Category: English

I’d been away on a business trip for half a month. The second my plane touched down, I rushed straight home. On the way, I tried calling my fiancé, Brandon , a bunch of times, but he didn’t pick up. I figured I’d stop trying and just surprise him when I got home. But when I used my key to open the door, for a second, I thought I’d walked into the wrong apartment. Why was there a woman inside? And a baby? 1. I stood there in the doorway, luggage handle still in my grip, completely stunned. “Hey, Lynn, you’re back?” Brandon greeted me like nothing was weird. “Pam Tong had a fight with her husband, and she just had the baby, so she’s crashing here for a few days.” He looked totally casual. “Actually, since you haven’t even taken your shoes off yet, could you run out and grab some stuff? The baby still needs a lot.” I couldn’t catch my breath and snapped at him. “What do you mean? Did you even talk to me about this?” “Look, we can talk after you get back with the stuff,” Brandon said, trying to nudge me out the door. Just then, the baby started wailing. It looked so tiny, like it was just born. I bit back my anger. Fine. I’d go get the stuff first, then deal with this. He handed me a long list – formula, diapers, changing pads, everything. There’s a baby supply store just down the block from our building. Walking there, I got angrier and angrier. Pam Tong was Brandon’s childhood friend, the one he grew up with. When we first started dating, we fought about her constantly. She always seemed to tag along on our dates. Brandon bought her gifts for holidays, same as me. Whenever we hung out with his friends, they’d always tease Brandon and Pam about being a couple. The worst time was during a game of Truth or Dare. Pam was dared to kiss a guy in the room, and she went straight for Brandon. Right after, she turned to me and said, “Lynn, sorry, couldn’t help it, Bran and I are just that close, you know? You’re not mad, right?” Whenever I brought her up during arguments, Brandon would brush it off. “If we were going to get together, we would have ages ago. We’re just buddies. You’re being way too sensitive.” Luckily, she got a boyfriend not long after and moved out of state with him. Things quieted down for a while after that. So why was she back now?! And staying at my place postpartum?! When I got back with the bags, I swallowed my rage and planned to go see her. But Brandon stopped me. “Don’t go in there yet. You just came in from outside, you’ll bring a chill in. She’s still recovering, you know.” That was it. I yanked my arm away. “Are you insane? How could you let her stay here to recover?” “Come on, she’s a friend, just helping her out, what’s the big deal? She fought with her husband, had nowhere else to go.” Brandon looked completely unbothered. “We’ll sleep in the spare room. Let her have the master bedroom. She’ll leave after she’s recovered.” “And now that you’re back,” he continued, “she just gave birth, dealing with all that postpartum stuff… messy. And I’m clumsy with babies, not like you women. You can help take care of her and the kid.” I was so furious I actually calmed down. “You want me, an unmarried woman with no kids, to take care of someone I barely know, who just had a baby? Are you out of your mind?” I grabbed my suitcase handle again. “Good thing I haven’t unpacked. I’m staying somewhere else tonight. Tomorrow, I don’t want to see her in this apartment.” With that, I slammed the door behind me. 2 I was exhausted from the flight anyway. So, I checked into a hotel nearby. I’d stay the night, get some rest, and figure out my next move tomorrow with a clear head. I scrolled through Pam’s social media. Turns out, she’d been here for ten days. “Feeling safe enough to rest before the baby comes, surrounded by the people I trust most.” The picture? Brandon carrying her suitcase, his arm around her. Five days ago, when the baby was born, she posted a photo of Brandon holding the newborn. “Bran is always my rock.” There were other baby pics too, the background clearly my bedroom, the baby nestled in the expensive bedding I picked out. Seeing those posts made my blood boil. I texted my best friend, Maya. “Guess who just won the lottery for ‘most likely to get cheated on’? Me. Lynn Han.” Maya called me immediately. I spilled everything. She was furious, telling me she’d bring over two guys from her boxing gym tomorrow to help me kick those two weirdos out. Venting helped. A lot. Knowing I had a battle ahead tomorrow, I went to bed early. First thing in the morning, Maya showed up with the two guys. And wow, they were handsome. Built like refrigerators, faces like models, and super polite. “Hi, Lynn! You’re really pretty. That guy’s blind.” “Totally. Don’t worry, Lynn, we’ll definitely help you get them out.” Their compliments actually made me feel a bit better, lifting my mood. Back at my apartment, I found that neither Brandon nor Pam had made any move to pack. Pam was still camped out in my bedroom like she owned the place. Before I could even say anything, Pam walked over to me. “Lynn, my husband… he hit me.” Tears started rolling down her face immediately. “He’d actually lay hands on me, right after I gave birth. I just couldn’t stay there. I had nowhere else to go. Bran felt sorry for me, that’s the only reason he let me stay.” “I have no one else,” she sobbed. “Please, just help me out.” All these years, I had to admit, her ability to cry on command was impressive. “You can’t go home? What about your parents?” Maya couldn’t stand it and cut right in. “My parents are old. I don’t want to burden them,” Pam wept, hugging the now-crying baby tighter. “You don’t want to burden them, but you have no problem burdening me? You seriously think I, a single woman who’s never had kids, am equipped to take care of you postpartum?” I was speechless. What kind of logic was that? “Lynn Han, is now really the time to be angry? Don’t you know she just had a baby?” Brandon yelled at me, furious. Then he turned to Pam, his voice suddenly gentle. “Don’t cry. It’s bad for your eyes when you’re recovering. Go back inside.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gently guided her back towards the bedroom. A woman recovering from childbirth, crying like that… I didn’t even know what to say. But then, just before she went into the room, Pam looked back over Brandon’s shoulder and shot me a triumphant smirk. She was doing it on purpose! That flipped a switch. Before Brandon could even turn back around, I laid down the law. “I’m giving you one more day. If you’re not gone with her by tomorrow, I’m throwing all your stuff out!” 3 We left, defeated. A woman recovering from childbirth, a baby just days old… the guys Maya brought couldn’t really do or say much. Still, I was grateful. I took Maya and the guys out for lunch. “What do you even see in him? I told you from the start, anyone who hangs around that Pam character is bad news,” Maya said, looking at me like I was hopeless. “She hadn’t caused trouble in years! I thought she was gone for good,” I mumbled, feeling miserable. “And we’ve been together five years, met each other’s parents, we were about to get married. When Pam wasn’t around, he was actually pretty good to me.” “So when Pam shows up, you just step aside? You’re okay with that?” “Have you ever thought,” Maya pressed, “why he was so nice to you when Pam wasn’t around? Maybe it was because you’re good-looking, you’re local, you own property, you make good money?” I couldn’t argue. I’d never really considered it from that angle. Guess it’s true what they say: you can’t see the forest for the trees. Just then, my mom called. “Hi, Mom?” Her voice was serious. “Lynn, is something wrong? Tell Mom.” “No, Mom, everything’s fine. Why?” “Then why are Brandon and some woman with a baby staying at your place? Where are you?” I shot up from my seat. “Mom, you came over? I’ll come get you!” After picking up my mom, I found out the whole story. Those two lowlifes heard my mom knocking but pretended not to be home. They didn’t even open the door. They just left my mother standing outside. My mom got suspicious, waited a bit, and heard unfamiliar voices from inside. Now I was truly furious. It was one thing for them to disrespect me, but leaving my mom locked out? They seemed to forget whose name was on the deed to this place – bought and paid for by my family! But I held it together in front of my mom. I didn’t want her to worry. I told her it was just a friend who’d fought with her family and needed a place to crash for a few days, that she’d be gone soon. Maybe they were busy with the baby and didn’t hear the door. My mom looked skeptical but went home.

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My name is Sarah Miller. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life – my wedding day. My groom, Mark, is one of the most respected lawyers in the city. We had a big reception planned, a couple hundred guests. But one man’s arrival shattered the festive mood. My father—Richard Davis. Funny, right? We don’t even share the same last name. Over a decade ago, he dropped fifty thousand dollars on the table, ditched my mom and me, took my brother, and walked out. … “Sarah, honey, this is your father,” Mom said, beaming like nothing was wrong. Richard Davis smiled at me too. “Sarah, I’m your dad. Do you remember me?” “Of course, she remembers her father,” Mom chimed in, then looked pointedly at me. “Right, Sarah?” I stared at the two of them, feeling disgusted and annoyed. A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “Oh, I remember. You didn’t want Mom, and you didn’t want me!” Their smiles froze instantly. “Sarah, how can you talk like that? You’ll make your father angry.” Good. Let him be angry. Seeing them upset was the only thing that could make me feel slightly better right now. I put on an innocent face. “But Mom, isn’t that what you always used to say? Didn’t you say he was the kind of guy who’d use someone and then pretend he didn’t know them?” Richard shot a glare at my mother. His face turned ugly. Mom scrambled to explain. “No, Richard, Sarah’s just trying to provoke you! Why would I ever say anything bad about you?” Truth is, Mom never really bad-mouthed Richard to me. In her eyes, the real villain was always the “homewrecker” who supposedly lured him away. Richard gave her money, bought her things; how could he be wrong? Richard sighed dramatically. “Sarah, it’s okay if you’re angry with me. Your old dad forgives you. I won’t hold it against you.” Then, he turned to Mark, who had just hurried over. “This must be my son-in-law! A fine young man!” Richard’s forced familiarity made my skin crawl. Had they all conveniently forgotten how my brother died eight years ago? 2: Ghosts of the Past When Richard Davis left with my brother, Leo. I was young, and the memories are hazy. I mostly remember Mom constantly cursing, “That damn tramp, that sneaky witch.” Later, when I was older. Mom told me Dad had an affair. He was stolen away by some homewrecker. For that woman, Dad abandoned us, taking only Leo and leaving fifty grand behind. This whole thing messed Mom up badly. She constantly pushed me, telling me I had to succeed, had to give her a good life. While other kids were riding on their dads’ shoulders playing horsey, Mom had me drilling multiplication tables and memorizing state capitals day and night. It went on like that for years. When I got tired, I’d look in the mirror and try to psych myself up. I’d think about my twin brother, Leo—born two minutes after me, but always insisting I call him ‘big bro’. The sharpest memory I have from back then: Once, I accidentally broke Mom’s favorite vase. I was terrified of getting yelled at, or worse. Leo just smirked at me, teasing me for being clumsy. But when Mom came home, he took the blame. He got grounded for a week. I asked him why he did it. He patted my head like a little old man and said, “‘Cause I’m the big brother, gotta protect you. Now, call me ‘big bro’.” Looking in the mirror now, I whispered it with a smile, “Big bro.” I always thought, someday I’d see Leo again, and I’d call him that to his face. But— The next time I saw my brother. He was lying on a cold hospital bed, covered entirely by a white sheet. I stood beside him, sobbing uncontrollably. My brother was only eighteen. How could he just die from an illness? I couldn’t accept it. I cried and demanded answers from Mom. “We just couldn’t scrape together the money in time,” she’d said, wiping tears. “The hospital wouldn’t schedule the surgery without payment upfront. It’s their fault, damn them, treating people like numbers.” She even tried to raise hell at the hospital later, hoping to get some kind of settlement, but failed. Seeing me devastated by Leo’s death, especially with my college entrance exams coming up, Mom tried to comfort me. Tears streamed down her face as she said, “Your brother was such a good kid, always thinking of others. He probably didn’t want the family to go bankrupt trying to pay for his surgery, so he… he just let go.” Then her crying turned into angry muttering. “It’s all because of that homewrecker! If it wasn’t for her, your dad wouldn’t have left us, your brother wouldn’t have grown up without me, his own mother, looking after him, and died so young. It’s all her fault! If he’d just left us more money, maybe we could have afforded the treatment…” Money, money, money! If we’d had enough money for the surgery, would Leo still be alive? Before, all I wanted was a comfortable, simple life. Now I understood: being broke could literally kill someone. I started studying even harder. For kids like me, from families like mine, the only path to making real money seemed to be getting into a top university through sheer hard work. Three months later, I got into a prestigious university. Once enrolled, I balanced intense studying with part-time jobs, sending every penny I earned to Mom. She was thrilled. She bragged to everyone about how smart and responsible I was, already earning good money before even graduating. If people agreed and praised me too, she’d be even happier. If they didn’t, she’d start bad-mouthing them the second they turned their backs. Her mood swings were astonishing. She kept calling me “Sarah, honey,” but she rarely mentioned my brother, Leo, anymore. That struck me as odd. They say losing a child is the hardest grief for a mother to bear, but my mother… she didn’t seem truly heartbroken for long. It wasn’t until that one day that I finally understood what kind of person my mother really was. 3: The Awful Truth One day, I saw Mom at the restaurant where I waitressed. She had no idea I worked there; in fact, she never asked about my jobs – where I worked, if it was tiring. She only cared about how much money I made. Mom was sitting by the window, wearing a silk scarf and oversized sunglasses. If it weren’t for the familiar cheap dress she had on, I might not have recognized her. Across from her sat a woman I didn’t know. She looked polished and expensive – designer trench coat, classic Chanel bag. Clearly loaded. How did Mom know someone like that? Just then, a couple sat down at a nearby table. I went over, my back to Mom’s table, and started taking their order. “I really don’t get it,” the wealthy woman said impatiently. “How can you, the mistress, have the nerve to keep asking for money?” “Why shouldn’t I have the nerve?” Mom shot back. “Did I sleep with your husband for all those years for free? Did I give him two kids for nothing?” My mind went blank for a second. Wēng~~~ a buzzing filled my ears. Mom… was the mistress? Those words echoed in my head. “You already got your payout when you gave up your son. My husband’s barely interested in you now. What leverage do you have left?” the woman sneered. Mom chuckled coldly. “Don’t forget, I still have a daughter. Push me too far, and we can burn it all down! I’ve got nothing left to lose besides her, but you people? Your husband’s company could go under if this gets out. Let’s see where your family ends up then!” “Miss? Miss?” The male customer waved his hand in front of my face, looking concerned. “Are you okay? You look really pale.” I dug my nails into my palm, the sharp pain bringing me back. I shook my head. “Thanks, I’m fine. I’ll go put your order in.” I hurried away, hearing the girl at the table behind me say excitedly, “Wow, she must be totally shocked by what those two were saying! Can you believe a mistress being so shameless…” She was right. I was shocked. All this time, I thought my parents had divorced, and each took a child. The reality was horrifying: Mom was the mistress, shamelessly wrecking someone else’s family. Even worse, the idea that my brother was… sold? Given up for money? I knew Mom loved money. She scrimped and saved on everything, even on me. But I never imagined she could just… trade away her own son! My twin brother! I tried to fight the thought, tried to remember Mom’s grief when we got the news about Leo. But all I could picture was her getting over it quickly, back to playing mahjong with her friends within days. Even when Dad called and forbade us from attending Leo’s funeral, Mom didn’t argue. I begged her to take me. But she just said, “I feel too guilty, not being able to afford his treatment. I can’t face him.” Back then, my heart ached for her. It made me work even harder, earn more money! Thinking back now, piecing things together, a chilling thought surfaced: Was Leo’s death really about not having enough money? Didn’t Dad own a company?! Later, I saw that wealthy woman – Dad’s actual wife – at my workplace again. This time, she was holding a little boy, maybe two or three years old. Did she kill my brother because she finally had a son of her own? The monstrous idea festered in my mind. I desperately wanted to run up and scream at her: “Did you kill my brother? Did you?!” But I knew, deep down, I had no power, no way to uncover the truth like this. And that’s when I realized… this fancy wedding, this unwanted reunion… this was my chance to start digging.

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My sister and I both possessed a Family Selection System. She chose the richest couple in the city to be her parents, the most popular guy in school to be her boyfriend, and the prettiest girl in our grade to be her best friend. I chose a pair of dedicated teachers as my parents, a brilliant scholar as my boyfriend, and a top-ranking nerd as my best friend. My sister laughed at me, saying I picked a bunch of useless, boring bookworms. But she didn’t understand. Money and looks can never measure a person’s true worth. 1 Chloe and I stared intensely at the system screen, our palms sweating. After sacrificing ourselves to save someone, my sister Chloe and I were both reborn in an orphanage, and we were both granted a System. The system told us we had three chances to choose our “family.” We could choose our parents, our best friend, and our boyfriend. Right now, Chloe and I were choosing our parents. Pair after pair of potential parents flashed across our screens: high-ranking politicians, janitors, award-winning actors, Olympic champions, exceptional teachers, billionaires… When Chloe saw the final pair—the billionaire couple—her breathing quickened. She eagerly pointed at the screen, her voice shrill: “I want them! I choose the billionaire parents!” The system turned to me. Chloe immediately shot me a defensive, glaring look. I understood her psychology. She was terrified I would steal them from her. Parents could be chosen simultaneously. If we both chose the billionaires, we would be sisters again, which meant she would have someone competing with her for their affection and wealth. I looked at the massive screen, my eyes slowly moving past the various options, finally stopping on a pair of nationally recognized, award-winning Master Teachers. According to their character profiles, they were gentle, kind, and completely indifferent to fame and fortune. Because they were both exceptional educators, they valued their child’s education above absolutely everything else. It was obvious that growing up in that household would guarantee the best possible education. I chose the teacher parents. Chloe let out a massive sigh of relief, followed immediately by a mocking laugh. “Mia, are you actually stupid? What’s the point of choosing a pair of broke teachers? At least pick someone with some money!” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. Having lived a past life, how could I not understand? Wealth can be lost in an instant, but knowledge and skills are yours forever. It’s better to have your own capabilities than to rely on rich parents. Once the selection process ended, the orphanage director rushed over, announcing that two different couples were here to adopt us at the exact same time. Chloe’s eyes gleamed with greed. She sprinted out to meet her billionaire parents, only to find a single Rolls-Royce waiting. A stiff, formal assistant informed her that her new parents were too busy to come, but the car was a welcoming gift. Chloe stared at the luxury car with pure, unadulterated excitement and greed. My new parents, the teachers, stood off to the side. One held a bag with new clothes, while the other carefully balanced a small cake. I walked over and gave them a bright smile. “Mom, Dad. I’m Mia.” They hugged me, overflowing with joy. Chloe looked down on us from her high horse, her face a mask of absolute disdain. “The joy of poor people is so cheap.” I thought back to the brief character profile I had read about the billionaire parents. The system balanced the total points for every set of parents. That meant if they excelled in one area, they would be severely lacking in another. For example, my teacher parents could provide me with endless love and a top-tier education, but they lacked massive wealth. Chloe’s billionaire parents, on the other hand, could give her an endless supply of money. But they were also both psychopathic, violent, and sadistic. Their favorite way to relieve stress was by torturing their children. Once Chloe officially became their child, her life was going to be a living hell. As Chloe climbed into the luxury car to leave, she shot me a smug, victorious smile. I smiled back. I wondered if she would still be smiling like that after enduring a few rounds of combined abuse from her new billionaire parents. 2 As soon as we got home, my teacher parents immediately drew up a comprehensive, customized study plan for me. They originally assumed that, given my young age, I would hate studying. But to their surprise, I threw myself into my books, studying day and night, forgetting to eat or sleep. “Our daughter is an absolute treasure.” They would constantly praise me, beaming with pride. I just smiled. They had no idea how desperately I craved an education. In my past life, my parents blatantly favored Chloe. They gave her the only opportunity to go to school, forcing me to drop out early and work menial jobs to support the family. Because I lacked education and knowledge, I suffered unimaginably in the real world. Reborn into this life, my only desire was to study as hard as humanly possible. I graduated middle school ranked first in my entire school. I had my pick of any top high school in the city, but I set my sights on something much higher: Arwood Academy. If the city’s top high schools selected the best students locally, Arwood Academy recruited the absolute best minds from across the entire country. Everyone said that stepping through the gates of Arwood Academy was basically keeping one foot in the Ivy League. Because of this, Arwood’s admission standards were brutal. The number of applicants was astronomical, but the number of students actually accepted was microscopic. When I arrived at Arwood Academy for the entrance exams, I realized the rumors weren’t exaggerated. The campus was packed with a sea of people. Despite the grueling, multi-stage elimination process, a few hundred students made it to the final round. And among them, I saw Chloe. Chloe looked incredibly haggard. Her bright eyes were heavily bloodshot, and the skin exposed by her uniform was covered in a terrifying crisscross of fresh and fading scars. It seemed Chloe’s life these past few years had been exactly as horrific as I predicted. Her irritated, impatient gaze swept over the crowd and landed on me. Seeing my healthy, glowing complexion, her face instantly darkened. She forced a stiff, fake smile. “Mia, you’re applying to Arwood too? Keep dreaming. You probably won’t even pass the first round.” Right then, an admissions officer walked over to me, smiling brightly. “Mia, I reviewed your scores. Don’t worry, you are absolutely getting in. You’ll be placed in the elite Class 1.” Hearing this, Chloe couldn’t even maintain her fake smile. The admissions officer then turned to Chloe, frowning deeply. “Chloe, your scores are far too low. You were eliminated in the very first round. Why are you still here? If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.” Chloe completely dropped the act, grinding her teeth in fury. She quickly turned to the assistant standing next to her and threw a tantrum: “I want to go to Arwood Academy! And I want to be in Class 1!” Her billionaire father ended up donating ten new buildings to Arwood Academy, securing Chloe the right to enter Class 1. Waving her admission letter in my face, Chloe gloated. “See, Mia? Ten years of grueling, bone-chilling studying, and you still can’t beat ten minutes of my ‘effort’.” “Hard work can never beat a wealthy background. It’s not my fault I have billionaire parents. Unlike you, stuck with broke teachers, having to fight tooth and nail for everything yourself.” Thanks to her ability to buy her way in, Chloe’s initial irritation and gloom were completely replaced by smug arrogance. Her resentment over the abuse from her parents seemed to vanish, replaced entirely by the smug satisfaction of being a billionaire heiress. She felt like she had finally beaten me, tying the score. I, however, just stared at the ugly, jagged scars covering her hands. Given her parents’ psychopathic nature, the fact that Chloe made them cough up the cash for ten buildings meant they were going to exact payment for it entirely on her body. Chloe’s collection of scars was about to grow significantly. 3 As expected, Chloe didn’t show up for the first month of school. My classmates whispered among themselves, saying that whenever they walked past the billionaire estate, they could hear Chloe’s blood-curdling screams echoing from inside. I paused for a second, then lowered my head and went back to my practice exam. Our class was filled with the absolute best students from all over the country. I was the top student in my city, but here, I was barely average. There’s always someone better, always a higher mountain. Even though I studied relentlessly, sheer effort is nothing in the face of raw, natural genius. Every single student at the top of our class was a prodigy. I only had average talent. Even with my Master Teacher parents guiding me, surpassing them would require exponentially more effort. After studying until my brain felt numb, I got up to use the restroom. But as I approached the door, I heard a commotion inside. “So you got first place, huh? Think you’re tough? You’re still just a pathetic punching bag for us.” “If you try to dodge again, I’m shoving this dirty mop in your mouth and making you drink the water.” “Look at your hands, they’re completely chapped and rotting. You’re so broke you can’t even afford hand cream. You deserve to be bullied.” … I glanced into the dim restroom and was shocked to discover that the ringleader of the bullies was Sarah Jenkins, the prettiest girl in our class, often called the ‘Class Beauty.’ And the person being bullied was our class valedictorian, Elara Vance. I had a very strong impression of Elara. Not just because of the incredibly prominent burn scar on her face, but because of her absolute, terrifying genius. No matter the subject, she only had to read the textbook once to score a perfect 100. She was a pure, natural-born prodigy. But she was also incredibly isolated and silent. She was always a lone wolf in class, never speaking to anyone. Seeing the blood seeping from the corner of Elara’s mouth, a sudden, blinding rage ignited in my chest. Having been raised by my parents, I knew exactly how rare and precious a genuinely gifted student was. How dare Sarah treat her like this?! I took a few large strides forward, aggressively shoved Sarah and her crew aside, and pulled Elara behind me. “Stop it right now! Bullying is strictly prohibited!” Sarah sneered at me, her voice dripping with threat: “My parents are high-ranking government officials. If you try to stop me, I’ll beat you up too.” Behind me, Elara pulled her hand out of my grasp, her voice cold and detached: “I don’t need your help. Just leave.” I grabbed her hand again, smiling brightly. “Don’t be scared. I know exactly how to handle this.” I turned to Sarah, speaking slowly and deliberately: “I know your parents are high-ranking officials. But if you dare touch a single hair on my head, your parents’ careers will be over.” Sarah frowned, demanding to know why. I enunciated every single word: “My parents are teachers. Nationally Recognized, Award-Winning Master Teachers.” Sarah’s face instantly changed. Broke teachers might mean absolutely nothing to someone like Chloe, whose family only cared about money and avoided political power. But Sarah’s family was completely different. Government officials care about their public image and reputation above absolutely everything else. They have to be incredibly careful with their every word and action, terrified of giving anyone leverage over them. My parents were poor, yes. But their students were everywhere, working in every industry imaginable. And they held honorary titles bestowed directly by the national government. If the news got out that their child was being violently bullied, I guarantee I wouldn’t be the one suffering the consequences. Realizing the massive political risk, Sarah dropped the dirty mop and begrudgingly walked away. I turned and helped Elara up, asking with genuine concern, “If she bullies you again, you can tell the teachers.” Given Elara’s exceptional grades, if she reported it, the teachers would absolutely intervene and protect her. But Elara just shook her head apathetically. She muttered a quick ‘thank you’ and turned to leave. After she walked away, I noticed a full bottle of sleeping pills lying exactly where she had been standing. 4 I started paying close attention to Elara, and that’s when I realized the sleeping pills weren’t just for insomnia. She wanted to commit suicide. After doing some discreet investigating, her backstory became even more horrifying. Both of Elara’s parents were police officers who died in the line of duty. Before they died, they entrusted Elara to her aunt and uncle, leaving behind a massive pension—more than enough to comfortably support Elara for the rest of her life. But before Elara even turned twelve, her aunt funneled every single cent of that pension to her gambling-addicted son, using endless, fabricated excuses. Not only did the son gamble away the entire pension, but he also racked up so much debt that he forced his mother to sell their house and flee to this distant city. Once they arrived in this unfamiliar city, where Elara had absolutely no one to turn to, the family officially began physically and mentally abusing her. They forced Elara to work multiple part-time jobs just to pay for her own tuition. And her older cousin—the gambling addict—would constantly steal her meager earnings to fund his habit. When her money was stolen, her aunt would simply blame Elara for being “careless” and refuse to compensate her. Elara’s life at school was an agonizing struggle. She pinned every last shred of hope on the college entrance exams, studying with a desperate, terrifying intensity. But all her hopes were brutally shattered the day her aunt announced her plan: she was going to force Elara to marry her older, gambling-addicted cousin. “You are going to marry my son. You can tell the teachers all you want, but don’t forget, we are your legal guardians. If you make a fuss, we’ll just move to another city. Let’s see how long you can keep fighting.” “This time it was just a burn on your face. Next time, we’ll break your hands so you can never hold a pen again. Let’s see you dream about college then.” While I was lost in thought, remembering the neighbor’s vivid reenactment of her aunt’s threats, a thick, heavy notebook suddenly appeared right in front of my face. “The curriculum here has a different focus. I’ve outlined some of the key concepts and most difficult topics. You should review them.” Elara’s cold, clear voice brought me back to reality. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the grotesque, jagged burn scar on her face, making it look glaringly harsh. For some inexplicable reason, my chest tightened with an overwhelming sense of sorrow. I suddenly grabbed Elara’s thin, frail wrist, blurting out impulsively: “Do you want to come hang out at my house this weekend?” Elara’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly refused. I didn’t give up. I started following her around relentlessly while she studied. I brought her home-cooked meals every day, and made sure to stick by her side during P.E. class so she would never be the one left out. She never said anything about it, but the amount of time she spent tutoring me grew longer and longer, and my grades started skyrocketing. It took two full months for Chloe to recover enough from her injuries to finally return to class. But she had no idea that the moment she walked into the classroom, she became Sarah’s new target. Having lost Elara as her punching bag, Sarah immediately locked her sights on Chloe, cornering her in the restroom and beating her up every single day. Chloe tried telling her billionaire parents, but they completely ignored her. Given their psychopathic tendencies, they probably enjoyed the fact that she was being tortured. Reporting it to the teachers was useless; the teachers couldn’t afford to offend either the billionaire or the government official. Chloe tried to deflect Sarah’s bullying onto me. “Bully Mia! She’s the perfect target to be bullied!” Hearing Chloe’s desperate screams, I just laughed. I casually brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “If I get bullied, my parents will tear this school apart to protect me. But your parents are probably just sitting at home, praying you suffer even more.” Chloe’s face instantly twisted in pure, unadulterated rage. She finally, truly realized that she had chosen the absolute wrong parents. “System! System, get out here! I want to make my best friend selection! I choose Sarah Jenkins to be my best friend!” Chloe glared at me, a sudden, triumphant smirk spreading across her face. “Mia, don’t think you can escape your destiny of being bullied! I chose Sarah as my best friend. That means she’s completely loyal to me now!” “It’s your turn to get beaten.” 5 Chloe officially selected Sarah as her ‘Family: Best Friend.’ However, the system didn’t prompt me to make my selection. When I looked at it in confusion, it spoke with a meaningful tone: “You don’t need to make a selection. You’ve already found your family, haven’t you?” I froze for a second, then a massive smile broke across my face. The system was absolutely right. I had already found Elara. I didn’t need to choose. “The second family member, ‘Best Friend,’ has been selected. The final family member, ‘Boyfriend,’ cannot be selected at this time. Due to system regulations, high school students are strictly prohibited from dating. The ‘Boyfriend’ selection will unlock after the college entrance exams.” With that, the system vanished. Riding her high, Chloe couldn’t resist mocking me: “Mia, that’s what you get for hanging around that ugly freak all day! You really screwed yourself over this time!” “My best friend is the Class Beauty, Sarah Jenkins! Your best friend is a scarred, ugly freak! Let’s see how you’re going to beat me now!” Chloe and Sarah officially became best friends. Sarah stopped bullying Chloe. Instead, they spent every single day skipping class, scaling the school walls, wearing tailored, customized uniforms, and dancing wildly in local nightclubs. While Elara and I were burying ourselves in textbooks and practice exams, Chloe and Sarah were living recklessly, burning through their youth in dark, chaotic clubs. I finally managed to convince Elara to come home with me. My parents had already prepared a bedroom specifically for her. They smiled warmly and said, “Welcome home.” Elara looked at me in absolute shock. I scratched my head awkwardly. “I told my mom and dad last night that they needed to start working overtime because they were about to have another daughter to support.” “If you’re willing, we can finalize the adoption papers tomorrow. Don’t worry about your aunt and uncle. My parents are experts at handling this kind of thing. The police will arrest them for severe child abuse, the pension they stole will be fully recovered and returned to you, and they will never, ever be allowed to show their faces in front of you again.” Elara bit her lip tightly, massive, heavy tears suddenly rolling down her cheeks. “I have a home again.” I heard her whisper. Elara officially became a member of our family. It was only after my parents started teaching Elara that they realized she was an absolute, once-in-a-generation genius. Her natural aptitude for learning was unparalleled. My parents felt like they had discovered a priceless treasure and poured all their energy into cultivating her potential. Elara, in return, focused all her energy entirely on me. I had the work ethic but lacked the natural talent, so she meticulously broke down her advanced problem-solving methodologies into bite-sized pieces and spoon-fed them to me. Over time, I completely internalized the thought processes of a top-tier academic elite. In this perfect, symbiotic loop, both Elara’s and my grades exploded at an absurd rate. We became legendary throughout the school, known as the ‘Twin Pearls’ of Arwood Academy’s history. Chloe and Sarah were equally famous, but for all the wrong reasons. Their reputation was absolute garbage. They constantly skipped class, spent every night in seedy clubs, bullied weaker students on campus, and were constantly drunk off campus. Until one massive event completely shattered their decadent lifestyle. 6 Right before the college entrance exams, Sarah’s father was arrested and imprisoned for massive political corruption. Her family went completely bankrupt overnight. Having lost her entire source of income, Sarah immediately locked her predatory gaze back onto Chloe. She started brutally beating and torturing Chloe again. After draining every last cent Chloe had on her, she forced Chloe to go to her billionaire parents and beg for more money. Anytime Chloe showed the slightest hint of resistance, Sarah would threaten to leak the highly explicit, compromising photos she had taken of her. If Chloe stole money from her parents, she would be subjected to horrific, agonizing beatings by them. If she didn’t steal the money, she would be subjected to relentless, brutal bullying by Sarah. Every single day of her life was a living hell. They were supposed to be best friends, but now, just the sight of Sarah made Chloe tremble uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Elara, who shared the exact same eligibility for early admission to a top-tier university as I did, officially surrendered the only guaranteed admission slot to me. When the teacher announced that I had received the guaranteed admission, the entire class erupted in genuine, enthusiastic applause for me. Chloe, sitting in the back corner covered in bruises, fanning Sarah like a servant, heard the announcement and her face instantly turned a dark, venomous shade of green. I looked at Elara in shock, feeling absolutely no joy. Based on pure merit, that guaranteed slot belonged to her. After class, I tried to find the teacher to decline the offer, but Elara stopped me with a smile. “Don’t. I don’t need to take the college entrance exams either. I’ve already secured a different path.” Elara leaned in close and whispered mysteriously into my ear, “I’ve been recruited by a highly classified, top-secret national intelligence agency for specialized training. I can’t say anything more.” I was completely stunned. I knew that when a true, once-in-a-generation prodigy appeared, the government would often intervene to cultivate them directly. But to catch the eye of a top-secret agency, raw intelligence wasn’t enough. You needed absolute, terrifyingly effective practical execution skills. I suddenly remembered Sarah’s father going to prison, and I remembered my parents casually mentioning a few months ago that Elara’s uncle and his family had been beaten to death in the streets for failing to pay off massive gambling debts. Sensing my shock, Elara smiled faintly. “I compiled the evidence of his corruption. And I orchestrated the situation with my uncle’s family. But they were all guilty, and they all got exactly what they deserved.” A sudden chill ran down my spine. Elara smiled, gently taking my hand, her eyes warm and affectionate. “Mia, take the admission slot. Compared to everything you’ve done for me, a single college admission is absolutely nothing.” I walked back to the classroom in a daze, only to run into Chloe at the door. Her face was a twisted mask of jealousy and utter confusion. She glared at me, demanding in a low, furious hiss, “What kind of manipulation did you use?! Why does she treat you so well?!” They were both supposed to be ‘Best Friends.’ But Sarah spent every waking moment finding new ways to torture and extort Chloe, while Elara had just handed me the only guaranteed admission to a top-tier university on a silver platter. Any high school student understood the absolute, life-changing value of that admission slot. The jealousy in Chloe’s eyes was practically boiling over. Seeing my silence, Chloe sneered with bitter resentment. “Mia, don’t get too arrogant! So what if I failed with my parents and my best friend? I still have the ‘Boyfriend’ selection!” “Parents and best friends don’t matter anyway. Picking the right boyfriend is the only thing that actually matters! With a powerful boyfriend to rely on, I will definitely live the best life out of anyone!” Perhaps triggered by the massive contrast between her life and mine, the next time Sarah tried to beat her, Chloe finally snapped. They got into a vicious brawl, and Chloe plunged a knife directly into Sarah’s thigh. Sarah was permanently crippled. She completely lost her mind, dragging Chloe to court, desperate to see her rot in prison. But she failed. The billionaire parents used their massive wealth to keep Chloe out of jail, and then had Sarah forcibly committed to a psychiatric hospital under the guise of mental instability. After all, they were the system-selected parents. No matter how psychopathic they were, they would never allow Chloe to actually go to prison. They would just handle her punishment internally, significantly increasing the severity of their abuse. Because of the ten buildings her parents donated, Chloe was allowed to continue attending school. But she grew more silent by the day, her face growing paler and more hollow with every passing week. When the college entrance exam results were released, Chloe became the biggest laughingstock in the history of Arwood Academy. Her combined score across all subjects was a pathetic 3 points. When she saw the score, she literally fainted on the spot. My photo was placed at the very top of the Honor Roll. Chloe stared at it every single day, her face twisted in pure, venomous hatred. Elara warned me cautiously, “You need to watch out for Chloe. I can feel her hostility toward you. It feels like she’s waiting for the perfect opportunity to make a massive move against you.” I just laughed. After the first two massive comparisons, I knew I had long since become Chloe’s ultimate enemy. As for what she was waiting for… I knew exactly what she was waiting for. She was waiting for the ‘Boyfriend’ selection to unlock. I thought the timing was still a while off, but I never expected that on the very first day of university, Chloe would find a boyfriend who would make everyone incredibly jealous.

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A-List movie star Ethan Hayes tweeted late at night: [How does my giant nephew just disappear while we’re on a walk?!] I was just taking a screenshot to text my manager and gossip about it when someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find the stray cat I always feed, sitting right next to the exact kid from the movie star’s photo. “Human, do you like tiny humans?” 1 Between filming projects, I often feed the stray cats in my apartment complex. There’s one beautiful tabby with a huge pregnant belly who always meows when she sees me. Before eating, she always rubs against my legs and gives two little meows to say thank you. Very polite. After feeding her for a while, she memorized which door was mine and started leaving little trinkets on my welcome mat. At first, it was dead mice and sparrows. I got jump-scared a few times. Later, she upgraded to pretty leaves and little flowers. I couldn’t resist taking a picture and posting it on Twitter. [Who gets daily flower deliveries from a feline knight? Me, that’s who!] My fans flooded the comments, praising me for being sweet and the cat for being an angel. Unexpectedly, the notoriously aloof A-lister Ethan Hayes actually left a comment. [Human, as long as you like it.] The internet immediately exploded, and people started shipping us. [Holy crap! The Ice King Ethan Hayes is actually trolling online? If this isn’t true love, what is?!] [Ahhh, my rare-pair ship is finally sailing! I’ve been shipping them ever since they walked past each other at that awards show!] [Chloe Bennett is Hollywood’s most wanted girlfriend! Mr. Hayes, you have excellent taste!] My manager, Sarah, called me immediately, demanding to know what exactly my relationship with Ethan was. I racked my brain, but the only interaction I could think of was squeezing past his seat at the Oscars and whispering, “Excuse me.” “Does Ethan Hayes have a secret crush on you?” “How is that possible?! I’ve only been in the industry for three years. Our paths have literally never crossed!” I rubbed my temples, opening my messages to text Ethan’s manager, trying to figure out the most polite way to handle this. After all, if the gossip blogs got ahold of this comment and spun a narrative, we’d never be able to wash our hands of the rumors. I hadn’t even typed two words when my phone started vibrating. I answered it. A deep, slightly embarrassed male voice came through the speaker. “Chloe, I am so sorry. My nephew accidentally sent that comment from my phone.” 2 After discussing it with Ethan, we posted a joint statement. It was official and polite, explaining the misunderstanding and expressing a mutual desire to work together in the future. Even though it was a huge mix-up, seeing Ethan follow me back and add my number made me so giddy I couldn’t help but roll around on my bed. There was a rustling sound outside my door. I grabbed the bag of kibble and opened it. The beautiful, heavily pregnant tabby stared at me with huge eyes and gave a soft meow. “Luna, you don’t have to climb all these stairs just to bring me stuff! You’re about to pop, you need to rest.” I muttered to myself while pouring the food into her bowl. Luna habitually came over to rub against my leg. Hearing my words, she meowed in slight dissatisfaction. She used her paw to push today’s gift toward me—a perfectly dried butterfly. I carefully picked up the butterfly, rubbed Luna’s head, and thanked her. Only then did she give two satisfied purrs and start eating. “Luna, why don’t you just move in with me? Running around outside with that big belly is dangerous.” I gently patted her swollen stomach, genuinely worried. Luna ignored me. After finishing her food, she washed her face with her paws, shook out her fur, and turned to leave. I forcefully scooped her up and brought her inside, but she just circled the front door, crying to be let out. “Human, I have a family. I will come visit you next time.” A soft, gentle voice suddenly echoed right by my ear. I looked down. Luna was brushing her tail against the door, meowing. I must be hallucinating from staying up too late reading scripts. I shook my head, laughed at myself, and opened the door to say goodbye. 3 A new TV series started production. I asked my assistant to feed Luna every day while I hurried off to the studio lot. It was just a small guest role, so I didn’t have many scenes. After wrapping up for the day, I would wander around the backlots, feeding the studio strays. The weird thing was, I kept hearing strange voices in my ears. “Garfield, you’re already so fat, stop eating!” “Oreo, you’re acting psychotic again, go away, go away!” “Watch out for the humans! Someone knocked me out last month, and when I woke up, I didn’t have the equipment to chase the ladies anymore, boohoo!” On my last day on set, I went to feed the cats one final time. I was staring blankly at the cats happily munching away when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around. It was Ethan Hayes. He seemed to be filming a historical fantasy epic. His long hair was loose, his silk shirt was half-open, and a thin layer of sweat glistened over his defined chest. He didn’t look like the internet’s “Aloof Ice King.” He looked more like… a siren. Maybe my stare was a bit too intense. Ethan uncomfortably pulled his collar together and crouched down to pet the cats with me. I snapped out of it, my face burning, and quickly bowed my head to say hello. Ethan offered a gentle greeting, the tips of his ears looking a bit red. He smoothly pulled a pair of disposable gloves from his pocket before gently stroking a kitten. “Are you… allergic to cat hair?” “No, I just have a very jealous little monster at home with serious double standards.” He seemed to think of someone. The corners of his lips curled up, his eyes crinkled, and the starlight in his gaze melted away his usual sharp, intimidating aura. Ah! The internet’s ultimate bachelor was taken! I was so dizzy from this massive piece of insider gossip that I honestly didn’t even remember how I drove home. I was just picking up my phone to text Sarah all the details when a sound came from my door. I opened it. It was Luna. She held her head high, carrying a beautiful little calico kitten in her mouth. “Human, this is my prettiest child.” 4 I stared blankly at Luna. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up, waiting for me to pet her. Wait, what is happening? Am I actually hearing cats talk? “Luna? Is that you talking?” “Human, do not make a fuss.” Luna flicked her tail and carried the kitten right into my apartment. The little calico seemed to have just been weaned, but she wasn’t afraid of people at all. She immediately waddled over to my leg, purring like a motor. “Human, I have already educated her. From now on, you are her mother.” Luna’s tail wrapped around my ankles. I finally snapped out of my shock and picked up the calico. She just gave a sweet, tiny “mew.” “Human, the child is too young to speak yet.” As if reading my mind, Luna answered me while licking her paw. I’m getting a cat! And I can talk to cats! I scooped up Luna and gave her a huge hug. She resisted slightly, pushing my face away with her toe beans. “Human, do not be startling.” Once I calmed down, reality hit me. I had two back-to-back shoots lined up for the second half of the year. I would barely be home. Looking at the adorable kitten, I had to tearfully decline. “Oh, Luna, I really want to adopt her, but I have too much work this year. No one will be here to take care of her.” Luna looked up at me blankly, then silently picked the kitten back up in her mouth and walked out. I chased after her, trying to explain, but she ran too fast and disappeared down the hall. Crap. I made the cat mad. Desperate, I posted on an online forum. [I rejected a mother cat’s kitten and now she’s mad. How do I fix this?!] My fans immediately flooded the replies with advice. [Bribe her with wet food! Works every time!] [Cats don’t hold grudges! Don’t worry, Chloe baby!] [Just explain it to her properly next time you see her and give her lots of kisses!] Ethan Hayes also commented, short and to the point: [Good human. The cat won’t stay mad.] The shippers built a massive comment thread under his reply. I suddenly remembered Ethan’s exposed chest from earlier that day, and my face felt hot. Hot men are a hazard to my health. I rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. When I checked my phone again, Ethan was trending at number one. Did he cause a scene because he commented on my post again?! I hurriedly clicked the hashtag, only to find he had posted a photo with a three-year-old boy. [How does my giant nephew just disappear while we’re on a walk?!] The comments were chaotic. Some told him to call 911, some speculated it was his secret son, and others thought his account was hacked. I was just taking a screenshot to send to my manager when someone knocked on my door. I opened it. Luna was sitting there, elegantly grooming her paw. Sitting right next to her was the exact kid from the movie star’s photo. “Human, if you don’t like kittens, that is fine. Do you like tiny humans?” 5 The little boy looked about three years old. He was pale and chubby-cheeked, but the moment he saw me, his lip quivered like he was about to cry. Luna swept her tail across his face and gave an impatient meow. “Do not cry. This is your new mother.” Her fluffy tail distracted him. He broke into a smile through his tears, but very seriously corrected her. “I already have a mommy.” Then, he let out a massive sneeze. I frantically scooped him up, brought him inside, and dug out a string cheese to shove into his hand. The culprit, Luna, was leisurely rolling on my rug, looking incredibly pleased with herself. I pulled up Ethan’s contact info, my thumb hovering over the call button in distress. How do I even explain this? Hey, my stray cat gave me your nephew as a gift? I looked at the little boy. He blinked his big, round eyes, and the curve of his smile looked exactly like Ethan’s. Is this actually his secret kid? The boy suddenly spoke. “Auntie, I’m so hungry.” “I’ll go find you something to eat!” I agreed instinctively, only realizing a second later what he called me. Wait, Auntie? Luna hopped over to my feet, purring while cleaning her fur. “Human, I have already educated him. From now on, you are his Auntie.” Looking at Luna’s proud face, I couldn’t bear to burst her bubble, so I just nodded along. Hiding in the kitchen, I braced myself and dialed Ethan’s number. “Mr. Hayes, hello. Um, your nephew seems to be at my apartment.” There were a few seconds of dead silence on the other end. I was cringing so hard my toes curled. How do I explain this? No matter how I phrase it, I sound like a kidnapper! His manager, Mark, finally spoke, sounding completely baffled. “Are you telling me that Ethan’s nephew bypassed the security gate, entered the building code, dodged the lobby concierge, and went straight to your door?” He was about to say more, but Ethan cut him off. The man’s clear voice sounded raspy and exhausted. “Chl… Thank you. Could I trouble you to bring him over to my place?” 6 Ethan had already caught a chill from filming in the rain, and running around in the wind looking for his nephew had pushed him into a high fever. His manager, Mark, drove over to pick us up. Seeing the little boy happily eating at my dining table, Mark’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Leo is actually behaving for you?!” So his name was Leo. I had just boiled him a quick bowl of mac and cheese, but he was eating it like it was a Michelin-star meal. The moment Leo saw Mark, however, he burst into tears. Mark expertly pulled a teddy bear out of his bag, hiding his face behind it, and tried coaxing him in a high-pitched voice. But no matter what he did, Leo refused to leave. Mark could only look at me helplessly. “Ms. Bennett, could you please help us bring Leo home?” Me? “I’ve only known him for a few hours. I doubt he even likes me that much.” But Mark’s pleading look was too much. I tentatively walked toward Leo. To my surprise, the kid immediately reached his arms out to me. “Auntie Chloe, hold me!” Mark was stunned. He looked at me, then at Leo giggling in my arms, and a look of sudden realization dawned on his face. I frantically waved my free hand to explain, but Mark practically shoved me into the back of the SUV. “It’s totally fine! We never pry into our artists’ private lives.” I held Leo like he was a ticking time bomb. He fell asleep the second the car started moving. That unique, sweet smell of a sleeping toddler filled my senses. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and slept soundly, not even waking up when we parked. I had no choice but to carry him all the way up to Ethan’s penthouse. As we stepped out of the private elevator, a few paparazzi disguised as delivery men brushed past us. Camera flashes went off behind my back. Mark frantically tried to block them while I kept my head down and rushed Leo inside the apartment. 7 Ethan was wearing soft loungewear and a medical mask. His eyes were completely bloodshot; he clearly hadn’t slept all night. He nodded at me. “I am so sorry. This must have been a huge hassle for you.” I smiled and shook my head, gently placing Leo on the massive bed. I tried to stand up, but my hair was locked in the kid’s tiny, iron grip. Ethan walked over, wrapped his hand gently around my hair, and began carefully prying Leo’s fingers open. His movements were incredibly light. His gaze was focused and warm, and the tiny mole near the corner of his eye was entirely too captivating. I couldn’t look away. “Got it.” I don’t know how long I was staring, but when I snapped out of it, Ethan’s beautiful eyes were locked onto mine. I couldn’t read the expression under his mask. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t sleep well, spaced out for a second.” I jumped back, my face burning like a furnace. I pulled out my phone and started babbling nonsense. “Um, my cat is calling me home.” It is a universal truth that when people are embarrassed, they pretend to be very busy with their phones. But to my absolute shock, my phone actually started ringing. I hurried out of the bedroom. Sarah’s piercing scream nearly shattered my phone speaker. “Chloe Bennett! Since when do you have a secret child?!” Wait, what??? 8 I opened Twitter. #ChloeBennettSecretChild #ChloeAndEthan #ChlethanIsRealWeAreSaved My vision went dark. I instinctively looked up at Ethan. He whispered something to Mark, then looked at me apologetically. “You might have to stay here for a few days.” Ethan took my phone. I have no idea what kind of smooth-talking he did with Sarah, but when he handed it back, my manager actually sounded thrilled. “Chloe, just stay at the A-Lister’s place and learn from him for a few days! You don’t have any shoots this week anyway.” Then she hung up. I stared at Ethan, completely lost. He patiently explained. The paparazzi had snapped photos of me carrying a child into his building. Right now, they were swarming the lobby and the street outside. If I was photographed leaving, it would be a PR nightmare. As for the trending hashtags and the news, his PR team was already handling it. “I am truly sorry. I promise my team will make sure this doesn’t negatively impact your career at all.” Ethan started coughing, his voice sounding even more raw and raspy. I suddenly remembered he was a sick patient, yet he had been standing here negotiating with my manager for my sake. I nodded to let him know it was fine, but then a thought popped into my head. “Um, won’t your girlfriend mind?” “Girlfriend?” Ethan frowned. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Then who was the “jealous little monster” he mentioned? …Was it Leo? An unexplainable wave of joy washed over me. I couldn’t stop my lips from curving up, and I was still smiling when I woke up the next morning in his guest room. I was still in a daze when a chubby little hand started smacking my cheeks. “Ahhh! Ahhh!” I opened my eyes. It was Leo, looking incredibly panicked. “Auntie Chloe, Uncle Ethan is too hot!” 9 I bolted out of bed and ran to Ethan’s room. He was burning up, his skin radiating heat. I called Mark, but he was stuck at the agency headquarters handling the PR crisis and couldn’t get back immediately. I ransacked the bathroom and kitchen, but I couldn’t find any fever reducers. Seeing my panic, Leo burst into tears. Between trying to comfort a screaming toddler and frantically searching for medicine, I was losing my mind. “Human children are so much trouble.” A familiar voice echoed. Luna leaped down from the windowsill and strutted over to Leo. Miraculously, he stopped crying instantly. “Human, the medicine is in the second drawer of his nightstand.” I didn’t have time to process how Luna knew where the meds were. I yanked the drawer open, found the pills, and rushed back to the bed. Ethan groggily opened his mouth. As I placed the pill on his tongue, the tip of it grazed the palm of my hand. The sudden tickle sent a jolt straight to my heart. I helped him sit up to drink some water. He forced his eyes open halfway. “Thank you, Chloe.” His pronunciation of my name was so soft, I almost thought I imagined it. Seeing him start to sweat, I let out a sigh of relief. I was just about to turn and leave when he let out a low groan. “What’s wrong?” I sat on the edge of the bed, letting him lean his weight against my shoulder. Those eyes—the ones legendary directors constantly praised as “cold, regal, and untouchable”—were currently drooping like a pathetic, kicked puppy. It was impossible not to feel soft toward him. “Headache,” he mumbled, sounding exactly like he was pouting. I reached up to check the temperature of his forehead. He grabbed my hand and pressed it firmly against his skin. “That feels better.” Having never been this intimately close to him, my face flushed. But I had no choice but to indulge him, using my cool hands to soothe his forehead, his cheeks, and his neck. His burning Adam’s apple bobbed up and down against my palm, making my thoughts entirely chaotic. Thank God Luna had dragged Leo out of the room to play. Otherwise, seeing my face this red, they probably would have thought I caught the fever too. Ethan seemed to still be uncomfortable. He kept holding my hand, guiding it lower, over his collarbone, and resting it flat against his chest. The firm, burning heat of his skin beneath my fingertips felt like it was setting me on fire. He let out a comfortable sigh, sending a shock of electricity from my hand straight down my spine. He held my hand against his chest with one hand, while his other hand slowly slid around the back of my neck. Maybe it was pure instinct, but his hand on my neck gently pulled me downward, bringing my face closer to his. Why did his lips look even more flushed and… inviting when he had a fever? Without realizing it, I held my breath and leaned in.

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Ever since I rescued Arthur from that blazing warehouse fire, my lungs, ravaged by smoke inhalation, had been slowly deteriorating. On Pancake Day, after carefully preparing a batch of delicious pancakes, a sickening sweetness surged in my throat. I just wanted to rest on the lounge chair for a bit, but I never opened my eyes again. Arthur, who had gone out to buy me some candied nuts, returned, his secretary, Sarah, trailing behind him. Seeing me still on the lounge chair, he reached out for a throw blanket. “You’re not well; don’t overexert yourself. Just get some more sleep.” But Sarah, teary-eyed and feigning distress, interjected: “Mr. Sterling, Jessie just messaged me, calling me a hussy and telling me to die… I should just leave. I don’t want to ruin your marriage.” Arthur looked at my closed eyes, the tenderness in his gaze hardening into disgust. “Jessie, what exactly is your problem? Sarah just came back to get some files from me. Can’t you be more reasonable?” His scolding didn’t stop until my body grew cold. Arthur, I won’t cause trouble anymore. 1 Arthur, frowning, had lectured for a long time. Seeing no reaction from me on the lounge chair, he finally sighed. The harshness in his eyes softened. He knelt, gently placing the bag of candied nuts he had clutched in his arms into my hand. “Don’t be angry anymore.” His voice was incredibly soft, as if coaxing a sulking child. “I queued for a long time to get these; they’re still warm. This shop is on the south side of town; haven’t you been talking about it forever? Get up and eat them while they’re hot; they won’t taste good cold.” The paper bag of nuts felt warm, but alas, my palm could no longer sense that faint warmth. Arthur, sensing my cold hand, frowned again. He rose to fetch a wool blanket from the bedroom, carefully draping it over me. Tucking the corners, his movements were heartbreakingly practiced. Having done all this, he turned to the kitchen, the sound of running water filling the air. “I’m pouring you some warm water to soothe your throat.” Arthur’s voice drifted from the kitchen, a hint of concern in his tone. “After Pancake Day, I’ll clear my schedule at the company and take you to a retreat in the south. It’s warmer there, and the air is humid. Your cough never seems to get better; resting your lungs there should help. And if you want to see the ocean, we’ll go see the ocean…” I floated in mid-air, watching his busy figure in the kitchen, my eyes stinging, yet unable to shed a single tear. Arthur, it was too late. Standing nearby, Sarah stared at Arthur’s busy back, consumed by furious jealousy. She hadn’t expected that even with me feigning sleep and ignoring him, Arthur wouldn’t get angry. Instead, he was thinking of taking me south. While Arthur’s back was to the living room, Sarah quietly approached the lounge chair. She reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my phone. Sarah tried a few times; my password was Arthur’s birthday. She tapped her fingers on the screen a few times, setting a timed text message. Having done all this, she casually slipped my phone into her own bag. The next second. “Ah!” A piercing scream shattered the living room’s tranquility. Sarah abruptly snatched the crystal ashtray from the coffee table and ruthlessly smashed it against her own forehead. Blood instantly gushed out, streaming down her pale cheek. “What happened?!” Arthur, holding a glass of warm water, rushed out of the kitchen in a panic. He immediately saw Sarah clutching her bleeding head, collapsed on the floor, weeping uncontrollably. “Mr. Sterling… boohoohoo…” Sarah pointed at my unmoving figure on the lounge chair, sobbing breathlessly. “Jessie suddenly threw the ashtray at me! She called me a hussy and told me to get out, or she’d kill me!” Arthur’s face instantly changed. He strode to the lounge chair, reaching out to grab my arm. “Jessie! Are you insane? Sarah is just a young woman; how could you do such a thing?!” Just as his hand was about to touch me, “Ding-dong.” Arthur’s phone in his pocket rang. Sarah immediately screamed, “Mr. Sterling! Look at your phone! Jessie must have sent me a message cursing me! She was just tapping on her phone; she was pretending to be asleep!” Arthur’s movements faltered. He pulled out his phone. A line of text abruptly popped up on the screen, the sender clearly labeled “Wife.” [If that bitch secretary doesn’t leave, I’ll die right here and make you regret it for the rest of your life!] The veins on the back of Arthur’s hand, clutching the phone, bulged, his knuckles white. He looked up at me on the lounge chair, the last flicker of warmth in his eyes vanishing, replaced by towering rage. “Fine.” Arthur, furious, laughed mirthlessly, his voice cold. “Jessie, to drive Sarah away, you’re even threatening me with death? I’ve been too good to you, haven’t I? Made you think you can get away with anything, haven’t I?” He raised his hand. “Splash!” The glass of warm water, originally meant to soothe my throat, was thrown directly onto my face. Drops of water slid down my ashen cheeks, wetting my eyelashes and the freshly covered wool blanket. I remained with my eyes closed, unmoving. “Still pretending?” Seeing my lack of reaction, the fire in Arthur’s heart burned even hotter. He grabbed the still-warm bag of candied nuts from my hand and tossed it into the trash can. “Fine, you like playing dead, do you? Then you can put on your act alone here to your heart’s content!” Arthur turned around, pulled Sarah up from the floor, not sparing me another glance, his voice filled with disgust. “Sarah, let’s go! I’m taking you to the hospital to get bandaged. We’ll spend the holiday at the office tonight. Let her go crazy alone here!” The front door slammed shut with a “bang,” shaking the ceiling light fixture. I floated in mid-air, looking at my wet face and the nuts in the trash can. Arthur, I wasn’t pretending. I was truly dead. 2 The next day, my body began to change. Faint purplish corpse spots subtly appeared on my once pale skin. The heating in the room was on full blast, accelerating the process. My soul was bound by an invisible force to Arthur, compelled to follow him. At that moment, Arthur was driving, his brow deeply furrowed. In the passenger seat, Sarah, her head wrapped in gauze, was playing with my phone. She secretly glanced at Arthur’s expression. She opened my social media, rapidly typing a line of text. She even specifically tagged Arthur before hitting send. Having done all this, she contentedly slipped my phone back into her bag. Looking up at Arthur, she resumed her delicate, innocent demeanor. “Mr. Sterling, Jessie… she seems really angry.” Arthur, who was driving, snorted coldly at her words, then took out his own phone. When he tapped into social media and saw the latest post on my account, his face instantly darkened. [If you dare to leave, I’ll die at home, making you regret it for the rest of your life!] “Bang!” Arthur slammed his fist on the steering wheel, the horn blaring harshly, drawing glances from passersby. “This lunatic!” Arthur gritted his teeth, veins throbbing on his forehead. After a night of cooling off, he had still felt a pang of concern for me. After all, I wasn’t well, and he had thrown water in my face yesterday. He had thought about going back to check on me and perhaps bring me some medicine. But this social media post completely severed his thought of returning home. “Since you want to die, then don’t blame me for not coming back.” Arthur sharply turned the steering wheel, making a U-turn. The road home became the road to Sarah’s apartment. “Mr. Sterling, is Jessie really angry?” Sarah asked timidly, her eyes brimming with triumph. “Perhaps you should still go back and check on her. I’ll be fine alone.” “No,” Arthur spat out coldly. “She plays these games too much; the more I humor her, the worse she gets. This time, she needs a lesson!” At Sarah’s apartment, Sarah pulled out all the stops to keep Arthur there. She tied on an apron and bustled in the kitchen, then suddenly let out a small “Ouch!” Arthur, who was sulking on the sofa, immediately rushed into the kitchen. He saw Sarah’s finger, red and scalded by hot soup. “Why are you so careless?” Arthur’s brow furrowed. He immediately pulled her hand under the faucet to rinse it. His movements were gentle, his eyes filled with concern. This scene stung my eyes. Before, when I cut my hand in the kitchen and asked him to put a bandage on it, he would always say, “Just take care of minor injuries yourself; I’m very busy.” It turned out he wasn’t incapable of showing affection; he just didn’t show it to me. Just then, Arthur’s phone rang. It was Dr. Jones, my attending physician. Arthur glanced at the screen, sneered, and answered the call. “Hello?” On the other end, Dr. Jones’s voice was filled with urgency. “Arthur? Where’s Jessie? I’ve been calling her phone, and no one answers! Her test results from yesterday are in, and her condition is very critical! She needs to be hospitalized immediately! Quickly, make her answer the phone!” Arthur impatiently cut him off, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Dr. Jones, Jessie is even using you to get my attention now? You two put on quite a show.” “What did you say?” Dr. Jones was stunned. “Arthur, I’m not joking! Jessie’s lungs are already…” “Enough!” Arthur coldly interrupted. “Tell Jessie that if her suicide attempt turns real, I’ll just make arrangements for her burial. Don’t think that teaming up with a doctor can scare me; I’m not falling for it.” With that, he hung up the phone and immediately blocked Dr. Jones. I floated nearby, desperately wanting to scream, wanting to explain. But my voice couldn’t reach his ears. After hanging up, Arthur’s anger hadn’t subsided. To spite me, he deliberately posed for a photo with Sarah. In the picture, Sarah held a wine glass, smiling sweetly. Arthur sat opposite her, his face stern, but the background was a cozy candlelight dinner. Sarah immediately posted it, with the caption: [Thank you for spending the warmest Pancake Day with me. May we be together for many years to come.] She had set the privacy to “only visible to me.” Late at night, brilliant fireworks suddenly exploded outside the window. Arthur stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the fleeting fireworks, his eyes distant. He unconsciously stroked his phone, then, on an impulse, sent me a message. [Have you caused enough trouble? If so, cook your own pancakes and eat them. Don’t starve to death at home and bring bad luck.] The message was sent, but there was no reply, not even the familiar “typing…” Arthur stared at the screen for a while, then irritably tossed his phone onto the bed. He thought I was throwing a tantrum, giving him the silent treatment. But he didn’t know that my body was quietly lying on the lounge chair, slowly decaying. 3 February 17th. Arthur woke up at Sarah’s apartment, his head throbbing from a hangover. He instinctively reached for his phone; the screen was blank, with no unread messages. In the past, even if I was angry, I wouldn’t ignore him for more than a night. I would make him hangover soup; I would message him, asking if his stomach hurt. But now, the silence was unsettling. “Before, she’d cling to me even if I just gave her a slight cold shoulder. Humph, now she’s gotten quite bold.” Arthur tossed his phone aside, an inexplicable anger surging within him. He cursed defiantly, “Fine, you want to play the waiting game, do you? Let’s see how many days you can last.” Sarah entered, carrying breakfast. Observing Arthur’s expression, she tentatively suggested, “Mr. Sterling, the weather is nice today. Why don’t we go for a walk by the sea? You’ve been too tired lately.” Arthur had intended to refuse, but remembering my obstinate presence at home, he nodded on a whim. Just as they finished tidying up and were about to leave, the property manager’s call came through to Arthur’s phone. “Mr. Sterling, your downstairs neighbor complained that there’s a strange odor coming from your apartment, like… something rotten. Could you please come home and deal with it?” Arthur’s brow immediately furrowed into a knot. He remembered my half-dead appearance on the lounge chair before he left yesterday, and that bag of nuts he had kicked over. It must be me, trying to spite him, deliberately not taking out the trash, perhaps even scattering food everywhere. Arthur’s voice was cold as he spoke into the phone. “It must be my wife, trying to annoy me, deliberately not throwing out the trash. Just ignore her; she’ll clean it up when she can’t stand it anymore.” He hung up, his disgust growing. The car drove all the way to the beach. The winter sea wind was strong, making people’s faces sting. Arthur stood on the rocks, looking at the churning waves. His restless mood didn’t calm down; instead, it became even more chaotic. He suddenly remembered our wedding anniversary. I had pulled on his sleeve, my eyes sparkling, saying, “Arthur, I want to see the sea. When I feel a little better, can we go to the beach and collect seashells?” But he had said, “I’m very busy. Next time.” Arthur looked at the seashells at his feet, his heart suddenly softening. He picked out a shell bracelet from a small roadside stall. “Never mind, I’ll go back and appease her.” Arthur, holding the bracelet, mumbled to himself, “She’s not well; it would be troublesome if she got sick from anger.” He turned to a convenience store to buy water, thinking of getting me a hot milk too. As he paid, Sarah, standing not far away, stared at his back with venomous eyes. She took out my phone, hidden in her bag. She skillfully opened the browser, downloaded a photo of slit wrists from the internet, and sent it to herself. Then she quickly put my phone back in her bag, adopting a terrified expression, and rushed towards Arthur, holding her own phone. “Mr. Sterling! Mr. Sterling, it’s bad!” Sarah shrieked, her voice choked with sobs. “Jessie sent me a picture… she said she slit her wrists! Look!” Arthur had just received his change; the coins scattered all over the floor with a “clatter.” He snatched Sarah’s phone, staring intently at the photo. Bright red blood stung his eyes. Towering fury surged within him. Another threat! Yesterday it was a hunger strike, today it’s slitting wrists, tomorrow will she jump off a building? “Lunatic!” Arthur roared, fiercely raising his hand. The newly bought shell bracelet plunged into the sea with a “splash,” instantly swallowed by the waves. “Absolutely irrational!” Arthur’s eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving violently. “She wants to die, does she? Fine! Let her cut! Let’s see how much blood she can shed!” I floated in the sea breeze, watching the bracelet sink to the bottom. It was the first time he had ever bought me a gift, and he had thrown it away himself. Arthur, I don’t hurt anymore. Truly.

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The day the real heiress returned to the Harrington family, I was in a car accident. My spine suffered permanent damage, leaving me motionless, like a vegetable, in bed. I cried, wanting to end my life, but my adoptive mother insisted I live. She cared for me meticulously for a year. Until the real heiress was diagnosed with leukemia, needing umbilical cord blood to survive. My adoptive mother allowed a procession of strangers into my bedroom, and soon, I was pregnant. Looking at my swollen belly, the real heiress gloated, “Thank you for your child. The umbilical cord blood for my beauty treatments works wonders.” It took me three days to slowly disconnect my oxygen tube. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day the real heiress returned. … “Lisa, it seems the car broke down. Could you go out and check?” Holly’s voice, like that of a demon, startled me awake. Looking out at the pitch-black night, I realized I had been reborn. “Lisa, it’s too dark outside, and I’m scared. Uncle Jack, the driver, says he’ll stay in the car with me. Could you go see what happened?” Holly’s icy hand clutched mine. I instinctively recoiled, almost crying out. How long had it been since I’d felt control over my own body? Holly was the true heiress of the Harrington family, found after being lost for over twenty years. To welcome her, the Harringtons held a lavish banquet. She didn’t travel with my adoptive parents, insisting on coming with me, claiming she wanted to share girl talk. I believed her. After the car broke down on the highway, she feigned fear, crying and begging me to get out and push. But the moment I stepped out, I was hit by an oncoming sedan. As I lay bleeding and dying, Holly, who had just been crying about being scared, walked up to me and crouched down. Her face showed clear dissatisfaction. “Why didn’t you die?” “Miss, a living person who isn’t dead yet is more valuable. They can be used for anything.” The driver who had hit me whispered a few words in her ear. Holly’s gaze upon me slowly changed. She called my adoptive mother in front of me, sobbing uncontrollably. When my adoptive parents arrived at the hospital, she had already bruised her own face. “It’s all my fault for coming back. If I hadn’t, there wouldn’t have been a banquet, and Lisa wouldn’t have been hurt.” “Why wasn’t it me who got hurt? Am I bad luck, causing Lisa’s injury? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come back…” My adoptive mother was moved by her performance and believed every word. To compensate me, my adoptive mother specifically renovated a critical care room for me in the villa, with round-the-clock care. Later, Holly suddenly developed leukemia, needing umbilical cord blood to survive. My adoptive mother, influenced by Holly, wanted me to get pregnant. Countless strangers entered and exited my bedroom, getting on and off me… I couldn’t remember how many, only that I was soon pregnant. One child couldn’t save her, so I’d bear two, three… As my dignity was trampled, Holly would sit nearby, watching. “Who told you to take my place for twenty years? This is what you deserve!” She glared at me fiercely. “I want you to suffer for twenty years before you die, otherwise I can’t let this go!” Before her was my fifth newborn child. Watching the child’s neck being twisted, I bit through the artery in my wrist. My body grew cold. “Holly, may you die a terrible death…” She tossed the child aside. “Thanks for your child, I can extract umbilical cord blood for my beauty treatments now.” Her demonic smile from that time now danced before my eyes. Seeing my inaction, she urged again. “Lisa, hurry down, or we’ll be late.” I checked my phone; the time was eight o’clock, just like in my previous life. And in the distance, I could already hear the roaring engine of a speeding car. “Alright.” I looked into her eyes and obediently stepped out of the car. Ordinarily, stepping out of the car would place me on the side away from traffic, making it impossible to be hit. But in my previous life, the moment I stepped out, the driver drove off. The next second, a speeding car crashed directly into me. I had no chance to escape. The car door clicked open, and I stepped out. A malicious glint flickered in Holly’s eyes, and she signaled the driver. Just as the car door was about to close, I grabbed her hand. “I smell gasoline. The car isn’t safe; you should get out too.” I pulled her out with force. The blinding headlights from the opposite lane illuminated her terrified expression. At that critical moment, the driver was the first to react. He floored the gas pedal, using the car to shield us. Amidst the massive crash, Holly’s face turned ashen, and she collapsed directly to her knees. I ignored her and immediately called for emergency services. “Hello, a vehicle in the opposite lane illegally swerved, driving against traffic, suspected of attempted murder, please…” Holly stood up and hung up the phone. “Lisa, aren’t we fine? Mom and Dad are waiting for us at the hotel. Let’s not make a fuss, okay?” “But you’ve just returned and encountered something like this. I suspect someone is targeting you.” I feigned concern for her. “I’ll call Mom and Dad too, and have them come pick you up first.” Holly refused. “Uncle Jack, can the car still be driven? Otherwise, should we leave here first?” The driver gave me a subtle glance. “Minor issue, won’t affect driving.” “Miss Harrington, Miss Thorne, Mrs. Harrington just called to rush you. She said most of the guests have arrived, and as the guests of honor, you shouldn’t be late. We should head off quickly.” Looking at the driver, I had already drawn my conclusion. Holly had bribed the family staff from her first day back, clearly intending to kill me. I didn’t know why she hated me, because from the day she returned, I had already decided to leave. She had found her birth parents, and I wanted to find mine too. But she never gave me the chance. The moment she returned, she put on an act in front of our adoptive parents, pretending to be afraid of upsetting me. Whatever was brought to her, she always insisted I choose first. “Whatever Lisa doesn’t like, just give it to me. I like everything.” “As long as Lisa is happy, I don’t mind.” In just a few days, she had won over everyone in the villa. This led to everyone despising me after I became a vegetable. Half an hour later, we arrived at the hotel. My adoptive mother immediately noticed the scrapes on Holly’s body, and her face instantly changed. “Lisa, what did you do to Holly?” Holly’s eyes were misty with tears. “Lisa didn’t mean it, she only meant well… Mom, please don’t be angry.” Then, she walked up to me and cautiously tugged at my sleeve. “Lisa, I’m not trying to break you apart, I’m just joining you. Please don’t be angry. Next time, I’ll make sure Uncle Jack checks the car thoroughly before we leave. If we encounter problems, I’ll still be there, just like today, to keep you safe.” My adoptive parents only learned what happened after questioning the driver. My adoptive mother shot me a dark glare. “Lisa, genes truly determine everything. A bad seed is a bad seed. How could you make your sister get out to check the car?” “You know she’s afraid of the dark! Why didn’t you go down yourself? Would getting out of the car kill you?” Her gentle expression towards Holly vanished the moment she turned to me, replaced only by disgust. My already torn heart still ached. Before Holly, I was my adoptive mother’s darling; she gave me all her love, making me believe I was the happiest princess. So, when she allowed Holly’s people to restrain me, I was shocked and utterly confused. I didn’t even know what resistance was anymore, letting her caress my face, smiling as she personally tied me up. “Darling, just bear with it. Holly and I have finally reunited, and I can’t lose her. As soon as you have a child, Mom will let you go, okay?” I shook my head repeatedly, but she slapped me hard. Afterward, she tenderly applied ointment to my face. “I’m sorry, Mom was just too anxious. You and Holly are both my darlings, and I don’t want to lose either of you.” “It’s just having a child, don’t be so resistant.” I didn’t retort now, simply bowing my head in apology, afraid that if I looked up, she would see the hatred in my eyes. “If ‘sorry’ worked, what would we need the police for?” My adoptive father snorted. “Get out. I don’t want to see you tonight.” His words suited me perfectly. I hid in an empty lounge, preparing to review the entire situation. But before I could even close the door, several men burst in. My face instantly changed. They were Holly’s bodyguards, and in my previous life, they were the first to torment me! In fact, the first children I had, the ones who were killed, were theirs. “What do you want?” Several men approached, their intentions clear. The one in front had already untied his necktie, wrapping it around his hand. “Miss Thorne, we’re just following orders. Don’t blame us if anything happens…” I kept backing away until I hit the sofa. “Did Holly send you? Why would she do this?” “Miss Thorne, we don’t understand what you’re saying.” The men were cautious; no matter how I tried to trick them, they wouldn’t say Holly’s name. “We just really like Miss Thorne and want to… converse.” The leader suddenly raised his hand, and I saw the small bottle in his grip. My eyes widened. A familiar scent assaulted me—in my previous life, they used to say I was a living corpse, uninteresting. Each time before touching me, they’d make me smell something to excite them. Over time, my tolerance increased. They went from spraying it to pouring it into my mouth, even injecting it directly. This made me highly sensitive to the drug; I couldn’t forget its smell in either life. I covered my nose, afraid to breathe, but still caught a faint whiff. A familiar heat began to sweep through my body, and I trembled uncontrollably. My fingers dug into my thigh, terrified of showing any weakness. But the men had already noticed, and their laughter grew more uninhibited. “Miss Thorne, your neck is flushed. It looks quite pretty.” “I wonder if such a red neck is sweet? I can barely control myself, look at my trousers, they’re bulging…” “You’re so uncultured, just looking at her neck? I think further down is where the real beauty lies.” Their laughter was grating, and their movements sent shivers down my spine. As their clothes came off, memories from the past began to flood me. After the car accident, I was a quadriplegic. I could only lie in a hospital bed, needing round-the-clock care. Holly, who had always been healthy, fell ill shortly after I was brought home from the hospital. Acute leukemia, needing umbilical cord blood to save her life. “Mom, I’m sorry, I’m so useless.” Holly lay on the hospital bed, her face utterly pale. “If only I could get pregnant. I heard the doctor say that umbilical cord blood is the most effective. Mom, please find someone for me to marry.” “I want to stay with you and Dad forever. Even if I have to sacrifice my virtue, it doesn’t matter. I only ask to be with my family.” My adoptive parents struggled internally, unwilling for her to endure such suffering. They even considered buying what they needed. But Holly stopped them. “Mom and Dad, that’s illegal. I don’t want you to risk yourselves for me. I want our family to be together.” Her deliberate emphasis on ‘family’ made my parents turn their gaze to my bedroom. That night, my bedroom door was opened. The lights in my room stayed on all night, and my hoarse screams echoed through the entire villa. Yet, no one came to save me. The next day, the nurse, as if oblivious to the marks on my body, changed my dressings and massaged me as usual. That night, another sleepless night. It wasn’t until the nurse confirmed my pregnancy that I found a brief respite. On the day I gave birth, Holly, who had been bedridden, uncharacteristically came to see me. I watched, wide-eyed, as the blood was drained from the child in their hands. Holly looked at the blood and the child’s corpse and smiled. “Lisa, you stole twenty years of my life. Now you’ll bear children for me for twenty years.” She subtly curled her lips. “I hear umbilical cord blood is excellent for beauty. I should thank you properly for making me younger.” Because of her thanks, more men entered my room. The hellish torment lasted for years. I couldn’t even commit suicide. Until that time, I finally managed to raise my weak hand to my mouth and ended my own life. Reborn, Holly, unable to kill me outright, had prepared a backup plan! I moved around behind the sofa, throwing everything I could get my hands on. The loud noise attracted the attention of those outside. I finally found an opportunity to rush to the door and open it. “Help me!” A waiter nearby turned, and a flicker of hope crossed my face. The next second, I was dragged back by my hair. When my scalp was pulled and I was thrown to the ground, my hair also fell out. I clutched my blood-soaked hair, looking at them in terror. “What you’re doing is illegal.” “How much did Holly give you? I can double it, just let me go.” “Pfft!” The leader spat at me. “Miss Thorne is the true heiress. You’re just a bastard no one wants. You think you can buy us off? Do you even have the money?” “Be a good girl, crawl over here and satisfy me. Then maybe I’ll tell my boys to be nice to you. Otherwise…” The cold glint in his eyes cut through my skin like a knife, making every inch of me sting. Two men walked over and pinned me to the ground, tearing my clothes with one hand. The white skin on my chest further excited them. “As expected of someone pampered. This color, so good!” “Let me touch… Ah!” I bit down hard on his arm, tearing off a piece of flesh. The foul, metallic taste in my mouth made me gag all over him. But remembering what he had done to me in my previous life, I lunged at him again, biting down hard on his other hand. My hair was pulled back forcefully; I could even hear the tearing sound of my scalp. But I dared not let go—this was my only chance. Soon, the man couldn’t bear the pain and threw me aside. I seized the opportunity to shove the other man, then head-butted the last man directly between his legs. Amidst his cries of pain, I burst through the door. “Help!” I grabbed a passing waiter. “Call the police for me!” The waiter looked at me in shock, covered in blood, with a tear at the corner of my mouth. Terrified, she gasped. She quickly pulled out her phone to call. I stared intently at her actions, my heart pounding. “911…” Just as she was about to press the last digit, Holly walked around the corner. She gave a signal to the people behind her. “Lisa, are you ill again? It’s alright, I’ll have someone take you to the hospital immediately. I’ll handle the assault.” She patiently explained to the waiter that I was just sick and there was no need to call the police. My attempts to explain were completely shut down. Watching the waiter about to leave, I frantically shook off the men and rushed forward. “I’m not sick! They were trying to assault me! Please…” But the waiter had already believed Holly and wouldn’t listen to me. Despair slowly consumed my mind. Holly smiled. “No one will believe you. I’ve already spread the word that you have a mental illness.” “Mom and Dad think you’re an embarrassment. They’ve already removed you from the family tree, Lisa…” She whispered in my ear. “Two lifetimes, and you’ll never defeat me. Give up.” I stared at her, stunned, my eyes filled with disbelief. “You’ve been reborn too?” She didn’t answer me, motioning for the bodyguards to lock me up.

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I was finally about to marry the woman I had secretly loved for years, yet I was willing to throw myself off a building just to escape the wedding. Because I had come back. From a previous life. In that life, we were married for over twenty years. To everyone else, we were the picture-perfect couple. But that beautiful illusion shattered violently on our twenty-fifth anniversary. She killed herself. A double suicide, actually, with the man who had always been the ghost in our marriage—the one she truly loved. I remember standing before her headstone, the words tumbling from my lips in a dazed murmur: “Do you regret marrying me?” I knew there would be no answer from the cold granite. I just spoke my own truth to the wind. “I regret marrying you.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right before the wedding. I decided to run. This time, I thought, let’s just be strangers who know each other too well. I never expected her to find me again. Or that she would look so fragile, so entirely hollowed out by illness, and say to me: “I never regretted marrying you. Not in this life, not in the last. You were always the only one I ever wanted to marry.” … When I opened my eyes, someone was clapping me on the shoulder. Through the haze, I saw the grand double doors swing open. Sandy—who had been dead for ten years—stood on the stage in her wedding dress, bathed in a spotlight that made her look like a terrifyingly flawless angel descending to earth. The gasps from the audience swelled, loud enough to drown out the string quartet. Everyone was marveling at the bride’s beauty. A cold sweat broke across my skin. Someone nudged me, whispering that it was my cue to walk toward her. It was a dramatic entrance I had specifically requested the first time around. But now, I just stared at Sandy from across the room. The corners of her lips curved into a smile. And with absolute certainty, I turned on my heel and sprinted toward the exit. “The wedding is off. I am not marrying her.” The ballroom erupted into instant chaos. The hotel was massive, a labyrinth of velvet and crystal, and in my panic, I couldn’t find the right doors. Sandy’s friends and family surged after me. My soon-to-be father-in-law cornered me, his face tight with anger, his brow deeply furrowed. “Carter, the ceremony has started. Stop this nonsense right now. Get back out there.” I shook my head, hard. I couldn’t believe I had actually been reborn, let alone dropped right into the middle of my own wedding day. But since whatever powers that be had given me a second chance, I was absolutely not going to chain myself to Sandy again. A relative gripped my arm, pleading, “Whatever it is, we can sort it out after the vows. Sandy is waiting for you.” What? Sandy is waiting for me? Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of white silk cutting through the crowd. It looked less like a bride and more like an executioner coming for my head. I didn’t hesitate. I shoved open a nearby window. We were on the third floor, but I threw myself out, praying the canvas awning below would break my fall. It did, mostly. But when I scrambled to my feet, a sharp, white-hot pain shot up my spine. Still, compared to the agonizing ache of being deceived by Sandy for over two decades in my past life, this physical pain was nothing. Clutching my side, I began to limp away as fast as I could. Heads poked out of the hotel windows, faces pale with shock. “Carter, you’re insane! You’re actually running away!” Sandy was among them. For a second, a flicker of genuine panic crossed her face. “Carter, what are you doing? If you leave… what about our wedding?” If I were the man I had been in my previous life, I never could have done this. But now? “Sandy, deciding to marry you was the biggest mistake of my life. I’m fixing it.” “Remember—I’m the one walking away from you.” I didn’t stick around to see her reaction. I hailed a cab and sped off, leaving the wreckage behind. I knew better than anyone that her pristine white gown wasn’t meant for me. She never wanted to marry me. The memories rushed back, suffocating me. I remembered rushing to the police station in the dead of night. The officer had looked up from his notepad and asked: “Sir, did you know anything about the man your wife, Sandy, committed suicide with? A Mr. Julian Vance?” I remembered the crushing weight of confusion and helplessness in that room. I had spent twenty years of my past life trying to understand that woman, and I had failed. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. To escape the inevitable fallout, I used my bruised ribs and sprained ankle as an excuse to check myself into the hospital. My phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. The calls weren’t from people checking on me; they were from people wanting to tear me apart. The texts painted a clear picture. [Carter, how could you do this to Sandy?! She collapsed from crying! You need to get here and beg for her forgiveness right now!] I tossed the phone aside, unimpressed. There was no way Sandy was heartbroken over me running away. She was probably thrilled. In this life, she and that Julian guy could finally have their epic, star-crossed romance. She should be thanking me. Hell, they owed me a fruit basket. I was busy enjoying this thought when the door to my hospital room burst open. My parents stormed in, their faces flushed with rage. “Carter Harrison, have you lost your damn mind?! A runaway groom? Jumping out of a window? Who are you trying to humiliate?!” I hadn’t expected them to track me down so quickly. My bravado evaporated, and I instinctively pulled the thin hospital blanket up to my chin. “Stop yelling, I’m already in the hospital,” I whined, holding up my bandaged arm in a pathetic attempt to elicit some parental sympathy. They just scoffed. “You brought that on yourself. Sandy is in the hospital too, because of you. You need to take responsibility.” Ah. So that was why they got here so fast. I had to hand it to her—Sandy was fully committing to the performance. A fainting spell was the perfect way to deflect any suspicion that she wanted out of the wedding just as badly as I did. My parents weren’t done. They laid down the law: “As soon as you’re discharged, you are going to reschedule the wedding with Sandy.” “No. I’m not.” My absolute refusal threw them off. After all, my marriage to Sandy was something I had begged for. I had transferred to her high school in our senior year, fallen in love with her at first sight, and spent the next five years quietly pining for her. It wasn’t until her family’s real estate development firm hit a massive financial crisis that her parents approached mine, floating the idea of an alliance through marriage. When I heard, I was ecstatic. I had practically waged war on my own parents to get them to agree to the bailout and the wedding. And now, I was acting like a completely different person. They couldn’t process it. “Why?” The voice asking the question wasn’t my mother’s. My parents stepped aside. Sandy was standing in the doorway. She had traded her Vera Wang gown for faded hospital scrubs. She had always been slender, but now she looked terrifyingly frail. She looked like a strong gust of wind from the air conditioning vent might snap her in half. For a split second, an involuntary pang of sorrow hit my chest. She kept her eyes locked on mine and asked again, her voice trembling: “Why don’t you want to marry me?” I hardened my jaw, forcing the pity down. “Because I don’t love you anymore.” The words hit her like a physical blow. It was as if all the strings holding her up had been cut. She crumpled to the linoleum floor, out cold. My parents shot me a venomous glare before shouting for a nurse and helping carry Sandy back to her room. For a wild, stupid moment, I wanted to follow them. But I dug my nails into my palms and stayed put. I just couldn’t figure it out. When did Sandy get so weak? Was she really this dedicated to the act? After that, my parents were so furious they refused to visit me. One of my buddies, however, dropped by and gave me a thumbs-up. “Man, you are savage. You completely wrecked her. But seriously, didn’t you worship the ground she walked on? You chased her for years. Why bail at the finish line?” I waved him off casually. “The thrill of the chase was gone. It got boring.” “Well, then, I guess it’s my turn to chase you.” I looked up. Sandy was standing in the doorway again, already discharged, offering me a soft, tentative smile. “I don’t want you here,” I said, my voice deliberately flat. She didn’t flinch. She just walked in, carrying an insulated thermos, and calmly began pouring soup into a bowl. “I made some bone broth. You should eat while it’s hot.” My friend, sensing the sudden drop in room temperature, muttered an excuse and bolted. Leaving me alone with Sandy. I kept my expression entirely closed off. Sandy brought the bowl over, her tone coaxing, like she was talking to a stubborn child. “Just smell it. It’s really good.” The familiar, rich scent hit me. In my past life, for over twenty years, we were the couple everyone envied. Even I believed it. She was thoughtful, in her own way. She was always tied up with work, constantly missing holidays and anniversaries, but she would always apologize profusely. She’d bring me gifts—things I genuinely loved, things I had only mentioned in passing. Sandy, the heiress who had never touched a frying pan, actually took cooking classes. Whenever she was home, she cooked. She told me she was worried about my stomach issues, so she learned how to simmer all kinds of broths. This bone broth was my absolute favorite. I used to think it was proof that she loved me. But later, I found out the truth. The memory turned my stomach. The soup didn’t smell good anymore. I turned my head away. “I don’t want it. And I don’t want to look at you. Get out.” Sandy bit her lip so hard I thought it might bleed. She was shaking. It took her a long moment to force a frail, devastatingly sad smile. “If you don’t have an appetite right now, I’ll just leave it here. Drink it when you’re hungry.” I didn’t want to hear her voice. I pulled the blanket over my head and shut my eyes. She didn’t leave right away. I could hear her moving quietly around the room. It wasn’t until I heard the door click shut that I peeked out. She had tidied my room. She had even arranged a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand, right in my line of sight. I scoffed. “She really is a fantastic actress.” For the next few days, Sandy showed up like clockwork—morning, noon, and night—always with meticulously prepared meals. I never touched a single bite. I ignored her completely. So, she busied herself making the sterile hospital room feel like home. She rearranged things until the room carried a haunting, subtle resemblance to our bedroom from my past life. It only made me feel more suffocated. The second she left one afternoon, I demanded my discharge papers. I was going home. But I had underestimated her. I had barely dropped my bags in the hallway when Sandy walked through the front door. She was hovering over my parents on the sofa, massaging my mother’s shoulders with practiced ease. “Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, if your shoulders are ever bothering you, just let me know. I can come over anytime to help.” My parents spotted me coming down the stairs. My mom waved her over to me. “Carter just got out of the hospital. Why don’t you help him relax a bit?” Sandy looked at me immediately, her eyes bright with a hesitant, desperate hope. It was obvious. My parents had sold me out. I understood why they suddenly adored her. Before I knew the truth about Sandy, I had been completely taken in by her gentle, attentive facade too. But what was her endgame here? I rubbed my temples, frustrated, and then it hit me. Her family’s firm. They needed our capital to stay afloat. She was probably terrified that my stunt at the wedding meant we were pulling the funding. She was overthinking it. In my past life, after her family’s company survived the crisis, it had exploded in value. It was a brilliant investment. We weren’t going to lose money. Once I rationalized it, I looked at her differently—not as a runaway bride, but as a business asset. My glare softened slightly. Seeing the shift in my demeanor, my mom gave Sandy a gentle push in my direction. Sandy stumbled. She was so off-balance she practically drifted toward me like a falling leaf. I caught her on reflex. Beneath the fabric of her sweater, she felt horrifyingly thin. She was practically weightless, all sharp angles and brittle bones, as if holding her too tightly would shatter her. I frowned deeply. She looked up at me, her cheeks flushed, a raw, undeniable joy illuminating her face. It irritated me. I pushed her away, a little too roughly. She swayed before catching her balance, but she was still looking at me with that damn happy expression. Even my parents were giving me knowing, exasperated looks. Like they thought I was just playing hard to get. I couldn’t stay in this house. “I have plans. I’m not staying here tonight.” I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Sandy jogged after me, relentless. Wherever I went, she followed. When I reached my car, she actually reached for the passenger side door handle. My patience snapped. “Stop. Can you just leave me alone?!” My voice echoed in the driveway, loud and harsh. Sandy froze, looking genuinely terrified. Her shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably. Seeing her look so frail only fueled my frustration. “I know what this is about. You need the capital. Don’t worry. Even if we don’t get married, I’ll still make sure the firm invests. Are you satisfied? If you are, then leave.” When she didn’t move or speak, I got in the car, slammed the door, and floored it. In the dim, neon-lit VIP room of a downtown club, guys I barely knew were already treating my life like a spectator sport. “Carter, man, that was legendary. You had the prom queen eating out of the palm of your hand and you just ditched her at the altar.” “I told you guys, Carter’s not a simp. He was just playing the long game to put Sandy in her place. She is so humiliated right now.” “She deserves it. Remember how stuck-up she used to be? Looking down on guys like us who just want to have a good time. Look who got played now.” Listening to them mock her, it dawned on me that my running away had turned Sandy into a punchline. The untouchable golden girl had been shattered, and now everyone felt entitled to kick the pieces. I didn’t join in. I just sat in the corner, quietly drinking my whiskey. The next morning, I stumbled through the front door, head pounding. My parents were waiting for me in the living room, looking furious. “You are spiraling, Carter. Out drinking all night? Sandy is a wonderful girl, and you threw her away like garbage. Youwere the one who begged to marry her.” “We are not letting this go. You owe us an explanation today.” Their anger cut through my hangover. They were right. I was the one who had forced it. It took living an entire lifetime of misery to realize that you can’t force someone to love you. … The memory of the night I heard about Sandy’s death clawed its way back to the surface. It was our twenty-fifth anniversary. The day before, for the first time in our marriage, I had drawn a hard line. I didn’t ask for much—just that she come home to celebrate with me. Because that day also marked exactly thirty years since I had fallen in love with her. “If you don’t come home tomorrow, we’re getting a divorce.” That’s what I told her. To Sandy, a threat like that must have sounded laughable. That night, I sat at our reserved table in the restaurant, a knot of anticipation in my stomach. Instead of Sandy, I got a phone call. I hung up and drove like a madman to the police precinct. “Are you Sandy’s husband?” The detective had confirmed my ID, his eyes heavy with a sickening kind of pity. He told me she was dead. Suicide. And she hadn’t died alone. She was found with a man named Julian Vance. They called it a lovers’ pact. “Sir, did you know anything about the nature of your wife’s relationship with Mr. Vance?” It was the first time I had ever heard the name. I just shook my head, entirely numb. I didn’t find out who Julian Vance was until Sandy’s funeral. Her best friend had collapsed next to the casket, sobbing hysterically. “If I had known you were still so in love with Julian, I would have dragged you away from Carter if it killed me.” That was how I found out. Julian was an upperclassman she had dated in college. They had never stopped seeing each other. Every holiday, every anniversary Sandy was “too busy” to celebrate with me, she had been with him. At the end of the funeral, I was the only one left. I stood alone in front of her grave. “Sandy,” I whispered. “Do you regret marrying me?” The stone was silent, but I already knew the truth. “I regret marrying you, too. If I could do it all over again, I would never, ever come near you.” The memory grounded me. The fog in my head cleared, and I looked steadily at my parents. “I can’t marry her. I can’t give you the exact reason why. But I promise you, I will make sure her family gets the funding they need.” My mother finally let out a long, defeated sigh. “You’re going to regret this. Fine. We’re done trying to control you. Do whatever you want.” I went upstairs and slept for twenty-four hours straight. When I finally felt human again, I texted Sandy, telling her to meet me at my office. She arrived quickly. She had clearly spent hours getting ready. Her hair was styled in soft, careful waves. She wore a simple, elegant white sundress. She looked like she was showing up for a date. “Carter, it’s been a while since you asked to see me,” she said, a shy, almost girlish smile playing on her lips. I tossed a folder onto the glass coffee table between us, keeping my voice strictly professional. “I know your family needs the sixty million. Sign this contract, and the money is yours. But in exchange, I want you to stop contacting me.” Sandy looked down at the folder. She didn’t move. “Hurry up,” I urged. “I’m giving you exactly what you want. Don’t push your luck.” When she finally looked up, her eyes were brimming with tears. Her jaw tightened, and she threw the contract back at me. Then she closed the distance between us, grabbing the lapels of my jacket, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Carter, I don’t give a damn about the investment! I only ever wanted you! How much more obvious do I have to be?” The tears spilled over, hot and fast. She balled her fists and hit my chest, though there was no real strength behind it. “We were married for over twenty years. Just because you came back doesn’t mean you get to bully your wife like this. You were never this cruel to me in our past life…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391928”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My girlfriend is an heiress—old money, ivory tower, the kind of wealth that feels like a physical barrier. We were together for seven years, and in all that time, she never bought me a single gift. When she finally accepted my proposal, she made me return the diamond ring I’d spent three years saving for, calling it “tacky.” Then, standing outside the courthouse to get our license, she backed out, claiming the thirty-dollar filing fee was a “waste of money” and we should just forget it. Then she turned around and married her childhood sweetheart, the boy-next-door from her exclusive gated community. She threw an engagement gala that took over the Waldorf Astoria, a display of decadence that lit up the entire city skyline. My sister, Annie, had just undergone a heart transplant. The stress of the news—the betrayal—sent her into a fatal rejection episode. I knelt at my girlfriend’s feet, begging her to give me back the seven years of salary I’d deposited into her account for “safekeeping.” I needed it for Annie’s ICU bills. She looked at me like I was a stranger. Clinging to her new husband’s arm, she told the guards she didn’t do “charity work for obsessed fans” and had me thrown out into the snow. I watched Annie die on New Year’s Eve, the sound of her final breath drowned out by the celebratory fireworks echoing over the Chicago River. I handled her funeral alone. Then, I accepted a lead developer role at a tech giant in Houston—an olive branch I’d ignored for years out of loyalty to a woman who never loved me. When I went back to our apartment to grab my passport, she was there, fresh from visiting her in-laws, looking radiant. She thought I was playing a game of emotional chicken. For the first time in seven years, she was “generous.” “Stop acting,” she said, her voice airy and dismissive. “Your sister is fine. Tell you what—I’ll throw you a pity wedding later this year. Let the girl have her moment of vanity. I know you people love to feel important.” She didn’t know that from the moment Annie’s heart stopped beating, I had already decided I was done with her forever. 1 I had just reached for my passport when a slender, manicured hand snatched it away. “What are you looking for so intently? You didn’t even notice I was home.” Serena had just walked in. The tip of her nose was flushed from the Chicago wind, her designer coat still dusted with light snow. When she realized it was my passport, her playful smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp, impatient knit of her brows. “A passport? Really, Nathan? Are you trying to stage an international exit now? I already told you, Derek’s family was breathing down his neck. The marriage license was just to get them off his back. We’ll get a quiet annulment in a few months. It’s a business move.” I didn’t look at her. I reached out and pulled the passport back with a cold, steady hand. She flexed her freezing fingers, looking surprised. Usually, the moment she walked through the door, I’d be there with a warm towel, a hot tea, and a barrage of questions about whether she was cold. Today, I was ice. She stepped in close, standing on her tiptoes to drape her arms over my shoulders. The smell of expensive perfume and the freezing outdoors hit me as she forced me to meet her eyes. “Nathan, you’re being so dramatic. Do you have any idea how many people from the Board were at that gala? If word got back to my mother that I was seeing someone like you, we’d both be ruined. I did this for us.” I let out a jagged, self-deprecating laugh. To her, I wasn’t a partner. I was a toy she was embarrassed to show her friends. I pried her hands off me. She lunged back in, her cold fingers grazing the deep bruise on my cheekbone. She giggled, though there was no warmth in it. “Ouch. Those security guards were a bit rough, weren’t they? They ruined my handsome guy’s face. Don’t worry, I’ll dock their pay.” This was her routine. Whenever I was truly hurting, she’d use this toxic blend of playfulness and “protection” to make me forgive her. It wouldn’t work this time. Seven days ago, at her engagement party, the guards had beaten me in the alley behind the hotel on her orders. “A gutter rat trying to eat caviar,” they’d sneered. “Mr. Vanderbilt and Miss Montgomery are a match made in heaven. You’re nothing.” Passersby had pointed and laughed, filming the “beggar” crying for money from a socialite. My dignity had been stripped bare in the street. Seeing that I still wasn’t cracking, Serena pulled out her final card. She produced a small, pink velvet hair clip with a bow and shook it in front of me. “For Annie. And stop using her surgery to lie to me and get my attention. It’s beneath you.” Annie. My only living relative. She’d been born with a congenital heart defect. She had just finished her transplant surgery, and her only wish was to see me and Serena officially married. Instead, she saw the news of Serena’s marriage to Derek Vanderbilt on a hospital TV and collapsed. The doctors told me we needed another ten thousand dollars for emergency stabilization and post-op care. I spent New Year’s Eve calling every contact I had, begging for a loan. I was blocked, mocked, or told I was “bad luck.” While the city cheered for the new year, thirteen-year-old Annie slipped away. Now, I was truly alone. Thinking of her pale face made my heart feel like it was being crushed by a vice. I didn’t take the clip. “Serena,” I said, my voice sounding like gravel. “We’re—” Through. The word was on the tip of my tongue, but she cut me off. “Fine, fine. I get it. You’re probably short on cash after the holidays.” She tapped her phone and sent me a notification. A two-hundred-dollar transfer. “Consider that for Annie’s ‘supplements.’ No need to write me an IOU for this one.” It was pathetic. She was so terrified I was a gold-digger that she insisted on “managing” my salary, giving me a meager allowance after “approving” my expenses. Every time she gave me a dime of my own money, she made me sign a promissory note. After seven years, I was technically “in debt” to her for thousands. I used to think she was just “fiscally responsible” because of her upbringing. I’d indulged her, thinking it was a quirk of the wealthy. But her frugality only applied to me. She had no problem buying Derek a limited-edition Ferrari or a multi-million dollar condo in Aspen. It made the front page of the tabloids every time. Where the money goes, the love follows. I hit ‘decline’ on the transfer and sent it back immediately. “I don’t need it. Not anymore.” Serena finally looked at me, her expression shifting from annoyance to a strange, frustrated pity. “Not enough? Fine. I’ll give you the wedding. We’ll do a ceremony. It’ll give your sister something to brag about to the nurses. You two really are cut from the same cloth…” Vain. That was the word she always used. I’d spent seven years being told that wanting a normal life—gifts, dates, a public acknowledgement of our love—was “low-class vanity” and a “grasp at her fortune.” “There’s no need for a wedding,” I said. “We aren’t a couple.” Serena’s face hardened. The mask of the playful girlfriend dropped, revealing the cold heiress underneath. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Serena shot me a warning look and went to open it. The next second, her voice turned into a melodic, high-pitched chirp. “What are you doing here?” I looked over. Derek was standing in the doorway, wearing a designer parka that perfectly matched Serena’s. He reached out with practiced intimacy and ruffled her hair. “Hey, princess. The guys are at the club and they want to see their ‘new sister-in-law.’ Come spend the day with me.” His eyes drifted past her to me, a calculated, taunting smirk on his lips. “Nathan. You don’t mind, right? You seemed pretty cool with everything at the gala.” As he spoke, he laced his fingers with Serena’s, purposefully flashing their matching platinum wedding bands. Serena’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him. “He doesn’t mind,” she said quickly. “Of course I’ll go. I owe you one for the public spectacle anyway.” She grabbed her handbag, ready to vanish. After two steps, she seemed to remember I existed. She let go of Derek’s hand, walked over, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “This is the last time. After today, I’m all yours.” But Serena, there is no “after today” for us. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I watched them disappear down the hall, their laughter echoing in the elevator. I turned back to the desk and picked up the resignation letter I’d already printed. 2 It was the first Monday after New Year’s. The office was buzzing with the usual post-holiday gossip. As I walked in, my colleagues huddled in small groups, their snickers following me like a bad smell. “Can you believe Nathan actually showed up? The guy has no shame. Kneeling in the snow at the gala, begging Miss Montgomery for money? Pathetic.” “He’s been acting like he owns the place just because he’s been her lapdog for seven years. My dog begs for treats with more dignity. He’s finished.” I walked past the vitriol, my face a mask of indifference, and entered the HR office. The HR director, a woman who had always looked at me like I was a smudge on her shoe, didn’t even look up. “The application is in. Once Serena signs off, you can clear your desk. Just so you know, given the ‘incident’ at the gala, there will be no severance.” I nodded. “I understand.” I turned and walked out without a second thought. The sun was setting early, casting long, bruised shadows over the city. The streets were filled with couples and families, clinging to the last bit of holiday magic. And then there was me. A crushing wave of loneliness hit me. My only family was gone. My career of seven years was over. My lover was a ghost. I walked the familiar path between the office and the apartment—a route I’d taken thousands of times. Memories began to bleed through the cracks of my composure. I was sixteen when my parents died in that wreck. The “charitable” relatives swooped in like vultures, picking the estate clean and leaving me with nothing but a month-old baby sister. Years later, six-year-old Annie met Serena at a hospital fundraiser where Serena was volunteering for the cameras. Annie took to her instantly, calling her “big sister.” That was how we started. I was just a college student then, working three jobs to keep Annie fed and her meds paid for. Serena stepped in. She’d watch Annie, send me updates, and hold me when I broke down over the mounting medical bills. Back then, she told me she’d never leave. She told me she loved me more than her own life. She used to hold my hand in public, even when I was wearing thrift-store clothes, and tell everyone, “This is my boyfriend. Isn’t he perfect?” But slowly, the poison of her mother’s voice took over. She started looking at me with suspicion. She began to fear I was after the Montgomery estate. She demanded I hand over my paychecks so she could “protect” her assets from being “commingled.” Her control became absolute. If I asked for five dollars for a pack of cigarettes, she’d interrogate me for an hour. Then, three months ago, Derek returned from London. She bought him a Bentley that same day. She spent fifty thousand dollars on a digital billboard in Times Square that read: Welcome Home, Derek. That was the first night she didn’t come home. When I finally found her, she was drunk, clinging to Derek’s arm, slurring about how he had “put a toy ring on her finger when they were five” and promised to marry her. I was cold to the bone. When she sobered up, we had a screaming match. I asked her who she really wanted. She told me I was overthinking, that I was “insecure,” and that if it weren’t for Derek’s family, I’d never have even had the chance to breathe the same air as her. Then Derek posted a status saying he was “ready to settle down.” Serena came to me that night and asked me to marry her. I was a fool. I was so happy, so relieved that she had “chosen” me, that I got down on one knee. What a joke. I realized I’d walked blocks past my destination. Up ahead, a familiar noise drifted from a high-end lounge. “Go on, Serena! A dare is a dare! Derek is waiting!” I saw her through the glass. She was surrounded by their elite social circle. She closed her eyes and shouted at the top of her lungs: “I, Serena Montgomery, have only ever loved Derek Vanderbilt!” She said it three times, her voice growing louder and more certain with each repetition, drawing stares from everyone on the sidewalk. Then, blushing like a schoolgirl, she buried her face in Derek’s chest. Derek wrapped his arms around her, smug and triumphant. The crowd began to chant: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Serena hesitated for a heartbeat. Derek tried to play it off. “Easy, guys, she’s shy—” Before he could finish, Serena grabbed his tie and pulled him down into a kiss. It was deep, desperate, and hauntingly sincere. When they pulled apart, she didn’t close her eyes. She stared at him as if trying to memorize his soul, her face glowing with a happiness I hadn’t seen in half a decade. “I… I tripped,” she muttered, her ears turning red, trying to regain her composure. Then, hurriedly: “It’s late. I have to get home. My mom will be expecting us for dinner.” Love is the hand that wants to touch but pulls back out of fear. Watching her with him, I realized she was never afraid of me. She just didn’t care enough to be. We were barely twenty feet apart. The winter wind tore through my coat, grinding what was left of my heart into dust. Serena turned to leave, head down against the cold, and walked straight into me. She looked up, and her pupils shrunk in shock. 3 “I’m… I’m sorry… I…” I cut her off. “It’s fine.” I turned away and pulled out my phone to call an Uber. Behind me, I heard the whispers of her friends. “Is that him? Serena, isn’t that the guy who was begging for money at your party? The stalker?” “Check your purse, Serena. He probably swiped your wallet when he bumped into you.” Serena said nothing. She let the slander hang in the air, her silence a confession. When I got back to the apartment, I went to pay for the ride. A notification popped up from my travel app: Your standby flight from Chicago to Houston is confirmed. Departure tomorrow, 3:00 PM. Please check in. I screenshotted the confirmation and sent it to the HR director at the tech firm in Texas. Within seconds, he replied: Nathan, we’ve been waiting for you. See you tomorrow! A small weight lifted from my chest. I grabbed my pre-packed suitcase and headed for the door. I couldn’t spend another second in this museum of failed expectations. I ran into Serena in the foyer. She frowned, slamming the door shut behind her. “Where do you think you’re going?” Derek followed her in, his voice dripping with faux-concern. “Nathan, man, don’t overreact. Serena was just playing along for the sake of the family’s reputation. Don’t start a fight and walk out over a game…” I didn’t even look at him. “Serena, we’re done. I’m leaving.” Serena looked like she was about to yell at me for being “jealous” again, but the finality in my voice made her flinch. “Leaving? Because of one kiss during a game? Nathan, don’t you want the wedding anymore?” She actually thought a “pity wedding” was still a threat she could use. In the past, I would have dropped to my knees and begged for her to stay. Now, I just smiled. “Serena, there is no ‘us.’ Why would there be a wedding?” “No ‘us’?” Her face flushed a deep, angry red. “That’s not what you said when you proposed a month ago! You said you’d protect me forever. You bought me a ring!” She started digging through her Birkin, looking for the ring as if to throw it in my face. “Don’t bother,” I said quietly. “You took that ring to a pawn shop and sold it for twelve hundred dollars. You used the money to buy Derek a silk tie for your first date.” In seven years, every gift I’d ever scraped money together to buy her—jewelry, watches, books—had ended up on eBay or at a consignment shop. She told me they were “too cheap to wear in her circles” and that I shouldn’t be “sensitive” because she was “hers.” I used to think her pragmatism was cute. Now, it was just grotesque. She didn’t hate the gifts; she just didn’t value the man who gave them.

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I used to be a proud, broke idealist. All I wanted was Elias’s love. But after he blacklisted me from the industry once, I learned my lesson. I obediently accepted every resource and role he threw my way. I just stopped loving him. Later, he got into a serious car accident and was hospitalized. I flew back from Fashion Week abroad and went straight to my film set. When he finally recovered and was discharged, he cornered me against a doorframe, his eyes bloodshot. “I was in a car crash…” I looked at him, my expression unreadable, and stayed silent. He gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with raw, undisguised hurt. “And you didn’t come to see me… not even once.” 01 I always knew Elias Thorne and I were from two completely different worlds. I always felt like I shouldn’t accept the resources he offered me. I wanted us to be a normal couple. He was my boyfriend, and I was his girlfriend. I loved him, and he loved me. But eventually, he was the one who personally tore my fantasy to shreds. On the tenth day of being blacklisted by Elias, my manager, Brenda, knocked on my door, her face a picture of frustrated disappointment. When I opened the door, her anger visibly faltered at the sight of my haggard appearance. She closed her eyes, let out a heavy sigh, and walked in. “Chloe, do you still not get it? You and Elias Thorne are not from the same world. Who is he? He’s the CEO of the Thorne Group. Who are you? You’re a celebrity with zero backing.” She sat heavily on the sofa, offering her earnest, albeit harsh, advice. I listened expressionlessly while pouring her a glass of water. “What love? Is there actually any love between you two? If he loved you, how could he blacklist you with a single word? Look at yourself. Look at what you’ve become.” She pulled a mirror from her bag and forced me to look at my own pathetic reflection. “Could I look any worse than I did that day?” My voice was hoarse, every word feeling like it was being dragged out of my throat over broken glass. I looked at my reflection with zero emotion. She knew exactly what day I meant. It was the Best Actress awards ceremony. The video of me smiling brightly as the host read the winner’s name had been trending on Twitter for days. I was so confident I was going to win. But the name called wasn’t mine. The cameras perfectly captured my devastated expression and broadcasted it on the jumbotrons. Even though I quickly recovered and forced a stiff smile while clapping, the internet mercilessly mocked me for being a sore loser. Hearing this, Brenda sighed again and continued, “I told you a long time ago, you two aren’t a match. I told you to hurry up and use your youth to get resources and connections from him, to build yourself up so you can stand on your own two feet. That’s what actually matters.” “But you’re just hopelessly romantic. You never listen. You’re going to drive me crazy…” Because I had been drinking heavily for days, my brain felt sluggish. Maybe that was why I didn’t feel a single twinge of pain in my chest. Elias and I had been together since high school. In that elite, money-drenched prep school, surviving on good grades alone without a wealthy background was incredibly difficult. But Elias became my shield. I remember one late afternoon, he was sitting next to me, casually twirling a strand of my hair while I kept my head down, writing. He suddenly leaned in, his eyes burning with intensity, and flashed a brilliant smile. “Hey, straight-A student. Want to be my girlfriend?” The bright, clear eyes of that teenage boy merged with the cold, condescending eyes of the man who looked down at me in the garden years later. “Chloe, don’t regret this.” When he said “don’t regret this,” he was referring to the moment I accidentally overheard him behind a closed door, saying that he and I would never have a future together. I had cried and broken up with him. In the past, I used my ridiculous sense of pride to maintain the illusion of equality in our love. He would often laugh and say that if I wanted a role, I just had to ask. There was no need for me to fight so exhaustingly for it. I loved burying my face in his solid chest, poking him playfully, and saying, “No way. I want to earn it with my own hard work. That way, people won’t think I’m with you for the wrong reasons.” Whenever I did that, he would just sigh helplessly and pat my head. Now, I laughed, my tears hitting the floorboards. Fuck love. … That night, I went back to the place he and I used to call “home.” Wearing a black lace slip, I sat calmly on the edge of the bed. A lot of the decorations in the room were cute and colorful. Several plush toys lay quietly on the sofa, exactly how I had left them. Every inch of this place held memories of our love. There were security cameras in the living room, and my fingerprints hadn’t been wiped from the smart lock. He knew with absolute certainty that I would come crawling back to him. Just like he told me: Chloe, you’ll regret this. He was right. I regretted it. I regretted being so stupid, demanding something as pure as love. Before long, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway below. By the time I snapped out of my daze, the bedroom door had already opened. Elias, dressed in a bespoke black suit, stood in the doorway, watching me in silence. My eyelashes fluttered, Brenda’s words echoing in my ears. “People in their circle only ever marry for strategic alliances. Stop fantasizing about this so-called love. What is love? Can you eat it? Can you spend it? From the very beginning, he never planned on marrying you. Wake up, you foolish girl.” I bit my lip, stepped onto the cold floor barefoot, and walked toward him. I stopped right in front of him. I reached out and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He didn’t speak, nor did he stop me; he just looked down at me. In the past, when we fought, I would always wait for him to come home, wrap my arms around his waist, and sway him gently. “You’re not mad anymore, right? Please don’t be mad.” He was a head taller than me, so I had to stand on my tiptoes, struggling to slide his jacket off. Then, I unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. Revealing the firm, muscular chest and abs of a grown man. I looked up at him, meeting eyes that were now dark with desire. I leaned in and softly pressed my lips against his bare chest, then reached down to unbuckle his belt. His breathing hitched, and suddenly, my feet left the floor. He picked me up, gently laid me on the bed, and hovered over me. He kissed my forehead, his voice raspy. “Do you know what you did wrong?” Hearing this, I lowered my eyes to hide my emotions, bit my lip, and let out a soft “Mhm.” I don’t know if my obedient act pleased him, but he grabbed my hand and placed it on the cold metal buckle of his belt. He lightly bit my earlobe, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Take it off.” 02 When everything finally settled down, I lay there listening to his even breathing. I stared blankly at the pitch-black ceiling, then reached over and removed the arm he had wrapped around me. Finally, I squeezed my eyes shut. … My comeback project was an S-tier, massive-budget historical fantasy drama. Sitting in my trailer, reading the script, I thought to myself: What the hell was I so proud of before? In the past, I always refused to please Elias—or rather, I refused to please him in exchange for resources. Even when I first debuted, starting with absolutely nothing and running between sets for extra roles, I never thought of asking him for help. I fantasized that one day, if a show of mine blew up and I became an A-list star on my own merit, maybe his family would finally accept me. But I forgot that to a wealthy, elite family, I would always just be an “actor.” No matter my status, I was just an entertainer. I was truly poor, but my pride was entirely fake. The first snow in New York arrived unusually early this year. I sat under the awning, hugging a hand warmer and reading my script. Suddenly, Brenda gasped, “Chloe, look over there.” I followed her gaze. Elias, wearing a long black overcoat, was walking through the snow, step by step, right toward me. Seeing him, I buried the coldness in my eyes, replaced it with a look of pure surprise, stood up, and ran toward him. He smiled, opening his arms to catch me in a full embrace. I looked up at him, my voice soft and sweet. “Didn’t you say you weren’t coming back until tomorrow?” He reached out, brushing the snowflakes from my hair, then leaned down to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Wanted to surprise you.” I just smiled, saying nothing. After a moment, he said, “I’m taking you out tonight.” I pulled back slightly. “But I usually shoot until midnight, and with this snow, every production is trying to…” Before I could finish, he pinched my cheek. “I already cleared it with your director.” For a second, I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Finally, I smiled and nodded. “Whatever you say.” That night, we went to a private room in an exclusive club. The faces inside were all familiar—people I had known since high school, Elias’s childhood friends who grew up in the same elite circles. In the past, I constantly craved their approval, bending over backward to please them. Now, I just sat quietly beside Elias. I couldn’t care less about the subtle, knowing glances they exchanged. A little while later, the true guest of honor arrived. A woman wearing a stunning, custom-made red evening gown with a long train walked in. It was Mia. The woman they always referred to as the future matriarch of the Thorne family. She had gone abroad for university years ago. She gave me a brief, indifferent glance before sitting down right next to Elias. One of the guys teased her, “How did you manage to get even prettier after a trip abroad?” His comment opened the floodgates, and everyone started chiming in. Mia laughed, “Oh, please, stop making fun of me.” Then she turned to Elias, her voice playful and affectionate. “Are they telling the truth, Elias?” I looked down and took a sip of my drink. I didn’t look to see Elias’s expression, but I heard him give a soft, affirmative “Mhm.” When the food arrived, I kept my head down and focused on eating. They talked about their childhood memories—things that happened long before I ever met them. In the past, I would get so upset that I couldn’t join the conversation, that I couldn’t understand their inside jokes. Not anymore. I don’t know who said it, but someone laughed, “I remember back then, Elias was always saying, ‘Mia is going to marry me and only me when we grow up.’” A dead silence fell over the room. After years in the entertainment industry, I had mastered the art of zoning out, selectively deafening myself to things I didn’t want to hear. It had become second nature. Sensing the sudden, awkward silence, I looked up in confusion. Only to crash straight into Elias’s pitch-black gaze. Having been with him for so long, I could easily read his emotions from the slightest micro-expressions. He was displeased. Though I had no idea why he was upset. Then I heard Mia’s voice. “Oh, stop talking nonsense. Can’t you see Elias’s girlfriend is sitting right here?” I kept a polite, professional smile on my face. I glanced at Mia, who looked entirely unapologetic, and felt absolutely nothing. Mostly, I just didn’t care. I hadn’t been Elias’s “girlfriend” for a long time. I was his canary. A transactional arrangement between a kept woman and her benefactor, requiring zero emotional investment. When we got back to the villa that night, Elias smelled faintly of alcohol. He was unusually rough that night, his upturned, peach-blossom eyes burning with anger. I didn’t know what he was so mad about. At first, I tried to arch my back and accommodate him, but by the end, I was crying and begging him to stop. 03 Over the next few days, I sent Elias a few texts, but he ignored them all. So I stopped trying. I focused on filming. Because the set was far away, I stayed at a hotel. One day, I was crouching on the ground making a snowman when Brenda ran over, her long puffer coat flapping, looking completely frantic. She shoved her phone in my face. The number one trending topic was: [The Billionaire and the Heiress: A Match Made in Heaven]. She clicked on it, and the first thing that popped up was a photo of a woman linking arms with a man. The background was opulent and glittering—likely some high-society gala. Mia had a classic, radiant beauty. In the photo, she wore a gold gown that perfectly hugged her curves. Her hair was elegantly swept up, and her eyes looked as soft as water. Elias wore a black tuxedo, looking tall and imposing, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. I smiled. “They really do look perfect together.” I looked away. If I hadn’t been in the picture, it probably would have been a beautiful love story. But then again, whether I was in the picture or not, they were destined to end up together. Just like in a novel, the vicious supporting female character always gets written out, and the male and female leads live happily ever after. Netizens are always obsessed with high-society drama. I don’t know who posted it, but there was also a very blurry photo floating around, claiming to be Elias and Mia. That night, after wrapping up a late shoot, I got into the van. Brenda had been holding her phone the entire ride, her brows furrowed, staring at the screen like she was trying to burn a hole through it. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Suddenly, she reached out, pointing at the blurry photo on her screen. “Is this you?” Hearing her, I slowly opened my eyes and gave it a casual glance. I froze. The heavily zoomed-in, pixelated image was taken under the monorail tracks in the city of Havenbrook. I had been filming there at the time. Elias had gone abroad because of a crisis with a foreign partnership, and ended up staying there for three months. Havenbrook was sweltering. That evening by the river, even the breeze blowing off the water felt hot. I was wearing a loose, oversized tank top, holding a mini fan, wanting to call him during my break. But afraid of interrupting his work, I just took a picture of the river view and sent it to him, telling him how beautiful and fun the city was. I was sitting on a small folding stool, looking down at my script, taking a sip of ice-cold milk tea. Suddenly, a shadow fell over my pages. I looked up in confusion. Elias was standing there in a black T-shirt, looking down at me with a smile, the evening wind ruffling his slightly curly hair. Right at that moment, the monorail roared past overhead. I jumped up excitedly and threw my arms around him. “You’re back!” “Didn’t you say it would take a few more days?” He wrapped one arm around my waist, rested his forehead against mine, and smiled, his eyes shining. “Didn’t someone say they wished they had magic so they could instantly teleport me here?” “The magic worked.” “Oh.” My ears turned red at his teasing, but after not seeing him for so long, I really, really missed him. I bit my lip, unable to hide the joy in my eyes, and motioned for him to lower his head. He chuckled softly and obediently leaned down. I smiled and asked, “Did you miss me?” He smiled back, nodding. “Mhm.” Hearing that, my eyes crinkled into crescents, and I turned my head to kiss the corner of his mouth. That was the exact moment captured in the photo. It must have been a random passerby taking a picture of the monorail, and Elias and I happened to be standing right underneath it. “Yeah,” I replied softly, turning my head to look out the window. Outside, the city was a blur of traffic and neon lights, reflecting endlessly on the glass. From seventeen to twenty-six, I truly believed we would make it to the end. I thought we would get married and have a child together. But while I was dreaming about our future, Elias had already carefully weighed his options and reached a conclusion. Marrying me wasn’t a good investment. 04 A few days later, Elias and Mia were trending again: [Thorne CEO Drops $3 Million Just to Make Heiress Smile]. By the time I saw it, I had already wrapped up filming for the day and was back at the villa. I took a shower and got into bed. When I woke up, the sky outside was pitch black. Elias had come home at some point and was sleeping with his arms wrapped around me. He was a light sleeper. When I slowly turned over, the arm around my waist tightened. He pulled me flush against his chest, his voice raspy. “You’re awake?” “Mhm.” I hummed softly, turning to face him. I smiled, opened my eyes, and rubbed my head affectionately against his neck. “Elias, Director Zhang is casting a new movie soon. I want the lead role.” His dark eyes stared at me, unreadable. “Please? Hmm?” I hugged his lean waist, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Suddenly, he flipped us over, pinning me beneath him, looking at me with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I thought about it, reached up to loop my arms around his neck, stared at his lips, and was just about to kiss him. He abruptly pulled away, his face turning ice-cold. He grabbed his coat from the chair and headed straight for the door. I sat up, bewildered by his sudden mood swing. I ran barefoot across the room and hugged him from behind. I mumbled into his back, “What’s wrong? Why are you suddenly so mad?” The massive bedroom fell dead silent. Resting my head against him, I was genuinely confused. Did he get into a fight with Mia and come back here to take it out on me? “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” “Huh?” He turned around and asked me an even more inexplicable question, his eyes burning into mine. “Do you still love me?” “Of course I do. How could I not love you?” I lied without blinking, smiling to keep my benefactor happy. But he didn’t seem happy at all. He just pulled me into a crushing hug. Listening to the heavy, rapid beating of his heart, I heard him whisper: “Do you?” I had a few days off, but Elias still hadn’t given me a straight answer about the role I asked for. I sat on the sofa, frowning as I looked toward the staircase. Didn’t he say he would give me whatever resources I wanted, as long as it wasn’t love? If he wouldn’t even give me the lead in one movie, how could I expect anything else? If he officially got engaged to Mia, I really would be left with nothing. My eyes darted around as I suddenly remembered the photo Brenda showed me. Whether the blurry silhouette was Mia or not, the internet didn’t know, but surely the people who actually knew her could tell, right? “Brenda, can you do me a favor?” I pulled out my phone and smiled at my manager sitting across from me. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” In this industry, I had seen so many couples who started out as the envy of everyone—who never shied away from showing their love on camera or behind closed doors—only to eventually lose each other in the pursuit of fame and fortune. I suppose it was finally time for me to graduate from the school of hard knocks. When Mrs. Thorne cornered me in my dressing room, I wasn’t surprised at all. Unlike Brenda and my young assistant, whose eyes were wide with panic, I just smiled and waved them out of the room. The immaculately dressed, high-society matriarch looked me up and down with cold disdain before sitting on the sofa. She dismissed her bodyguards. “Chloe Foster?” She said my name with utter contempt. “You really are a piece of work. You even managed to fool me.” I kept my smile in place. “Ma’am, I don’t know what you mean.” “Heh.” She sneered and slapped a photo onto the table. “The woman in this picture is you, isn’t it? And you’re the one who went through all the trouble to make sure I saw it, right?” She tapped her index finger, adorned with a massive emerald ring, against the table. “Since you went out of your way to get my attention, name your price.” Mrs. Thorne’s sharp eyes locked onto me. “Your price for leaving my son.” I knew when to fold. I parted my lips slightly and spoke softly. “I want the resources to propel me to A-list status. All of them.” The dressing room fell completely silent. She smiled, but her eyes were ice-cold. “Do you believe me when I say I could make sure the name Chloe Foster ceases to exist in the entertainment industry by tomorrow morning?” “I believe you. But Elias wouldn’t let that happen. He likes me.” I curved my red-painted lips into a smile. “Ma’am, we’ve been together since we were seventeen. No matter what, he won’t just abandon me.” Hearing this, Mrs. Thorne’s face noticeably darkened. After a long pause, she said coldly, “I can agree to your terms, but you have to do one thing for me in return.” I answered quickly. “Okay.” “You aren’t even going to ask what it is?” I tilted my head. “Doesn’t the Madam want Elias to be with Mia?” She was taken aback by my bluntness, then smiled. “It really is so much easier talking to a smart person.” She elegantly picked up her designer bag. “I’ll be waiting for your good news, Ms. Foster. After all, your flight for Fashion Week leaves the day after tomorrow. Flights don’t wait.” I smirked. “Take care, Ma’am.” Compared to a woman who only wanted love, a woman who wanted money and power made this wealthy matriarch feel much more secure. 05 I don’t know if the universe was on my side, but that day, Elias’s best friend—who had been living abroad for years—returned to the country. Arthur, the guy who followed a girl overseas to study, and ended up getting his Master’s and PhD there, had finally come back. By the time I arrived at the club, most of the people had already left. Elias was lying on the sofa with his eyes half-closed, his cheeks flushed from drinking too much. Arthur was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, talking on his phone. “Yeah, it’s almost over. I’ll be heading back soon.” Hearing his tone, I figured things had worked out well for him and the girl. After hanging up, he turned, saw me, adjusted his rimless glasses, and smiled. “Hey, Chloe. Long time no see.” I walked over to Elias and smiled gently. “Long time no see. Are you planning to stay and work here now?” “Yeah. My parents’ health hasn’t been great lately, so it’s easier to take care of them if I’m back.” He added, “Don’t be mad at Elias. He only drank because I just got back.” In the past, I hated it when Elias drank. Whenever he did, I would get angry, and eventually, he just stopped touching alcohol. Judging by Arthur’s tone, he clearly had no idea what had happened between us. But after tonight, he would. He helped me carry Elias toward the door. I smiled and said, “It’s totally normal for you guys to have a few drinks after not seeing each other for so long.” “Oh, doesn’t he have a private suite here? Let’s take him there. I’m worried his stomach will act up and he’ll throw up in the car.” This five-star hotel was owned by the Thorne Group, and Elias had a permanent penthouse suite here. “Sure.” After finally getting Elias onto the bed, I smiled and thanked Arthur. Once he left, I walked back in, sat on the edge of the bed, and quietly watched Elias sleep. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights twinkled in the darkness. The room was completely silent, save for the sound of Elias’s soft breathing. His eyes were tightly shut, his hair falling messily across his forehead, giving him a rare look of innocent obedience. I looked down and laughed softly. “If seventeen-year-old Chloe and Elias could see us now, how do you think they’d react?” Only silence answered me. I continued talking to myself. “They’d probably be really, really sad. After all…” I slowly moved my gaze over his face. “We really did love each other once.” “But Elias, remember this: you were the one who gave up on us first. Everything I’m doing now is just to make sure my nine years of youth don’t look like a complete joke.” With that, I was about to stand up and leave when the previously quiet Elias suddenly became restless, softly calling my name. “Chloe… Chloe…” I looked at him, expressionlessly took off the couple’s ring we bought in college, tossed it into the trash can, and walked toward the door. When I reached the handle, my hand hesitated for a fraction of a second before I yanked it open. Standing outside was Mia, looking every bit the victor. Her perfectly made-up face broke into a triumphant smile. “Chloe, I told you. You two were never going to make it to the end.” In high school, when Mia found out Elias and I were dating, her first reaction wasn’t anger. It was an absolute, condescending certainty. She looked down her nose at me, her eyes full of mockery and disdain. “Chloe, you two aren’t going to make it to the end.” Teenage love is always reckless and passionate. Back then, I didn’t care about a single word she said. But to the me of today, Mia had been right. When you’re young, the massive chasm between social classes isn’t as glaringly obvious. But as you grow up and enter the real world, staring up at the towering skyscrapers of wealth and power… after the initial confusion and vertigo fade, all that’s left is an endless, ravenous hunger. A hunger for money. A hunger for power. The desire to climb to the top of the pyramid and look down on everything else. “Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness,” I said, stepping aside. She walked straight past me into the room. As she passed, she flashed a sweet smile. “Thank you. I suppose we won’t be inviting you to the wedding, then.” I walked out of the hotel. The company van had been waiting for a long time. In the early hours of the morning, I boarded my flight overseas.

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The Davenport family, one of the wealthiest in the nation, had an unwritten rule. Any woman who married into the family had to bear a son before she could be officially welcomed with a marriage certificate. I had been engaged to Donovan Davenport for eight years. I had tried everything, but I could never get pregnant. But his young assistant, the one he’d had a one-night stand with, was a different story. She got pregnant before I ever could. The entire Davenport household laughed at my misfortune, my lack of “blessing.” They called me a cursed star, fit only to serve tea in their grand mansion. At the annual ancestral tribute ceremony, they even had her, Isabelle, take my rightful place. Everyone expected me to cry, to throw a tantrum. They thought I would run to Donovan, begging him to defend my honor. But I just quietly packed my bags. Three days ago, I had finally found my real family. He was coming to take me home. And he would make the Davenports pay for everything they owed me, with interest. 1. The Davenport Corporation had raked in billions last year, so this year’s ancestral ceremony was more lavish than ever. The custom-made ceremonial gown alone cost a small fortune. Isabelle, holding the hem of her extravagant dress, looked at me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Victoria, darling, my shoes are a bit dirty. Would you be a dear and clean them for me? I can’t possibly bend over in this gown; it’s far too precious.” She extended a delicate foot towards me. Tied around her ankle was the same red cord Donovan had personally tied for her last night. It was the one I had prayed for years ago at a shrine known for healing miracles. I had cast the sacred lots dozens of times, kneeling for three days and nights, begging for Donovan’s recovery from a severe illness. Now, the man was healthy. But the love was gone. They say the first thing a cripple does when he can walk again is throw away his crutch. Donovan, the man who had once sworn to love me for all eternity, was no exception. I was leaving soon. I didn’t want to cause a scene. I ignored Isabelle’s provocation, set down my teacup, and headed for my room. As I reached the grand doorway, the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, blocked my path. Her face was a mask of ridicule, her voice dripping with contempt. “Miss Thorne, the Davenports have standards. Only the proper lady of the house may use the main entrance. A penniless orphan with no name, a liability like you, will use the side door with the rest of the staff!” Her arrogance was so blatant I couldn’t help but sneer. “Are you really spouting that Dark Age nonsense to my face?” The moment the words left my mouth, Isabelle frowned dramatically. “How dare you! To speak with such disrespect before the Davenport ancestors. Since you clearly have no parents to teach you manners, I, as the future lady of this house, will have to teach you a lesson myself!” With that, she snatched a heavy ceremonial rod from a nearby table and swung it at me. I dodged, ready to fight back, but an arm caught me from behind. It was Donovan. “What is all this commotion on such an important day?” he demanded. “Go back to your rooms and copy the house rules five hundred times. This will not happen again!” He noticed the red mark on my cheek where the rod had grazed me and his grip loosened slightly. “Victoria, I know you feel wronged, but you can’t blame anyone for this,” he said, his voice cold. “You can only blame your own barren womb. If you want to stay with the Davenports, you must follow our rules.” When my parents passed away, they entrusted me to the Davenport family’s care. Shortly after I arrived, a thoughtless maid whispered that I was cursed, that I had brought death upon my own parents and was destined to a life of childless misery. When Donovan found out, he flew into a rage. He fired the maid and declared in front of the entire household, “Victoria is the only woman I will ever love, the future mistress of this house. With me by her side, she won’t have to answer to anyone or follow anyone’s rules. If anyone dares to disrespect her, they’ll have to answer to me!” That was only a few years ago. The earnest young man I knew had vanished, replaced by this cold stranger. Money and power truly could change a person. The Davenport estate was never my home. And Donovan was not the man I could spend my life with. Thank goodness I had already reconnected with my long-lost brother. Soon, I would be going home. Back to the people who truly loved me. 2. Ignoring the intimate scene between them, I returned to my room. As I was packing, I realized I’d left my necklace in the family chapel. When I went back to get it, I heard their voices. Isabelle was lounging in Donovan’s arms, carelessly toying with one of the sacred lots. “Victoria really is an utter fool. All this time and she still hasn’t realized there’s something wrong with the medicine she’s been taking.” Donovan chuckled, taking her delicate hand in his. “It was your idea, and it was brilliant. Swapping her fertility supplements with those safflower and musk pills to ‘regulate her blood flow.’” “I saw her latest medical report,” he continued. “She’s had multiple miscarriages over the years, but they were all so early she never knew. The poor thing just thinks she has irregular periods and chugs that bitter herbal tea every day.” I stood frozen in the doorway, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. My cycles had always been erratic. The bleeding was always accompanied by agonizing cramps and large clots. Donovan had seemed so concerned, taking me to countless doctors. Every single one of them said the same thing: I’d damaged my health as a child, leading to poor circulation. It was the cause of all my problems. They assured me that with medicine and proper care, I would recover and be able to conceive. I believed them. Donovan never showed a hint of disappointment. He stood up to the family elders for me, brewed my medicine, and made me nourishing soups. Whenever the pain hit, he was right there, comforting me. Back then, I thought it was a sign of his love. Only now did I understand. He stayed by my side only to personally confirm that I had miscarried. To watch as those tiny, month-old lives were flushed from my body as a river of blood… A deep, bone-chilling cold washed over me. When Donovan first brought Isabelle to the Davenport estate, he swore to me that it was a drunken mistake, that he had mistaken her for me. He promised that as soon as she gave birth to the child, he would send her away. But it was all a lie. They had been having an affair for years. To ensure Isabelle could become Mrs. Davenport without any obstacles, Donovan was willing to kill his own flesh and blood, over and over again. I bit my lip, struggling to stay calm. Inside the chapel, the two of them were kissing, completely oblivious. Isabelle pulled away, breathless, and slapped him playfully. “You’re terrible. They say you can’t hide fire with paper. Aren’t you afraid Victoria will find out the truth and raise hell? I heard that even though her parents are dead, their old network is still very much active.” Donovan pinched her nose, unconcerned. “What’s there to be afraid of? What trouble can a lone orphan cause? I’ve spent years domesticating her. She wouldn’t survive a day without the Davenports. Besides, I have my ways of breaking that stubborn spirit of hers.” Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. Since I came to live with the Davenports, Donovan had catered to my every whim. He said he felt sorry for me, losing my parents so young, and that he wanted to be my rock. But it was all a lie. That last bastion of affection was a sham. Eight years. Countless days and nights. I had been living inside Donovan’s meticulously crafted lie. An overwhelming agony flooded my mind. Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to my brother. I couldn’t stand another second in this house. And besides, I was very curious to see just how long Donovan could hold onto his title as the city’s richest man once his connection to me was severed. 3. My brother’s reply was immediate. “Don’t worry, sis. Everything is ready. I’ll pick you up first thing tomorrow morning!” Knowing he was coming eased some of the pain in my heart. I wiped away my tears and locked myself in my room. I don’t know how much time passed before a pair of familiar hands gently wrapped around me from behind. “You silly girl, are you angry?” Donovan whispered. “I didn’t mean to be harsh with you. You know the rumors about you have never stopped. To appease the elders, I have to be strict with you in public. But no matter what, you’ll always be the most important woman in my heart.” His hands began to wander over my body, skillfully unbuttoning my blouse. “There, now. Let’s try one more time. If you can just get pregnant, I can convince those old fossils to let you and Isabelle have equal standing.” Years of deception weren’t enough for him. He still wanted to keep me by his side. A wave of nausea washed over me. Just as I was about to push him away, a frantic knocking came from the door. “Sir! It’s the madam! She’s in terrible pain, and there’s blood! Please, come quickly!” Donovan shot up, threw on a robe, and rushed out of the room. I watched his panicked retreat with a cold, mocking smile. So, when a child he actually cared about was in danger, he could feel anxiety. He could feel fear. It was never the children he despised. It was me. The moonlight spilled into the room, making my face look even more pale and drawn. I didn’t want any part of their drama. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to go back to sleep. But moments later, a group of people burst into my room. They dragged me from my bed and hauled me back to the family chapel. Isabelle was leaning against Donovan, her face deathly pale. The Davenport elders glared at me with pure hatred. “I told you we shouldn’t have kept a cursed star like her around!” one of them shrieked. “First she killed her own parents, and now she’s trying to destroy our family! If anything happens to my grandson, I will not spare her!” Donovan tried to placate them before turning to a white-bearded old man in the room. “Master, they say you are the most renowned spiritual master in Northwood City. Please, can you tell us, is there any way to resolve this?” The old man squinted at me, sighing and shaking his head. “Too much bad karma. She is haunted by the spirits of dead infants. She will not only bring ruin to everyone around her but will also disturb the peace of this house!” Donovan’s father’s brow furrowed. He bowed deeply. “Master, what should we do? We will spare no expense to avert this disaster!” The old man glanced thoughtfully at Isabelle. “There is no easy solution. We must resort to the old ways. She must roll on a bed of nails and walk through fire. Only by shedding her skin can she be cleansed of this malevolent energy!” As if on cue, Isabelle ordered servants to bring in a brazier of hot coals and a wooden bed frame covered in sharp, gleaming nails. I stared at the neatly arranged spikes, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you all insane? This is the 21st century! You can’t possibly believe in this medieval superstition!” I struggled, trying to escape, but Donovan grabbed my arm, holding me fast. “Victoria, don’t be childish. Isabelle is doing this for your own good. If you weren’t carrying such a heavy curse, why would your parents have died so senselessly? Why have we been childless for all these years? The master is the best in the city; he knows what he’s doing. He won’t seriously harm you. Just endure it. Once you pass this trial, you can stay by my side forever.” He stroked my head, his voice a hypnotic, soothing whisper. “Victoria, don’t you want to be with me for the rest of your life?”

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