Category: English

The day I was born, the moment the nurse handed me to my parents, the joyful smiles on their faces instantly froze. Hovering just above my smooth, newborn head was a string of numbers that only they could see. 6,570 days. Exactly eighteen years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse assumed they were just nervous first-time parents. But my mom and dad knew the truth—that number was the countdown to my death. While the other families in the maternity ward were celebrating new beginnings, my parents were staring directly at my end. For the next eighteen years, I was the most cherished person in our household. No matter how tight money got, I got the fresh eggs, the new clothes, the best cuts of meat. My younger brother could only watch with hungry, envious eyes. My parents would always tell him, “Let your sister have it. She doesn’t have much time left.” I grew up understanding the assignment. I never threw tantrums, never caused trouble. I just quietly waited to die. On my eighteenth birthday, I blew out the candles and sincerely said my goodbyes to the world. The next morning, my parents and my brother walked into my bedroom, dressed in somber black, their eyes red and swollen from crying. I rubbed my eyes, sat up, and smiled at them. “Good morning.” The air in the room instantly solidified. The profound grief on their faces slowly morphed into shock. Then into a stiff, awkward stiffness. And finally, into a chilling coldness. … The silence dragged on for a full ten seconds. “How… how are you…” My brother hid behind my mom, his voice trembling like he was looking at a ghost. “I didn’t die,” I said. My dad’s face cycled through several expressions before he finally forced out a strained smile. “That’s good. That’s good you didn’t die…” He nudged my mom’s arm. “Go make breakfast.” My mom offered a delayed, wooden nod. She walked to the doorway, stopped, and looked back at me. The look in her eyes was so complex I couldn’t understand it. For the first time in eighteen years, I felt like something in my home was terribly wrong. Breakfast was just plain oatmeal and toast. My brother, out of habit, pushed the plate of scrambled eggs toward me. I reached out to take some. Smack! My mom slapped my hand away so hard it left a bright red mark. “You’re an adult now! Are you really going to fight your little brother for eggs? Grow up and be considerate for once.” I pulled my hand back and quietly finished my oatmeal. After breakfast, I immediately jumped up to wash the dishes. In the past, whenever I tried to do chores, my mom would rush over, stop me, and say with a doting smile, “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that. Let Mom handle it.” This time, she just shot me a cold, sideways glance and said nothing. After washing the dishes, I forgot to wring out the sponge and left it sitting wet on the edge of the sink. My mom walked into the kitchen, saw the sponge, and her expression instantly twisted in fury. “Are you blind?! You just leave a soaking wet sponge sitting there to grow mold?!” I was startled and quickly reached for the sponge. “I raised you for eighteen years!” she screamed, following right behind me, her voice shrill. “We gave you the best of everything! The eggs, the meat, the brand-new clothes! Has your brother ever worn anything that wasn’t a hand-me-down?! You’ve been living like a princess! And you can’t even wash a damn dish right…” “Mom, I washed them. It’s just the sponge…” “Don’t you dare talk back to me! Are you out of your mind?!” She snatched the sponge from my hand and violently hurled it onto the floor. “Look at you! Walking around with that miserable look on your face! You’ve been alive for eighteen years and you don’t even know how to wring out a sponge! What use are you?!” My dad walked into the kitchen at that moment. He looked at my mom, who was red in the face with rage, and then at me, standing there in utter shock. He waved his hand dismissively, like he was breaking up a pointless argument. “Enough yelling. Both of you, go find something useful to do.” I bit my lip hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Mom, Dad… are you acting like this because I didn’t die?” Their bodies instantly went rigid. My dad took a deep breath, forced an awkward, hollow laugh, and said, “We’re just… we haven’t adjusted yet. We need… we need some time to process this…” I watched them walk away. Faintly, I heard my dad mutter under his breath, “Eighteen years, and she just doesn’t die. What kind of sick joke is this?” I couldn’t understand it. I was alive. Wasn’t that something to celebrate? I looked out the kitchen window. The sunlight looked exactly the same as it always did. But as it fell on my skin, it suddenly felt freezing cold. After that day, the atmosphere in the house changed completely. I was moved into the cramped storage room. My mom said my brother was a growing boy and needed the larger bedroom with better sunlight. My mom stopped asking what I wanted for dinner. Instead, when setting the table, she would set one plate short in silence, shoot me a resentful glare, and then reluctantly grab another set of silverware. My dad spoke even less. Sometimes, when he came home from work and saw me sitting on the porch, he would pause, then intentionally walk around the house to use the back door. Only my brother would occasionally linger near the storage room door, watching me. The look in his eyes was strange—like he was observing a freak of nature. Before, I was the precious treasure they had spent eighteen years desperately loving. Now, I was the scapegoat for every single thing that went wrong in the house. If a faucet wasn’t turned off all the way, my dad’s brow would furrow deeply. The gentle tone he used to use with me was completely gone. “Did you do that on purpose? Do you know how expensive the water bill is?! All you do is drain our resources!” “Dad, I swear I didn’t…” “Don’t call me Dad!” he roared, before turning and storming off. When my brother failed a math test by one point, my mom exploded. “It’s because you’re constantly hovering around the house, distracting him! We were supposed to finally be able to live a normal, peaceful life, and you ruined everything!” If the rice at dinner was slightly undercooked, my mom would slam her fork down. “It’s because you didn’t die! You bring bad luck to this house! Even the stove is fighting against me now!” I stood there, helpless, my eyes red and tears streaming down my face. I muttered brokenly, “I thought I was going to die, too.” The breaking point happened one evening when I flipped a light switch, the bulb flickered, and then blew out completely with a loud pop. My mom completely lost her mind. “You are a curse! Ever since you lived past eighteen, everything in this house breaks! You’re a jinx!” “Eighteen years! Six thousand days! Your father and I counted down every single day raising you! We gave you everything, and left your brother with nothing! We mentally prepared ourselves to say goodbye to you, over and over and over again… and you…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood perfectly. Their eighteen years of sacrifice, the neglect they showed my brother, the agonizing countdown they had so carefully managed—it had all turned into a massive, humiliating joke. It wasn’t because I was alive. It was because they realized that all the money they had spent on me, all the things they had denied my brother—things that were supposed to be justified and resolved the moment I died—were now entirely meaningless. I thought that if I just worked myself to the bone, if I swallowed my pride and endured the abuse, if I somehow made up for my “mistake” of surviving, my parents’ hearts would soften. I thought they would remember how much they used to love me. I took over every single chore in the house. I did the laundry, cooked the meals, bought the groceries, mopped the floors. I worked harder than a paid housekeeper. I cooked elaborate, different meals every day. I kept the house spotless. But no matter how perfectly I did everything, it never earned me a single kind word or a smile from my parents. I grew thinner and thinner, my face gaunt and exhausted. The neighbors eventually noticed the shift in how I was being treated and began gossiping. One neighbor tried to reason with my parents. “Don’t be so hard on Mia. She’s still your daughter.” My mom, right in front of the neighbor, scrunched her face in absolute disgust. “As far as we’re concerned, we never had a daughter. She’s a freak. She’s a curse on our family’s luck! Keeping her around just brings us endless misery!” My dad chimed in right beside her. “We raised her for eighteen years! We’ve fulfilled our moral obligation! Now she’s just leeching off us, dragging this family down!” Those words were like daggers plunging directly into my heart. The pain was so suffocating I couldn’t breathe. Every minor inconvenience in the house became a weapon they used to attack me. But it was an incident with my brother that became the final straw. That day, it was just my brother and me at home. I needed to use the bathroom, but when I tried to open the storage room door, the handle wouldn’t turn. I panicked, pounding frantically on the wood. “Leo! Open the door!” No one opened the door. Instead, I heard a loud crash from the kitchen—the sound of things shattering—followed by a cry of pain and Leo screaming. When the door finally opened, it was my mom. The second the door swung wide, she slapped me across the face with everything she had. “You jinx! I knew leaving you home alone would end in disaster!” Her eyes were bloodshot; she looked like a rabid animal. She collapsed onto the floor, slapping her own thighs and wailing. “My life is a curse… raising a freak for a daughter! You ruined any chance this family had at a good life!” My dad came home right then. He saw Leo’s broken leg, he saw my mom acting like a lunatic, and the madness seemed to infect him instantly. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, hauled me up, and violently threw me back onto the small cot in the storage room. “Mia! You are a plague on this house! Just die already!” My voice was raw and hoarse from crying as I desperately tried to explain. “Mom, Dad, it wasn’t my fault! Leo was trying to steal the cookies from the top cabinet and he slipped…” They didn’t listen. They locked the door from the outside. No food. No water. I could hear everything happening outside. My mom cooking dinner in the kitchen. My dad’s heavy footsteps pacing the living room. Leo loudly complaining about his leg hurting. No one mentioned me. Not once. I curled into a tight ball on the freezing cot. My cheek was swollen and burning from the slap. My body was on fire with a high fever, yet I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold. My consciousness began to blur. I thought, This time, I’m really going to die. Good. Dying is better. Dying means I’m finally free. In my delirium, the eighteen years of my life flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. As far back as my memory goes, I could feel the different way my parents looked at me. At first, I didn’t understand the meaning behind that gaze. It felt like they were looking at a fragile porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment. It was careful, but loaded with a complex emotion I couldn’t decipher. Later, I realized it was a mix of pity, helplessness, and profound sorrow. They never, ever talked about my future. Our family was always living on a countdown. The neighborhood moms would praise me for being so mature. They said I was always so quiet, never throwing fits or making a fuss. They didn’t know I wasn’t making a fuss because I just didn’t see the point. I grew up fast. I was mature because I had nothing to fight for. Kids in kindergarten would cry over a piece of candy or throw a tantrum because they didn’t get a gold star. I never did. The candy I was given was always the biggest piece. The gold star was always handed to me first. My teachers loved me. They said I was an “easy” child to manage. Only I knew that I wasn’t “easy.” I was just waiting. Waiting for the day that invisible number hit zero. When my brother was born, I could feel the guilt in my parents’ eyes even more intensely. When he was five, he snuck a piece of meat from my plate. My mom caught him and spanked him mercilessly. He cried and screamed, “Why does she get to eat it, but I can’t?!” My mom didn’t answer. She just kept spanking him. Afterward, she hid in the kitchen and cried for a long time. “Sis,” my brother had whispered to me later. “Are you really going to die?” “Mom says you’re going to die. Sis, I don’t want you to die. You can have all the meat from now on.” The memories of my mom and brother’s eyes from back then tangled with the look in their eyes now, making my head pound with agonizing pain. Did they love me? Yes. They did. But that love had an expiration date. It was entirely predicated on the countdown. It was a love built entirely around the concept of saying goodbye. Eighteen years. The countdown ended, and so did their love. I figured if I died now, maybe that love would be preserved in their memories. We would all remember each other at our absolute best. My mom, stroking my hair with a loving smile. “Mia is the most beautiful princess in this new dress.” My dad, lifting me high into the air, promising to show me the most beautiful sights in the world. My brother, secretly saving his favorite yogurt drinks just to give them to me. Those moments felt so incredibly close, yet impossibly far away. I forced my heavy eyelids open. I was still in the storage room. There was no light coming in. There was nothing. I twitched my fingers, trying to reach under my pillow for the letter. A letter I had written to my mom, my dad, and my brother. I had written it a long time ago. I pulled a weak, bitter smile. I just hadn’t managed to die on schedule. There was also a pink piggy bank. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy a small toy for Leo. I drifted off to sleep again. I thought that when they finally found me and saw those things, maybe they wouldn’t be so angry at me anymore. This time, my sleep was incredibly deep. Dreamless. I could hear my own heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. And then, slowly, very slowly… it stopped. The storage room fell completely, utterly silent. No one knew. No one came to check. The little girl who had spent her entire life waiting to die… finally didn’t have to wait anymore. The moment I detached from my body, I felt incredibly, impossibly light. I floated in the air near the ceiling, looking down at my stiff, lifeless body on the cot. I marveled at the fact that souls actually existed after death. I phased right through the drywall and finally stepped out of that cramped, suffocating room. Lunch was set on the dining table. Three place settings. My mom had finished cooking. My dad was serving the rice. My brother was sitting at the table, waiting. I floated over and sat in my usual chair, waiting for one of them to ask, “Where’s Mia?” But no one did. After lunch, my brother limped toward the storage room. My eyes lit up. I screamed silently, Leo, open the door! I promise I’ll never be a burden to you guys again! But before his hand could even touch the doorknob, my mom’s voice lashed out from the kitchen. “Leo! What do you think you’re doing?! Get away from that door! Do you want your leg to hurt worse?!” Leo flinched, terrified, and quickly hobbled away. That afternoon, Mrs. Higgins from next door came over to borrow some salt. “Where’s Mia? I haven’t seen her around the last couple of days.” My mom’s expression went rigid for a second, but she quickly smoothed it over. “She’s not feeling well. She’s resting in her room.” “Is it serious? I have some medicine at my house if…” I offered a sad, bitter smile. Mrs. Higgins, no medicine in the world can save me now. “No, no, it’s fine!” my mom said, her voice a little too rushed. “It’s just… she’s fine. She just needs a couple days of rest.” Mrs. Higgins didn’t press the issue, and I lost my chance to be discovered. After she left, my mom glanced nervously toward the storage room door several times, but she never once walked over to check on me. When my dad got home from work that evening, I spread my arms wide and tried to block his path. Dad! Please, I’m begging you, just go look at me! I promise I won’t make you guys angry ever again! The countdown is really over this time! But my dad walked right through me. “She still locked in there?” he asked. My mom didn’t say anything. “Open the door,” my dad said. I was practically weeping with joy. Was I finally going to be discovered? Would my mom and dad be sad? Would they tell me I was a good girl? As my mom took a step toward the storage room, the house phone suddenly began ringing frantically. My dad picked it up. His face instantly drained of all color. He looked like he was about to collapse. My mom was startled. She ran over and grabbed his arm to steady him. I sighed. I was so close. So incredibly close to being found. “We have to go! We have to go back to my hometown right now! My brother just called… Grandma is dying!” They scrambled to grab their coats and rushed out the door with Leo. The storage room door remained locked. I was forgotten once again. Even though I was dead and had no heartbeat. Hearing the news about my grandmother still sent a phantom ache through my chest. Over the past eighteen years, Grandma loved me the most. Knowing I was only going to live to eighteen, she had spent countless nights awake, crying over me. I floated into their car and followed them back to our rural hometown, wanting to see Grandma one last time. Grandma was lying in her bed, looking as fragile as dry kindling. She gripped my dad’s hand tightly, forcing the words out with agonizing effort. “David… where is Mia? Why isn’t she here?” My dad looked away, his face etched with guilt. “She… she stayed home. She didn’t come…” Grandma’s eyes suddenly widened in horror. “You bastard. What did you do?” My dad panicked and immediately confessed the truth. “Mia just made a mistake, so I punished her by making her skip a few meals…” Hearing that, all the remaining strength seemed to leave Grandma’s body. She muttered something under her breath. “Mom? What did you say? I can’t hear you.” My dad leaned in desperately close to hear her fading voice. “What about Mia? What do you mean she wasn’t supposed to die?” He pressed his ear practically against her lips. I was floating too far away to hear what she said. But I watched my dad’s body instantly turn to stone, as if he had been struck by a massive bolt of lightning. The expression on his face twisted into absolute, horrifying disbelief. He even forgot to blink. “MIA!!” I jumped. My dad let out a scream of pure, unadulterated terror. His face was ghostly white. Ignoring my mom’s frantic, confused questions, he started sprinting out of the house like a madman, muttering over and over, “We got it wrong… we got it completely wrong…” What did they get wrong?

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A pair of best friends walked into my nail salon on grand opening day. The moment they sat down, they started tearing into their boyfriends. One of them sounded exaggerated, but she couldn’t hide the sweetness in her voice: “My boyfriend is great in every way, except he’s a total animal in bed. Eight times a night, minimum.” “He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body, just materialistic. Keeps buying me designer bags and jewelry. I’m actually getting sick of receiving them.” I had just finished her friend’s nails and was about to start on hers when she suddenly stood up. “Can you do them at my place instead? I’m trying on wedding dresses this afternoon, and I’m tight on time. Triple price.” One job for the price of three—of course I agreed. I grabbed my kit and followed her to her car. As she opened the door, her phone slipped and hit the ground. I bent down to help her pick it up, and the screen happened to light up. On her lock screen wallpaper, that “eight times a night” man was wearing a shirt I had bought him, holding her close with a look of pure adoration on his face. …… My breath hitched. The handle of my tool box dug into my palm, stinging. “Is this your husband?” Sophie smiled so wide her eyes crinkled, her tone pure boastful bliss: “Yeah! Even though I was just complaining about him, you can’t deny his looks.” She leaned closer to the screen, her fingertip tracing that face I knew all too well. “He was totally infatuated from the start. Told me he wanted to marry me the first time we met. He pursued me relentlessly for three whole years!” “If any guy even came near me, he’d chase them off completely. It was almost too much.” Three years. They had been together for three years. And I had been with Mark for five. Five years, and I had never received a public acknowledgment of our relationship from him. It turns out, that acknowledgment had already been given to someone else. I sat in her car mechanically, my mind buzzing. She pulled up in front of a bridal boutique. “Gotta try on a dress real quick, won’t take but a minute.” She looked back at me, her tone chirpy. “It’s fine, I’ll wait.” I forced a smile, my throat feeling like it was full of razor blades. As soon as we walked into the shop, the employees swarmed us, respectful and eager to please. Whispered voices floated into my ears: “Big client, a thirty-thousand-dollar dress!” “Mr. Sterling specifically instructed us to take perfect care of his fiancée. We’re definitely getting a nice commission.” A thirty-thousand-dollar wedding dress, and Mark had ordered it. I had brought up marriage once. I mentioned that in my family’s tradition, we do a symbolic cash gift—around ten thousand dollars—just for show, and the money would come back to us anyway. That time, it was the first time he had ever looked at me with anger. He slammed the door and left, giving me the cold shoulder for seven days. He called me a gold digger, asked me how I could have become so superficial. For those seven days, I asked myself repeatedly: Was I asking for too much? Was I really that materialistic? But now, a thirty-thousand-dollar dress, and he didn’t even blink. Yet a ten-thousand-dollar symbolic gift was labelled “greedy.” Whether someone loves you or not is truly crystal clear. After she came out from changing into her dress. I silently followed behind her and sat in that million-dollar luxury car. The car drove into the city’s top gated community, and the security guard at the gate saluted as he let us pass. I knew the houses here all too well; the starting price was five million. “Ms. Vance is truly young and accomplished,” I said, straight from the heart. But she just gave a light, cynical laugh. “What’s young and accomplished about me? I live paycheck to paycheck, spend it as soon as I make it.” She paused, her tone turning sweet: “It’s all because that jerk Mark bought this place behind my back. I was completely shocked when I found out the price. I said it was too expensive and I couldn’t accept it. He said if I couldn’t handle it, even better—that way I’d be too spoiled to run away.” He had once dragged me to look at this community. My family wasn’t wealthy to begin with, and he always told me he was in the early stages of starting his business. I said it wasn’t necessary, that when we bought a house later, an affordable starter home would be fine. But he insisted on bringing me to look, and even comforted me, saying that maybe someday we would have this. At that time, I was so warmed by his words, thinking he would definitely carve out a piece of the world for himself someday. Little did I know, that one and only time we went house hunting, it was also for another woman. Once inside the house, I set up my tools and began doing her manicures. Sophie was incredibly talkative, excitedly scrolling through her phone to show me her Instagram: August 15, 2023, Antarctic Aurora. In the photo, he held her, with the brilliant aurora in the background. That day, I had been splattered with paint by a client and called him for comfort. He said he was on a business trip and vanished for half a month. November 12, 2024, Bali Beach. They wore matching swimsuits, laughing brightly. That day my dad was in surgery, and I stayed at the hospital alone all night. I called him, and he said he was busy. She got more excited as she talked, scrolling to a photo from last month: “Oh, right! I told him I didn’t want kids, and guess what?” Her eyes were shining bright. “He went straight and got a vasectomy! Said as long as I’m happy, nothing else matters, kids or not.” My heart dropped violently, and I accidentally slipped and got nail polish on my own hand. In our five years, he never used protection, said it ruined the experience. Every time afterward, I was the one taking the pill. Taking so many hormones made me gain twenty pounds, and my cycle was never regular again. In the end, all that got me was a comment from him that I was undisciplined. But for her, he went and got a vasectomy. Sophie noticed my face was off and asked with concern, “Are you okay?” I bit back the bitterness and shook my head, pretending I was fine. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. She skipped cheerfully over to open it. My gaze fell in the direction of the door, and I held my breath. The courier was at the door. In his arms, he held 999 roses, a piercingly bright red. Sophie signed for them expertly, then turned around and dialed a number. “Mark! Can you take a break? 999 roses every single day. My place is piling up like a flower shop!” Her scolding tone was pure sweetness. “That money would be better used for charity.” On the other end of the line was that voice I knew all too well: “Wife, how can you be like this? I know you love flowers, that’s why I send them every day, and now you’re complaining?” “Is yesterday’s the same as today’s? Don’t try to save me money. Doesn’t a husband make money precisely for his wife to spend? If you’re like this, what motivation will I have to make money in the future?” My fingernails dug into my palm, drawing blood. Five years, and he had never sent me a single flower. The only time was when he accompanied me to pay respects to my father. He casually handed me a bouquet of white chrysanthemums—the kind meant for the gravestone. At that time, I even lied to myself: He just doesn’t understand romance, as long as the thought is there. But it wasn’t that he didn’t understand how to be wasteful; it was that I wasn’t the person he was willing to go through the trouble to be wasteful for. Sophie hung up the phone, sat back down, and extended her hand. “Hey sweetie, can you speed it up a bit? I need to go out and buy some things later, and tonight I have to go meet his parents.” “You guys are going to meet the parents?” I heard my own voice trembling. She tilted her head and thought about it: “Not really the first time. He’s taken me to meet his mom and dad before.” “You have no idea, his mother is too much. The first time we met, she gave me their family heirloom bracelet. I felt embarrassed taking it. This time it’s his mother’s birthday, she insisted I go, so I have to. Can’t refuse an elder’s kindness.” The family heirloom bracelet. My eyes were glued to her wrist. I had seen that bracelet. On his mother’s hand. Mark had taken me to meet his parents once before, too, but that time was not pleasant. From the start of the meal to the end, not a single person at the full table gave me a good look. After dinner, I was the one who washed all the dishes alone. When we got back, I cautiously asked him if his parents didn’t like me. He held me and said, “Don’t overthink it, my parents are like that with everyone.” Turns out it wasn’t comfort; they really didn’t like me. My chest was stiflingly blocked, my throat felt like it was being squeezed. I started coughing violently, struggling for breath. My acute cough was acting up again. “Omg are you okay?” Sophie scrambled to offer me water. I trembling pulled out my pill bottle and swallowed the medicine with the water. Finally recovering, she let out a sigh of relief. Then, she stared at my pill bottle. “Hey! Is this medicine from that master over at Nanshan?” I nodded. “My boyfriend begged for it. I have an acute cough.” She excitedly grabbed my hand: “Me too! I have an acute cough too! Mark specifically went and begged for this medicine!” “That master is incredibly difficult to appeal to, only acts on fate and won’t accept money. He kowtowed at every step for 999 steps just to beg for this medicine!” She smiled brightly: “But it was worth the kowtowing! I was all better the next day.” My hand violently jerked. “When was this?” The voice sounded like it was squeezed out of my throat. “Last year, January.” Last year, January. By then I had been coughing for six months. I had gone to all the major hospitals, and no medicine worked. Another six months passed, and Mark brought back a bottle of medicine. I asked him where it came from. He said, “Don’t worry about it, just take it.” After taking it, I really was cured. A colleague said this medicine was exceptionally rare, that you had to kowtow every step for 999 steps to get it. I was moved to tears at the time, silently cherishing every bit of good he had done for me. So later, even when he was away on business, often not coming home late at night, I never had a word of complaint. I just took it as him working hard for our future, but now reality gave me a brutal slap. Even the medicine he once begged for me was only because it was leftover from her. Sophie’s phone screen suddenly lit up. It was an electronic notification of a Master’s degree certificate from Clapton University. I lowered my head, brushing her nails, striving to keep my voice steady. “Ms. Vance is not only beautiful but also so talented, a Master’s degree from Clapton University?” “I remember the tutors’ theses there are incredibly difficult to pass; very few people from here can graduate.” Once, I also applied myself and was accepted into the Master’s program at this school. In order to graduate, I started preparing my thesis half a year in advance. But later, the thesis was still sent back, rejected. Later on, I wanted to revise it again, but then my mother met with an accident. With various family matters pressing down, I never had another opportunity to reapply. That was the regret of my entire life. Sophie’s eyes lit up, but she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh please, it’s not that hard. Mark did my thesis for me, and he could pass it even as an outsider.” She paused, a trace of slight admiration in her tone. “But don’t say that, Mark is actually quite sharp. When that thesis was published, it directly got me offers from top-tier academic institutions with a seven-figure salary.” “But I thought it was too far, so I gave it up. Now I’m just getting by with this Master’s degree. Anyway, he’s supporting me now, so I don’t need to work. I can work whenever I want to play.” My heart violently sank. I had worked so hard for so long and couldn’t even exchange it for an opportunity to graduate. She can effortlessly get a seven-figure salary offer? I couldn’t help but tighten my grip on the nail file, asking tentatively. “Could I take a look at your thesis? I studied for a Master’s at this school once, too.” I wanted to know where the difference was between me and others. At least it would soothe my long-held regret. Hearing my words, Sophie flashed a look of surprise. But she still generously pulled out her phone, pulled up the old academic thesis, and handed it to me. I took the phone, my fingertips trembling slightly. When I saw the thesis topic, the arguments, the evidence, even the core points inside. It was exactly the same as my old thesis. My heart felt like someone had rawly torn it apart. The only person who had ever been in contact with my old thesis was Mark. I had also asked several senior colleagues and classmates in the academic group to check it for me, and they all said that with my level, graduating would be no problem. But right when my mom met with her accident, I was overwhelmed with family matters, so I had Mark submit it on the website for me. He said he had submitted it for me.

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My husband had been on location shooting a new project for three months. I hadn’t received a single video call from him; he just kept texting that it was a “closed set.” My heart ached for him. I bit the bullet, bought a plane ticket, and flew halfway across the country to visit him on set. When I got near the filming location, I tried to grab a coffee from Starbucks to bring him, only to be told that someone had bought out the entire store’s inventory for the day. I was just wondering which A-list celebrity was throwing their weight around when a heavily made-up woman bumped hard into me. “Are you blind?! Do you have any idea how much this Birkin costs? You couldn’t afford to replace it in a million years! My sugar daddy bought this for me with his black Amex!” I glanced down. The logo on the bag was literally printed crooked. It was a glaringly obvious, cheap knockoff. Bought with a black Amex? Yeah, right. My phone buzzed in my pocket. My husband, Liam, finally replied to my text. “Babe, the set is on total lockdown. The director is a tyrant, he won’t even let a fly in. You absolutely cannot come visit!” As I was typing a reply asking what was going on, I heard the woman next to me giggle coquettishly into her phone. “My sugar daddy is worth billions. I just batted my eyelashes, and he offered to buy the whole building to apologize to me. Get this—I told him I missed him, and he literally told his wife he was on a closed set for three months.” That excuse sounded way too familiar. My thumbs froze over my keyboard. Wait a minute. My husband was a struggling extra making two hundred bucks a day doing those trashy, micro-budget soap operas for TikTok. He played a billionaire CEO for two days, and now he actually thinks he’s a billionaire? He even found himself a fake mistress to play the part? … “What are you staring at? Jealous?” The woman’s shrill voice violently yanked me out of my absurd thoughts. She rolled her eyes and dramatically stroked the crooked logo of her fake “Birkin” with her cherry-red acrylic nails. “Makes sense. A broke, pathetic woman dressed in thrift store rags like you probably couldn’t even afford the hardware on this bag.” I ignored her insult. My gaze bypassed the fake bag and landed dead on the wrist she had raised. Around it was a breathtaking, flawless jade bangle. It was the heirloom my late mother-in-law had personally placed in my hands before she passed away. Before Liam left for this shoot, he had begged me with red, teary eyes to let him borrow the bangle. He claimed a crucial scene required a highly valuable prop as collateral, and that lending it to the production was the only way he secured the lead role. And now, that “crucial prop” was dangling from the wrist of this woman bragging about her sugar daddy. I clenched my fists tight, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Excuse me, miss. That bangle on your wrist… it’s quite unique.” The woman tilted her chin up arrogantly. “At least you have some taste!” “This is a token of love from my sugar daddy.” She intentionally waved her wrist right in my face. “I heard it’s a family heirloom. Priceless.” “He told me that only the true matriarch of the Sterling family is worthy of wearing it.” The Sterling family? I let out a cold laugh in my head. The micro-short Liam was currently filming did indeed feature a male lead with the last name Sterling. It was called something ridiculous like The Billionaire CEO’s Runaway Bride. Two hundred dollars a day. Was he actually living out his script in real life? I put on a mask of awe and looked at her. “A sugar daddy that generous must spoil you rotten, right?” “Of course he does!” The woman covered her mouth and giggled. “Mr. Sterling caters to my every whim.” “Yesterday, I casually mentioned the catered lunch on set was disgusting. He immediately waved his hand and ordered takeout from every five-star hotel in a ten-mile radius.” “Today, I wanted Starbucks, so he bought out all the coffee in the entire district.” She looked me up and down, her eyes dripping with undisguised contempt. “So, don’t blame me if you can’t get your coffee.” “Blame yourself for not finding a better husband.” Right at that moment, the phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a text from Liam. [Babe, the director lost his mind today. He’s been screaming for ten hours straight.] [I haven’t even had a sip of water. I’m literally eating stale bread.] [You seriously cannot come visit. The director said anyone whose family shows up is fired on the spot!] [Babe, I miss you so much. Once I suffer through these three months and get my paycheck, I’m going to buy you some nice new clothes.] I looked at the pathetic lies on my screen, then looked back at the woman bragging about her “five-star hotel takeout.” A violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. Ten years. I stuck by Liam when we moved from a friend’s basement to a leaky, moldy studio apartment. To support his dream of becoming an actor, I worked three jobs a day. I wouldn’t even spend six dollars on a latte for myself. And he took my blood, sweat, and tears—and my dead mother-in-law’s heirloom—to play pretend billionaire for another woman. “If your sugar daddy treats you so well, why isn’t he here buying your coffee with you?” I looked up, a mocking half-smile on my face. The woman’s expression faltered for a second before she haughtily puffed out her chest. “Mr. Sterling is a very busy man! He handles billion-dollar deals by the minute. You think he has time to run errands?” “He’s currently in his luxury hotel penthouse, running an international video conference!” “Although…” Her eyes darted around, and she intentionally leaned in close, lowering her voice. “His pathetic, ugly wife is probably sitting at home right now, counting his pocket change for him.” “She doesn’t even know her husband bought out an entire building just for me.” “It’s honestly sad. And hilarious.” I gripped my phone tight. “Is that right?” I asked softly, “That wife… she really does sound pitiful.” Thinking I agreed with her, the woman became even more smug. “Isn’t she?!” “Mr. Sterling told me himself. That woman is old, tacky, and her skin feels like sandpaper.” “If it weren’t for the fact that she slummed it with him back when he was broke, he would have kicked her to the curb years ago.” “Now, he basically just keeps her around as an unpaid maid.” Every single word felt like a dull, rusted knife slowly, brutally carving into my chest. I wasn’t bleeding, but the pain was suffocating. This was the man I had loved for ten years. “Ugh, I’m wasting my breath on you.” The woman glanced at the fake, rhinestone-encrusted Rolex on her wrist. “If Mr. Sterling finishes his meeting and can’t find me, he’s going to worry.” She swayed her hips and turned to leave in her stilettos. “Wait.” I called out to her. The woman turned back impatiently. “What now? Are you going to ask me to pay for your cheap clothes?” I shook my head, flashing a smile entirely devoid of warmth. “No, I just wanted to give you a friendly heads-up.” “Your bag… you can get it on Amazon with a coupon for forty-nine bucks. Free Prime shipping.” “Your billionaire sugar daddy is buying you knockoffs?” The woman’s face instantly turned ash gray. “What the hell are you talking about?! What does a broke bitch like you know about luxury brands?!” She stomped her foot in furious humiliation, turned, and practically sprinted into the lobby of the high-end hotel next door. I watched her walk away. My phone buzzed again. Liam: [Babe, why aren’t you replying? Are you mad at me?] I stared at the screen for a long time before slowly typing out a reply. [No, honey. I know you’re working so hard.] After hitting send, I looked up at the glittering, opulent entrance of the luxury hotel. “Liam. Since you love acting so much.” “If I don’t give you some extra screentime, it would be a total waste of your incredible talent.” I followed that woman into the hotel lobby. I walked straight up to the concierge and pulled out a photocopy of Liam’s ID. “Hi, I’m Liam’s wife. I’m here to drop off his stomach medication.” The concierge checked the registry and smiled warmly, handing me a keycard. “Mr. Sterling is in the Presidential Suite on the top floor. Go right ahead, Mrs. Sterling.” The Presidential Suite. At least a few thousand dollars a night. While Liam was crying poor to me on text last night, claiming he found half a cockroach in his set-catered meal. I gripped the keycard and stepped into the elevator. As the floor numbers ticked higher, my heart sank lower. When I reached the suite, the door wasn’t fully closed. It was cracked open just a sliver. The voices inside spilled clearly into my ears. “Arthur baby, I just ran into this pathetic, broke woman downstairs, and she had the nerve to say my bag was fake!” It was the woman from downstairs, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet whining. Immediately after, I heard a voice that was etched into my very bones. “There, there, babe. Don’t be mad.” “That bottom-feeding trash doesn’t know the first thing about luxury.” “When I get the final payout for producing this short film tomorrow, I’ll take you out to buy a real limited-edition one.” Liam’s voice oozed with an arrogant, superior swagger. I peeked through the crack in the door. Liam was wearing a suit that clearly didn’t fit him, the cuffs still showing uncut, fraying threads. But he was sitting spread-eagle on the leather sofa, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand with dramatic flair. The woman was kneeling on the plush rug, eagerly massaging his legs. “You’re the best, Arthur!” She cooed, leaning her head against his chest. “So, when are you going to divorce that ugly hag you have at home?” Liam’s hand froze for a second. A flash of annoyance crossed his eyes. “Why are you bringing her up? You’re ruining the mood.” “She relies entirely on me to survive. She’d starve to death without me.” “Once I finalize taking my company public, I’ll throw some cash at her and make her disappear.” I stood outside the door, listening to him shamelessly spin these psychotic lies. Relies on him to survive? His pathetic acting gigs didn’t even pay enough to cover our electric bill. For the last ten years, every single expense in our house was paid for by the overtime shifts I worked until my eyes bled. I took a deep breath and violently shoved the door open. BANG! A massive crash echoed through the suite. The two people on the sofa froze instantly. The wine glass in Liam’s hand jerked violently, spilling dark red wine all over his cheap suit pants. He whipped his head around. The moment he saw it was me, his pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You… what are you doing here?!” His voice was literally shaking. The woman was stunned, too. She looked at me, then looked at Liam. “Arthur, this is the broke bitch who bumped into me downstairs!” “How did she get in here?! The security in this hotel is garbage!” She stood up, pointing her finger right at my nose, screaming. Liam suddenly snapped out of his shock. He looked at the furious woman, then looked at me standing in the doorway, my face completely expressionless. A flash of pure panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a frantic, almost psychotic resolve. He shot up from the sofa, pointed at me, and roared aggressively. “Where the hell did this crazy stalker come from?!” “You actually followed me to my hotel room?!” I froze. Stalker? I stared at the man I had shared a bed with for ten years. I stared at his face, completely twisted by extreme, desperate vanity. “Liam, what did you just say?” “STAY BACK!” Liam bellowed. He didn’t even dare look me in the eye. He just screamed toward the hallway. “SECURITY! WHERE THE HELL IS SECURITY?!” “GET THIS CRAZY BITCH OUT OF HERE!” The woman sneered coldly from the sidelines. “So she’s just an obsessive, psychotic fan.” “Take a look in the mirror before you act crazy. You actually had the nerve to break into Mr. Sterling’s room?!” Several security guards came running down the hall. They aggressively grabbed my arms, one on each side. “Let go of me.” I stared at Liam with eyes like ice. “Liam, are you absolutely sure you want to pretend you don’t know me?” Liam clenched his jaw so tight the muscles in his face twitched. He turned his head away, refusing to look at me. “I have no idea who this crazy woman is!” “Get her out of here!”

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When it was time for the clan’s selection of beast companions, before Blair could even begin her act, I snatched the dying bird from her hands. Then I pushed the black snake with the growing horns in front of her. My cousin, who was just about to start playing the victim, froze, and so did the surrounding clan members. I smiled, saying nothing. In my previous life, I had chosen this snake, who was on the verge of becoming a dragon-serpent. I spared no effort to help him safely complete his transformation. Yet, during my ascension trial, he and Blair conspired to kill me. Afterward, he massacred the entire clan to assist his dragon-serpent transformation into a true dragon. This time, I’d like to see how he manages to transform without my help. 1 The day for the clan to choose beast companions and form contracts had arrived. This year, among the chosen beasts was a serpent-man with bumps on his head, rumored to possess true dragon bloodline. He was powerful and rare. Capturing him had injured many clan members, and he was quite volatile, having bitten and injured a bird beast-person. My cousin, Lily, who was with me, chirped excitedly. “Raina, that serpent-man is definitely yours. You’re so strong.” “I just wonder who gets that bird. I certainly don’t want a useless bird.” “Bonding with a useless beast means your whole life is wasted. It’s terrifying.” “Yeah, a dragon is good. When the serpent-man transforms into a dragon, Raina, you have to let us all see it.” I said nothing, looking at Blair, my cousin, who had the worst aptitude in this round of matching. Listening to the other clan members’ disparagement, she twisted her fingers, her face filled with gloom. If there were no surprises, that bird would undoubtedly be hers. Indeed, when only the snake and the dying bird remained, the resentment on her face was impossible to hide. The elder in charge of distribution liked to leave the best and the worst for last, enjoying the act of putting down the lowest-ranking. I intended to speak before the elder, but Blair beat me to it. She looked at me pitifully, “Cousin, we choose beast companions to help us ascend to immortality later.” “Cousin, you’re so powerful. While a strong beast companion would be like adding wings to a tiger, you wouldn’t really need a beast’s help to ascend.” “I know I don’t deserve such a powerful beast companion, after all, I’m so weak and my talent is poor. Even with his protection, I might not even succeed in my ascension.” She whined softly about a lot of things but stubbornly refused to directly state her intention. But anyone with a brain could understand what she meant. She wanted me to give her the dragon-serpent. The eyes of the surrounding clan members almost rolled into the sky. “I said there were a lot of murals today, turns out someone’s cheek was enough to cover the city walls.” “What she said isn’t wrong. Raina is so strong, even if the dragon-serpent becomes a true dragon, it won’t help Raina much.” “Just because she’s strong, she should just hand it over? Sacrificing others’ well-being for her own? Why don’t you give her your three-tailed fox?” The seemingly objective ones hugged their foxes tightly, not daring to speak. Everyone thought I would directly refuse; no one in their right mind would agree. That’s what I did in my last life, only to hand her the perfect opportunity. “Cousin is right. The dragon-serpent is useless to me. It’s better for someone who needs him more.” The sound of gasps immediately filled the air. “It’s over, Raina’s mind has been messed up from anger.” I ignored them, picked up the dying bird, and kicked the cage holding the dragon-serpent towards her. “He’s yours.” The dragon-serpent and my cousin looked at me in disbelief, but soon, a wide smile spread across my cousin’s face. Seeing that both of us were serious, the elder frowned, wanting to object, but then saw that she had already quickly chanted a spell and formed a contract with the dragon-serpent. It was too late to say anything then. Watching Blair’s triumphant gaze, I smiled. Did she really think this dragon-serpent was such a prize? 2 In my previous life, I naturally formed a contract with the dragon-serpent. Out of respect, I didn’t choose the master-servant contract required by the clan, but an equal one. Afterward, to help him successfully transform into a true dragon-serpent, I traveled all over the Nine Provinces, and even used all the resources I had accumulated over the years to earn him the right to bathe in the Dragon Spring. The Dragon Spring was a spring where a true dragon once circled, rich in spiritual energy, even containing a wisp of dragon aura. It was extremely precious, a treasure of the clan. With that wisp of dragon aura, the horns on his head fully grew out, and he successfully transformed into a dragon-serpent, half a step away from a true dragon. I devoted my whole heart to him, yet he remained indifferent, only coldly watching me rush about for him, righteously accepting the immortal herbs and spiritual treasures I found. Let alone gratitude, he rarely spoke. I didn’t care, as beast-people have different personalities. It was normal for those with extraordinary bloodlines to be proud. All I needed was for him to help me during my ascension trial. But who knew that on the day of my ascension, not only did he not help me withstand the heavenly lightning, he even risked backlash to attack me. I failed my ascension and narrowly escaped death, but all my meridians were shattered, making cultivation impossible. The power gap was too great. I watched him walk away with Blair, then dissolved our contract. At that time, I lay on the ground, disheveled and astonished. The secret art of forming a beast contract was known only to our clan. His ability to dissolve it now meant a clan member was helping him behind the scenes. “Raina looks so pathetic.” Blair slowly walked out from behind him, ethereal and graceful, making me look even more like mud lying on the ground. “It’s you! Why?” My eyes widened as I watched her embrace the black dragon-serpent’s arm, a scornful smile on her face. “Why, you ask? When our talents are so similar, why do you get to be high and mighty, having everything, while I’m only fit for garbage, enduring others’ ridicule?” “You’re just lucky to have a good father who’s the clan leader!” Her face twisted with hatred. “Since it’s so unfair, don’t blame me for fighting for what I want!” I couldn’t believe those words were coming from her. She felt the clan’s distribution was unfair, but all those resources were earned by my tireless cultivation. She complained daily about the injustice yet refused to put in even a bit more effort into cultivation. How could the clan possibly waste resources on her? But the current Blair was convinced it was everyone else’s fault, utterly unwilling to reflect. “Without the contract, Hades will no longer be restricted. Cousin, we won’t kill you. Consider it repayment for all your efforts to help Hades transform into a dragon-serpent over the years.” My eyes burned with fury as I watched her and Hades fly towards the clan. By the time I dragged my broken body back, there was not a trace of life left in the clan. They hadn’t spared anyone, not even newborn infants. I last saw the two of them at the Dragon Spring. Blair was extracting the sealed dragon blood from my father’s shattered body. I didn’t know how Blair knew there was true dragon blood in the Dragon Spring. But I knew that if Hades obtained the dragon blood and transformed into a true dragon, I would never have a chance for revenge in this lifetime. I squeezed out the last bit of spiritual energy from my body and, following my father’s instructions from my memories, blew up the Dragon Spring. This was the last safeguard to protect the dragon blood from falling into outsiders’ hands. Its power was immense; once it exploded, our entire clan would be leveled. If it were any other time, with my clan safe, I might have watched them leave with the dragon blood. But now, with all my kin dead, I had no reservations whatsoever. The Dragon Spring exploded with a roar. In my last glance before everything shattered, I saw Hades finally lose his composure, fleeing in panic, only to be engulfed by the exploding spiritual flames. 3 Since Blair had already contracted with the black dragon-serpent, the elders couldn’t force them to dissolve the contract. “He’s about to transform into a dragon-serpent, requiring many resources. Are you sure you can ensure his smooth evolution?” Blair lifted her head. “Of course, since I’ve contracted with him, I’ll naturally take responsibility for him.” The elder was clearly unconvinced but didn’t say much more, sighing as he looked at the dying, ugly bird in my arms. He hesitated, “Lil’ Willow, given your strength, this bird is truly a burden. If you’re willing to wait a few more days, I can bring you a new beast companion.” Hearing that he wanted to give me another beast, the bird in my arms, unable to even take human form, stirred, seemingly afraid I would abandon him. I soothingly stroked his head. Just as I was about to refuse, I felt an intense gaze of resentment from beside me. It was Blair. She didn’t even care about her own beast and immediately began to whine. “If Cousin doesn’t want that bird either, then no one will. A beast no one wants is doomed to die. Will Cousin just watch him die?” What she said wasn’t wrong. For so many years, it had always been one person, one beast—no more, no less. There had never been a situation where another was sought. The elder was truly regretful for me to make an exception. Before I could speak, the clan members watching couldn’t hold back. “Who are you morally grandstanding? Whose fault is this? Don’t you know what kind of pot suits what lid? If you hadn’t snatched that dragon-serpent, would there be this useless beast left?” “Even if he dies, it’s got nothing to do with Raina. Raina has no reason to take him. You, on the other hand, should go bathe, burn incense, and pray for a few years.” I realized then how eloquent these juniors were in their insults. Each biting remark left Blair speechless. I watched long enough before I finally spoke. “No need, Third Elder. As you said, I’m strong enough. How could I be dragged down by a beast? He’ll do.” “However, I’d like to ask the Third Elder for one chance to enter the Dragon Spring.” Unlike my previous life, where I had to exchange vast resources for one chance, this time the Third Elder agreed without much hesitation. I was strong, having brought much honor to the family. It was already enough of a compromise for me to be bound to a useless beast, so it was only fair to give me some resources. The surrounding clan members also had no objections. I had beaten each and every one of them, so they wouldn’t dare voice any objections in front of me. Only Blair watched me, her face gloomy, clearly plotting something. The Hades beside her, upon hearing the words “Dragon Spring,” completely changed from his previous half-dead state in the cage, supporting himself and looking at me with complex eyes. 4 After forming a beast contract, there’s still much to do, and compatibility is a big issue. I declined other clan sisters’ invitations to head to the back mountains for combat training. This bird’s aura was faint, feeling like it could die at any moment. Though the Third Elder agreed to let me keep him, his condition was really poor, not allowing me to immediately contract with him. He wanted me to wait until his condition improved, fearing that if I contracted him immediately and he died, I would be affected. I carefully examined the unconscious bird with its eyes closed. He was half my size, entirely white, with wounds on his wings from Hades’ bite. Fortunately, before Hades transformed into a dragon-serpent, he was a python, non-venomous. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know where to find an antidote. In my previous life, this bird died very early. At that time, I had just found the Transformation Herb that could help Hades shed his half-human, half-snake appearance. Before I even entered the door, Blair came to me pitifully, saying her contracted beast had died and asking if I could help her find a new one. At that time, I was exhausted from searching for resources to help Hades successfully transform, so where would I find the energy to catch a beast for her? I told her to find one herself, and she ran off crying. Then I turned around and saw Hades, who rarely left the house, standing at the door. I was overjoyed, thinking he was waiting to greet me. Now that I think about it, they were probably secretly hooking up when I wasn’t around, and he was standing at the door to prevent me from bullying Blair. What an ungrateful wretch. But it was strange, this bird was not in good shape, but there was still a trace of vitality. As long as it was well cared for, it shouldn’t have died so quickly. I wondered what happened to Blair in the previous life. I fed him a precious elixir and placed him on a white jade bed. With both measures, the white bird quickly opened its eyes. “Hello, I am your future master.” His beady eyes were full of confusion, looking a bit dazed. “Chirp!” I froze. He suddenly buried his head in his wings, the tips of his wings blushing with shyness. “Ahem, my name is Raina. Are you willing to form a contract with me?” He cautiously lifted his head a little, and seeing that my expression was serious and not mocking him, he fully revealed his head. “Chirp.” His white wingtip touched my fingertip, and the contract was formed.

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1 At my wedding to my childhood sweetheart, Nolan Barclay, a stream of comments suddenly materialized before my eyes. [LMAO, the poor side-character doesn’t even know the groom is a fake! The real Nolan Barclay is at the hospital with his precious little damsel in distress!] [Who the groom is doesn’t matter. The male lead is only marrying her for a cash infusion into his company. After all, this story is a pure romance where the childhood friend never stood a chance against the girl who fell from the sky!] [The side-character is going to have her family destroyed by the male lead in the end. I almost feel sorry for her.] I buried the shock in my eyes and, feigning ignorance, completed the ceremony. I refused to be a stepping stone for their love story, destined to be a casualty. If he didn’t want to marry me, then I’d just make this fake wedding real with someone else. … “Do you, the groom, take this beautiful bride to be your wife, for richer or for poorer…” “I… do.” The man’s voice, muffled by a surgical mask, was deep and low. The guests below the stage were whispering amongst themselves, marveling at the profound love Nolan Barclay, the heir to the Barclay fortune, had for me. “Mr. Barclay is so devoted. I heard he came down with a sudden high fever last night, but he insisted on wearing a mask to go through with this wedding of the century today, just so he wouldn’t disappoint his childhood love, Seraphina.” “It’s true, the bond between childhood sweethearts is different. The union of the Thorne and Barclay families is a massive earthquake in the Crestwood business world.” Listening to the praise, I felt a wave of nausea. Because the comments floating before my eyes were refreshing at a manic pace: [Devoted my ass! Nolan is holding Isabelle in his arms at his mountainside villa, watching a livestream of the wedding! They’re sipping red wine and laughing at what a fool the side-character is.] [This stand-in is so pitiful. He gets a measly ten thousand dollars to take the fall for this, and he’s about to be publicly humiliated by the bride.] [Newbies upstairs don’t know, do they? This stand-in is the biggest hidden powerhouse in the whole book, Alexander Reed! The invisible billionaire!] [He’s been in love with Seraphina for a whole decade. Later in the story, to avenge her, he completely uproots the Barclay family and scatters their ashes! A true champion of romance just bit the dust!] My heart pounded in my chest. Alexander Reed? The legendary, mysterious tycoon who controlled a commercial empire… was in love with me? And he was here, acting as my fake groom? I took a deep breath and raised a hand, cutting off the officiant. “Wait a moment.” The entire venue fell silent. The man before me averted his gaze, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Even his breathing grew ragged. A small smile played on my lips as I asked gently, “Nolan, you don’t look well. Were you so busy with the wedding preparations that you forgot to take your medicine?” He coughed nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes, I… I’m not feeling great.” I seized the opportunity, turning to the officiant and the guests. “My apologies, everyone. The groom is feeling quite unwell. I’m going to take him to the lounge for his medication. We’ll pause for just ten minutes. Please, enjoy the champagne.” With that, I gripped the groom’s wrist and pulled him into the backstage dressing room. The moment the door closed, the phone on the table buzzed. I picked it up. A dozen unread messages, all from Isabelle. [Seraphina, you know the groom is a fake by now, right? Surprise! Nolan and I are watching your wedding live.] Attached was a high-resolution photo: Nolan was wrapping Isabelle in a tender embrace, his chin resting on the crown of her head. They were both smiling sweetly. [Forgot to mention, this was my idea. Nolan said that even though you two were childhood friends, he’s truly in love with me.] [This wedding is just a game he’s playing to make me happy. You’re not mad, are you, Sera?] I let out a cold laugh, my fingers flying across the screen as I typed a reply: [Is that so? Do you want to bet that with one phone call from me, he’d drop you and come crawling back like a dog?] As expected, the other end went silent for a long time. Good. The fish was on the hook. I turned to the silent groom beside me. He looked at me, a touch of panic in his eyes, his voice low and raspy. “Seraphina, the truth is…” I patted his shoulder. “Alexander, don’t be nervous.” The comments were a flurry of confusion: [She knows! Why isn’t the side-character following the script?] Alexander instantly looked relieved. “So you knew all along.” After a moment of silence, he seemed to make a decision, taking a deep breath. “Nolan Barclay isn’t worthy of you. He planned this today just to humiliate you.” 2 I suddenly leaned in close to him. “I didn’t stop the wedding to expose you. I just want you to act out a scene with me.” Remembering how, in the book, he had avenged me by taking on the Barclay family, ultimately perishing with Nolan, tears welled up in my eyes. Alexander fumbled, gently wiping them away. “If you feel wronged, I can…” I looked at him, my gaze serious. “Alexander Reed, listen to me carefully. The man I want to marry is you.” The comments exploded in a sea of pink: [HOLY S**T! Did I hear that right? The side-character has awakened! A reverse proposal?!] [I ship it so hard! Look at the sparks flying from the tycoon’s eyes!] When we returned to the stage, the officiant smiled and announced, “And now, the bride and groom will exchange rings.” I picked up the ring, but as I slid it onto his finger, it got stuck tight at the knuckle. He tried to force it on awkwardly, but I held his hand still. The guests began to whisper. “What’s happening? Is the ring size wrong?” “How could they mess up something so important? The Thorne and Barclay families are being awfully careless.” At the main table, Nolan’s parents’ faces turned pale. They exchanged a look, and I saw the panic and unease in their eyes. It was clear they knew about Nolan’s ridiculous charade all along but chose to enable and protect him. My own mother’s brow furrowed, her eyes filled with worry as she looked at me. I gave my parents a reassuring glance, silently telling them not to worry. Then, under the bewildered stares of everyone present, I ripped the mask off Alexander’s face. “Oh my god! The groom isn’t Nolan Barclay!” “Then where is the real groom?!” Nolan’s mother was the first to react. “What… what is going on! Who are you!” His father’s face was ashen as he yelled at the chaotic crowd of guests and reporters. “Everyone, be quiet! Security! There’s been a small incident with the wedding, it will be resolved immediately!” The comments scrolled wildly: [YESSS! This is amazing! Popcorn and soda for sale!] [In the original plot, it was Seraphina who was supposed to be a sobbing, panicked mess on stage. Now it’s the Barclay parents. The irony is delicious.] My mother also looked at me with concern. “Sera, what on earth is going on? Where’s Nolan?” I turned and gave my parents another comforting look. Then, to the astonishment of the entire room, I took Alexander’s hand. “Thank you all for attending the wedding of Alexander Reed and myself today. Due to a small oversight, the wedding posters and rings had the wrong name.” I paused, then continued, “But no harm done. The wedding will proceed!” Beside me, Alexander stood tall and proud, as if claiming his territory. Mrs. Barclay was trembling with rage. “Seraphina, are you insane? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “You just found some random nobody to replace Nolan! Where does that leave the Barclay family’s reputation!” Mr. Barclay rushed up, hissing at me, “Seraphina, stop this foolishness! You and Nolan grew up together. Even if he was being playful and didn’t show up today, you can’t treat the union of our two families like a joke!” “Stop the wedding now! We’ll handle this privately!” I ignored them, handing the microphone to Alexander. “Alex, tell them why you’re standing here.” Alexander met my gaze and smiled, his voice steady and clear. “I am standing here today because Nolan Barclay paid me ten thousand dollars to impersonate him at this wedding.” 3 The moment he spoke, the room erupted. “What?! He hired someone to marry for him?!” “My God, is Nolan Barclay out of his mind? This is like grinding the Thorne family’s face into the dirt!” Exposed so publicly, the color drained completely from Mr. and Mrs. Barclay’s faces. My father’s anger finally ignited. He pointed a trembling finger at Mr. Barclay and roared. “So this is the Barclay family! This is Nolan Barclay! Treating my daughter’s wedding like a child’s game! You’ve gone too far! Did you really think the Thorne family would just stand by and take it?!” My mother, her eyes red with fury, strode onto the stage and pulled me behind her, her voice icy as she addressed the Barclays. “The wedding is off! From this day forward, the Thorne family and the Barclay family have nothing to do with each other!” Seeing the alliance about to crumble, Mrs. Barclay panicked. “Sera, it was Nolan being immature and foolish. Auntie will have him come back right now and beg for your forgiveness.” I scoffed. “Fine. I’ll give him one more chance. If you can get him on the phone right now, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.” Alexander squeezed my hand, and I leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry, Nolan isn’t coming back.” Mrs. Barclay clung to this last shred of hope, frantically dialing Nolan’s number. Once, twice, three times… The only response was the cold, automated voice: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed has been switched off.” I feigned disappointment. “It seems the great Mr. Barclay has no intention of returning.” “Security, please escort the irrelevant parties out.” Mr. and Mrs. Barclay were hauled away by security, a frenzy of reporters shoving cameras in their faces. My mother took my hand, not asking a single question. “Sera, whatever you decide, your father and I will support you.” My father gave my shoulder a firm squeeze. A warmth spread through my chest, and I fought back tears. A comment drifted by: [In the original story, Seraphina insisted on marrying Nolan, alienating her family. In the end, Nolan bankrupted the Thorne business, and her parents, their hair white overnight, both jumped from a building. Seeing this now, I really want to cry.] I looked down to hide the emotion in my eyes. Since they had been merciless, they couldn’t blame me for being ruthless. As soon as the wedding fiasco was over, I called my executive assistant. “Terminate all partnerships with the Barclay Corporation immediately. And pull every single dollar of our invested capital. I want it all back, down to the last cent.” The news that I had swapped grooms and married Alexander on the spot didn’t spread quickly. The Barclay family, desperate to stabilize their stock price, paid to have the story suppressed. Right after the ceremony, Alexander and I went to get our marriage license. Afterwards, he told me he had urgent business and had to go abroad for a few days. Meanwhile, a completely oblivious Nolan spent two days living it up with Isabelle at his suburban villa before he finally sensed something was wrong. Usually, by now, I would have thrown a massive fit, demanding he come back. But this time, there was nothing but silence. Nolan scrolled through his phone distractedly, not even hearing Isabelle when she called his name. “No, that woman Seraphina must be playing hard to get,” Nolan sneered, tossing his phone aside. Isabelle tested the waters. “Nolan, do you think Seraphina is really angry? Maybe you should go back and smooth things over. It’s not worth offending the Thorne family over me…” “Smooth things over with her? Does she deserve it?” Nolan pinched Isabelle’s chin, his face a mask of arrogance. “She’s head over heels in love with me. Twenty years of history… she can’t live without me.” “I bet you in less than three days, she’ll come crawling back, begging me to marry her with a fresh injection of cash. I’ve been spoiling her too much.” A comment floated by: [I’m dying, has this male lead lost his brain? He doesn’t even know the Thorne family has already pulled their funding and the Barclay Corporation is about to face a catastrophe.] [Oh, honey. Your house is being robbed and you’re still here patting yourself on the back.] 4 I never expected to run into those two disasters at my father’s business gala. Nolan spotted me immediately. But when he saw me chatting with another man, his expression darkened into a stormy scowl. When Isabelle saw me, she casually placed a hand on her stomach and whined to Nolan, “Nolan, my feet are so sore, I can’t walk anymore. It’s so stuffy in here.” Nolan dotingly supported her, though his eyes kept darting in my direction. He was probably waiting for me to make the first move. Unfortunately for him, I was about to disappoint. From start to finish, I didn’t spare him a single glance. He finally lost his patience, striding over to our table and slamming his wine glass down. “Seraphina, are you still mad that I had someone stand in for me at the wedding?” I didn’t even bother to look at him and started to get up to leave. “The wedding was an emergency. Isabelle was sick, that’s the only reason I wasn’t there.” Isabelle swayed over, blocking my path. “Seraphina, please don’t blame Nolan. It’s all my fault, my body is just so weak. I’m so sorry I delayed your wedding…” Nolan listened, then let out a humorless laugh. “Seraphina, I never realized you were so petty. It was just a wedding.” “We didn’t even sign the papers, so what does it matter? Are you really going to team up with your dad and pull funding just to force my hand?” As he spoke, he reached for my arm with an air of entitlement. My eyes turned to ice as I yanked my arm away. “Mr. Barclay, please have some self-respect.” “As for the wedding, didn’t your parents tell you?” Nolan froze. “Tell me what?” Isabelle’s expression flickered with panic as she grabbed my wrist. “Sera, please don’t be like this. Nolan really does care about you in his heart…” Her words were placating, but her nails dug viciously into my skin, the pain making me gasp. The comments went wild: [Whoa! What’s with the female lead? She’s already getting physical?] I violently shook her off. “Get lost!” “Ah—!” Isabelle tumbled to the floor in a pathetic heap. Nolan’s eyes blazed with fury. He rushed to help her up and roared at me, “Seraphina! Do you have any idea how fragile Isabelle is? Apologize to her, now!” I sneered and motioned to the security guards who were approaching the commotion. “Security, throw them out!” Nolan’s face was livid. “Don’t think this will get my attention. If you behave, I’ll go with you to get our marriage license in a few days.” [LMAO, what is with this guy? Doesn’t he love the female lead? He’s acting like a textbook narcissist.] [This is hilarious. He has no idea the side-character already married the tycoon and he’s still waiting for her to come running back to him.] I laughed. “Get a license? But I’m already married.” The smile on Nolan’s face froze. He stood there, stunned, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What nonsense are you talking about!” He took a step forward, his tone arrogant. “You say you’re married? Then why isn’t your husband here with you?” A mocking curve touched my lips. “My husband is away on a business trip. Unlike some useless loafer who needs a woman to survive.” Before he could explode, Isabelle’s eyes reddened, and tears began to fall on cue. “Sera, how could you say that about Nolan? He works late every night for the Barclay Corporation. Not only do you refuse to help, but you’re making up lies to hurt him. You’re breaking his heart.” She paused deliberately, making Nolan’s gaze, now fixed on me, fill with disappointment and anger. “Seraphina, look at yourself. So bitter and cruel. Who else would ever want you but me?” “Let me tell you, stop playing these games. It only makes me look down on you even more!”

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1 The night before our engagement, my boyfriend, Fred, and his “bestie,” Jenny, impulsively got married at a nightclub. Fred, though, just shrugged, completely unconcerned, as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Come on, it was just a joke, we’re getting a divorce tomorrow. Everyone knows Jenny and I are just like siblings.” But Jenny, as if deliberately provoking, sweet-talked the people at our table: “One day as husband and wife, a hundred days of kindness, are you just going to watch the show? Aren’t you going to get us a wedding gift?” The table erupted in laughter. “Alright, I’ve got that project on the west side, I’ll give it to you as a wedding gift. But there are rules at the table. If you want it, you’ll have to win it by rolling the dice.” I said nothing, merely taking a seat at the card table. Meeting Fred’s furrowed brow, I gave a faint smile. “So, it’s a dice game for a wedding gift, is it? I’ll play too.” As I settled into my seat, a momentary hush fell over the table. Fred reached out to put his arm around my waist. “Alright, Aubrey, stop messing around. We’re just having some drinks and a laugh, you should head home and get some sleep.” I subtly shifted back, evading his embrace. My expression was calm as I looked towards Jenny. “Keep your hands to yourself. She’s your wife tonight.” Fred’s face darkened, his tone growing impatient. “I’ve told you countless times, Jenny and I are just friends. If there was ever anything between us, where would that leave you?” I didn’t respond. I’d heard those words too many times—because Jenny forgot our date, because Jenny left me stranded on the roadside, because Jenny, drunk, called a cab in the middle of the night to pick someone up, and now, the impulsive marriage certificate at a nightclub. All of his explanations ultimately boiled down to one thing: We are just friends. The atmosphere grew awkward. Seeing this, Jenny sidled closer. She sat directly on Fred’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, speaking in a sweet, soft voice. “Alright, stop talking about it.” Then she looked at me, a playful smile on her face. “Aubrey, Fred and I really don’t have anything going on. Tonight was just a wild impulse from drinking too much. We’ll go get a divorce tomorrow. If you’re upset, I apologize.” With that, she lowered her head, picked up a bottle from the table, and started chugging it. Fred’s face changed instantly. He reached out to snatch the bottle, scolding loudly, “What are you doing? Drinking so much!” When he looked at me again, his face was utterly furious. “Aubrey Smith, don’t push it too far!” I couldn’t help but give a self-deprecating smile. “It’s fine, I’m not someone who can’t take a joke. Anyway, I don’t have anything else to do tonight. Don’t you always say I’m antisocial?” Everyone at the table paused, then quickly tried to smooth things over. “That’s great, Aubrey! We’ve always wanted you to join us, it’s just Fred always kept you hidden.” It was Marcus Finch, a long-time friend of Fred’s, who spoke. He gave Fred a meaningful look. “Fred, why aren’t you taking care of Aubrey?” But Fred merely sneered, leaning back into the sofa, pulling Jenny back onto his lap, his arm firmly around her waist. “Don’t look at me; this is my wife tonight.” Seeing my continued calm smile and lack of reaction, the others finally started to egg them on. “Alright, alright, happy wedding! So, how were we playing this again?” Jenny navigated the crowd with ease. She laughed loudly as she explained, “Old table rules, dice roll. But tonight, with good girl Aubrey here, she definitely won’t know our usual game. Let’s go easy on her, maybe just highest roll wins?” “Losers not only drink, but today, to celebrate Fred and my wedding, we’re raising the stakes!” Everyone shouted in protest, “No way! Everyone in our circle knows you, Jenny, and Fred are dice masters. Now you two are a team, how are we supposed to win?” Fred’s hand remained on Jenny’s waist, not once looking at me. He scoffed. “Then concede.” Marcus instantly grew anxious. He slipped off his Patek Philippe watch. “I’ll put up a prize first. This watch just arrived last week, mate.” The bar’s music and dance beats grew louder, setting the mood. Others quickly removed their jewelry and expensive watches. Another girl, Daisy, tossed down a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. Fred said nothing, unfastening his custom Hermès cufflinks. My gaze froze. That was an anniversary gift I’d given him. Jenny was still lost in her own excitement. She playfully squeezed Fred’s hand. “I want that bracelet, darling! Win it for me!” I said nothing, taking off my diamond stud earrings and placing them on the table. “Congratulations on your wedding. I’ll play too.” The atmosphere at the table froze for a moment. Fred’s arm around Jenny’s waist seemed to tighten, his brow furrowed, his gaze at me filled with displeasure and warning. Jenny first looked surprised, then chuckled, pushing Fred playfully. “Alright, Aubrey wants to play too, so we’ll have to treat her well!” Marcus quickly interjected, trying to smooth things over. “Exactly, exactly, just having some fun, creating a buzz! Aubrey, the rules are simple: highest roll wins. The person with the lowest roll drinks a shot, and has to choose one item from the prize pool to give to the person with the highest roll as a wedding gift.” He gestured to the pile of luxury watches and jewelry on the table. “Of course, if you’re too sentimental, you can just drink and not give anything up, but that wouldn’t be much fun, would it?” I nodded, indicating I understood. Dice cups were distributed to everyone. Jenny skillfully shook hers. Fred casually rattled his a couple of times before clamping it on the table, his gaze, however, remained fixed on me. I turned my face away, avoiding his intense stare. My movements with the dice cup were indeed clumsy, even awkward. During a lull in the music, I could even hear some whispers. “Aubrey Smith is known as the good girl. What’s she doing here? She’s just a buzzkill.” “She’s here to stake her claim, but Fred isn’t giving her any face, is he?” My face paled slightly. Jenny let out a small laugh. “Tsk, Aubrey, do you want me to teach you the proper technique first?” I ignored her, merely mimicking the action a few times, then gently placed the cup down. “Open them.” The dice cups were revealed. Jenny: five and six, eleven. Fred: two fives, ten. Others had various scores, some high, some low. Finally, it was my turn. The cup was lifted. One one, one two, a total of three. Laughter instantly erupted at the table. “Three! Hahahaha, the lowest!” “Aubrey, your luck…” Marcus stifled a laugh, pushing a shot of whiskey towards me. “You lose, you drink, and…” He glanced at the earrings on the table. Fred finally spoke, his voice cold and hard: “Don’t overdo it if you can’t play. Just drink the shot.” Jenny leaned into his embrace, her face radiant with a smile: “Oh dear, such a small roll on the first round. Looks like our Aubrey will have to pay up for tonight’s gifts. These earrings have such a lovely color, I’ll be happy to take them, won’t I?” I looked at the shot, then at my earring. It was a pink diamond Fred had bought for me at an auction last year, spending a fortune. He’d told me then that he would give me the best things in the world. I gave a self-deprecating smile, gently pushing the earring to the center of the table, towards Jenny. “A bet is a bet.” I lifted my eyes, my voice flat and emotionless. “The gift, delivered.” Fred’s face instantly darkened. Jenny giggled, reaching out to pick up the earring, examining it carefully under the lights. “Thank you, Aubrey, it’s really beautiful!” Marcus hastily interjected, “Alright, alright, second round, second round!” The game continued. Jenny rolled a nine, not a huge number. But Fred, whose turn it was next, rolled a twelve, a full house. “Wow! Darling, you’re amazing!” Jenny cheered. Everyone else chimed in with cheers. Marcus smiled, explaining, “According to table rules, with a full house like that, you can choose any prize on the table.” Fred didn’t look at me again, only embraced Jenny, speaking intimately. “Then let my wife for tonight choose. What do you want?” Jenny’s gaze swept across my side of the table, finally settling on the understated platinum bracelet on my wrist. “I think Aubrey’s bracelet is quite unique, how about that one?” My hand, holding the wine glass, imperceptibly paused. This bracelet was my grandmother’s heirloom; I never took it off. Fred couldn’t possibly not know that. There was a moment of silence at the table, but Jenny then called out, “What’s wrong? Didn’t we say anything could be a prize? Aubrey isn’t going to back out, is she? Or is it that…” I opened my mouth, but was coldly interrupted by Fred. “Table rules, a bet is a bet. Aubrey Smith, hand it over.” I suddenly looked up.

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I’m a sign language teacher. After I was unexpectedly pulled into the world of a novel, I found myself married to the disabled heir of a powerful Greenwood dynasty. He was non-verbal. My skills were a perfect match. When he signed that we should sleep in separate rooms, I ‘interpreted’ it for the staff as, “All of you, get out.” When he signed for them to throw me out, I told them, “He says to bring me an extra lobster tail.” He’d get so furious his hands would become a blur, but I’d just ‘read’ his signs and make up whatever I wanted. This went on until one day, a line of text floated before my eyes— [LMAO, the poor side-character has no idea the male lead is just faking it, does she?] My knees buckled, and I scrambled, practically crawling, for the door. The next second, a hand gripped the back of my neck, and I was hauled back. A low voice purred in my ear. “Losing interest in our game already, wife?” 1 My name is Kara. Three days ago, I was a sign language teacher at the Starlight Special Education School. Today, I’m a character in a trashy novel. The “Kara” in the book is the daughter of the CEO of AAA Construction Supplies. Her dad is, to put it politely, more ambitious than he is successful. As for the man I’m supposed to marry… Dominic Blackwood. He’s the eldest son of Hamilton’s powerful Blackwood Corporation, with a face that belongs on a magazine cover. Six months ago, he was in a car accident. His legs were crippled, his vocal cords were damaged. He was confined to a wheelchair, a mute. The cause of the accident was a mystery, but Dominic’s younger brother, Vincent, seized the opportunity to take over most of the family business. To top it all off, Dominic’s fiancée, Isabelle Devereaux—Hamilton’s premier socialite—promptly broke off their engagement and got engaged to Vincent instead. Tsk. The Blackwood family matriarch, heartbroken for her eldest grandson, sent out an offer to the city’s elite: Any family willing to offer their daughter in marriage would receive a fortune in dowry. My father, operating under the principle that only an idiot passes up a good deal, immediately contacted the Blackwoods. “I have a daughter! She’s willing!” When he came home, he tried to convince me. “You’ll be the first lady of the Blackwood family, living in a mansion, driving luxury cars.” My mother chimed in with her own brand of wisdom. “Most husbands pretend to be deaf and dumb after they get married anyway. With this one, you get to skip the ‘pretend’ part.” By the time I was transmigrated into this body, the engagement was already set. There was no backing out. I thought about it and decided to go along with it. For two reasons. First, Dominic Blackwood was undeniably gorgeous. I’d seen photos of him from before the accident. His features were so perfectly symmetrical they looked like they’d been sculpted. Second, I was a professional sign language teacher. Living with a man who couldn’t speak? This was my home turf. My specialty. On the day we signed the papers, Dominic sat in his wheelchair, dressed in a sharp suit, his expression completely blank. He raised a hand and slowly formed the words in sign language. “I will never like you.” I just smiled at him. I don’t care if you like me. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge. 2 On our wedding night, in the master bedroom of our new home, Dominic sat on the edge of the bed, his face as dark as a thundercloud. He raised his hands and signed. “We will sleep in separate rooms.” I turned to the butler and the maids standing by the door and offered them a pleasant smile. “Mr. Blackwood says you may all leave for the night. Please get some rest.” The maids blushed and scurried out. The moment the door clicked shut, Dominic froze. His eyes widened, and his hands flew in a blur of motion. “That’s not what I meant!” I watched his hands intently and nodded with feigned sincerity. “I know, you’re just shy.” “It’s okay. I’ll take the lead.” He tried to push himself up from his chair, but his legs wouldn’t obey. He collapsed back into the seat. I took a step forward. He flinched back. The wheelchair hit the edge of the bed, leaving him with no room to retreat. I stood over him, looking down. The lamplight cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting his ridiculously perfect features. His cheekbones were flushed with anger, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Beautiful. Ten times more beautiful than in the photos. I licked my lips. His fingers trembled as he signed. “What… what are you doing?” I smiled, my voice soft and coy. “May I?” Dominic didn’t have the strength to fight me off. The accident had damaged his spine, and his upper body strength was a fraction of what it once was. When I placed my hands on his wrists, his whole body went rigid. “Mr. Blackwood,” I whispered, leaning closer. “I know your legs don’t work.” “But… the important part… that still works, right?” His face instantly turned a deep shade of crimson, the blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. I decided to check the merchandise myself. “Oh,” I murmured. “The merchandise is perfectly fine.” With a face like that, the crippled legs were a bonus. It meant he couldn’t run off. He shook his head wildly, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. “Go ahead and scream,” I said, then paused and chuckled at my own joke. “Scream your lungs out. No one will hear you.” Oh, right. He couldn’t. By the time we were finished, the sun was beginning to rise. Dominic lay on the bed, his eyes empty as he stared at the ceiling. The blanket had slipped down to his waist, revealing a canvas of marks across his collarbones. I propped my head on my hand and just looked at him. The more I looked, the more satisfied I was. He must have felt my gaze, because he slowly turned his head. His eyes were red-rimmed. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but couldn’t. Finally, he turned away, his eyelashes trembling with a hint of moisture. That just made me like him more. Even if he were in a coma, he’d still be my handsome man. Hamilton’s most beautiful man was all mine. 3 The next day, I wheeled Dominic to the main Blackwood estate to pay our respects to his mother. Catherine Blackwood was a woman of impeccable breeding—elegant, poised, and known in her youth as one of the city’s most brilliant women. The moment Dominic saw her, he began signing frantically. “Make her leave. I want her to leave!” Catherine couldn’t understand sign language and looked to me for a translation. “What is he saying?” I smiled sweetly. “He’s saying, you mustn’t ever send me away.” Dominic whipped his head around to glare at me, his gestures becoming even more rapid. “I did not say that!” I continued to translate. “He says he likes me very, very much.” Catherine’s eyes filled with tears. She took her son’s hand. “Dominic, darling, of course I would never send Kara away.” “I was worried that because her family’s background is… modest, she wouldn’t be a suitable match. That you wouldn’t like her.” “To see you care for her so deeply, it makes me so happy.” Catherine ordered the staff to prepare a grand feast. I gently placed some food on Dominic’s plate. His face was grim as he signed, “Not hungry.” I turned to his mother. “He says he doesn’t like any of this.” Dominic was getting desperate. “I didn’t say that!” I turned back. “He says he’d like some garlic oysters.” Catherine clapped her hands together. “Oh! Of course! You’re newlyweds! You need to keep your strength up!” “I’ll have the kitchen prepare some right away! Several dozen for my dear Dominic!” A short while later, Dominic stared at a mountain of oysters, completely stunned. He sat up straighter, signing with more force than ever. “Mom! She’s lying to you! Make her leave! Make her leave right now!” I offered a helpful translation. “He says this isn’t enough.” “He says he’s going to give you three healthy grandsons.” The entire room fell silent. Catherine shot to her feet, her voice trembling with excitement. “Really? Did he truly say that?” I nodded. “Every word.” She threw her arms around me, sobbing with joy. “Ever since the accident, Dominic has locked himself away. I was afraid he would be like this forever…” “For him to say these things now… you must be a wonderful wife!” I patted my chest reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Mother. His main account might be down, but I’ll level up a new one for you.” Catherine was so thrilled she was practically dancing on the spot. She slipped a jade bracelet from her own wrist and onto mine. Then came the earrings. Then the necklace. “Someone! Bring me my ruby collection! It’s for my daughter-in-law!” I was dizzy from the sheer weight of the gold and jewels. I glanced over at Dominic. He was still sitting there. His face had turned a shade of green. On the way home, he signed furiously from his wheelchair. “Kara, you just wait.” I pushed him along, smiling brightly. “Of course, darling. I’ll be waiting.” “We can continue tonight.” His hand faltered. 4 I started to let myself go completely. Every day, I dragged Dominic into a new activity. I had a tablet filled with… adult films, and we worked our way through them, one by one. The first week, we covered Asia. The second week, we moved on to Europe and the Americas. Maybe the oysters were actually working. Once he realized resistance was futile, he started to cooperate. He would use his one good leg for leverage, and honestly, he was more than a handful. He had the stamina of a man in perfect health. The maids, blushing, had to change the bedsheets several times. Anyone would have to say it: the young master was disabled, but his spirit was strong. One afternoon, my friends invited me out for tea. When you have a husband this handsome, you have to show him off. I wheeled Dominic out of the house and to a dessert shop next to the mall. My friends gathered around, their eyes wide. “Whoa, so this is Dominic Blackwood? He’s even better looking in person!” “And with the leg, you know he won’t be running around on you.” “Plus, he’s a mute. He can’t say the wrong thing and make you mad.” The more they thought about it, the more perfect he seemed. Pushing him was getting tiring, and I wanted to go shopping with my friends. So I found a sturdy pillar near the mall entrance, locked the wheelchair’s brakes, and for good measure, tied him to it with my scarf. There. He wasn’t going anywhere. I crouched down to his level. “Darling, I’m just going to do a little shopping. You stay here and get some sun, okay?” Dominic stared at me in utter disbelief, his fingers trembling with rage. “Oh, don’t be so clingy,” I sighed dramatically. “This is girls’ time. What’s a man going to do, anyway?” When I came back from shopping, he was propelling himself forward with his hands, the wheels spinning so fast they were practically throwing sparks. The moment we got home, he started looking for a pen and paper. I reminded him sweetly, “I put the pen and paper away.” “It’s getting late. Let’s get down to business.” He pointed a shaky finger at me, then signed to the maids. “Get her out of here! Make her leave!” The maids looked at me, confused. I translated. “He says he’s so happy to be married to me that he’s giving the entire staff a three-month bonus.” “Thank you, Young Master! Thank you, Young Mistress!” The news spread like wildfire, and the whole household erupted in cheers. “The Young Mistress is an angel!” “The Young Master has been so much more cheerful since she arrived!” “They’re a match made in heaven!” Dominic was frozen in place, his hand still raised in mid-air. He started signing again, a frantic, blurry mess of motion. “That’s not what I meant! I didn’t say that!” Everyone stared. “Young Mistress, what’s wrong with him?” I smiled. “Oh, he’s just so excited. He’s doing a little celebratory flourish.” The staff whispered among themselves. “I never knew the Young Master had such a cute side to him.” “It’s an endearing contrast, isn’t it?” That night, Dominic finally resigned himself to his fate. Or maybe he’d just had too many oysters. 5 And so life went on. By day, I translated his sign language, making it as absurd as possible. By night, I translated his body, making it as pleasurable as possible. We were becoming quite the connoisseurs of action films. One evening, before the sun had even set, I was already dragging him toward the bedroom. He struggled, but I pushed him back down. “Don’t move.” I unbuttoned his shirt, examining him from every angle. “So beautiful.” His eyes were red with protest. I pulled out my tablet, found a newly downloaded film, and cued up a specific scene. “Darling, let’s try this one today.” He glanced at the screen, and his pupils dilated in shock. He shook his head frantically. I held him down. “Did you know? I got top marks in my equestrian class in college.” He struggled even harder. It was no use. I was much stronger. But just as I settled into position— A line of semi-transparent text floated in front of my eyes. It scrolled from right to left, like the comments on a livestream. [Wait? Who is this evil side character? How did she end up sleeping with the male lead?] I froze. Another line appeared. [The male lead was saving himself for the female lead, and now this side character has forced herself on him. This is so tragic.] My hand stopped in mid-air. What was this? I rubbed my eyes. More comments streamed past. [Female lead, where are you? Your man is being ridden!] [The side character doesn’t know the male lead is faking it, does she? He’s already recovered his strength!] [LMAO, she’s still up there, bouncing away!] [Don’t worry. As soon as the male lead gets his company back, she’s the first one he’s going to deal with.] Get his company back? Deal with me? Faking it? My legs gave out. Dominic can hear? Then he— I looked down at him. He was looking right back at me. Usually, at this point, he would have turned his head away, his eyes red-rimmed, the very picture of a man being violated. But he wasn’t looking away now. He was staring directly at me, his gaze deep and unreadable. My legs turned to jelly. The Dominic Blackwood in the book was notoriously ruthless. In college, he had single-handedly turned three failing subsidiaries of the Blackwood Corporation into profitable ventures. His business tactics were so sharp that his name alone made seasoned executives tremble. If he had recovered… He could crush me like an ant. I let out a shriek and scrambled off him. I didn’t even bother with my clothes. I just stumbled and crawled toward the door. I only made it three steps before a hand clamped down on the back of my neck. I was lifted up like a kitten. “Wife,” a low voice murmured from behind me, tinged with amusement and a hint of huskiness. “Losing interest already?” My soul practically left my body. “D-Dominic… you’re better? When did you get better?” He chuckled softly. “A month ago.” A month ago??? Then all the things I’d done to him this past month… He was fully conscious for all of it??? I grabbed onto the doorframe for dear life. More comments appeared. [Did the side character figure it out?] [No way. This side character has an IQ of 5. She couldn’t possibly have figured it out.] [LMAO, she’s clinging to the doorframe like a scared quail.] I now understood three things. First, I was in a novel, complete with a comment system that only I could see. Second, according to the comments, I was an evil side character with an IQ of 5 who was destined to be disposed of by the male lead. Third, the male lead was standing right behind me, and I was only wearing panties. I quickly replayed the events of the past few weeks in my head. Tying him to a pillar in the sun. Telling his mother a string of blatant lies. Forcing him into nightly “equestrian practice.” Making him watch two full catalogues of adult films. My legs buckled with fear. “Mr. Blackwood… I suddenly miss my mom. I think I’d like to go home for a visit…” “It’s too late tonight,” he said. With one effortless pull, he hauled me back to the bed. “I’ll take you tomorrow.” “But for now—” He leaned over and retrieved the tablet from under the pillow. He navigated to the clip I had bookmarked. “Let’s continue.” I shrank back. “I… I don’t think that’s necessary…” “But wife, I thought you loved riding,” he purred, pinning me down. “What’s the matter? Scared now that I’m on top?” The comments exploded.

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1 My son, a math prodigy. Severely injured in a car accident, I was late for the party celebrating his college acceptance. As usual, he’d prepared a set of number puzzles for me. He said, “Mom, once you solve the puzzles, you’ll find the key to get in and see me.” I called my husband, his voice impatient, “Those who make mistakes should be punished. If our son understands this, why don’t you?” Under the blazing sun, I spent five hours, finally finding that small key. But at that moment, I suddenly felt a profound weariness. I left a divorce agreement. Before leaving, I sent a final message to my son: “Don’t worry, you won’t have such a terrible mother anymore.” I placed the divorce agreement, along with the thin key in my palm, under a flowerpot outside the villa’s garden gate. I took a photo and sent it to Arthur. The sun beat down relentlessly. Perhaps it was due to excessive sweating. The bandages wrapped around my calves and arms began to seep with blood again. I booked a train ticket back to the quiet town of Crestwood and turned to leave. Behind me, the security guard at the wrought-iron gate called out in surprise: “Madam, Mr. Knight and the young master said you could enter once you found the key.” I paused. Without turning back, I said quietly, “No need.” Just before boarding the train, Arthur called. His tone was angry, “Just because you were late, and our son gave you a few math problems, you want a divorce?” The train station was bustling with people. I stood in a long line, waiting for security check. The explanation was actually on the tip of my tongue. For instance, on the way back this morning, a sudden torrential downpour had caused a twenty-car pile-up, killing three people instantly. I had narrowly escaped, was told to stay in the hospital for observation, but chose to get bandaged and rush back anyway. We had agreed I’d arrive by ten; I was actually only five minutes late. But before I could utter a single word, Arthur’s furious voice, again, cut through: “It’s our son’s college entrance celebration, and not a single guest was late, except for you. Evelyn, why do you, as a mother, always have to set the worst example for our son?” The crowd was noisy and suffocating. I couldn’t help but ask, “No one was late except for me?” After I’d spent five hours finding that key, arriving at the celebration villa at three in the afternoon, I saw Laura and her daughter, who were fashionably late, being personally greeted by my son, Craig. He handed one of the two parasols he held to Laura, and shared the other with Lucy. The boy’s secret feelings were deeply hidden, yet betrayed by the subtle flush on his ears. He didn’t even notice me, his mother, standing just a few steps from him outside the gate. On the phone, Arthur was silent for a long time. After a while, he seemed to become irritated, “Evelyn, what right do you have to compare yourself to Laura and Lucy? Don’t forget, all those years ago…” It was as if the thorn that had been lodged in my heart all these years was pricked again. I gently interrupted him, “So, let’s divorce. You marry the wife you want, and give your son the mother and sister he wants.” He almost ground out the words, “You just better not regret it.” It was finally my turn for the security check. I placed my small suitcase on the conveyor belt. My voice, as I spoke, was calm, “I won’t regret it.” Then I hung up, put away my phone, and boarded the train. This city, where I had lived for fifteen years, was now, and forever, irrelevant to me. 2 It was almost midnight when I got off the train. On the street of the county town, my dad’s truck was already waiting. As I stepped out of the station, I saw him waving from afar, his face crinkled with a smile. “Dear, over here.” I walked over, and he kept glancing behind me. When Craig was little, he used to insist on coming with me whenever I returned to Crestwood to see my dad. But as he grew older and began to understand what the Knight family said, he became increasingly distant from me. Now he was fourteen; it had been almost six years since he’d been here. My dad’s face strained with a smile, before he finally pulled his gaze back. The disappointment in his cloudy eyes was unmistakable. I didn’t explain, and he didn’t ask. He opened the back door of the truck. The large cargo compartment was spotlessly clean, with neat bedding laid out. In the corner, Goldie was curled up asleep. Hearing the commotion, it whined twice and got up. The light was dim, and it took a while for it to make me out. Then it suddenly became energetic, happily rushing towards me. I hadn’t been back in over half a year, but it was still so affectionate the moment it saw me. For some reason, I suddenly remembered. Many years ago, Craig used to be this affectionate with me. Every time I rushed home from out of town, the child would run to me, teary-eyed, as if he’d suffered the greatest injustice in the world. I got into the truck compartment and hugged Goldie. My dad went to the front to drive, reminding me as he went: “There’s food and drink in the bag. It’s almost two hours until we get home. Try to get some sleep.” The truck slowly drove onto a deserted road. I lay in the compartment, watching the increasingly bright starry sky through the cage. In a trance, it seemed like I was a child again. As if my fifteen years in the city of Oceanside had just been a dream. Now, the dream should end. 3 I stayed in Crestwood, taking a teaching position at the village elementary school. I picked up my old paintbrushes again, teaching children how to draw. Away from the Knight family, no one would accuse me of saying: “Painting is a tool to flatter the rich; staying in a poor, remote area is how the incompetent escape reality.” Two months flew by. I finally, gradually, got through the withdrawal symptoms of leaving Arthur and Craig. I no longer woke up in the dead of night, my chest aching so much I couldn’t breathe. Days passed. Until two months later, Arthur called me for the first time. I stared at the phone screen for a long time, finally answering. His voice on the other end was cold and disgusted, as if he had reached his limit: “Evelyn, you won, are you satisfied?” I stood at the school gate, surrounded by several children, and didn’t immediately understand. He scoffed again: “When you’re done acting out, come back. Arthur and Craig are both busy, we don’t have time for your childish games.” It seemed every time, all my actions, in the eyes of that father and son, were childish and ridiculous tantrums. Just like when Craig was nine, and for the first time, he threw away the snack bag I had brought him. He told me: “Grandma says this kind of thing is junk food for poor people.” I was furious and raised my hand at him, but couldn’t bring myself to slap him. When I couldn’t help but cry, he looked at me calmly and said: “Mom, even first-grade girls in our school don’t cry so childishly.” Childish, crying. I pulled myself back, trying to speak calmly: “I remember I made myself clear the day I left.” Arthur’s voice became incredulous: “Do you really want a divorce? You’ll have to come back to finalize the divorce papers. When will you stop being so impulsive?” A child tugged at my clothes. I stroked the child’s head, then said softly: “I’ve already fully entrusted the procedures to Mr. Davis, and I’ve signed what needs to be signed. Mr. Davis said he’s already contacted you. If there’s nothing else, please don’t disturb me.” Some parents had already arrived at the school gate, waiting to sign out their children. I reached out to hang up the phone. But then, a slightly awkward and displeased voice of a boy suddenly came from the other end. With the same coldness as Arthur: “What about me?” My finger, reaching for the phone screen, suddenly froze. A sharp, stinging pain surged in my chest. After a long pause, I still didn’t respond, hanging up the phone. Regarding Craig’s custody, whether I wanted it or not, it would never fall to me. Besides, he was fourteen now, had been admitted to the gifted program at Oceanside’s best university, and was almost six feet tall. He possessed intelligence and knowledge far beyond his peers. The Knight family had given him a separate house, the best nanny, and an unlimited black card. He was no longer the child who needed me to raise and care for him. I hung up the phone. I led the group of children, handing them over one by one to the parents who had signed. As evening approached, heavy rain began to fall, and three children were still not picked up, their parents unreachable. The village was remote; almost all young people worked far away. Those left to care for children were, nine times out of ten, elderly people. Poor memory, unable to use phones, various reasons. Every now and then, children would be left unpicked, forced to walk home alone. But it wasn’t safe in the heavy rain. After informing the school, I took the children to my house. My dad drove the truck to pick us up. Seeing me lead a group of children into the truck, he joked, “Looks like I’m hauling a load of piglets.” The children in the truck compartment shrieked with delight, “Grandpa’s truck is so cool!” My dad laughed heartily in the front. He liked children; the last time I saw him laugh so happily was when Craig visited him at eight years old. At home, I had the children take turns showering. Then I dug out Craig’s clothes from when he was eight and chose a few sets for the children to wear. These clothes, my dad would wash several times a year. He always thought Craig would come back, and might even wear them. The children showered and then noisily gathered for dinner. While I was supervising them doing homework in the living room that night, there was a sudden knock at the door. My dad was washing the children’s clothes, heard it, and got up, saying, “It’s this late, someone picking up their child?” The door opened. I got up and followed, only to see my dad’s back suddenly stiffen. Outside the dimly lit doorway stood Craig. He was completely drenched by the heavy rain, his fringe messy and stuck to his forehead. In fourteen years of privileged life, this was probably his first time looking so disheveled. My dad’s memory was probably still stuck on Craig at eight years old. He stared at the tall figure outside the door, and after a long moment of stunned surprise, he suddenly snapped back to reality: “Oh, it’s Craig. My boy, come in, come in!” Craig raised his foot to step in. I stepped forward, blocking the doorway. “Who told you to come?” Craig’s foot, which had crossed the threshold, was abruptly pulled back. The rainwater on the boy’s face flowed down to his chin and dripped onto the ground, his expression pale and embarrassed. He looked so pathetic, as if he had truly traveled a thousand miles alone. If I hadn’t seen the car lights in the front yard behind him, which had been on but then quickly turned off. He just wasn’t used to bowing his head. After a long stalemate, he finally, very unnaturally, managed to say, “I… came to see Grandpa.” Even at this moment, he wouldn’t call me, wouldn’t say a kind word to me. I glanced at my dad: “Dad, it’s getting late. Please go rest first, can I talk to him alone?” I had been living here alone for three months now. Although I hadn’t explicitly said anything, my dad probably had an idea. He sighed, turned around, and hurried back into the kitchen, packing a portion of rice balls, which he shoved into Craig’s arms. Only then did he leave, going upstairs first. With no one else around, I finally spoke: “You should know, your father and I are getting a divorce.” Craig looked down, not at me. He had inherited Arthur’s business acumen, always decisive in words and actions. But now the boy’s voice was very soft: “Not yet.” I explained to him: “The paperwork is being processed, the outcome won’t change.” As if trying to suppress some emotion, in the dim light, Craig’s palm trembled as he clenched it into a fist. After a long pause, he suddenly looked up, a hint of frustration in his eyes. At this moment, his expression briefly overlapped with that of the little boy, years ago, who used to rush towards me with a face full of grievances. I heard him speak, with a trace of subtle panic. “Even if you divorce, you still have an obligation to raise me.” It was somewhat laughable. I looked at him calmly in the night. The child I used to have to squat down to talk to face-to-face. Now I had to look up to see his face. I couldn’t help but remind him, “You were the one who personally questioned me why a child couldn’t choose the mother they liked.” I watched Craig’s expression freeze, slowly becoming uneasy and helpless. He was the child I carried for ten months, born after a life-and-death struggle. I had once poured all my love, all my heart and soul into him. Later, he listened to the Knight family, slowly began to distance himself from me, to resent me. I had also tried everything to reconnect with him. Even bowing my head, admitting fault, explaining, trying to reconcile with him. But the result of my years of effort was, a few months ago, at his fourteenth birthday party. At that party, which I had stayed up many nights preparing for over half a month. He stood on stage, holding the microphone, and made his birthday wish. Giving me the greatest humiliation in front of everyone. He said, “I wish I could have a mother who wasn’t so terrible.” Not long after that, his college entrance celebration. He knew I had encountered a downpour on my way back. Yet, because I was only five minutes late, he made me solve math problems under the blazing sun for five hours. I looked at the boy in front of me, slowly continuing what I hadn’t finished saying: “Regarding that question, I can give you the answer now.” “You can choose the mother you like, and I respect your wishes. I also hope that you no longer appear before me.” As the words fell, I reached out to close the door. Just as the door was about to shut, I heard Craig’s voice, becoming somewhat agitated and reckless: “I won’t leave! Even if you divorce, at my age, I have the right to choose the guardian I want!” I ignored him. At the last moment before the door closed, I heard him call out “Mom,” trembling. His tone actually seemed to carry a hint of humility and pleading. How long had it been since he called me? Too long, I couldn’t remember, and it no longer felt important. I put the children to bed, then returned to my own bedroom. When I walked to the window and pulled back the curtains, the car lights in the front yard were on again. Beside the car, standing in the heavy rain, was Craig. And another person, as I expected, was Arthur. Craig was the Knight family’s only heir. The Knight family and Arthur would never let him, a minor, risk coming here alone. I watched the father and son standing in the heavy rain for a long time. Then my phone screen lit up; Arthur, somewhat exasperated, sent a message: “Evelyn, are you really abandoning your child too? No matter how many grievances there are between us, Craig is innocent. Do you still remember that you are a mother!” How ironic. When I decided to give up, everyone started reminding me that I was a mother. Yet for so many years, I was “a disgrace” in Craig’s words, “a stain” in Arthur’s words. In countless accusations and taunts from the Knight elders, I was “unfit to be a wife,” “unfit to be a mother.” I didn’t reply, put my phone down, and went into the bathroom to wash up. By the time I finished, it was almost midnight. I went to the window to get my phone, and through the windowpane, I saw Arthur and Craig still standing in the heavy rain in the distance. They could have gotten in the car and left, but they insisted on getting drenched. They knew this place; they knew they could see the yard from my bedroom window. They could see the light on in my bedroom, and they probably assumed I would soften. I took my phone and, without hesitation, closed the curtains, blocking out everything outside. Almost simultaneously, Arthur started calling. I hung up, he called again, endlessly. For so many years, he never seemed to have called me proactively before. For important matters, at most a text message, at most three or five words. Perhaps no matter how annoying I was, I had still lived with them for fifteen years. Suddenly leaving, even a cat or a dog, would still make them a little hard to adapt to for a while. The phone kept ringing; I intended to turn it off. Arthur sent another message: “Let’s talk about the divorce.” He called again. This time, I answered. Arthur’s awkward voice, mixed with the pouring rain, came through: “Craig has a fever from the rain. Let him come in and take a shower first, and we can talk face-to-face…” I suddenly, for the first time, felt annoyed with him. Quietly, I interrupted him: “Arthur, what exactly do you mean?” There was a long silence. After a while, the man’s voice came through, somewhat incoherent: “I… truly, truly Craig has a fever from the rain…” I suddenly felt utterly exasperated. Both he and his son were such intelligent people, yet they suddenly insisted on pretending to be oblivious to the simplest questions. I exhausted the last bit of my patience and explained one last time: “Arthur, Craig publicly stated that he wanted to replace me, his terrible mother. Your resentment towards me, claiming I usurped Laura’s position, was your intention, and the entire Knight family’s intention. Now, as all of you wished, I agree to a divorce. You get a new wife, Craig gets a new mother. Is that clear enough? Do you understand clearly enough?” The endless sound of rain, and a deathly silence. I don’t know how long it lasted, so long that I was about to hang up the phone. Arthur finally spoke, his voice for the first time so at a loss: “Evelyn, I…” It was truly frustrating. I suddenly felt that Arthur was truly repulsive, and Craig was also repulsive. My hand holding the phone trembled uncontrollably. Because of anger, because of resentment, because of incomprehension. It was their wish, as they wished. What more did they want, what else could they want?! My emotions were on the verge of breaking. I interrupted him again: “Finally, let me say it one more time. I have fully entrusted the divorce to Mr. Davis; please direct all matters to him. If you refuse to cooperate, Mr. Davis will also file a divorce lawsuit on my behalf. Regardless, it’s over between us.” Just before the call disconnected, two voices, mixed with rain and urgency, came through almost simultaneously. “Evelyn!” “Mom!” I hung up. Then I blocked and deleted all contact information for Arthur, Craig, and everyone in the Knight family. The grievances I no longer wanted to discuss, let them all end here.

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1 After my grandmother passed away, I returned to the city of Aethelburg from our family’s country estate, ready to finalize my wedding plans. But when I arrived at the luxury event planning company, poised to book the most lavish wedding package they offered, the consultant informed me that the groom was already married. Dominic Blackwood, the eldest son of the Blackwood Corporation and heir to a fortune, had married three months ago. The bride was his childhood sweetheart, Ava Vaughn, the daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission. I stood in front of the Blackwood family’s sprawling villa, my brow furrowed in confusion. The thing is, I am Ava Vaughn. … The Blackwood family’s butler wouldn’t even let me through the door. “Mr. Blackwood’s orders,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “He said, and I quote, ‘How dare someone impersonate my wife? My wife and I grew up together. As if I wouldn’t recognize her.’” My younger cousin, Bea, had tears welling in her eyes. “Ava, what is going on? Why are they saying you’re an imposter?” “Weren’t you and Dominic betrothed since you were kids? Weren’t we supposed to be planning your wedding?” I put a finger to my lips, silencing her. I had come back to Aethelburg ahead of my parents to get a head start on the wedding preparations, knowing how overwhelming the logistics could be. They were tied up with work and would join me later. But at the wedding planner’s office, just after I’d finished outlining my vision to the head designer, she had paled at the sight of my fiancé’s photo on my phone. “Miss Vaughn… isn’t this… isn’t this Mr. Blackwood?” “Yes,” I’d said. “He’s my fiancé.” The designer’s face had crumpled as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “But, Miss Vaughn, Mr. Blackwood got married three months ago. Our company planned the entire event…” For the past five years, ever since my grandmother’s health began to decline, I had put my life in the city on hold. I’d moved back to the countryside to care for her, a full-time granddaughter, and hadn’t set foot in Aethelburg that entire time. 2 It was only after Grandma’s passing that my mother called me back, urging me to prepare for the marriage to the Blackwood family. The betrothal had been set in our childhood, and if we delayed any longer, we’d both be pushing thirty. Upon learning the truth, my first instinct was to demand an explanation from the Blackwoods, only to be met with this. The arrogance of his family, Dominic’s dismissive scorn… I had to laugh. He wouldn’t recognize me? He’d better hope he wasn’t mistaken. I took Bea on a shopping spree that covered every high-end boutique in Aethelburg, and I had every single bill sent directly to the Blackwood residence. After all, the name signed on every receipt was Ava Vaughn, daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission. By noon, a crowd had gathered in front of Dominic Blackwood’s corporate headquarters. Representatives from Aethelburg’s most exclusive luxury brands were all there, either to deliver merchandise or to collect payment. “Mr. Blackwood, the signature is clearly Mrs. Blackwood’s. You can’t possibly refuse to pay.” “Everyone knows Mrs. Blackwood’s name! Who would dare impersonate her?” “Mr. Blackwood, your wife’s purchases at our boutique total one hundred thousand dollars. We’ll need you to settle the account.” “Mr. Blackwood, if you’re a bit short on cash, perhaps you could ask Mrs. Blackwood to hold off on her shopping for a month? Or at least return the black pearl necklace. Another client is waiting for it, and it’s sixty thousand dollars.” “Exactly. If you can’t afford it, don’t let your wife run around town charging things to your name. What kind of behavior is that?” “We allowed her to take the items based on your reputation, Mr. Blackwood. Surely a man of your standing wouldn’t default on his wife’s bills.” I watched the chaos unfold from a nearby café, sipping my coffee with a faint smile. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on Dominic’s forehead as he stared at the throng of people at his doorstep. Let him deal with it. He married Ava Vaughn? Then he could bear all the consequences that came with her name. Just then, a woman emerged from the building. She was dressed head-to-toe in designer labels, but she looked so frail a gust of wind could knock her over. Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at Dominic. “Honey, what’s going on?” 3 It was the current Mrs. Blackwood, the woman his staff now called Ava Vaughn. She looked at the receipts in the hands of the sales representatives, at the signatures, and shook her head. “I didn’t sign these,” she said to the crowd. “Someone is impersonating me.” One of the sales associates scoffed. “And we’re just supposed to take your word for it?” The woman replied confidently, “I grew up abroad. I can speak the language, but I never learned to write it properly. That is not my handwriting.” It was too late for Dominic to stop her. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. “The daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission can’t write her own language?” “Didn’t she just auction off a piece of her calligraphy at a charity gala a few months ago? How is that possible?” “Mrs. Blackwood will say anything to get out of paying a bill, won’t she?” Dominic quickly interjected, “My wife misspoke in her haste. She simply injured her hand recently and is unable to write. She grew up in the Vaughn household, surrounded by art and literature. Of course she can write. She’s known for her beautiful, delicate script.” “Then let Mrs. Blackwood write her name for us,” I said, stepping forward from the back of the crowd. I smiled at him. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Blackwood? That would clear everything up, wouldn’t it? And everyone would be satisfied.” “The Director’s wife is a renowned calligrapher, and the Vaughns are a family of scholars. Their daughter could write by age three, and her calligraphy was winning national awards by five. Everyone knows this.” The crowd nodded in agreement. “Yes, just have her write her name. We’ll see for ourselves.” Dominic glared at me. “Who are you? This has nothing to do with you. This is a private family matter.” I took a step back. “I’m just speaking up for what’s fair. Is that not allowed?” The new Mrs. Blackwood hid behind Dominic. “Honey, I can’t write.” Then, remembering his excuse, she added, “I… my right hand is injured. I can’t hold a pen.” 4 I laughed. “Miss Vaughn was famously taught to be ambidextrous. If your right hand is injured, your left hand can write just as beautifully. Please, Mrs. Blackwood, don’t be shy. We would all recognize your script, even written with your left hand.” “That’s right!” someone in the crowd shouted. “You can’t have injured both hands! I saw you carrying something when you came out.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. I took another step forward. “Bea, bring me a pen and paper. Mrs. Blackwood, if you please.” “I once acquired a small piece of Ava Vaughn’s work at an auction,” I announced, pulling a folded piece of paper from my purse. It was a piece I had written myself at the café just moments before, and it was perfect for the occasion. “This is her handwriting. Let’s hope there are no discrepancies.” The paper was passed around, and the crowd saw that the elegant script matched the signatures on the receipts perfectly. All eyes turned to the woman hiding behind Dominic. “Mrs. Blackwood,” a voice called out. “It’s your turn.” Dominic’s face was dark with anger. He turned his fury on me. “Who the hell are you? Do you know where you are? Stop causing trouble and get out of here. This doesn’t concern you.” Bea stepped in front of me, her voice ringing out. “What are you doing, Dominic Blackwood? My cousin is just speaking up for these people. Are you trying to intimidate her because you don’t want to pay your bills?” “Is there no justice in this city? Is there no law?” The crowd surged forward, creating a protective barrier around me. “That’s right! Pay up! Or do you want to settle this in court?” The woman finally broke. “Stop shouting! Fine, I’ll write it!” A pen and paper were produced. She shakily scrawled two words: Ava Vaughn. The handwriting was atrocious. The crowd looked from her clumsy attempt to the elegant script on the paper I had provided. “Is that… from the same person?” someone asked, bewildered. I let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Mrs. Blackwood, you’ll do anything to avoid paying a bill, won’t you? Who are you trying to fool with that scrawl? Unless… Mrs. Blackwood isn’t Ava Vaughn at all. Then who are you?” 5 The woman’s face contorted in alarm. She stumbled backward, her voice rising to a shriek. “Nonsense! If I’m not Ava Vaughn, then who is? I am the daughter of the Director of the Capital Commission and the wife of Dominic Blackwood! Who are you to come to my husband’s company and spread such lies? Security! Get her out of here! Don’t let her filth up our property!” Security guards rushed out like wolves, ready to throw me out. Bea threw herself in front of me and was shoved violently to the ground. Dominic stood by, his voice laced with menace. “Causing a scene at my company for no reason. I’m very interested to find out what your real motive is.” The false Mrs. Blackwood advanced with the guards and ripped the mask from my face. When she saw me, a flicker of jealousy flashed in her eyes. Bea was restrained by several guards, shouting, “Let my cousin go! Do you have any idea who she is? When my uncle gets to Aethelburg, he won’t let you get away with this!” The woman slapped Bea hard across the face. “You little bitch. You have no right to speak in my presence.” I tried to get to Bea but was blocked. Rage surged through me. “Mrs. Blackwood, isn’t the Vaughn family known for its discretion and humility? Isn’t Ava Vaughn known for being cultured and reasonable? So this is what that means? Baseless accusations and physical assault?” A smug smile played on her lips. “I am Mrs. Dominic Blackwood. And who are you? I’ll be sure to have a talk with your parents about how they raised you. Have they taught you no manners at all?” “Since they haven’t, I’ll have to teach you a lesson on their behalf.” She took a step forward. I tried to move, but a guard pinned me from behind. The next second, a stinging slap landed squarely on my face. My cheek immediately began to swell. My entire life, my parents had never so much as laid a finger on me. And now I had been struck by this imposter? Bea’s eyes were red with fury. “Mrs. Blackwood, do you know who you just hit? You will pay for this!” The woman leaned in close, her voice a low hiss. “Pay? You’ve got a big mouth. What could you possibly do to me if I decided to carve it up right now?” I recoiled, shouting for all to hear, “You’re a fake! I am the real Ava Vaughn, and I’m calling the police!” The crowd erupted. Dominic, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally reacted. His expression changed as he grabbed the woman’s arm. I took the opportunity to break free from the guards, stumbling back a few steps. “Mr. Blackwood, you have a marriage contract with Ava Vaughn, yet three months ago, you married this woman and passed her off as me.” “I have one question for you. When you got your marriage license, was the name on the certificate Ava Vaughn?” Dominic’s face went white, and he took another step back. The woman stepped in front of him protectively. “My husband and I grew up together. What does any of this have to do with you?” I laughed coldly and pulled out my ID card. It had my photo, but more importantly, it had two words clearly printed on it: Ava Vaughn. “I’m calling my lawyer,” I announced. “I’m suing you for identity theft, for using my name to fraudulently marry into a wealthy family.” 6 The onlookers exploded. “No wonder her handwriting was so ugly! I was thinking, how could anyone not know how to write their own name?” “And now that I think about it, the Vaughn family wasn’t at their wedding. I thought that was strange at the time.” “The wedding was so small and cheap, too. I heard they only invited a few friends. I remember wondering why the heir to the Blackwood fortune would have such a low-key wedding!” The false Mrs. Blackwood dabbed her eyes with a silk scarf, tears streaming down her face. “Our families were joining in marriage. I didn’t want to be too ostentatious and attract negative attention to my father’s reputation. I never imagined that would become a weapon for you all to use against me…” “It doesn’t matter what I say now. You’ll only believe this… this random woman.” “Or maybe,” she said, her voice turning accusatory, “you’re secretly in love with my husband and you’re trying to ruin my reputation so I’ll be forced out with nothing! Miss, do you have any idea how important a woman’s reputation is?” “No one will believe me now. It seems the only way to prove my innocence is to die.” With that, she threw herself toward the glass doors of the building. The crowd gasped. “Darling, what are you doing? Why would you do something so foolish over some stranger who just appeared out of nowhere?” Dominic cried, catching her in his arms. She collapsed against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Dominic’s eyes blazed with fury. He roared, “Security! Seize this woman who is spreading rumors and ruining my wife’s good name! I want to see just how bold she really is!” Bea broke free from the guards and threw herself in front of me again, only to be struck down by two burly men. One of them pinned her to the ground, slapping her face over and over. “You crazy bitch! How dare you cause trouble at the Blackwood estate!” 7 Two other guards moved to grab me. I pulled out a fountain pen and pressed the sharp nib against my neck. “Anyone who touches me is making a mistake. I am the real Ava Vaughn. If anything happens to me today, my father will be here in three days, and he will not let any of you off the hook.” The guards hesitated, afraid of causing a serious injury, and looked to Dominic for direction. Dominic’s face was livid. “If I don’t teach you a lesson today, people will think Dominic Blackwood is a pushover! My wife’s reputation will be in tatters!” “What are you waiting for? Grab her! If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” Several men swarmed me at once. They seized me, and the pen scraped my neck, drawing blood. “You little girl, you have some nerve causing a scene in front of our house,” one of them snarled as he twisted my arm. The pen clattered to the ground. The force they used nearly broke my wrist. I struggled against them. “Dominic Blackwood, if you so much as touch a hair on my head, my father will make you pay when he arrives! I’m not slandering her! She is an imposter!” A cruel smile touched Dominic’s lips. “Let’s see if your father gets here in time to save you.” “Slap her,” he commanded. “Slap her hard. Let’s see if she dares to spread rumors again!” “Oh, that’s too much. She’s just a young woman.” “Quick, record this! Post it online and show everyone how the Blackwoods operate above the law!” “What are you all standing around for? Call the police!” “That poor girl looks so delicate. This is going to be brutal.” I fought with all my might, but it was useless. Two guards held me fast. “Hit her,” Dominic ordered. Smack. Smack. Two sharp slaps landed on my face, and it immediately began to burn and swell. Bea, her face pale, screamed, “Don’t you dare hit my cousin!” My mouth was covered, and I could only make muffled, desperate sounds. Dominic stared at me, his eyes cold. “You need to be taught a lesson. Hit her!” Two guards raised their hands, preparing to strike me again. Just as I braced for the blow, a powerful voice thundered from a distance. “Stop! I’d like to see who dares touch my daughter!”

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Ten years after being kicked out of the high school group chat, someone added me back. The group name had changed to “Sophomore Class 3 Tenth Anniversary Reunion.” I scrolled through the chat history. Novak, the class president, had posted: “The reunion location is set: The Haven Hotel, a new five-star place in town.” Below it, a string of replies: “So fancy,” “Can’t wait.” Claire posted a voice message. I tapped to play it. Her familiar voice, laced with a hint of pride, chimed: “I know someone at the hotel; they gave our class an insider’s rate. Only fifty-eight dollars a person.” I stared at the screen, a slow smile spreading across my face. The Haven Hotel. The one I’d officially opened just last month. The name on the business license, under “Legal Representative,” read three words: Evelyn Howard. When they kicked me out back then, they probably never imagined that ten years later, they’d be dining on my turf. 1 I wasn’t in a hurry to speak in the group chat. Messages popped up one after another. I leaned back in my office chair, slowly scrolling up. Claire posted a picture of the hotel lobby, a promotional shot she’d pulled from online. “Girls, isn’t this lobby incredible? My friend is a senior executive here; she got us a forty percent discount.” Forty percent discount. I almost laughed aloud. The Haven’s banquet hall package was thirty-two dollars per person, but she was charging fifty-eight. My old classmate hadn’t seen me in ten years, but her math skills had certainly improved. Novak chimed in below: “Claire, you’re amazing, so well-connected.” Claire replied with a hair-flip emoji: “Of course. After all these years in this city, you’re bound to have some resources.” Felicity also popped up. “Wow, Claire, you’re incredible! Kyle and I will definitely be there!” Felicity. Seeing that name, my finger paused on the screen. Ten years ago, she was my best friend. Without a doubt. I flipped my phone face down on the desk and turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling window. Forty-seventh floor, the city lights spread out beneath my feet. Every brick, every pane of glass in this office, I had earned myself. My phone vibrated again. Novak tagged me: “Evelyn, you’re still in town, right? Are you coming?” Silence for a few seconds. Then Claire replied: “She’s still in town? I thought she’d gone back to her hometown long ago.” Followed by a “mouth-covered-laughing” emoji. I looked at that emoji, my lips twitching. I typed two words: “I’ll be there.” Sent. The group was quiet again for a moment, then Novak sent a thumbs-up: “Great, then we’ll all be there!” No one responded to my message. No one said “long time no see,” no one said “looking forward to it.” And rightly so. In their memory, Evelyn Howard was the girl who stole Claire’s necklace, was scorned by the entire class, and shamefully left the group. Who would welcome a thief? I put my phone down and opened the hotel management system on my computer. The day after tomorrow, December 21st, Banquet Hall B, Sophomore Class 3 Reunion, booked by—Claire. Three hundred dollars advance payment received. For a thirty-person reunion, she paid three hundred in advance. I picked up the intercom on my desk and pressed a button. “Ms. Chen, I’d like to review the schedule for the class reunion booking in Hall B the day after tomorrow.” May Chen, the hotel’s Director of Operations, replied from the other end: “Ms. Howard, is there any issue with that booking?” “No. Just treat it as a normal reception.” I paused. “But all staff, please do not call me Ms. Howard the day after tomorrow.” May Chen was silent for two seconds. “Understood.” I hung up the intercom and picked up my phone again. In the group chat, Novak was tallying attendees, and Claire was posting the reunion agenda—red carpet check-in, talent show, award ceremony. Awards. I scrolled down the page and saw the categories: “Most Successful Award,” “Most Beautiful Comeback Award,” “Most Popular Award.” The person who started the poll was Claire. I put my phone down and stood by the window. The night I was kicked out of the group chat when I was eighteen, I also stood by a window. But back then, there were no city lights outside. Only a drab apartment building and the noisy sounds of party downstairs. Ten years. I clenched my fist, my fingernails digging into my palm. Some scores, it was time to settle. 2 December 21st, 5 PM. I stood outside The Haven Hotel, exhaling a plume of white breath. I hadn’t driven my own car, opting for a taxi. My attire was modest: a grey down jacket over a black turtleneck. My hair was tied in a low ponytail, and my face wore only a thin layer of tinted moisturizer. Pushing through the revolving doors, the warm air of the lobby enveloped me. The young woman at the front desk started to speak when she saw me, but a glance from me silenced her. She lowered her head, pretending to organize documents. I bypassed the front desk and walked towards the banquet hall. At the end of the corridor, the entrance to Hall B was already laid with a red carpet. On either side of the carpet were roll-up banners, emblazoned with “Sophomore Class 3 Tenth Anniversary Reunion,” with a smaller line below: “Grateful for our meeting, cherishing our youth.” I stared at that line for three seconds. “Evelyn?” A voice came from behind me. I turned to see Novak standing there, dressed in a dark blue suit, holding a stack of name tags. He looked me up and down, an awkward smile on his face. “Whoa, long time no see. You… doing alright?” “I’m fine.” “What are you doing for work now?” “Running a small business.” Novak said “oh,” but didn’t press further. He shuffled through the name tags, pulling one out and handing it to me. It read “Evelyn Howard,” listed last. “Claire arranged the seating. You’re… at table three.” I took the name tag, glancing at the hall. Three round tables in total. Table one was closest to the stage, table two in the middle, and table three in the corner, right next to the kitchen entrance. Sitting by the serving area. I nodded, walked over, and sat down. There were a few other name tags on table three: David Hardin, Patrick Bratton, Jane Mantel… all the least noticeable people in the class back then. At exactly 6 PM, people started arriving. Claire walked in, teetering on ten-centimeter heels, in a wine-red dress, a gold necklace around her neck. A necklace. I lowered my eyes. Felicity followed her, in an off-white coat, carrying a Chanel chain bag. Their eyes swept across the hall, finally landing on me in the corner. Claire’s lips curved upwards slightly. Felicity, however, hurried over, her face beaming with surprise as she grabbed my hand. “Evelyn! Oh my goodness, it really has been a long time!” Her hand was soft, her nails manicured in a French style, and a small diamond ring glittered on her ring finger. I looked into her eyes. These were the same eyes that, ten years ago, had declared to the entire class: “I saw Evelyn going through Claire’s bag with my own eyes.” “You look great,” Felicity said, releasing my hand, looking me up and down. “Where did you buy this down jacket? It must be quite warm, right?” Her tone was gentle, but her eyes had already appraised me from head to toe. After her assessment, her smile grew even brighter. “I’ll take you shopping sometime; I know a few really good value stores.” Value. I smiled. “Sure.” She turned and went back to table one, sitting next to a tall man. Kyle Brown. He was a bit thinner, his hair cut short, wearing a grey cardigan. He looked more than ten years older than he had a decade ago. He glanced my way, then quickly looked away. This boy, who had once captivated all the girls in class, was now attentively pouring water for Felicity. The watch on his wrist was genuine, but not particularly expensive. Table one was filled with the “inner circle” from back then: Claire, Felicity, Kyle Brown, and a few other girls who had followed Claire. Table two was the middle tier, the kind who got along with everyone. Table three. I looked around. David Hardin sat across from me, nodding. Jane Mantel sat next to me, head bowed, looking at her phone. The people in the corner, as expected, weren’t talkative. Novak stood on the stage, picking up the microphone. “To all our old classmates—” The lights dimmed slightly. “Welcome home.” 3 The opening video was made by Claire. Old high school photos played on the projection screen, accompanied by a tear-jerking piano piece. Sports days, class photos, New Year’s Eve parties. I carefully looked at each photo. There were twenty-three group photos. I only appeared in the first eight. From the ninth photo onwards, the person standing in my place was Felicity. “High school was so innocent,” Felicity sighed from table one, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “The happiest thing back then was chatting with everyone after class.” Claire chimed in: “Yeah, our little clique was really tight.” She didn’t look at me when she said “our.” When the video finished, the lights came back on. Novak announced the start of the free dining segment, and the waiters began serving food. Table one was served first. I watched the white-shirted waiters carry trays to table one, silently counting—truffle risotto, black pepper short ribs, garlic steamed lobster. Table two followed. Table three was last. When the dish was placed in front of me, I glanced down. Table one had lobster, table three had boiled shrimp. Table one had short ribs, table three had sweet and sour pork ribs. Standard A/B menu difference. But The Haven’s Hall B group meal only had one standard, no A/B distinction. So Claire had specifically set different tiers when ordering from the hotel. “Wow, these shrimp are huge!” a girl from table one exclaimed. No one at table three spoke. David Hardin quietly picked up a piece of pork rib, chewed it, and glanced at me. I smiled at him and took a piece too. It tasted good; our head chef’s skills were always consistent. Halfway through the meal, Claire stood up with her wine glass. “Everyone, a few words.” The entire hall quieted. She stood in the middle of table one, her red dress and gold necklace looking beautiful under the warm lights. “Ten years, and our class is full of hidden talents.” She raised her wine glass and addressed a bespectacled boy at table two. “Leo, I heard you’re in tech in Shenzhen? Must be making a million a year now?” Leo pushed up his glasses, smiling and shaking his head. “No, no, just decent.” Claire then turned to table one. “Felicity and Kyle don’t even need mentioning. They’re a model couple. Everyone knows how well the Chen family’s development in the south of the city sold.” Felicity smiled, lowering her head, leaning on Kyle Brown’s shoulder. Claire’s gaze swept around, bypassing table three. Then it returned. As if she’d suddenly remembered something. “Oh, by the way—Evelyn.” She lifted her chin, looking at me in the corner. “What are you doing now? I think you said earlier… running a small business?” All eyes instantly turned to me. I put down my chopsticks. “Yes, I opened a business.” “What kind of business?” “A hotel.” Claire paused, then laughed. “A hotel? What kind of hotel? A budget hotel?” A few people nearby also started to chuckle. “It’s not one of those hourly-rate motels, is it?” Anya, from table one, said in a shrill voice. The laughter grew louder. I didn’t respond, taking a sip from the teacup in front of me. Seeing my silence, Claire smiled and waved her hand dismissively. “Just kidding. It’s great to be your own boss, right?” She turned back, resuming other topics of conversation. Her voice gradually faded. Jane Mantel at table three leaned over and whispered to me, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I watched the group at table one clinking glasses, the light glinting on Claire’s gold necklace. That necklace was pure gold. I recognized it. Because it looked exactly like the one she claimed to have lost ten years ago. Except that one, ten years ago, was fake. 4 About three-quarters of the way through the meal, Novak took the stage again. “Next up is the highlight of our evening – the awards ceremony!” A PowerPoint slide flashed on the projection screen, titled “Sophomore Class 3 Decade of Distinction.” The first award: “Most Popular Award” – Claire. Claire covered her mouth, feigning a flattered expression, and went up to the stage. The applause from the audience was sparse, but table one clapped enthusiastically. Second: “Most Beautiful Comeback Award” – Felicity. Felicity smiled thinly, linking arms with Kyle Brown as she went up to the stage. Comeback. The Felicity who used to blush just talking to boys, who followed me everywhere back then, now stood on stage, flashing a V-sign at the camera. Third: “Most Successful Award” – Leo. Leo went on stage, bowed, and exchanged a few polite words. The three awards were presented. I was about to take a sip of water. “Hold on—” Claire took the microphone, smiling as she looked out at the audience. “I’ve added a last-minute award.” The PPT slide changed. Four large words appeared on the screen: “Biggest Transformation Award.” “This award, I’d like to present to—Evelyn Howard.” The entire hall fell silent for a moment. “Evelyn, come on up.” I remained seated at table three. Jane Mantel tugged at my sleeve beside me. Claire waited for two seconds, then spoke into the microphone: “Don’t be shy. Ten years, let everyone see what you’re like now.” Someone from table one started to egg me on: “Go on up.” I put down my water glass and stood. As I walked past table two, someone whispered something from behind, but I didn’t quite catch it. I walked onto the stage; the lights were a bit blinding. Claire stood next to me, half a head taller. She offered me the microphone. “Care to say a few words?” I took the microphone. “Thank you.” “Don’t just say thank you,” Claire said, playfully teasing. “Tell everyone, how have the past ten years been?” “Alright.” “You said you opened a hotel earlier? A budget hotel?” I didn’t answer. Claire turned to look at the audience, sighing, her face a picture of “I genuinely feel sorry for you.” “Evelyn, honestly, we’ve all thought of you a lot these past ten years.” She paused. “It’s just… that incident back then truly disheartened everyone.” The entire hall fell silent once more. That incident. Ten years ago, Claire claimed her twenty-thousand-dollar gold necklace went missing. Felicity said she saw me going through Claire’s bag with her own eyes. The whole class voted, twenty-eight votes, to kick me out of the class social group. I didn’t vote for anyone. But not a single vote was on my side. “I know you might feel wronged,” Claire’s voice was very gentle, “but the evidence was clear back then—” “What evidence?” I interrupted her. Claire blinked. “The necklace found in your bag, everyone saw it.” I looked out at the audience. Over twenty faces stared back at me, some sympathetic, some curious, some avoiding my gaze. Felicity sat at table one, holding her wine glass, her expression calm. “That necklace,” I said, “was fake.” Claire chuckled. “Evelyn, it’s been ten years—” “Gold-plated. Less than two hundred dollars.” I put the microphone back on its stand. “If that necklace was really worth twenty thousand back then, you would have called the police.” Someone in the audience gasped. Claire’s smile froze for a moment. Just a moment. She quickly recomposed herself, shaking her head. “Evelyn, I was genuinely trying to help everyone make peace. Saying things like that, it just hurts feelings.” She turned to the audience, shrugging helplessly. “Everyone, don’t misunderstand, I don’t mean anything else.” Anya from table one chimed in: “Exactly, she invited you to the reunion out of kindness, and you’re just bringing up old grudges.” Another girl added: “It’s all in the past, why bother?” A chorus of agreement rose from the audience. “Let it go,” “What’s the big deal,” “Still holding onto it after ten years.” Standard peacemaking. I looked at the “understanding” faces in the audience and suddenly felt a strong sense of déjà vu. It was the same ten years ago. They said, “Just apologize, Evelyn.” I didn’t apologize, so I was kicked out. Claire raised her hand and patted my shoulder, just enough force to make those around her think she was being friendly. “Evelyn, don’t overthink it. Sit down and have a drink; today is just for a happy get-together.” I glanced at her hand on my shoulder. Her nails were painted with wine-red polish. I didn’t move. She retracted her hand herself. As I walked off the stage, I passed by table one. Felicity looked up and smiled at me. A beautiful smile. She had smiled like that ten years ago too. After smiling, she told the homeroom teacher— “I saw it. The necklace fell out of Evelyn’s bag.”

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