flirtatiously. In that instant, my heart felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss. My body started trembling uncontrollably. I practically ran away. 2 Justin came home late. He’d been coming home late a lot recently. Every night, I’d sit on the sofa waiting for him. Sometimes, exhaustion would win, and I’d curl up and fall asleep right there. The sound of the shower woke me. The living room was pitch black, except for the faint light spilling from the bathroom. The water stopped, and he walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair slightly damp. Tall and long-legged, water droplets traced paths from his hairline, over his well-defined collarbones, disappearing beneath the towel, adding a layer of raw appeal. I sat on the sofa, just staring at him blankly. How did I ever manage to land such an incredible guy? Wendy Shaw, you are seriously lucky. Justin really was exceptional. Started his own company sophomore year of college, raked in scholarships left and right, and now he was the CEO. The company wasn’t huge, but it was financially stable, miles ahead of most people his age. Justin walked past me, heading straight for the fridge. I knew he was going for ice water. But his stomach issues were pretty bad. I used to stay up late making him hot meals, just so he wouldn’t go hungry and could get his stomach back on track. This time, though, I didn’t stop him like I usually would. The scene from earlier kept replaying in my mind. I couldn’t let it go. “How was the soup I made today? Was it good?” Justin paused mid-sip, seemingly surprised by the sudden question. He turned to face me, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “It was great. Anything Wendy makes is great, of course.” I smiled back, but tears welled up in my eyes. A suffocating feeling clamped down on my chest, making it hard to breathe, my throat raw with pain. Justin, why are you lying to me? He stepped closer, patted my head gently, and said softly, “It’s late, Wendy. Go get some sleep.” He hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Not a single thing. “Oh, right, I put your wallet on the table.” “Honestly, you’re a grown woman, still so forgetful.” I sat there silently in the living room as darkness swallowed me, blanketing my sorrow. In that moment, it felt like I split into two people. One watched everything unfold with cold detachment. The other was utterly heartbroken, desperately urging me to fight for Justin, to hold onto him. I don’t know how long I sat there before I finally forced myself to move, heading towards the bedroom. Justin was already fast asleep. His phone lay on the nightstand nearby. Expressionless, I used his fingerprint to unlock it and opened his messaging app. Right there, catching my eye immediately, were several unread messages. “Thanks for the chicken soup today, boss.” “But… won’t your girlfriend be mad that you gave it to me?” “It’s getting late, you should rest up. Goodnight, boss.” Followed by a cute emoji. I let out a cold sneer and kept scrolling up. “Boss, I’m so scared. What if I mess up this project?” “Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.” “Boss, you’re the best! Love ya! ” “Mm.” Seeing that, what else was there left to misunderstand? I laughed silently in the dark, tears streaming down my face. “Ugh, this guy is disgusting.” I heard a strange voice echo in my mind. Yeah, he really is disgusting. I mocked my own stupidity. 3 This year marks the fourth year Justin and I have been together. We met in high school during an academic competition and gradually became friends. After graduation, he kept telling me not to leave right away, to wait for him in the park nearby. I did as he asked. And so, on that scorching hot afternoon, the eighteen-year-old boy walked towards me, ears flushed red, holding a single Lisianthus flower. “Wendy Shaw, will you be my girlfriend?” Justin was a good boyfriend. He brought me breakfast, was there for me whenever I needed him, gave me a huge bouquet of Lisianthus every birthday, and showered me with thoughtful, expensive gifts. Almost every anniversary came with a big cake. Senior year of college, my parents died in a car accident, leaving me alone. I sat numbly in the hospital corridor, completely lost. I still remember the sharp smell of antiseptic flooding my senses, almost paralyzing me. It was Justin who took a train for over ten hours to get to me, held me tight, and whispered words of comfort and encouragement over and over. I huddled in his arms, feeling his warmth, sobbing too hard to speak. After the funeral, I carried the two small urns home, feeling completely numb. Justin knelt in front of me, his eyes sincere. I saw my own reflection in them, tiny and fragile. I heard him say, “Wendy, I’ll always be with you. I’ll never let you suffer even the slightest bit.” “From now on, I’m your rock.” “I’ll take care of you, Wendy. Just wait for me.” The emotions I’d suppressed for two weeks finally burst forth. I threw myself into his arms with all my strength, wailing uncontrollably. “Justin, you’re all I have left.” But now… it’s only been a year. Justin, all those promises you made to me… they’re all void now. 4 “Wendy, I’m heading to work. You can sleep in.” In my drowsy state, I felt a warm touch on my forehead. I slowly woke up. “Going so early?” Justin gave a helpless smile, ruffling my hair. “Yeah, gotta work hard to support you, right? I promised my Wendy.” I snuggled against his hand. “Then you have to come home for dinner with me tonight.” “I want to eat out.” Justin playfully tapped my nose. “Okay, deal.” I looked at him, clinging to him like he was my last straw. Justin, if you just come back tonight, if you just show up, I can forgive everything you’ve done wrong. After getting up, I started searching for restaurants, booked one, and shared the location and menu with Justin. “This place looks amazing! Can we eat here tonight?” “Remember to buy me flowers! You know Lisianthus are my favorite.” Lisianthus means sincere, unchanging love. More importantly, every time I saw those flowers, I remembered that hot afternoon four years ago, my boy shyly telling me clumsy sweet nothings. The message went unanswered. My heart sank with it. It’s okay, maybe he’s busy, no time to check his phone. He promised me, he’ll definitely show up in the end. I tried to comfort myself, deceiving myself. When the agreed time arrived, I got all dressed up beautifully and headed to the restaurant. An hour passed. No one came, no messages. Two hours passed. The person I wanted to see still hadn’t appeared. … I called him. No answer. I kept calling, again and again, relentlessly. Finally, on the twelfth call, he picked up. It was incredibly loud on his end – music, the rattle of dice, shrieks, laughter. “Where are you?” “I’m so sorry, Wendy. Something urgent came up here. I can’t make it to dinner.” “What kind of urgent situation?” He hemmed and hawed for a while before finally mumbling, “You know that new assistant I hired? She just landed a huge deal, we’re celebrating with her.” I listened silently, tears dripping onto the table, one by one. “Wendy, you know, she’s really capable. I want to keep her at the company—” I cut him off. “Have fun.” After saying that, without a shred of hesitation, I hung up. “Waiter, bring the food.” I couldn’t taste anything. My tears were flowing uncontrollably now, like a dam had broken, splashing into my bowl. After eating, I hailed a cab to go home, but then I received a friend request notification. I recognized the profile picture from last night. It was the assistant. “Hi Wendy, I’m Tiffany Yan, Justin’s new assistant.” Then she sent a video and a location pin. The video background was dim, looked like a bar or a club. But I couldn’t mistake the main character: Justin. Suddenly, the background noise became a unified chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Two figures moved closer and closer, finally pressing together. Just then, the lights suddenly brightened, and I clearly saw the two people locked in a passionate kiss. Who else could it be but Justin and Tiffany Yan? I trembled, finally unable to hold back the nausea rising in my throat. I started dry-heaving. Tears streamed down my cheeks instantly. It felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart, making me gasp desperately for air. The driver saw my wretched state in the rearview mirror. “Miss, are you alright?” I shook my head, wiping away the tears. “Driver, turn around.”

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The moment Chloe Vance showed up asking me to take her in, I heard a strange voice: 【I can’t believe I actually got reborn back to my high school days. If I get her to adopt me early this time, she’ll definitely give me the company eventually.】 【Old witch, if you don’t give me the company, I’ll make sure you die in another car crash!】 I froze, looking at the pitiful, innocent-looking girl in front of me. My heart sank. Young lady, if what you’re thinking is true, then I won’t be holding back. 1. I was on stage, presenting at my company’s new product launch. Suddenly, the main doors burst open. A girl, dressed deliberately plainly, almost like she was wearing rags, rushed in, dodging the security guards trying to stop her. Weaving through the throng of reporters, she threw herself at my feet, wailing dramatically. “Aunt Eliza, my mother, Brenda Evans… she’s dead! I’m an orphan now! I have nowhere to go!” I was completely baffled. I quickly helped the girl up, trying to understand what was happening. Leaning against me, the girl turned to face all the reporters and spoke first. “My mom was Brenda Evans. She was Eliza Hayes’—Aunt Eliza’s—good friend for many years.” “Right after they finished school, it was my mom who helped Aunt Eliza find her first job, found her a place to live.” “They were around the same age and quickly became best friends, sharing everything.” “Later, Aunt Eliza became successful, started her own company. My mom got married and had me. They drifted apart a bit after that.” After explaining the history to the reporters, the girl turned back to me, her face streaked with tears. “Even though they saw less of each other, my mom never forgot you. She always talked about you.” “Now… she died unexpectedly. I had to bring you to see her one last time, to fulfill her final wish!” Buried memories resurfaced as the girl spoke. I pictured Brenda, strong-willed and determined. The girl who always looked out for me like a little sister… she… she was dead? The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I started trembling uncontrollably. Clutching this girl, who looked so much like a young Brenda—maybe seventy percent resemblance—my heart ached. “What… what happened? How did your mom die? Where is she now?” “She died in an accident yesterday… She’s in the next city over, in her rented room…” Supporting the girl, I was about to get up, ready to go with her to see her mother one last time. Suddenly, an ethereal, yet eerily familiar voice whispered right beside me. 【Seriously? Is this woman nuts? That corpse is disgusting. Why drag me back there?】 【I came here so you’d adopt me straight away, not take me back to look at a dead body!】 2. My eyes widened in disbelief. I stared straight ahead. The girl was sobbing, looking back at me, her eyes tear-filled, her face flushed. Her mouth wasn’t moving, but that strange, familiar voice continued. 【What are you staring at, old witch? My acting is flawless. You think someone as sharp as you can see through it?】 【If you know what’s good for you, just check me into a five-star hotel and go deal with the body yourself. Stop being a nuisance!】 The voice stopped. The girl’s legs suddenly gave way, and she slumped back onto the floor. “Aunt Eliza… after Mom died… I had to handle everything myself. I’m just… so tired now…” My eyes narrowed. My expression hardened. That ethereal, familiar voice… the girl’s dramatic performance… There was no mistake. That voice was her inner thoughts. Corpse… disgusting… old witch… nuisance. What she said and did on the outside, and what she thought on the inside, were complete opposites! Ignoring her act, I pulled her up firmly and led her out of the conference hall. Speeding towards the neighboring city, I stared out the window. The car was silent. No one spoke, but the voice in my ear was non-stop. 【Why’s the driver going so fast? Trying to race to the afterlife? Guess you miss the feeling of dying in that car crash last time, huh?】 【Seriously, this old witch is impossible to figure out. Suddenly flips like that, treating me like her mortal enemy. What an idiot!】 【Having to put on an act and beg her to adopt me while looking at that sour face… it makes me sick, like I’ve swallowed a fly!】 【But hey, at least I got reborn back to high school. If she adopts me now, builds that bond, the old witch will definitely give me the company later…】 The entire drive, the girl—Chloe—her inner voice chattered on, filling me in on the whole story. Chloe Vance. She had been reborn. 3. In her previous life, Chloe’s father died in a construction accident when she was in middle school. Her mother, Brenda, raised her alone, working odd jobs. But the typical story of a child from a poor family maturing early didn’t happen with Chloe. She exploited Brenda’s guilt over being a single mother, constantly demanding more. Anywhere money was needed, Chloe never held back, never got a part-time job, just held out her hand to Brenda. Even after she started working, she complained her salary wasn’t enough to live on. That woman, Brenda, who had been strong her whole life, never imagined the daughter she depended on would exploit her for her own selfish enjoyment. Working multiple jobs a day, she unconditionally funded her vampire daughter’s vanity and laziness. Finally, Brenda collapsed from exhaustion and illness. At her worst, Brenda called Chloe, asking her to come back, wanting to see her. But Chloe refused. 【Stupid woman. Has her brain gone soft? I’m not a doctor. What good would calling me back do?】 That was the last call Brenda ever made. She died alone from her illness. Days later, her body was discovered by the landlord, who called Chloe to deal with it. Only then did she show up. Reluctantly, she initially planned to just pay someone to cremate the body and be done with it. But while going through Brenda’s belongings, Chloe found my phone number. Checking my profile on social media, she confirmed I was that Eliza Hayes, the moderately famous businesswoman. When Chloe was younger, Brenda had told her stories about escaping her controlling family back home and how her good friend, me, had helped her start a new life. Chloe had always dismissed these as tales of two poor girls helping each other, scoffing at them. But seeing my social media profile, she instantly realized her mother’s “good friend” was me. With this connection established, a new idea sparked in her mind: hold a proper funeral for her mother. It would let her contact me and get close to me, and bonus, she could collect funeral donations. A quick buck for Chloe. At the funeral in the previous life, I showed up. My reaction was the same as when I first saw Chloe moments ago – disbelief and grief. Seeing my old friend again, only to find she was gone, leaving behind a daughter who looked so much like her younger self… Feeling guilty for not reconnecting and helping Brenda after I became successful, I agreed to become Chloe’s godmother, essentially taking her in. 4. 【Old witch. Never married, all alone. Just me as her goddaughter. And she still won’t give me the company right away, saying I don’t have experience. So damn picky!】 【Not just stingy, but meddles in everything! Even who I date! Forced me to break up with my true love. Just jealous I had someone, right?】 【One foot in the grave and still won’t listen. Forced my hand, had to arrange that car accident to kill you! And it got me killed too, dammit!】 【Thank God fate gave me a second chance. This time, just watch me destroy you!】 Her thoughts stopped just as we arrived. The car pulled over. Chloe took a deep breath, adjusted her expression, and turned to me. “Aunt Eliza… I don’t think I can go up. I’m afraid if I see Mom’s body… I won’t be able to stop crying…” She lowered her head, sniffling pitifully. I let out a long, slow breath, releasing the tension in my chest. Glancing sideways at Chloe, I got out and went upstairs. The apartment door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, a wave of damp, cold air hit me. The room was dim. Sunlight was a luxury in these low-rent apartments, probably cost extra. It wasn’t large, maybe under 300 square feet, crammed with various items, but neatly organized. In this humble setting, Brenda had raised the clean-cut, seemingly refined, but ultimately rotten Chloe. Brenda had given everything she had, but that bottomless pit could never be filled! The room looked like any normal living space; there were no signs of preparations for saying goodbye to the deceased. The only “preparation,” I suspected, was the phony mourning outfit Chloe wore for her act! My mood soured further, my expression growing colder. Taking a few steps to the bedside, I saw a very thin person lying there. Almost skin and bones, her hair already half-gray. Her eyes were closed, her features contorted in pain. She was only in her early forties, yet she looked so withered and worn. And… it looked like she had been in extreme pain when she died. My heart clenched violently. I immediately knelt beside her bed. Suddenly, a timid “Aunt Eliza?” came from behind me, followed by that ethereal voice again. 【Shouldn’t have come up here to put on a show. This old witch is crazy. What’s there to cry about?】 【To suck up to you earlier, I personally pushed her down the stairs. Didn’t feel a thing!】 My pupils dilated instantly. I spun around, glaring at Chloe in utter disbelief. Startled by my stare, Chloe took a frightened step back. Before she could react further, I lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. Animal! Monster! This isn’t a person, this is a heartless beast! To stoop so low for personal gain, to murder her own mother for advancement! Despicable! The slap was forceful, sending Chloe’s still relatively frail body tumbling backward onto the stairs. The apartment building’s stairs were steep and narrow. She rolled, unable to stop, all the way to the bottom landing. I looked down at her from the top, teeth clenched, nails digging deep into my palms. “From today on, you’ll stay with me. You’ll be my adopted daughter.” You wanted to latch onto me, didn’t you? Fine, I’ll give you that chance! But you better pray, you ungrateful viper, that you’re tough enough to survive it! 5. After arranging Brenda’s funeral, I officially took Chloe in. When she arrived at my house, still recovering with broken bones from her tumble down the stairs, her eyes instantly lit up. 【Doesn’t matter what crazy fit she threw back at the apartment. As long as she adopts me, that’s all that counts!】 【Getting adopted five years earlier this time… this fortune is definitely mine for the taking!】 Listening to her thoughts, watching her greedy expression, I remained outwardly calm. Yours for the taking? We’ll see if you even live through the next five years. Before Chloe’s injuries even fully healed, I arranged for her to transfer schools. Her original high school wasn’t bad; Brenda had worked hard to get her in there. But the school I chose wasn’t about elevating her status. It was about pushing her into a pit of fire. “Ms. Hayes, she’s been enrolled in the junior class at Crestview High, the one notorious for the spoiled, unruly kids from wealthy families,” my assistant confirmed. “She starts tomorrow. Also, arrange for someone to follow her discreetly, live-stream everything to me.” The next day, Chloe was sent off to school. A live feed appeared on my computer. The moment Chloe stepped into the classroom, a few boys with mischievous grins eyed her up and down. Noticing their stares, Chloe paused, then walked straight up to them. “What are you looking at? Bunch of creeps acting like you’ve never seen a girl before. Look again and I’ll gouge your eyes out!” The previously rowdy classroom fell silent instantly. All eyes turned towards them. The boys who had been smirking at Chloe froze, their expressions turning cold. Undeterred by the attention, Chloe seemed to relish it, scanning the room and announcing loudly. “From now on, in this class, everyone revolves around me! Everyone listens to me!” Watching this, I was slightly surprised. I hadn’t expected Chloe to have such an arrogant streak. But then I remembered she was reborn. It made sense. Given her personality, it was entirely plausible she developed this arrogance after I took her in during her previous life. My original plan was just to use her natural tendency to show off to get her taught a lesson. Her providing this level of blatant provocation was an unexpected bonus. Just as I refocused on the screen, things escalated. One boy, clearly unable to stand Chloe’s arrogance, cursed and kicked out at her. Caught completely off guard, Chloe took the kick full force. She stumbled backward, crashing into desks and chairs, sending a cascade of clattering noise through the room. After the kick, the boy advanced, stepping hard on Chloe’s one good hand. “What was that you said just now? My hearing’s not great. Didn’t quite catch it.” Gritting her teeth, Chloe tried to kick his foot off her hand with her good leg. But lying on the ground versus standing tall – the advantage was clear. The moment Chloe moved, the boy reacted instantly, stomping down again. This time, his foot landed squarely on her good leg. A faint cracking sound, barely audible. Chloe’s face immediately contorted in agony. A sharp cry escaped her lips. Shin bones are tough, they don’t break easily, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell. After that stomp, all the arrogance vanished from Chloe’s face. Instead, smiles appeared on the faces of the onlookers. Queen bee? Sorry, kid. Everyone in this class is meaner and more entitled than you.

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Right before I died, my adopted daughter finally showed her true colors. She wasn’t an orphan. She was the biological daughter of my housekeeper and my driver. She pinched my oxygen tube shut, staring down at me with pure disgust. “What’s a lonely old woman like you, with no kids, need all this money for?” “Just hurry up and die already! The money comes to us, and we can finally live the good life!” With all those memories intact, I was reborn. This time, you can tear each other apart. 1. In the private hospital room, my adopted daughter, Ava, glared impatiently at me before complaining to my housekeeper. “Mom, didn’t you tell Dad to arrange for that truck driver to hit her? How is she still alive?” Brenda, my housekeeper, didn’t look too pleased either as she peeled an apple for Ava. “Who knows how she’s so damn tough? Yesterday the doctor said her chances were slim.” “Your Dad’s asking the doctor now what we need to watch out for. Then we just do the opposite.” As they were talking, a man pushed the door open – it was Mike, my driver. Seeing Mike walk in, Ava and Brenda both stood up. One called him “Dad,” the other “Honey.” Lying in the hospital bed, tubes sticking out of me everywhere, I struggled to open my eyes, staring in disbelief at the scene unfolding. What… what was happening? That car crash… wasn’t an accident? And… why was the orphan girl I adopted calling my driver and housekeeper Mom and Dad? Why were my driver and housekeeper, who always claimed to be single, actually married? My sluggish brain couldn’t process it all before Mike walked over to my bedside, looking at the monitors. “Doctor says she’s stable for now, but still critical. We gotta be careful.” “When watching her, pay close attention to keeping her calm, breathing steady, heart rate normal.” He’d barely finished speaking when Ava stepped closer, grabbing my oxygen tube and glaring at me. “Old woman, I was never grateful to you. Taking me in, spending money on me – you owed me that!” Brenda sidled up next to her, putting an arm around Ava intimately, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Oh, kids say the darnedest things, don’t mind her. But really, the three of us, we all have you to thank.” “If it wasn’t for you, our own flesh and blood wouldn’t have grown up so pretty and classy.” The three of us, our own flesh and blood… So, everything they were saying now was true. This was all their plan? All this time I thought Ava was an orphan, adopting her… I was just raising their kid for them! But… even if they were a family, why did they want me dead? “Why… why… why hurt me?” Fighting against the searing pain ripping through my body from the crash, I croaked out the words, my voice hoarse. Hearing me, Ava looked at me with utter disgust. “What’s a lonely old woman like you, with no kids, need all this money for?” “Just hurry up and die already! The money comes to us, and we can finally live the good life!” They’d leeched off me after I took her in, and it still wasn’t enough! What they wanted was to kill me, to grab my entire fortune! Ungrateful snakes! Backstabbers! My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break free, fury boiling up inside me. Ignoring the pain wracking my body, I tried to fight back, to scream for help. But Ava saw what I was trying to do. Before I could make a sound, she squeezed harder. The oxygen tube was completely blocked. A crushing feeling of suffocation washed over me. I struggled, trying to rip the mask off, but Brenda pinned my arms down. “What are you fighting for? You’ve had your fancy life for decades. It’s our family’s turn now.” “You’ve got no one, nothing to tie you down. Just die already, stop struggling!” My arms were held fast. The struggling tore at my wounds. The air in my lungs thinned, disappearing bit by bit. Endless pain and despair enveloped me. My vision started to blacken around the edges. I knew I was dying, but I forced my eyes open as wide as I could. I had to memorize these three faces. Even as a ghost, I wouldn’t let them get away with this! 2 My consciousness sank into endless darkness. I don’t know how long passed before, suddenly, everything jolted. A man’s loud, angry voice filled my ears. “Whose kid is this? Squatting in the middle of the road like that? I almost hit her!” Opening my eyes, I found myself sitting in the back seat of the car. Mike was in the driver’s seat. He had his head stuck out the window, yelling at a young-looking girl in front of the car. This scene… it felt so familiar… I’d lived through this before! The first time I met Ava, she was pretending to have a stomach ache, crouched right in the middle of the street. Mike had been driving me home from work. If he hadn’t slammed on the brakes, he would have hit her. Now, it was happening again! Looking at my own younger face reflected in the car window, feeling the realness of my hands and feet, a jolt went through me. I really was reborn. And I’d come back to the exact moment right before I was supposed to adopt Ava! Snapping back to reality, Mike had already gotten out of the car. He was pulling a timid-looking Ava over to the side of the car. “Boss, this kid just popped up out of nowhere, lying in the road.” “Looks like she might not be feeling well. What should we do?” I stared with disgust at the father and daughter in front of me, feeling sick to my stomach. “Is this your first day driving for me? You don’t know what to do?” My sudden sharp tone made both of them flinch, too scared to look me in the eye. Mike looked down at Ava, his hand awkwardly hovering, not sure whether to let go or hold on. I turned my head away, trying to control my rapid breathing, the images from my deathbed flashing before my eyes. I’m back! I have a chance! I can get revenge! I’m going to destroy them! But… how could I make them suffer enough to satisfy this burning hatred? As I thought, the flashing images stopped, freezing on one specific scene: the three of them standing together by my hospital bed, looking like a happy, harmonious family. An idea sparked, and I grabbed onto it. Turning back, I looked at the two outside the car. “Just a young girl, it’s not safe for her to be out here alone at night. Bring her back with us for now.” Mike, who had been looking down, glanced up at me, a flicker of joy crossing his face before disappearing. I saw it all. Joy? I’ll wipe that smile right off your face. 3 At the dinner table, Ava recited the exact same lines as she had in my past life while eating. She was fourteen, an orphan, ran away from the orphanage because she was bullied. My eyes swept over Mike, the driver, and Brenda, the housekeeper, who were lingering, clearly not wanting to leave. I spoke slowly. “How pitiful. Losing your parents so young, left all alone in the world.” As soon as I said it, Ava stopped eating, looking lost. She instinctively turned to look at Mike and Brenda. But their sharp glances stopped her, and she forced herself to turn back around. Pretending not to notice, I continued. “Losing your parents and becoming an orphan is sad, sure. But it’s even worse if they’re alive and just didn’t want you. Now that’s messed up!” “Some parents have no heart. If they don’t like girls, they just dump them. Absolutely shameless!” I paused, a slight smile on my lips, and pressed Ava. “Think hard now. Which kind of orphan are you?” Having been stopped once, Ava didn’t dare turn her head again. Pressured by my question and not knowing how to answer, she lowered her head, avoiding my gaze. Beside her, Brenda tried to step in and help Ava out. “Ma’am, she’s just a kid. Asking her these things… it’s not right!” I let out a short, sharp laugh, then slammed my hand on the table and stood up. “I’m talking to her. When did a housekeeper get the right to interrupt me? Get out!” Brenda’s face instantly turned pale. She quickly lowered her head, mumbled an apology, and backed out of the room. Without even glancing at Brenda, my eyes landed back on Ava. “You’re an orphan, and I don’t have any children of my own. Would you like to stay and be my daughter?” This was exactly what her family wanted. With me offering it outright, of course Ava wouldn’t refuse. Ava nodded eagerly. Nearby, Mike gave Ava a thumbs-up in approval. A smirk played on my lips as I dredged up the twisted ideas I needed to plant in Ava’s head. “Alright, since you’re going to be my daughter, the first lesson I’ll teach you is about knowing your place! There’s a hierarchy.” “We have a housekeeper, a driver, a gardener in this house. You remember this: your status is always above theirs!” This old-fashioned, almost feudal idea was a bit much for Ava to grasp immediately. She looked at me, confused. “When we were talking, that housekeeper interrupted, cut me off. That was wrong. She deserved to be scolded!” “Our position, our status, is higher than the help. They can never interrupt or cut in. Got it?” Although still bewildered, under the force of my presence, Ava finally nodded.

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My mother-in-law was in the hospital. That night, while my husband, Jason, was supposedly watching over her, he reached out and pulled off her oxygen mask. He killed his own mother! I saw the whole thing. I’d just stepped out and came right back, standing just outside the door. Pure terror washed over me. Only one thought screamed in my head: Run! Then Jason’s voice, chillingly cold, came from behind me. “So, you saw.” 1. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my face into a look of confusion. “Saw what? I forgot my house keys, just came back for them. How’s Mom doing?” He didn’t say anything, just stared, his eyes bloodshot, searching my face for any sign I was lying. I walked up, patted his shoulder, trying to sound soothing. “Look at you, your eyes are so red. You must be exhausted. Maybe I should stay tonight instead?” As I finished speaking, I pretended to head towards the hospital room. But Jason blocked my way. “No need. Here are the keys.” I let out a tiny, silent sigh of relief. Then his next words sent ice crawling up my spine. “It’s late. Let me drive you home.” My smile froze for a second, but my brain kicked in fast. “No, Mom needs someone here. You stay with her. I’ll just grab a rideshare.” He looked down, his face hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable. “Don’t worry,” I added. “The nurse does rounds early tomorrow morning.” He gave a noncommittal “Mm-hmm.” Then, “Send me a pic of the license plate when you get a ride. Just to be safe.” “Okay, don’t worry,” I said. I booked a ride home on my phone. The driver arrived quickly. As I got in, I caught a glimpse of a figure flashing past a window up on the hospital floor. Just as I thought. He was still watching me. I screenshotted the car info and sent it to Jason. He texted back, “Let me know when you’re home.” The night was pitch black. The driver and I rode in heavy silence. As we reached a main intersection, I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. “Hey, can you keep driving past this address? Just hit ‘arrived’ when you get there.” A low voice spoke from the front seat. “Why aren’t you going home?” The driver turned his head. It was Jason’s face! 2. A scream ripped through my throat. I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. I was in my pajamas, lying in our master bedroom bed. “You’re awake? Come get some breakfast.” Jason pushed the bedroom door open and pulled back the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, chasing away the shadows. I stared at his face, unable to tell dream from reality. He chuckled softly and tapped my nose. “Still want to sleep in?” His touch felt real, warm. It was him, the same gentle, doting husband. I sat up and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I had a horrible nightmare. It scared me to death.” He stroked my hair. “It’s okay now. Get up, I’m just going out to grab some groceries.” I quickly stopped him. “Doesn’t Mom need someone watching her at the hospital?” “What are you talking about? Mom’s not in the hospital,” Jason said, squeezing my hand affectionately. “Get up, okay? I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, let go, and gave his cheek a quick kiss. My head felt heavy, fuzzy. Only after Jason left did I slowly drag myself out of bed. In the wedding photo on the nightstand, Jason looked suave and gentle. I was smiling ear-to-ear, pure happiness. Sitting on the edge of the bed, possessed by some strange impulse, I called my mother-in-law. If she was okay, then what I saw at the hospital had to be a nightmare. Truthfully, she and I didn’t have the best relationship. It hit rock bottom after she got rid of my cat. We barely spoke day-to-day. The phone rang for a long time. Just as I was about to hang up, thinking no one would answer, a woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello? Who is this?” I immediately hung up and checked the contact again. It was definitely my mother-in-law’s number. But that voice… it wasn’t my mother-in-law at all! Since my father-in-law passed away, she’d always been a loner, rarely had friends over. But I quickly tried to rationalize. Maybe it was some distant relative I didn’t know about visiting. I dialed again. The same woman’s voice answered. I spoke first this time. “Hi, is my mother-in-law there?” There was a long pause, then her tone turned angry. “Jessica? Why are you calling me? What do you mean, ‘is your mother-in-law there’? Oh, I get it. You’re calling just to piss me off, aren’t you!” My mind went blank for a second. Can someone please tell me what is going on? My mother-in-law is seventy. Her voice is old, sharp, shrill. The voice on the phone sounded young! But how did she recognize my voice and know my name? Ignoring her nasty tone, driven by a huge wave of confusion, I blurted out, “Mom? Are you feeling okay?” “You damn bitch! Are you wishing I was sick? My son must have been blind to pick you! I should have fought tooth and nail against it!” That string of curses, that tone… that was exactly how my mother-in-law always talked. But the voice… how could it be…? 3. Another call came in. It was Jason. My head was throbbing from my mother-in-law’s yelling, so I quickly hung up on her and answered Jason’s call. “Hey, honey. Who were you on the phone with?” “Oh, just checking in on Mom. What’s up?” He chuckled lightly on the other end. “You two are like oil and water. Calling her is just asking for an earful, isn’t it? I was calling to ask what you want to eat. I’ll pick something up.” A wave of warmth spread through me. Jason still cared about me. That’s why, despite years of his mom’s disdain and insults, our relationship was still strong. “Anything’s fine, really. I’m not picky. Get what you like. Stop worrying about me all the time.” He spoke gently for a bit longer, making sure his mom hadn’t given me too hard a time, then reluctantly hung up. So far, everything seemed… normal. But something still felt off. I slowly got up and headed to the bathroom to wash my face. The next second, cold sweat prickled all over my body. Jason was standing right behind me. I hadn’t heard him come in. He was staring intently into my eyes through the mirror. 4. Startled, I spun around, backing up half a step until my back hit the sink. “Jason! When did you get back? You scared me half to death.” His gaze shifted to my face. A smile touched his lips, but it felt unfamiliar, alien. His voice was low, chilling. “Why the sudden urge to call Mom?” “No—no reason. I just dreamt she was sick, so I thought I’d call and see how she was.” He didn’t speak, just kept his eyes locked on mine, scrutinizing every flicker of expression. The small, closed-in bathroom felt suffocating. I dug my nails into my palms, forcing myself to stay calm. I tilted my head up, trying to look casual. “What’s wrong?” After a long moment, he finally stepped back out of the bathroom. “Nothing. Come on, I’m taking you out for lunch today.” The knot of tension in my stomach tightened again. A huge question mark formed in my mind. Ever since I’d known him, we never ate out. I remember once, I was really craving sushi and begged Jason to take me. When his mom found out, she chewed him out, poking his forehead, yelling about him having no self-control, eating garbage from outside. After that, I never dared suggest eating out again. Jason called from the living room, urging me to hurry. I didn’t have time to think. I grabbed the nearest clothes, threw them on, and went out. When we ordered, I told the waiter, “Light on the oil, no spicy peppers, please.” Jason stopped me. “No, it’s fine. Make it regular.” His mom was vehemently against us eating anything spicy or heavy. She usually made steamed or boiled dishes, especially vegetables. It made me wonder if she was Buddhist. She used to boast to me that Jason grew up eating her cooking, which is why he was so healthy and smart, and that our future kids would have to follow her personally approved recipes too. I’d always shake my head and argue that we needed to consider the kids’ tastes, not just force her ideas on them. That led to a huge fight, ending with us not speaking. Her favorite line was: “My son must have been blind to pick you!” 5. My eyes drifted to the dishes in front of Jason – Spicy Beef, Frog Legs with Pickled Chilies. The bright red peppers screamed flavor and heat. I was about to swap my plain stir-fried bok choy for his dish when he pressed my hand down. I watched as he picked up several pieces of beef coated in thick Sichuan peppercorns and chili oil, and ate them without batting an eye. “Jason, you…” “Got tired of bland food. Time for a change now and then.” Watching him shovel down spicy food, remembering the nightmare version of him, a chill ran down my spine. Something about Jason felt… different. I shook my head slightly. “If Mom finds out about this,” I whispered, “she’ll say I’m corrupting you again.” His chopsticks paused mid-air. Then he resumed eating, stuffing beef into his mouth. His face flushed slightly from the spice, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. I quickly handed him a glass of water. “When I called earlier, Mom’s voice sounded weird. Since it’s the weekend, maybe we should go visit her?” That strange woman’s voice still echoed in my head. “Visit her? So we can fight again?” Jason took a sip of water and rubbed his temples. “I have things to do this afternoon. Maybe another day.” “Okay…” I noticed a drop of chili oil on his shirt, bright red and shiny. I grabbed a napkin to wipe it. “Look at you, getting food all over your shirt.” He was always so neat, never allowing a single speck of dirt on his clothes. I dabbed at it uselessly. “See? That’s what happens when you eat spicy food, oil drips everywhere. I’ll wash it for you when we get home,” I said helplessly. He stared down at the stain, lost in thought. After lunch, he went off to run his errands, and I started walking home slowly by myself. As I reached the corner, the image of his mom having her oxygen mask removed flashed through my mind. My heart pounded. Thinking it over, I still felt uneasy. I decided to grab a cab and head over to his mom’s place. 6. The cab stopped at the entrance to the alley. I paid and got out, planning to buy some fruit and milk at the corner store. Old Mrs. Henderson at the store saw me arrive alone and looked puzzled, peering behind me. “Coming to see your mother-in-law? Jason didn’t come with you?” I picked through the bananas. “Oh, he had something to do. Are these fresh?” “Fresh as can be, just came in this morning.” Mrs. Henderson sat back down and went back to cracking sunflower seeds. “You know, that Carol really lucked out. Husband died early, but she raised a good son. Nobody around here has a son as filial and obedient as hers.” I managed a small smile, taking the bananas to be weighed, then picked out some apples. Mrs. Henderson put down her seeds to weigh the fruit. “They’ve been through a lot together, just the two of them, all these years. Their bond is really strong. Carol told me Jason used to call her for two hours every single day back in college. Sigh, not like my kids. Wild horses couldn’t drag them home. A call every ten days or half a month is a miracle.” “Well, Mrs. H, everyone’s got their own treasures, right?” I smiled, paid, and picked up my bags. It wasn’t just college. Jason and I had been married for three years, and he still kept up that habit of calling his mom every day, rain or shine, for exactly two hours. Mrs. Henderson followed me to the door. “Oh, Jason’s wife, one more thing! Remind your mother-in-law about the line dancing meet-up this afternoon. She’s so proud, sometimes she needs coaxing.” I chuckled inwardly. Mrs. Henderson seriously overestimated my influence with my mother-in-law. “Sure, I’ll try.” Kids were playing noisily in the alley. One boy wasn’t looking and ran right into me. His mom saw it and yelled, “Mikey! Watch where you’re going! What if that had been Mrs. Evans? You think you could get away with running wild then?” I freed a hand to pat the boy’s head. “It’s okay, kids are just playing.” My mother-in-law was eccentric and proud. Most neighbors avoided interacting with her, and she, in turn, looked down on everyone. There were very few people in the world she actually respected. According to her, me marrying Jason was the result of my ancestors burning incense for eighteen generations. Even though we met through an arranged setup, and she was the one who chose me. Even though my education, looks, and family background were better than Jason’s, it didn’t stop her from disliking me. Lifestyle, eating habits, even ways of thinking – nothing could clash with hers. If it did, she’d condemn you to hell and unleash a torrent of verbal abuse. I often counted my blessings that I was just the daughter-in-law. Growing up under her thumb must have been incredibly tough for Jason.

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The day my mother-in-law had her accident, it was critical. Only my husband, Mark, had her rare blood type. But Mark, the professor, was busy tutoring his high school sweetheart’s kid in elementary school essay writing. Last time, I got to Mark just in time, and they managed to save Mom’s life. But then his ex’s little hellion messed with the electrical panel, and the kitchen exploded. She and her kid died in the fire. After I took care of Mom until she got out of the hospital, Mark kidnapped me, wrapped me in firecrackers and dynamite. I was blown to pieces, but that wasn’t enough for him. He stabbed me over and over. “It’s all your fault Sarah and little Timmy are dead!” he screamed. “Why do they have to die, and you get to live the good life? I’m going to make you feel the pain they felt!” I woke up on the day of Mom’s accident. This time, I blocked Mark on everything. Turned off my phone. This time, maybe his ex’s kid’s essay will actually be good. 1 The harsh smell of disinfectant snapped me back. I turned and saw Mom being wheeled off the ambulance. I had to be dreaming. As a doctor, my first instinct was to check her injuries. Just like before, massive internal bleeding. She needed a transfusion, fast, or she was a goner. I knew Mark was the only one who matched her blood type, but this time, I’d do my duty as a doctor and nothing more. “Get her to surgery. Run a blood panel. Notify the family.” The blood results came back. A young nurse asked anxiously: “Dr. Lewis, the patient has a rare blood type, O negative. We don’t have any in the blood bank. What do we do?” I put down my scalpel, took off my mask. “We wait for the family. Hope someone’s a match.” The hospital contacted my father-in-law, Tom, who came running in, breathless. “Honey, what happened?” “Dad, Mom was in a car wreck. Hit by a semi. I already started surgery to stop the bleeding, but she’s lost a lot of blood. Needs a transfusion.” Tom, usually so steady, started pacing. “What are we going to do? I’m not a match!” Then his eyes lit up. “Mark! He’s the same type as your mother! Where is he? Did you call him?” My voice went up, full of fake distress, tears welling up. “Dad, it was so crazy. My phone died. I didn’t have a chance to call Mark.” Tom shoved his phone into my hand. “I’m going to pay the bill. You call him! Tell him to get over here, now! “What good is a son if he doesn’t show up when it counts?” Looking at his phone, I felt a wave of dizziness. My husband, who swore he’d love me forever, had completely changed after his old flame came back. I called in sick so he could pick up his ex’s kid from school. When I tried to talk to him, he just waved me off, annoyed. “What’s wrong with you, Claire? I’m good to you, aren’t I? I bring you dinner every night!” “Learn to be grateful!” But the dinners he brought back were leftovers from his ex and her kid. My husband, who never lifted a finger at home, was now cleaning his ex’s house every day. I, his wife, couldn’t even ask a question without him calling me a pain. I thought if I just stayed quiet, he might at least glance back at our family. Keep us together. Instead, I got brutally murdered. The memory of that pain snapped me back to reality. I grabbed Tom’s phone, hit record, and dialed Mark’s number. His voice came on: “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” 2 “It’s me. Mom’s in a bad wreck and she’s in surgery. You need to get here now.” Mark’s tone shifted the second he heard my voice. “Why are you using Dad’s phone? What are you trying to pull?” “Claire, didn’t I tell you not to call me today? I’m busy! Really busy!” His voice was getting louder. “And now you’re wishing Mom would get hurt? You’re so messed up! This is exactly why I can’t stand you!” “If you keep bothering me, I won’t come home for a week. Try me!” He hung up before I could say anything. Tom came back, hurrying, asking if Mark was on his way. “He said I was wishing Mom would get hurt, said he didn’t believe it was real, and told me not to bother him.” I started to cry as I handed him the phone, playing back the recording. Tom’s face turned red. “That ungrateful kid! I’ll call him myself!” He dialed Mark’s number, hitting speakerphone. It rang a few times, then Mark’s voice exploded through: “Claire, I told you! Don’t bother me. Can’t you understand plain English?” “I’m telling you, I’m not coming home all week, you negative hag. Get lost!” Then he hung up. Tom’s hand froze in mid-air. His mouth hung open, unable to believe those words came from his son. Just then, a nurse ran over, frantic. “Dr. Lewis, the patient’s blood pressure is crashing! The wound’s bleeding again! The machines can’t take it!” “Without a transfusion in thirty minutes, we’re going to lose her!” Tom snapped back to reality, trembling. I cried, blaming myself. “Dad, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Mark thought I was trying to ruin his tutoring session with his ex’s kid. He wouldn’t believe me.” “What are we going to do? Mom’s fading fast.” Tom patted my shoulder, shaking. “It’s not your fault, honey. We failed to raise that boy right.” “I’m calling him again. There’s still half an hour. Your mother can still be saved.” Tom dialed Mark’s number again and again, but he didn’t pick up. Tom got so mad he threw the phone on the ground, collapsing into a chair. I helped him up. “Dad, call from the hospital phone. He might believe it then.” “If I call, he won’t believe me. Use the hospital phone.” Tom grabbed onto that hope, nodding, and hurried with me to the desk. I dialed Mark’s number on the landline. It only rang a few times before he answered. Before he could say anything, Tom shouted: “You ungrateful son! Get to the hospital! Your mother’s in emergency!” “If you don’t get here in half an hour, your mother’s dead!” “If you screw this up, I will never recognize you as my son again!” Tom’s voice was shaking with desperation, but Mark didn’t seem to hear any of it. He just sighed. “Dad, it’s one thing for Claire to say Mom’s in an accident, but why are you going along with it?” “You always take her side. That’s why she gets away with everything.” “I listened to you. I married the woman you wanted. Now, can’t I do one thing for myself? Why are you helping an outsider keep me from my happiness?” “Put Claire on. She’s lost it, trying to stop me from doing what I want!” I snatched the phone, my voice completely calm. “Mark, we’re not kidding. Dad’s not helping me sabotage your happiness.” “This is real.” Then, a little boy’s voice came through. “Uncle Mark, I still don’t know how to write it. I don’t want to learn! You have to help me with my homework! If you don’t help me, I won’t let you see my mom!” The kid kept whining. Mark’s voice suddenly turned soft. “Okay, okay, I’ll help you. But it’s our little secret, okay? Don’t tell your mom.” Then a woman’s voice: “Mark, is everything alright? You’ve been on the phone a lot.” “Why don’t you take a break, I can order takeout for Timmy and me, you go handle your business.” Mark said: “Sarah, how can you say that? I don’t want you and Timmy eating takeout!” “You and Timmy can’t eat takeout. I’ll be up all night worrying. Sit down and rest. You’re not feeling well, you need to rest.” “It’s nothing. Just the crazy woman bothering me! She’s like a rabid dog. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets into an accident tomorrow and dies!” Mark gritted his teeth into the phone, his voice full of hate. “Claire, I’m telling you, you can scream all you want, I’m not letting you win!” “You wishing Mom gets in a wreck? I’ll deal with that when I get home!” “If you call again, I’m done. We’re getting divorced!” He hung up. I had hit speakerphone, and everyone heard. Everyone knew there was no point in calling again. He wasn’t coming. Tom felt so humiliated, his face turned red. He leaned against the wall, muttering, “Our family’s cursed.” People started whispering around us. Not loud, but I heard every word. “Oh my god, I didn’t know Dr. Lewis’ husband was like that! Cheating and proud of it!” “Right? Dr. Lewis is such a strong woman. Works so hard, so talented, so kind, one of the people I look up to the most. I can’t believe her home life is like this.” “I know, right? No one’s perfect, I guess. But still, so embarrassing. I’d want to crawl into a hole.” “But it’s not Dr. Lewis’ fault! It’s that guy. He’s worse than an animal. Won’t even save his own mother.” “Poor woman. Having a son like that.” I just stood there, silent, unable to explain. They were right. I married a monster. Now everyone knew. If this was the old me, I would have been ashamed and quit. Found a hole to crawl into. Never raised my head again. But I was dead once already. If I didn’t make something of this second chance, I might as well have stayed dead in that room. The more people knew what Mark was, the better for me. 3 Time was passing fast. More than ten minutes. Even if Mark had a change of heart, it would be too late. Tom asked me, his voice hopeless, “Honey, is there anything we can do?” “I’d give her all my blood if it would help. Even if it’s not a match, maybe if she gets enough…” He rolled up his sleeve, offering his arm. “Take my blood, Claire. There must be something you can do.” Seeing him like that got to me. Suddenly, I had an idea! Mark once told me he donated blood to a student of his who had leukemia! It was a big deal at the school. Lots of teachers and students got tested, but only Mark matched. He got an award for being a lifesaver. The student’s name was Kevin. After Mark donated blood, he still needed more treatment. He couldn’t afford it, so I gave him eight grand to help. And the best part was, he rented an apartment near the hospital for his treatments! It could work! Mom could still be saved! If she was, I was done. I would divorce Mark without a second thought. I grabbed my phone, turned it on. A few texts popped up, but I ignored them, found Kevin’s number. My heart was pounding. Would he answer? The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. I tried again, thinking he might have missed it. Still nothing. My heart sank. Then, the phone clicked on. “Hello? Mrs. Lewis?” Kevin answered! I said, “Kevin, it’s me. Can you come to the hospital right now? My mother-in-law’s been in a bad car accident. She needs blood, and you’re a match. Please, Kevin, help me save her!” Kevin sighed. “Mr. Lewis was right about you.” “I should have known you were this kind of person.” “You were always a jealous woman and would do anything, Mr. Lewis called to tell me not to answer your calls and that if you did call, you would wish that your Mother In Law was in an accident.” “I knew better than to answer a call from you.” My heart turned to ice. My blood felt like it was freezing. “No Kevin, you need to listen to me, I swear I am not lying or pulling a prank, who would joke about such a thing!” Kevin interrupted me rudely. “Mrs. Lewis, just to stop Mr. Lewis from doing what he loves you are willing to do anything, I never thought you were such a woman, how can Mr. Lewis stand living with you.” “Who do you think I trust more the person who saved my life or a jealous woman?” “Kevin, Mr. Lewis may have saved your life, but I paid for your last five rounds of chemo.” “Without that money, you would not be alive today.” Kevin turned rude. “Mr. Lewis is your husband, so the money is his so he paid for the chemo and you had nothing to do with it!” “Stop bothering me, I am blocking this number, I never want to speak to you again.” Kevin ended the call and every bit of hope died with it. Tom looked at me, “Is there nothing else we can do.” I shook my head as tears streamed down my face. For the first time, I saw a very distraught Tom burst into tears. Tom and my Mother In Law were always nice to me, which is why I stayed with Mark. I am finally moving on. I comforted Tom as we waited for my mother in law to die. My Mother In Law died and I was filled with complex emotions. I hated Mark even more. 4 Tom could not take it anymore and collapsed at the hospital. I got Tom admitted into the hospital. Tom grabbed my hand and told me that he would handle the funeral. “My dear, I had no idea that he was treating you so badly.” “If had I known, I would have kicked him out of the house. I hugged Tom and told him that he should not blame himself. “It is ok, both of you were good to me and I am grateful.” We got married because he was nice and told me that he would love me forever. Tom and I were happy so when Mark asked me to marry him I agreed. Mark told me that we should name are children Claire. I asked why and he told me that Claire was the only sunshine in his life. Later, I learned that his high school girlfriend’s name was Claire. His online username was Claire and I had always thought it was cute. I made him change the name, but he refused and told me that he had that handle for many years. When we would argue he would always change it back. After we got married Mark started treating me worse and worse. When I asked him why he told me that he was no longer playing the same character. “You are average and should be happy that I gave you a ring and a house.” The days turned into years and there were many bad days. As I walked out of the hospital room exhausted I thought about all the text messages that I received earlier. I looked at the first message and saw many photos of Mark cleaning Sarah’s house as well as some photos of them in bed together. The last photo was of Mark on his knees with a sign that stated he would do anything to make Sarah happy. The message stated that Mark was too tired from doing housework and having sex with her to help get his mother. How dare she! I looked at all these photos and wanted to destroy her. I always thought that Mark was cheating and he was wrong. The other woman was just as sick. She sent me all these photos just to taunt me. Watch out because I am winning this game. Sarah and Mark I am coming for you. 5 Mark had been gone for 3 nights and I was helping with my mother in laws funeral. I had to gather all her important documents and found out that Sarah’s message was the reason she died. Sarah sent her all the photos before Mark drove 160 miles an hour and crashed into a semi-truck. I had to do something to Sarah for killing my mother in law. The police stated that there was nothing that they could do. The police told me that I had no case even with the message that she sent because Sarah would just claim that she was joking. The police told me that I would have a weak case with no malice. I told the police that it does not matter to me that she gets away with this. I need to do something to get my revenge. I just have to wait and play my cards right. A week later it was time for my mother in laws funeral and Mark came back just in time. Mark wore the same clothes he wore for 7 days and smelled awful. He dropped a bag of women and children’s laundry on the floor. I saw many women’s undergarments in the bag and I was disgusted. I had no idea whether Mark was doing this to please Sarah or if they had a fetish for wearing dirty clothes. Mark pointed at the clothes and told me to wash them. I pulled out my phone and turned on the hidden camera that I installed the day before. You do not know how long I have waited for this and how bad I want to tell you what I really think about you. “Do not speak to me, you never told me that you were sleeping with a child’s mother and for the last week you have been running around with your whore. You better be glad that I do not divorce you.” Mark yelled who the hell do you think you are talking to I will divorce you if you say that again. Claire was so angry and did not know what else to do. I looked at Mark and told him that my mother in law had died.

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I was working three jobs, busting my ass day and night, all to pay down the mountain of debt—millions, supposedly—that my wife, Jessica, had racked up before we were married, back when her family business went bankrupt. Or so she told me. Then one afternoon, during my shift moonlighting at a high-end car dealership – the kind that sells Lamborghinis and stuff I could only dream of touching – I saw them. A man and a woman pulling up to test drive a cherry-red Ferrari, easily worth half a million bucks. They were in that car for a long time. Long enough for several empty condom wrappers to get tossed out the window, landing right there on the pristine showroom floor. My manager, red-faced and furious, stormed over to chew them out for messing up such an expensive vehicle. The guy just smirked, totally unfazed. “Gotta test drive all the features, right? How else will my lady and I know if we like it? Besides,” he bragged, gesturing towards the woman still inside, “my lady can afford any car she wants.” And then, I heard her voice. Jessica’s voice. The passenger door opened, and she stepped out, cool as you please, holding out a sleek black credit card. “It’s only half a million,” she said, boredom lacing her tone. “Pocket change, really. We’ll take it.” My blood ran cold. Just last night, our daughter, Lily, was burning up with a fever, delirious. But Jessica? She’d refused to even spend twenty bucks on decent fever medicine, let alone the hundred bucks for an urgent care visit. Said we couldn’t afford it. Just let her burn, told her to tough it out until she passed out. And later… later, Lily died. And then, Jessica finally regretted it. … Standing there in the dealership, hidden behind a pillar, I watched the whole scene unfold. A chill went through me that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. My wife – the woman who pinched every penny with me, who insisted we buy the dented cans at the grocery store, who cut coupons like it was an Olympic sport – was throwing around half a million dollars like it was nothing. The guy, the one she was buying the Ferrari for, grinned ear to ear. “Spoiling me like this… aren’t you afraid your husband will get jealous?” A few seconds passed before Jessica replied, her voice dripping with casual indifference. She smoothed down her dress as she walked around the car. “Afraid of what? He doesn’t know anything. He’s used to roughing it with me. Wouldn’t know what to do with nice things anyway. Giving expensive gifts… it’s only worth it when it’s for you, Rick.” The manager, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the wrappers or heard the conversation, just wanted to take the card and disappear. But Jessica wasn’t done. She pulled out a thick wad of cash – looked like thousands – and shoved it at him. “Here’s a little extra for you. Keep your mouth shut about today. Don’t want any gossip hurting Rick’s reputation.” The way she looked at Rick, that possessive, adoring look… it was like a knife twisting in my gut. It threw me right back to last night. Lily, burning up, 104-degree fever, completely out of it. And Jessica, three times I begged her to let me take Lily to the ER or at least urgent care, and three times she refused, citing the co-pay, the cost of potential prescriptions. She looked at me like I was the one being unreasonable. “Mike, come on,” she’d sighed, like she was explaining something obvious to a child. “You know our financial situation. We barely scrape by. Where are we supposed to find money for expensive doctors and medicines?” “Kids bounce back,” she’d added, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s just a fever. She’ll sweat it out. We save this money, maybe we can finally get you that new coat for Christmas. You’ve been complaining about yours being worn out for years, right?” Lily cried half the night, her head pounding. Jessica couldn’t stand the noise. She grabbed her pillow and went to sleep on the couch in the living room, just to get some peace and quiet. I’d felt sick with worry all day at my other jobs. When I finally got home that evening, I found Lily curled up in a ball on her little bed, whimpering. Her voice was raspy. “Daddy, I feel really bad. When is Mommy going to take me to the doctor?” What could I say? My heart broke just looking at her small, flushed face. I stroked her hair. “Daddy’s going to talk to Mommy again, sweetie. And if she still won’t listen… then Daddy’s going to take you, and we’re leaving.” The words were barely out of my mouth when the bedroom door creaked open. Jessica stood there, her face a mask of anger. “What did you just say about leaving?” I quickly backtracked. “Nothing, honey. You misheard. I was just asking Lily how she’s feeling.” Jessica stared hard at me for a long moment, searching my face. Apparently satisfied I wasn’t planning anything drastic, she seemed to relax slightly. She scooped Lily up from the bed, her voice suddenly full of fake concern, murmuring about how sick her poor baby was as she carried her to the living room couch. Then she opened a small paper bag she’d brought in. Inside? Cheap, over-the-counter pain reliever and fever reducer. The generic stuff that barely worked. She mixed it with warm water and patiently spoon-fed it to Lily. “There, there, sweetie,” she cooed. “Drink this all up, and you’ll feel better soon.” But Lily was way past the point where cheap Tylenol could help. I watched them, my jaw tight. “Jessica,” I said, my voice low but firm. “She’s this sick, and you’re still pretending it’s nothing? Give me my debit card. The paycheck just hit. I’m taking her to the hospital. Now.” 2 Jessica’s hand paused mid-spoonful. “We can’t touch that money, Mike. It’s already allocated for debt payments. Just wait a little longer.” “She can’t wait! She’s burning up, it’s turning serious! If we don’t get her real treatment soon, she could die! Are you really going to let her miss the window just to save a few bucks?” Years of frustration, worry, and seeing her dismiss Lily’s needs boiled over. I was shouting, I couldn’t help it. But Jessica just watched me lose it, her expression eerily calm. When I finally ran out of steam, she spoke quietly. “Stop acting like a child. The debts aren’t going anywhere. As soon as the paycheck hits, it goes straight to the creditors. We’re barely making ends meet as it is, pinching every penny. Where am I supposed to magically find hundreds, maybe thousands, for hospital bills right now?” Her voice hardened. “What do you want me to do, Mike? Rob a bank?” I stared at her face, so rational it was chillingly detached. A wave of utter helplessness washed over me. I covered my face with my hands and let out a choked, bitter laugh. Seeing my despair, a flicker of something – maybe guilt? – crossed her face. She came over, gently took my hand. “Mike, honey, I’m doing this for her too! Remember our plan? Save every dime so Lily can go to a good college, escape this grind, never know the misery of being poor like us.” Her voice softened, trying to pull me back in. “Besides, I took her to the clinic last week when this started. Remember? The doctor said it was just a bad cold, maybe the flu. Said to let it run its course, lots of fluids. No need for anything special.” Right. Last week. When it was just a bad cold. The doctor had offered a prescription for antibiotics, just in case it developed into something worse. Maybe fifty bucks. Jessica refused. Said it was our grocery money for the week. And Lily, bless her heart, had already been brainwashed by Jessica into being the “sensible, money-saving” child. She wouldn’t dare complain or say how bad she really felt. Just gritted her teeth and tried to tough it out. And now… now it had gotten so much worse. Now she was barely conscious. I started to tell Jessica I was getting the doctor’s note from last week, the one mentioning the declined prescription, but her phone suddenly rang. She jumped like she’d been waiting for the call, turned her back on me instantly, and hurried out onto the tiny balcony to answer it. A minute later, she grabbed her purse and walked out the front door without another word. Gritting my teeth, I rummaged through Jessica’s dresser drawer until I found it – my debit card, the one my direct deposit went into. I scooped up Lily, who was limp in my arms, ran downstairs, strapped her precariously onto the back of our rusty old bicycle, and pedaled like mad towards the nearest bank branch with an ATM. My heart pounded with desperate hope as I slid the card into the machine. Denied. Insufficient funds. What? How? My paycheck had just been deposited yesterday! Frantic, I went inside to the teller. She took the card, typed something into her computer, and shook her head. “Sorry, sir. Zero balance.” She handed the card back. It felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. “That… that’s impossible,” I stammered. As I stood there, numb, trying to process it, the teller’s eyes lit up with recognition, looking at the card again. “Oh, wait, I remember this account! Doesn’t a very pretty lady usually handle this card?” I nodded mutely. Jessica. “Yeah,” the teller continued, smiling warmly. “She comes in every month like clockwork after the deposit hits. Transfers the whole amount out. Said it’s her kid’s allowance, lucky little guy. She puts it all into his savings, sometimes adding even more. We all joke about it, wish our kids had it that good! Financial freedom at such a young age, you know?” I saw the envy in the teller’s eyes. She thought Jessica was diligently saving my paycheck for our daughter, Lily. A suffocating tightness clamped down on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Stumbling outside, I desperately dialed Jessica’s number. Voicemail. Again. And again. It was like she’d vanished. Where did she go? Why would she take every cent, knowing Lily was so sick? Why give it all to some other kid who clearly didn’t need it, while her own daughter…? Just then, my phone buzzed. A notification. Someone tagged me on Facebook. It was Rick. The guy from the dealership. I vaguely remembered adding him ages ago after some brief work interaction, never thought anything of it. He’d posted a picture. A screenshot of a bank account balance with so many zeroes I couldn’t even count them quickly. And next to it, another photo: Jessica, tears streaming down her face, tenderly holding a little boy – Rick’s son, I guessed – who was lying in a hospital bed, looking mildly bored. The caption read: “Just a little cold, but you rushed over to make sure he got checked out anyway. Nine years you’ve been watching over him, Jessica. You’re already the best wife I could ask for, and the mother my son adores.” Numbly, I scrolled through Rick’s public profile. Post after post, stretching back nine years. Lavish vacations, expensive toys, fancy dinners… and there, in the background, sometimes subtly, sometimes openly posing, was Jessica. In almost every shot. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Jessica wasn’t broke. She wasn’t struggling. She had money – tons of it. But it wasn’t for us. It was for them. She wasn’t incapable of caring; her care was just reserved for Rick and his son. Lily stirred in my arms, her eyes fluttering open. She weakly pointed a finger at the phone screen, at a picture on Rick’s feed showing his son surrounded by expensive-looking toy cars. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “That car looks really fancy. Did Mommy buy it for that little boy? Why wouldn’t she buy me the five-dollar Barbie I wanted? Does… does Mommy not like me?” “No, sweetie, no,” I choked out, trying to sound convincing. “Mommy loves you very much.” But the words felt hollow, useless. Seeing the expensive toys, hearing my weak denial, seemed to crush Lily’s remaining spirit. Her eyes rolled back, and she went completely limp, slumping against me. Panic seized me. “Lily! Lily!” I scooped her up and ran. Ran towards the nearest hospital, ignoring the stares, ignoring everything but the dead weight in my arms. The ER doctor took one look at her and his face became grim. “Her condition is critical,” he told me gravely after a quick examination. “Looks like severe pneumonia, possibly sepsis. We need to intervene immediately. Has she… has she always been this underweight? Some signs of malnutrition here too. Sir, I have to be honest, without aggressive treatment right away… she might not make it through the night.” Then came the part about the cost. Intensive care, medications, specialists… the numbers he threw out made my head spin. Tens of thousands, maybe more. Money I absolutely did not have. I stumbled out of the ER waiting area, my mind racing. How? How could I get that kind of money in hours? I called everyone I knew – relatives, friends, old co-workers. Borrowed a few hundred here and there, but it was nowhere near enough. Desperate, I mentioned my situation to an acquaintance from one of my shadier side gigs. He said he knew someone who needed help at a private party that night, “quick cash, good pay, no questions asked.” I didn’t even think twice. “I’ll do it.” He gave me an address in a wealthy part of town. When I arrived, my stomach plummeted. It wasn’t just some random gig. It was a lavish birthday party. And the guests of honor? Rick, his son… and my wife, Jessica. She stood in the center of the opulent living room, holding the boy’s hand, radiant in a stunning designer gown, looking every bit the elegant, wealthy socialite. I froze for a second, then took a deep breath and walked straight towards her, keeping my face neutral. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” I said, my voice steady. “Are you the one who requested the extra help for the party?” Her eyes landed on me. For a split second, her mask of composure slipped. Raw panic flashed across her features. She opened her mouth, about to say something – deny knowing me, probably – but the little boy beat her to it. He pointed a chubby finger right at me, sneering. “Mommy Jessica! Who’s this shabby-looking man? Why is he talking to you? Do you know him?” Instinctively, I glanced down at myself. Faded, washed-out jeans I’d owned for years. A white button-down shirt, clean but worn thin, almost yellowed from countless washes, with a small tear near the cuff that Jessica herself had meticulously patched up months ago, telling me it was “still perfectly good.” Every time I’d suggested buying even a cheap new shirt, she’d insisted we couldn’t spare the money. The boy’s voice was loud. Heads turned. All eyes were on me, the clear outsider in this sea of expensive clothes and jewelry. Jessica stared at me, her face unreadable for a few tense seconds. Then, she turned back to the boy, her voice cold and dismissive. “No, sweetie. I don’t know him.” She waved a hand irritably in my direction. “Security! Get this stranger out of here. We don’t want random people crashing the party.”

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My mother is a pop icon, practically a legend who once dominated the American music charts for years. My older sister followed in her footsteps, clawing her way through the industry, winning awards for Mom, making her proud. She’s Mom’s everything. And then there’s me. The quiet one, the little mute, the stain on Mom’s otherwise perfect life story she could never erase. To keep the world from finding out I existed, Mom locked me in the storage closet every day. She even told me, more times than I can count: “Why don’t you just disappear.” Eventually, I did. I died. And after that, my sister couldn’t hit a single pure note anymore. And my mother, my arrogant, self-assured mother, she lost her mind. 1 The day I got locked in the little dark closet for the last time was the night of the Awards show – the finals where my sister, Victoria, was up for Artist of the Year. I curled up in the corner of the storage space, catching my reflection in a dusty old mirror. A skinny, frail girl with a sickly pale face stared back. Mom, Seraphina Reign, was a household name. After she retired from performing, she poured everything into grooming Victoria. And me? In her eyes, I was just the kid who stammered as a child and grew up… silent. A little mute. Locking me in the dark closet with just enough scraps to keep me alive was the best arrangement she could think of for me. Officially, she only had one daughter: Victoria Reign. Nobody knew Seraphina Reign had another daughter, a mute one named Lily. Mom couldn’t stand the thought of the media finding out about me. It was humiliating for her. Suddenly, Mom flung open the closet door. She rummaged through shelves, picking out props for Victoria’s performance tonight, not even glancing my way. I shrank further into the corner, terrified of making any sound that might annoy her. My throat felt tight, like something was stuck there. I swallowed hard, trying desperately not to cough. “What’s wrong with your throat? Hacking like some stray dog?” Mom’s sharp voice cut through the air, twisting my insides. “Must’ve done something terrible in a past life to end up with a mute kid like you. Thank God your sister takes after me, got more talent than I did at her age. Tonight, she’s finally going to win it – the award I always dreamed of!” “Since you can’t sing, you just stay put in here. Don’t you dare let the press get a whiff of your existence!” She shot me a look filled with disgust, her words spat out through clenched teeth. I nodded quickly, clamping my hand over my mouth as a violent cough finally broke through. Seeing me cough uncontrollably, Mom muttered something about me being bad luck and slammed the door shut, the lock clicking into place. I hid my hand behind my back, the palm now smeared with blood. My heart felt heavy, like a stone. 2 Mom told me not to leave the storage closet, but I still ended up backstage at Victoria’s final performance. Hidden away, of course. Inside a small equipment locker this time. While Victoria was getting her makeup touched up, a hand – elegant, with long fingers like polished jade – appeared at the locker’s vent. She quickly shoved a bottle of water towards me. “For your throat,” she whispered. I flinched, pressing myself deeper into the dark corner. Those beautiful hands… they’d held so many trophies, countless awards, delivered what the world thought were heavenly vocals. Those same beautiful hands had also gripped my arm countless times, bruisingly tight, while Victoria cried, begging me to lip-sync for her, to help her steal the title of the next big pop sensation. Victoria promised that if I helped her win Artist of the Year, she’d find a way to get me out of the closet, maybe even convince Mom to love me, just like she loved her. The thought of living in the sunlight, the fantasy of Mom holding me close with affection… I agreed without a second thought. All those secret nights spent practicing, straining my voice, were all for this moment – helping Victoria win the award Mom herself had craved. If Victoria won, wouldn’t Mom be overjoyed? Maybe then… maybe she’d finally look at me? Right now, Mom was sitting on the judges’ panel, beaming with pride at Victoria under the spotlight. And I was huddled in a dark locker, quietly sipping water to soothe my raw throat. Only Victoria knew I wasn’t really mute. And definitely not tone-deaf. I’d inherited all of Mom’s musical genius, born with a voice that was a gift. But tonight… I’d changed my mind. I wasn’t going to give a perfect performance. Suddenly, I didn’t want Mom to see her precious Victoria crowned. I didn’t want the headlines screaming about the mother-daughter duo conquering the music world. I was dying anyway. Let me have this… Let me be selfish, just this once. 3 Victoria was scheduled to perform last, the grand finale. That was Mom’s arrangement. “Save the best for last,” she’d declared. “I lost out years ago because I went on first. Someone else got lucky with the votes.” Mom was always like that – supremely confident, almost arrogant. Her talent was undeniable, so she bulldozed through the industry, never caring who she offended. Countless young artists had been crushed by her sharp tongue over the years. Even seasoned veterans weren’t safe from her criticism. But that same confidence meant she never really listened to Victoria sing on her own. She had no idea that my sister, when actually singing, sounded like a rusty hinge. Oblivious, Mom had even crafted a ridiculous tagline for her: “Talks like a crow, sings like an angel.” Twenty minutes before showtime, Mom swept into the dressing room, practically vibrating with nervous excitement. Even through the locker vent, I could feel her thrill. “Vicky, honey, don’t be nervous. You’ve got this! It’s in your blood, pure talent!” “A gift from God!” Then her tone shifted. “Not like Lily… Sometimes I wish I’d never bothered having her. Can’t get rid of her, but can’t stand looking at her!” My heart clenched violently. My throat felt like it was blocked with cement. “It would be so much better if she just… disappeared.” My mind went blank. I couldn’t believe my own mother would wish that. A bitter smile touched my lips. I fought back the urge to cough. Soon, Mom. Your wish is coming true. I’ll be gone soon. My whole existence was a mistake, wasn’t it? I won’t be your burden much longer. Mom, after I’m dead, maybe then… maybe you could smile at me the way you smile at Victoria? Even if it’s just at my picture, my grave, my ashes… Maybe the only right thing your daughter ever did was die. Three days ago, after helping Victoria lip-sync through the semi-finals, I actually got half a day off while we waited for the results. Clutching the fifty dollars Victoria had tossed me like charity, I wandered aimlessly, unsure where to go. Lately, the nosebleeds were constant, and my throat felt scratchy and tight, like tiny insects were crawling inside. I took that fifty dollars and walked into a free clinic. The doctor looked at me sympathetically. “Where are your parents? Maybe they should come in so we can talk.” I looked down, mumbled, “Mom’s with my sister.” The doctor paused, then sighed, her expression full of pity. “Okay, honey. If you don’t want your guardian here, I’ll be straight with you.” “All this intense singing, the constant strain… you’ve let this go for too long. Your voice… I’m afraid it’s probably too late to save it. But if you start aggressive treatment now, maybe there’s still a small chance—” I already knew, didn’t I? It didn’t matter if I had a fever, or felt sick. If Victoria had a performance, I had to be there, hidden away, singing my heart out for her. If it wasn’t for sheer natural talent, my voice would have given out long ago. I cut the doctor off, managing a weak smile. “Ma’am, could you just prescribe me some strong painkillers? It really hurts… I can’t stand the pain anymore.” With a look of deep sorrow, she gently nodded. On my rare half-day of freedom, I spent my entire fifty dollars confirming I had late-stage throat cancer. I really was going to become mute. And I really was going to die. 4 Victoria walked onto the stage, wearing the custom designer gown Mom had commissioned for her. Elegant and proud, she glided to the center stage spotlight. Mom’s grin stretched practically ear to ear. She leaned over, whispering excitedly to the judge next to her, listing off Victoria’s previous awards. I knew most of the judges found Mom annoying, but privately, they all acknowledged Victoria’s talent. No, my talent. The powerful, moody intro of the song filled my earpiece. Mom had chosen ‘Cage’ for Victoria’s final performance. She’d told Victoria: “Even though you’ve had an easy life, your singing always has this undercurrent of pain, this complexity.” “Singing this in the finals? It’ll blow everyone away!” Mom wasn’t wrong in her analysis; she was a musical genius, after all. But how could she, who had fought her way to the top, never wonder? How could she not suspect that a song sung with such raw, lived-in pain couldn’t come from someone who hadn’t experienced it? Mom, didn’t you ever doubt? Victoria gave the subtle cue in my earpiece. I cleared my throat. “In the deep dark sea, a flicker of light, a dim temptation…” A hush fell over the audience. Everyone held their breath, eyes fixed on Victoria, lost in the haunting, beautiful melody. From the judges’ table, I saw Mom press a hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes, brimming with pride and adoration. Countless performances had perfected our synchronization. Victoria and I moved as one voice, hitting every pause, every breath perfectly. The song built towards its crescendo. The audience leaned forward, hearts suspended, waiting for the soaring climax, the moment the music would break free from the song’s oppressive weight. Curled in the cramped locker, the lack of air and the awkward position made it hard to breathe. My mind flooded with images: years locked in the musty closet, Mom’s looks of disgust, her cruel words, my own fragile heart starved of any affection. The final notes faded into silence. The venue was utterly still for a beat, then erupted in thunderous applause. Judges leaped to their feet, clapping and shouting praise. Only Seraphina Reign, my mother, remained frozen in her chair, silent. I knew that look. She wasn’t stunned speechless by joy. She knew. She knew the truth. 5 A single, mistimed breath. That tiny slip-up during the lip-sync. It might fool the general public, maybe even the other judges. But it wouldn’t fool her. Not my mother, the legendary Seraphina Reign. I bet even Victoria didn’t realize that the almost imperceptible pause in the final phrase, less than half a second long, would be the crack that let Mom see the truth. Victoria stood basking in the ovation, accepting the award, drunk on the roar of the crowd and the judges’ effusive compliments. She was completely oblivious to Mom sitting rigid in her chair, her face darkening, eyes fixed on her like a hawk. Everyone’s focus was on the stage. Victoria Reign had just won the coveted Artist of the Year award, the only one given out in the last three years, instantly becoming the dazzling new star of her generation. She had arguably surpassed her mother’s legacy, achieving the one prize Seraphina had always wanted but never attained. Instantly, entertainment news outlets exploded. Headlines flew everywhere. The buzz even overshadowed the time Mom herself had fiercely defended American pop music against a wave of international artists years ago. Seraphina, never one to hide her feelings, looked like thunder. The air around her crackled with tension. She presented the award to Victoria with a face like stone, managing a clipped, icy comment: “Well done, Victoria. I suppose you’ll be giving me singing lessons now.” Victoria just smiled shyly, still unaware, and shot a proud little wink towards Mom at the judges’ table. She had no idea the storm that was about to break. And Mom had no idea that the voice she revered, the voice that had bested even her own legacy, belonged to the daughter she despised most. I swallowed a painkiller. A hollow laugh escaped me. I’d won this round, maybe. But my heart felt utterly empty. 6 Night fell. I sat in the back seat of Mom’s car. Tilting my head, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror – sallow skin, my nose raw and swollen from wiping away blood. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut. Victoria was rambling, trying to make excuses, to deny everything. Mom gripped the steering wheel, face an emotionless mask, her thoughts hidden. Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes. Before I could react, she threw open my back door, grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked me brutally downwards. Sharp pain shot through my scalp. The metallic taste of blood filled my throat again. Mom started hitting my head, screaming, cursing relentlessly: “You little bitch! You can sing? What the hell was all that mute crap? Were you playing me? Making a fool of your own mother?” “Was helping your sister lip-sync some kind of sick joke? Huh? Does it make you feel important?” I opened my mouth, forcing down the blood, trying to speak past the agony in my throat. “I didn’t… I wasn’t pretending… You said I had no talent… You never… never treated me like a daughter.” My voice dwindled to a whisper. I broke free from her grip, collapsing onto the pavement, trying to scream out years of silent pain, pleading my case, venting my rage… But no sound came out. And no one was listening anyway. No one ever wanted to listen. More blood welled up in my mouth. I finally said it, I thought. I finally spoke up. But just like Victoria had warned me in secret, what difference did it make? Mom, see? Even now, you won’t change how you see me. You’re capable of love, just… not for me. Suddenly, my brain felt like it short-circuited, plunging me into a blinding white fog I couldn’t escape. All the pain and tightness in my throat vanished. My body felt incredibly light, almost like floating. The last thing I heard, echoing endlessly in my mind, was Mom’s voice: “Why couldn’t you have just died sooner!?” Why not die sooner? Truth is, I did. My heart died… It died that winter, abandoned on a dark highway.

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