Category: English

My mom is the sole heiress to the colossal Morgan fortune. While she was away on a business trip, my dad orchestrated a scheme. He let his secret illegitimate son, Solomon—whom he’d been hiding for years—steal my project and take credit for my hard work. My dad even introduced him to everyone as the true heir of the Morgan family. At the company’s annual gala, Solomon had his arm wrapped around Shakira, my arranged fiancée. He pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills and slapped them right against my face. “You should be honored I even used your proposal. Don’t be so ungrateful!” My sister, Sara, stood by his side, watching cold-heartedly. “Solomon is so kind. He’s actually paying an intern like you.” “I suggest you know your place. Don’t forget who the real heir is!” In my past life, I cared too much about family. I treated Solomon like a real brother and handed everything over to him on a silver platter. But in the end, they used me until I had nothing left, and then they disposed of me. Reborn and seeing these three for the monsters they really are, I didn’t hesitate. I punched Solomon right in the face in front of everyone, leaving his mouth a bloody mess. “A cheap male escort from a sketchy club thinks he can step on my head?”

Seeing Solomon spit out a bloody tooth, Sara panicked. “Kennedy, have you lost your mind! Touch him again, and I swear Dad will fire you on the spot!” The surrounding employees rushed over to hold me back, shouting at me. “That’s the Chairman’s grandson! The heir to the Morgan Group! You’re just a tiny intern, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I sneered and shook off their grip. “Since when can a male escort steal my identity?” “Sara, you’ve completely lost your mind over this bastard!” My so-called sister panicked. She slapped me across the face to cut me off. “You must be drunk! What kind of delusion is this? Steal your identity?” “Solomon is my real brother!” Looking at Sara, a cold shiver ran down my spine. I couldn’t believe she could say something so shameless for Solomon’s sake! Sara wasn’t even a blood Morgan. When my mom was pregnant with her second child, she had a miscarriage. Devastated, she adopted a baby girl from an orphanage to raise as her own. Who would have thought we were raising a viper? She lived with the Morgans for twenty years. My mom treated her like a biological daughter, and I loved her like a real sister. But to her, our guidance was nothing but “chains.” She would rather treat an outsider like Solomon as her brother than stand by my side. I touched my stinging cheek and sneered at her. “Sara, you’re getting bolder. You actually have the guts to help Solomon steal my identity.” “When Mom gets back and finds out you let Solomon take my place in the marriage alliance, have you thought about the consequences?” Sara’s face turned pale. She was clearly terrified of my mother’s ruthless business methods. Shakira, who had been watching the drama unfold, frowned and finally spoke. “What do you mean by that? Isn’t Solomon the heir to the Morgan Group?” Hearing this, Solomon immediately put on a show, looking deeply hurt. “My mom always took great care of Kennedy. She said she treated him like her own son.” “I didn’t expect him to actually believe it. Now he hallucinates about being the true heir.” “Shakira, please don’t believe a word he says!” I didn’t explain. I just wanted to see Shakira’s reaction. The Russells were the family my mother chose for my arranged marriage. If the heiress of the Russell family couldn’t even see through a lie this obvious, then this marriage wasn’t worth keeping anyway. Shakira hesitated and looked at Sara. Sara quickly jumped in. “Shakira, do you think I wouldn’t recognize my own brother?” “Don’t forget the sapphire necklace Solomon gave you. That’s the Morgan family heirloom.” “It’s only given to the future daughter-in-law. Do you still doubt Solomon?” Hearing this, I stepped forward and landed another heavy punch on Solomon’s face. “You dared to steal my mom’s necklace!” That necklace had been passed down through generations of the Morgan family. It would never be taken out until the wedding day. Solomon was incredibly bold to steal something like that just to please Shakira! “Enough! Security, drag this lunatic away!” This time, it wasn’t Sara. It was Shakira. She looked at me with pure disgust. She clearly believed Sara’s lies completely. As several security guards pinned me down, a colleague from the office mustered up the courage to speak up for me. “Miss Russell, Kennedy only snapped because Mr. Solomon stole his project. He’s just drunk, it’s understandable.” Shakira sneered. “He’s just an intern at the Morgan Group. It’s his job to serve the family! What’s wrong with taking his project?” “Didn’t Solomon give him a few hundred bucks as compensation? People of your class are just so greedy!” I stared at Shakira, stunned. I didn’t expect the Russell heiress, who always acted sweet and kind in public, to be so repulsive behind closed doors. She and Solomon were birds of a feather! Sara smirked at me triumphantly, hugging Shakira’s arm. “Thank you, Shakira. I knew you would see right through him. He’s just trash!” Looking at Shakira’s arrogant face, I felt sick to my stomach. The Russells were far less powerful than the Morgans. No wonder Shakira threw away her dignity just to cling to the Morgan family. Too bad the guy she was trying so hard to please was a complete fraud! I couldn’t wait to see her face when she realized she married a penniless bastard!

In my past life, when I found out Solomon was my dad’s illegitimate son, I wanted to tell my mom. But I gave up the idea after my dad and Sara begged me on their knees. My dad had cried, kneeling before me. He said Solomon shared half of my blood, and he begged me to treat Solomon like a brother. He confessed that marrying into the Morgan family made him feel emasculated. So, he kept a secret mistress and had an illegitimate child. He had hidden it well for years to keep my mom happy. In the end, my heart softened, and I kept their secret. Before my dad brought Solomon back, Solomon worked at a host club. That was where Sara met him and got hooked. Feeling sorry for Solomon, I was the one who asked my mom to let him intern at the company. I never expected that Solomon wanted far more than just a job! Taking advantage of my mom’s one-year business trip abroad, my dad forced me to hand over my projects to build up Solomon’s resume. He even went behind my back and told the board of directors that Solomon was the true heir of the Morgan family! All of this was to pave the way for Solomon to marry into the wealthy Russell family. In my past life, I let my dad and Sara pull the strings, giving up everything I owned. But I never expected that after stealing my identity, they would orchestrate a car accident to kill me. When my mom rushed back from abroad, the shock and grief caused her heart failure. The entire Morgan fortune fell into their hands. Thinking about my past life, my blood boiled with hatred. This time, I will make all of them pay! Sweeping my gaze across the room, I locked eyes with Scott, the General Manager. My mom had sent me to the company to learn the ropes from the bottom, but to prevent the executives from giving me special treatment, she kept my identity a secret from everyone. Only Scott, her most trusted manager, knew who I really was. I dragged him out of the crowd and demanded loudly, “Scott, you are the person my mom trusts the most.” “Tell everyone right now. Am I the true heir of the Morgan Group?” When I pulled Scott forward, Solomon’s body tensed up. Even Sara’s face flickered with panic. If my mom found out that Solomon was pretending to be me to get married, they would be utterly ruined! Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, Scott frowned and let out a long sigh. “Kennedy, I know Mrs. Kelly thinks highly of you, but you can’t actually believe you’re a Morgan.” “Apologize to Solomon right now! If you keep spreading these lies, I’ll fire you myself!” Solomon and Sara sighed in relief, and the crowd burst into whispers. “I knew Kennedy was out of his mind! He really thought he was a big shot.” “He’s just jealous of Mr. Solomon’s success. A few drinks and he forgets who he is.” “Do you think he has a crush on Miss Shakira? That’s why he’s acting like a psycho.” Hearing the mockery, I stared coldly at Scott. “Do you know what happens to people who betray my mom?” Scott shivered, quickly looking away, too guilty to meet my eyes. I sneered internally. In truth, I already knew he had been bought off by my dad. In my past life, when my mom received the news of my death, she was devastated. Right at that moment, Scott ran to her with fake news—claiming the company was facing a massive scandal, the cash flow was cut off, and partners had fled with the money… My mom couldn’t handle the successive blows, which triggered her fatal heart attack. And all of that was fabricated by Scott under my dad’s orders! I dragged him out today just to force him to expose himself so my mom could see his true colors! Just minutes ago, I had already sent an audio recording of his previous secret meetings to my mom. She would see it very soon. But right now, with Scott’s backing, Solomon became even more arrogant. He kicked me hard in the chest and spat on the floor. “You piece of trash, you think you can fight me? Security! Beat him up and throw him out!” As I tried to stand up, several security guards pinned me down. Just as a fist was about to hit my face, a familiar voice boomed through the hall. “Stop! What do you think you are doing at the company gala?!”

The guards quickly let go of me. My dad rushed over, pulled me up, and whispered angrily in my ear. “Why are you being so difficult? Ruining the gala like this!” “He is your brother, you should have just let him have his way.” “Good thing I got here fast. I would have been so heartbroken if you got hurt!” I watched him put on his act of a loving father. If I hadn’t been reborn, I would never have believed that this very man was the one who planned my murder. I pushed his hand away and said coldly, “What brother? I am the only child of the Morgan family. I don’t have a brother!” “A bastard like him isn’t even fit to step into our house!” Exposed in public, my dad’s face flushed bright red. “You bastard!” He slapped me hard across the face, pointing his finger at my nose. “I came here to help you, and you dare call my son a bastard!” “You’re just an intern, yet you have the nerve to claim you’re a Morgan. You must be tired of living!” Sara quickly chimed in, backing my dad up. “Exactly! Some random lunatic is here throwing a tantrum.” “Claiming he’s the real Morgan heir. What a joke!” “Do you think my dad and I can’t even recognize our own family?” She thought she had all the backing she needed, her voice dripping with venom. I found it hilarious. I looked at her and asked, “Your family? Sara, did you forget you’re just an orphan we brought home from the orphanage?” “If I hadn’t chosen you back then, my mom would never have adopted you!” “Now that you’re grown up, you throw all that gratitude down the drain!” Sara’s face turned white, then red. Her origin was her deepest insecurity. To her, being adopted was a shameful stain on her life. Having it exposed in front of everyone almost made her lose her mind. Shakira couldn’t help but defend Sara. “So what if Sara is adopted? She is recognized by the Morgan family, which makes her a thousand times better than trash like you!” Seeing her defend Sara, I let out a sharp laugh. She probably had no idea that Sara and Solomon were already sleeping together! Back when Solomon worked at the host club, he wasn’t doing anything clean, and those two had spent plenty of nights in bed together. Solomon pointed at me, raising his voice. “Even if Sara is adopted, she is my sister. Who are you to talk down to her?” He was so deep in his acting that he truly believed he was the master of the Morgan family. I slapped his hand away and said coldly, “Because I am the sole heir of the Morgan Group!” “The Morgan family belongs to me and my mother. A parasite who married in and an adopted orphan do not count as Morgans!” “If I want you gone, I can make you kick the curb in a second!” The moment the words left my mouth, my dad lost his mind. He slapped me repeatedly, then kicked me hard in the ribs, screaming, “I knew you were an ungrateful dog!” “I’ve been married to Kelly for years. We are husband and wife. This company is mine too!” “Let me tell you, this company belongs to me, and it will belong to Solomon in the future. You are the one who is going to get kicked out!” Having married into the family, even though he held an executive title, his abilities were nowhere near my mother’s. The whispers of being a “trophy husband” had built up a toxic rage inside him over the years. Now that I had exposed his rawest nerve, his eyes turned bloodshot, and he kicked me several more times. My body throbbed with excruciating pain, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood on the floor. But he didn’t care. Shakira looked at me with disgust and waved her hand. “Get him out of here. He’s an eyesore.” I looked at the smug grins on Solomon and Sara’s faces and said softly, “Have you guys ever wondered what will happen when my mom gets back and finds out what you did?” My dad’s face tensed, but then a ruthless glare flashed in his eyes. “You are completely insane, whispering nonsense!” “Tie him up and throw him into a mental asylum! Don’t let him out until he’s completely cured!” Seeing the murderous look in his eyes, I knew he wanted me dead. Just as I was calculating how to make my escape, the heavy doors of the hall were slammed open. “I’d love to see which one of you dares to send my son to an asylum!”

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On the eve of senior prom, an anonymous source sent me a screenshot of the varsity football team’s Snapchat group chat. In the chat, my online boyfriend, Blake, had shared a screenshot of an Amazon delivery confirmation. “I just bought a 7XL pink ruffle dress for that fat girl who only dares to voice-chat with me on Discord.” “The dress is as big as a hot air balloon. She’s going to look like a literal clown in it.” One of his teammates chimed in: “Damn, Blake, that’s savage. I bet she’ll have a mental breakdown the second she sees it and won’t even dare to step foot inside the prom venue.” Blake then sent a voice note, with the loud, mocking laughter of several guys echoing in the background: “If she actually shows up, I’m going to film her walking the red carpet and post it on TikTok. That video is guaranteed to hit a million views.” I stared at the screen, then casually tossed the package containing the cheap, tacky pink mesh dress straight into the trash can. A year ago, because of severe obesity and the endless health and social problems that came with it, I had taken a medical leave of absence from school. Shortly after, I met Blake online. He was the reason I started my weight-loss journey. For him, I woke up at five every morning to run. Combined with a strict, healthy diet, I managed to lose eighty pounds. I looked in the mirror at my new face—the baby fat was completely gone, leaving behind sharp, striking, and cold features. I unlocked my phone and sent Blake a simple smiley face on Snapchat: “Got the dress. See you at prom tomorrow at eight.”

I sat in the back of a black stretch Lincoln limousine. Outside, camera flashes strobed against the dark glass, and loud, pulsing music filled the night air. There were only ten minutes left before the prom red carpet officially opened. The phone resting on my knees vibrated non-stop. Notifications from a Snapchat group chat kept popping up. Initially, this group chat was only for the football players and cheerleaders. But I had used a few connections to get an alt account—posing as a junior varsity cheerleader—to slip in unnoticed. Blake had just posted a picture of himself leaning against the hood of a sleek sports car. He was wearing a sharp tuxedo, his bowtie half-undone. The comments below were overflowing with praise and hype. “Our quarterback is looking hot tonight! Ready to welcome your hot air balloon date?” “I’ve got my GoPro ready. I’m going to capture her rolling down the red carpet in glorious 4K.” Then, Chloe, the varsity cheer captain, sent a voice note. “Come on, guys, don’t talk about Stella like that. She might be on the larger side, but she’s willing to wear pink just for Blake. That shows she really loves him.” “Just don’t laugh too loudly when she gets here. I’d hate for her to run home crying.” Blake replied with a laughing emoji. “Don’t worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman and escort my pink clown all the way to the door.” I stared coldly at the screen. During my second month away from school, I met Blake in an online game. He thought my gaming skills were amazing, and he loved my voice, calling it incredibly sexy. Soon, he started pursuing me. Later, he found out that I was actually Stella—the “fat girl” everyone whispered about at school. I had been terrified that he would mock me, just like everyone else did. But he didn’t. Instead, he told me: “Stella, they only care about looks and bodies. But I know you have the most beautiful soul.” “In my eyes, you will always be the most gorgeous girl.” I was deeply moved. I gave him my heart. Not only did I study by myself at home to keep up with my senior year classes, but I also acted as his emotional trash can whenever he lost a football game. In the game, he called me “My Queen.” But in reality, he treated me as a twisted trophy to boost his own fragile male ego. “We’re up next, ma’am,” the chauffeur said, opening the door from the outside. The roaring noise of the crowd rushed into the quiet car the moment the door swung open. Students lined both sides of the red carpet, their phones raised to record everything. Blake was standing halfway up the carpet, holding a glass of champagne, leaning in to whisper something to Chloe. The moment my high heels touched the red carpet, the girls nearest to the limo stopped talking. Their hands, holding up their phones, froze in mid-air. I stepped fully out of the car, adjusting my dress. My custom black starry-night gown caught the flashing lights, reflecting subtle, cold glints of starlight. The soft, premium fabric hugged my waist perfectly, and the backless design dipped elegantly down to my lower back. The whispers and chatter along the red carpet seemed to vanish, starting from where I stood and spreading outward. In its place was the frantic clicking of camera shutters. “Who is that? Is she a celebrity? Does she even go to our school?” “That dress… is that the Paris Fashion Week runway piece? I literally just saw it in Vogue last week!” I walked down the red carpet, my gaze cutting straight through the crowd. Hearing the sudden shift in the crowd’s energy behind him, Blake turned around. His eyes locked onto me, and the casual, arrogant smirk instantly drained from his face. The champagne glass in his hand tilted slightly, spilling a few drops onto his leather shoes, but he didn’t even notice.

Blake hurriedly shoved his champagne glass into a teammate’s hand, adjusted his tie, and walked straight toward me. His eyes were filled with pure admiration. We had been in an online relationship for ten months, yet he had never once agreed to a FaceTime call. Instead, relying on school rumors and a few old photos of me from junior year, he had painted a malicious picture of me in his mind. He didn’t recognize me at all. “Hey,” Blake said, stopping right in front of me and blocking my path. He flashed his signature charming smile, his voice smooth and polite. “I’m Blake. I’m pretty sure I’d remember if someone like you went to our school. Whose date are you?” “Or did a movie star accidentally wander into our prom?” I stopped walking but didn’t say a word. “Don’t have a date to walk the carpet with?” Seeing my silence, he took half a step closer, subtly flexing his broad shoulders. “If you don’t mind, I could—” “Blake, that 7XL pink dress you bought me? The fabric was incredibly cheap, and the glitter kept falling off.” “I was worried it would ruin my carpets, so I threw it straight into the trash.” Blake’s smile completely froze. The surrounding crowd, which had been whispering excitedly, went dead silent. Blake’s pupils contracted violently, and the muscles around his eyes twitched uncontrollably. “Stella?” His voice cracked, filled with sheer disbelief. The football players standing behind him dropped their jaws. The guy holding the GoPro shook so hard that the camera slipped from his grip, clattering loudly onto the concrete. “No way… That’s impossible!” Blake instinctively took a step back, his eyes frantically scanning me from my face down to my waist, and then back to my face. “What? Disappointed?” I tilted my chin up, enjoying the sight of his face crumbling. “Sorry you didn’t get to see your hot air balloon. Guess your GoPro won’t be getting those views after all.” Chloe quickly stepped forward at that moment. When she saw me, her sweet, perfect smile wavered. “Stella! Oh my god, you lost so much weight!” She reached out, trying to grab my arm. “If you got this pretty, why didn’t you tell Blake sooner?” “He spent so much time picking out that dress as a surprise for you, you know.” “Keeping it a secret like this… you really embarrassed him.” I brushed her hand off. “Spent a lot of time?” “As in, spending time finding which party city sold the best clown costumes?” “Chloe, since you care so much about his feelings, next time he buys a dress like that, feel free to wear it yourself.” Chloe’s face turned pale. She bit her lower lip and stepped back. Blake finally snapped out of his shock. But his surprise quickly morphed into a strange, obsessive excitement. “Stella.” He suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Let me explain. That was just a joke between the guys, I—” I ripped my hand away from his grip, walked right past him, and headed straight into the main hall.

Inside the venue, colorful laser lights swept across the crowded dance floor. I walked over to the drink station and picked up a glass of sparkling water. Before I could even take a sip, Blake pushed through the crowd, pursuing me. He hadn’t been deterred by what happened on the red carpet. Instead, he had put back on his usual entitled, arrogant attitude. “Stella, there were too many people outside just now. I’ll let that slide,” Blake said, placing one hand on the bar counter, effectively trapping me between himself and the table. “You know I never really cared if you were fat or not. I told you, you were always beautiful to me.” “But now that you’re skinny, it’s even better, isn’t it?” He lowered his voice, his tone dripping with condescension. “The first dance is about to start. Come to the dance floor with me. I’ll overlook the fact that you threw away my dress, and we can call it even.” I turned around, leaning casually against the table. I swirled my sparkling water, looking down at him. “Blake, do you have trouble understanding English, or did you take one too many tackles to the head?” “I didn’t stand here tonight to show off my weight loss to you.” “I threw your trash dress away. And I’m throwing you away, too.” Blake’s expression darkened instantly. His breathing grew heavy, clearly furious that I dared to defy him. “Don’t get cocky,” he sneered. “You think losing some weight means you can just dump me? If I hadn’t spent every night voice-chatting with you, you would have rotted away in your own depression!” “You belong to me—” “She belongs to who?” A cold, calm voice cut Blake off. I looked up and saw Asher standing right behind Blake. He was wearing a perfectly tailored, minimalist black tuxedo. He hadn’t worn a tie, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were casually undone. Unlike Blake, who practically radiated loud insecurity and aggression, Asher carried an aura of quiet, untouchable confidence. As the son of the school board’s chairman and an Ivy League-bound genius, Asher held absolute influence at this school. When Blake saw Asher, his brow furrowed into a tight knot. “Asher, this is a private matter between me and my girlfriend. Stay out of it.” “Ex-girlfriend,” I corrected him. Asher ignored Blake’s warning entirely. He stepped past him and stood in front of me. He looked down, his calm gaze resting on my face. There wasn’t a single hint of surprise in his eyes regarding my transformation. It was as if he had always known I would look like this. “Excuse me,” Asher said, extending his right hand to me, palm up. His posture was flawlessly polite. “May I have the honor of the first dance?” Blake let out a dry, angry laugh. “Asher, do you know the rules? She’s my girl!” Asher turned his head, casting a freezing look at Blake. “Rules?” “She told you to screw off. Did you lose your hearing along with your manners?”

The music transitioned into a slow, elegant waltz. Without a second thought, I placed my hand in Asher’s. His fingers were long and firm, his touch cool and reassuring. He placed his other hand lightly on my waist, guiding me smoothly onto the center of the dance floor. Behind us, the sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the hall. Without even looking, I knew Blake was throwing a tantrum. On the dance floor, countless eyes were locked onto us. “You don’t seem surprised at all,” I whispered, keeping pace with Asher’s steps. “Surprised by what?” “The way I look now.” Asher paused his step for a fraction of a second, then drew me slightly closer. “I watched you spend three straight months pulling all-nighters in the library to write that physics paper that won the State Championship. I already knew how brilliant you were.” His voice was quiet, but it cut through the music clearly. “Stella, your worth was never defined by a number on a scale.” My heart skipped a beat. Right at that moment, the lights in the entire hall suddenly went out. The music stopped abruptly, followed by a collective gasp from the students. The massive projector screen at the front of the hall flared to life, casting a harsh, blinding white light over the crowd. Tonight, this screen was supposed to play a heartwarming senior year recap video. Instead, a grainy, secretly recorded video began to play. On the screen was the old me, wearing an oversized gray hoodie. My face was heavy, and I was sitting in a fast-food joint, shoving a double cheeseburger into my mouth, grease smeared over my lips. The audio playing over the video was a private Discord call between Blake and me. “Blake… do you think I’m annoying?” my past voice asked, sounding incredibly small and desperate. “If I always do what you say, will you promise to never leave me?” Back then, I had crawled in the dirt just to keep him. Then came Blake’s voice, filled with utter contempt and amusement: “Sure. As long as you remain a good, obedient girl, I might consider taking you out on a real date.” The entire hall fell into a suffocating silence. A spotlight suddenly snapped on, illuminating the second-floor DJ booth. Blake stood there, holding a microphone, looking down at me on the dance floor. “Take a good look, everyone! This is the ‘perfect goddess’ you were all drooling over just a second ago,” Blake’s voice boomed through the speakers, echoing in every corner of the room. “Stella, did you really think that shedding a layer of skin would erase the days when you acted like my dog?” A cruel, twisted grin spread across his face. “Now, crawl up here right now and beg for my forgiveness.”

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Five years ago, to save Julian Vance from a raging fire, my head was struck by a falling wooden beam. When I finally woke up in the hospital, a hideous scar stretched across my face, and my hearing was completely gone. With tears in his eyes, Julian took my hand and slowly traced a promise onto my palm, letter by letter: “I will love you forever.” From that day on, Julian became my ears. On my twenty-fourth birthday, he proposed to me in front of all our friends and family. Everyone whispered behind his back, wondering why a brilliant, rising star in the medical field would want to marry a disfigured, deaf girl. But Julian never seemed to care about my scars. He was always patient, gently guiding me through my slow, awkward attempts to communicate. Until a new intern arrived at his hospital. Julian started working late. His night shifts doubled. And for the first time, he avoided looking at my face. “I’m sorry, Iris,” he whispered one night, his eyes darting away. “Your scars… they look like writhing monsters. They terrify me.” I read his lips perfectly. To make things easier for him, I voluntarily agreed to move to a rehabilitation clinic in the suburbs. But fate was cruel. Shortly after I arrived, the clinic’s outdated wiring sparked a massive electrical fire. Trapped in the thick, black smoke, my last memory was seeing a panicked figure rushing into the flames. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the exact day Julian proposed to me.

The stinging scent of smoke still lingered in my nose, and my throat burned. But as my vision cleared, I didn’t see the ceiling of the rehabilitation clinic. Instead, I was looking directly into Julian’s deeply affectionate eyes. He was wearing a tailored white suit, kneeling on one knee, holding a sparkling diamond ring. I looked around at the cheering crowd of friends and family, and then at the birthday cake on the table. I realized, with a jolt, that I had traveled back in time. Back to the exact moment he proposed. Julian took my hand, his fingers warm, and slowly traced the words onto my palm: “Iris, marry me. Let me be your ears forever. Let me take care of you.” The sensation on my skin was so warm it made my heart ache. In my past life, I had replayed this moment a thousand times in my head. On those cold, lonely nights when he ignored me, I used the memory of this warmth to keep myself going. But now, that same touch felt like boiling oil, scorching my skin. A flash of confusion crossed Julian’s eyes. Seeing that I wasn’t reacting the way he expected, he grew anxious. He leaned closer, exaggerating his lip movements so I could read them, and silently mouthed, “Iris, I love you.” I understood him perfectly. The room fell silent. Everyone was waiting for my answer. “Forever?” What a joke. Five years was all it took for everything to fall apart. In my past life, I had nodded frantically, throwing myself into his arms with tears streaming down my face. Only to end up in a years-long nightmare. A nightmare that ended with his averted eyes and his cruel admission of fear. I looked into his eyes. Once, they were filled with genuine pain and guilt for what had happened to me. Now, I could see right through the carefully masked devotion. That was it. Right now, his guilt far outweighed his love. That guilt had crushed him, and ultimately, it had killed me. I didn’t say a word. I just slowly, deliberately, pulled my hand away. The smile on Julian’s face froze. A collective gasp and a wave of whispers rippled through the crowd. “Iris?” He mouthed my name, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. I shook my head. I pointed to my ears, then to my heart. Then, I forced myself to speak. “I’m sorry, Julian.” “But I can hear you.” This was the first time I had spoken in front of so many people since I lost my hearing. I hadn’t spoken in years. Because I couldn’t hear my own voice, I couldn’t control my volume, and I was terrified of being laughed at. Julian had always told me that as long as he was around, I didn’t need to struggle to speak. He promised to be my voice. But now, I didn’t want him to be. The room became dead silent. Everyone knew I was deaf. For a deaf girl to suddenly say she could “hear” sounded like a bad joke. But Julian understood what I meant. The color drained from his face. “I can hear the voice in my heart,” I said, my words slow, quiet, but incredibly clear. “It says I shouldn’t chain you to me out of guilt.” “Let’s call this off.”

Julian stood frozen, as if he couldn’t process my words. Or rather, he refused to. He reached out again, trying to grab my wrist, but I lightly stepped back, avoiding his touch. The whispers around us grew louder. “What did she just say? She can hear?” “How is that possible? Hasn’t she been deaf for years?” “Did Julian pressure her too hard? Is she having a breakdown?” Julian’s mother, Eleanor Vance, stepped forward, her brow furrowed. She looked down at me with her usual haughty condescension. “Iris, stop throwing a tantrum. Julian is being completely sincere. With your condition, marrying a man like Julian is a miracle. You should be grateful.” In everyone’s eyes, a disfigured, deaf girl marrying a brilliant doctor like Julian Vance was like winning the lottery. If this were my past life, I would have lowered my head in shame and meekly accepted their “charity.” But now, I just looked at her and said, “I’m not throwing a tantrum.” “I just don’t want to marry him anymore.” Julian snapped his head up, his eyes instantly turning red. He snatched the microphone from the coordinator’s hand. Even though he knew I couldn’t hear him, he screamed into it, his voice shaking. “Iris! I know what you’re worried about! I swear, I will never abandon you!” “I don’t care about your face! I don’t care about your ears!” “Let me take care of you! I owe you my life!” He practically roared that last sentence. The entire venue fell dead silent. “You owe me…” I softly repeated the words, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. Yes, he owed me. For five years, he tried to pay that debt day after day. He did it so carefully, so exhaustingly. Until eventually, even looking at my face took more courage than he had. I raised my hand, my fingertips tracing the uneven, jagged scar on my left cheek. Julian’s gaze followed my fingers. His eyes were a chaotic mess of pity, guilt… and a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch of disgust. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking of Chloe Bennett, the new intern. He was thinking of her flawless, smooth skin. Her bright, sweet voice. He was thinking of the way she looked at him—with pure, unadulterated admiration, free of any burden or guilt. In my past life, it was Chloe’s arrival that made Julian come home later and later. She was the reason his pity turned into terror. I remembered the time Chloe came to our apartment to help Julian retrieve some medical files. When she saw me, a flash of shock crossed her face, quickly replaced by a patronizing pity. “You must be Iris,” she had said. I couldn’t hear her, but I read her lips. “Julian talks about you all the time. He says you’re so brave.” She offered her hand. Because I was focusing so hard on her lips, my reaction was delayed by a few seconds. Her hand hung in the air, and she pulled it back with an awkward, fake chuckle. Julian quickly tried to smooth things over, signing to me: “Chloe says you are very brave.” I just nodded. Chloe looked at my face, let out a soft sigh, and whispered something to Julian. Julian’s expression stiffened. He avoided my eyes and mumbled a response. But I had read Chloe’s lips. She had said, “What a shame…” What was a shame? My ruined face? Or was it a shame that Julian, a man with such a bright future, was shackled to a broken woman like me? In that moment, I saw the flash of agreement in Julian’s eyes. From that day on, he rarely brought colleagues home. And he stopped looking at my face. “Julian,” I said, making sure my lip movements were clear. “You don’t owe me anything anymore.” “I ran into that fire of my own free will.” “Getting hurt was my own choice.” “You don’t need to spend the rest of your life paying me back.” Without waiting for his response, I turned my back on his pale face, pushed through the crowd, and walked out. Behind me, I could hear Julian’s choked-up cries and his mother’s sharp voice trying to stop him. I didn’t look back. I reached up and touched my cheek. It was wet and cold. I was crying after all. I cried for the Julian who had once treated me like his entire world. And I cried for the old me, who had loved him so much she died for him.

I moved back into the tiny studio apartment I had owned before the accident. The day after I moved in, the flashing light of my doorbell signaled someone was outside. Looking through the peephole, I saw Chloe Bennett. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door. The moment she saw me, she flashed a bright, apologetic smile. Holding up a beautifully wrapped fruit basket, she mouthe d, “Iris, honey. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I just wanted to check on you.” I stepped aside to let her in. The apartment was tiny. You could see everything in one glance. Chloe looked around with curiosity. Her eyes swept over my cheap, simple furniture before landing back on me. “Iris, sweetie, are you sure you’re okay living here all by yourself?” she asked, using slow, clumsy hand gestures. “I’m fine,” I replied shortly. “Sigh. Iris, I heard about what happened at the party yesterday.” Chloe leaned forward, her face dripping with pity. “Honestly, I get it. Anyone in your position would feel insecure.” “It’s completely natural to feel like you aren’t good enough for Julian, and that you’re just dragging him down.” She paused, watching my reaction. Seeing my silence, she continued signing: “But leaving him like that… it’s destroying him. He’s taking it so hard.” “He’s a good guy. He feels so responsible for what happened to you. He can’t let it go.” “By rejecting him like this, you’re just making him feel more guilty. He’s suffering.” Her words, delivered through her clumsy signing, felt like a slap in the face. She was reminding me that Julian and I started with a tragedy, and we would always be trapped by it. “So?” I looked up, staring straight at her. “What’s your point?” Chloe didn’t expect me to challenge her. She blinked, then quickly forced a sweet, “caring” smile. “So… I think if you really love Julian, you should make a clean break.” “A clean break?” I repeated. “Yes,” Chloe smiled, her tone dripping with venomous sweetness. “Like… leaving the city? Or maybe telling everyone you found someone else, so he doesn’t feel guilty anymore.” “That way, Julian can finally move on and start a new life.” She let her eyes linger on my scarred face, her implication loud and clear. “Start a new life? With you?” A dull, heavy ache throbbed in my chest. I grabbed a notepad and pen from the table, quickly scribbled a line, and shoved it in front of her. [My life is none of your business, Chloe. Get out.] Then, I pointed to the door. Chloe’s fake smile faltered. Her face flushed with embarrassment. But she didn’t argue. She grabbed her designer purse and walked out. I sank onto the couch, exhausted. But this time, I didn’t shed a single tear. Over the next few weeks, Julian tried to contact me. First, I found a stack of sticky notes slipped under my door. They were filled with apologies for Chloe’s behavior. I ignored them. Next, he showed up with a jacket I had left at the hotel and a bottle of nerve pain medication. He waited outside my door for an entire day until I finally had to go out. The third time, he was drunk. He banged on my door, sobbing and apologizing over and over. I couldn’t hear him, but my neighbors sent me a dozen angry texts on Snapchat. I had no choice but to open the door and drag him inside. He collapsed onto my sofa, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused. He reached up, trying to touch my face, but I flinched away. His hand froze in mid-air, then fell limply to his side. “Iris…” he whimpered. “Why… why did you throw me away?” “I didn’t throw you away,” I whispered, knowing he was too drunk to hear me. It was more for myself than him. “We just can’t do this anymore.” Our gratitude was too heavy, and it crushed our love. Our guilt was too deep, and it poisoned our hearts. He passed out shortly after. I sat beside him, watching his sleeping face. He was still incredibly handsome, but he looked so tired. I took out my notepad and wrote: [Julian, we are over.] [Live your life. You don’t owe me anything.] [Please don’t come back.] I left the note on the table, grabbed my keys, and quietly shut the door behind me. He deserved a bright, successful life. One without the heavy burden of me.

I walked aimlessly down the streets. Since I lost my hearing, the world had become completely silent. At first, it drove me crazy. But now, it felt safe. At least in the silence, I couldn’t hear the pitying whispers or the cruel comments. As I passed a music store, a vintage piano in the window caught my eye. I suddenly remembered that before the fire, I used to play. My mother always told me my fingers were made for the keys. But after the accident, those same fingers were only used for clumsy sign language. Or to feel Julian’s promises traced on my palm. I pushed the door open and walked in. The owner, a kind, middle-aged man, smiled and walked over to me. He started speaking, but I pointed to my ears and shook my head. He understood instantly. Smiling warmly, he handed me a notepad and a pen. [Want to try it out?] he wrote. I pointed to the vintage piano. [Go ahead. Give it a play,] he encouraged. I sat down at the piano, placing my fingers on the cool keys. It felt so familiar. I pressed a key. Silence. At least, to my ears. But I could feel the vibration ripple through my fingertips, sending a sweet shiver up my arm. I began to play. It was the opening of Beethoven’s “Pathétique Sonata”, Second Movement. Before the fire, it was my favorite piece. Gentle, yet incredibly resilient. Now, I could only play it through memory and the physical vibration of the keys. The owner stood nearby, quietly watching me. When I finished, even though I couldn’t hear a thing, I saw him clapping enthusiastically. He quickly wrote on the pad: [That was beautiful. You play with so much soul.] I smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Can a deaf person really play with soul?” Maybe Beethoven could, but I was no genius. [Thank you,] I wrote back, standing up to leave. But the owner stopped me. He wrote: [Would you like a job here? Just light cleaning, organizing sheet music, and playing for customers who want to hear the instruments?] I stared at the note, stunned. [I can tell you love music,] he added. [And it’s very quiet here. I think you’d like it.] Looking into his kind, honest eyes, something inside me stirred. Maybe… just maybe, I could start over. On my own. I took the job. My new life at the shop was simple and peaceful. I cleaned, organized, and helped customers. Even though I couldn’t hear the tones of the pianos, I memorized the unique characteristics of every model. The owner, Arthur Hayes, was incredibly patient. He never treated me differently because of my scars or my deafness. He only praised my hard work. In my free time, I sat at the vintage piano and practiced. My ears were broken, but my muscle memory was perfect. Arthur told me that watching me play was a joy. [Your fingers are dancing,] he wrote one day. I was genuinely happy. I loved the scent of wood polish in the air, and the solid, grounding feel of the piano keys. Until the day Julian found me. He stood in the doorway, the sunlight casting a long, thin shadow behind him. He had lost a lot of weight. Seeing me at the piano, his eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions. Arthur looked between us, got the message, and quietly slipped into the back room. Julian walked over and stood by the piano. He reached out to touch my shoulder, but hesitated and pulled his hand back. “Iris,” his lips formed my name. I looked up, completely calm. [I’ve been looking for you everywhere,] he wrote on my notepad. His handwriting was messy and rushed. “Okay,” I nodded. [Are you… doing well here?] “Very well.” He fell silent, his eyes scanning my face. This time, he didn’t look away, but I could see the painful struggle in his eyes. [There is nothing going on between me and Chloe,] he wrote quickly, as if desperate to convince me. [She’s just a colleague.] Looking at him, I felt a sudden urge to laugh. “What does it matter now?” Even if it wasn’t Chloe, it would have been someone else eventually. The problem was never Chloe. The problem was the crushing weight of his guilt, and the pressure of a duty he never really wanted. The problem was my face—a face even I was afraid to look at. I took the pen and wrote: [Julian, we broke up. Who you spend your time with is none of my business.] He stared at the words, his eyes turning red. [But I can’t let you go!] He snatched the pen, writing so hard he nearly ripped the paper. [I tried! I go to work, I perform surgeries, I try to block you out!] [But every time I close my eyes, all I see is you pushing me out of that fire! I see you lying in that hospital bed!] [Iris, I owe you my life! How do you expect me to just move on?!] And there it was. We were right back where we started. Debt. Guilt. He was trapped in a cage of his own making, and I was his only way to earn forgiveness. Now that I had walked away, he was completely lost. I sighed, took the pen, and wrote slowly: [You never owed me a life, Julian.] [I saved you because, in that moment, I wanted you to live.] [That’s all.] [If my sacrifice only brings you pain, then I take it back.] [You are free, Julian.] [And so am I.] My hand shook slightly as I finished writing, but my heart was incredibly light. Julian stared at the page as if all the strength had been drained from his body. He stumbled back a step. He looked at me with a deep, agonizing pain that I no longer cared to understand. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the shop. The glass door swung shut, the wind chimes moving in silence.

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Ethan had just sent me a Snapchat when the new intern handed me a wedding invitation. “Working late tonight. Ordered takeout for you.” As I opened the envelope, I wondered which coworker was rich enough to use heavy gold foil. But my heart stopped when I saw the names on the card. *The wedding of Mr. Ethan Vance & Miss Tiffany Sterling.* The venue was The Skyline Penthouse, the most expensive rooftop restaurant in the city. Just last week, for my birthday, he told me that place was too gaudy and overpriced. He said we should just order takeout and watch Netflix at home instead. I snapped a photo of the invitation and sent it to Ethan. “So you’re getting married. Why am I just finding out?” He called back almost instantly. “It’s just someone with the same name, Chloe. Are you worried I’d get married behind your back?” Ethan’s laugh sounded forced, laced with a nervous cheerfulness. “Not at all.” I leaned back in my chair, matching his casual tone. “Just a friendly reminder. If you ever dare to get married without me, I’ll walk down that aisle and list every single dollar you owe me in front of all your guests.” “Don’t talk crazy,” his voice dropped, turning serious. “You’re the only one I’ll ever marry. Once this partnership goes through, we’ll get our marriage license. Don’t overthink it, babe. Eat your dinner.” The moment I hung up, my smile vanished. Sienna, the executive assistant, glanced at the invitation in my hand and whispered. “Chloe, isn’t that Tiffany? She was bragging last week about how amazing her boyfriend is. She said he bought her a luxury condo downtown, and she even mentioned she knew you.” My mind flashed through Tiffany’s three months at our company. As an intern who dropped in out of nowhere, she never lacked designer bags or limited-edition jewelry. During our last team dinner, she held up her phone to show everyone a matching couple’s bracelet. “My boyfriend picked it. He said this simple style suits me best.” It was the exact same bracelet Ethan had bought me for his birthday last year. The one he later claimed he “accidentally lost.” Over the past six months, his “late-night meetings” had become more frequent. Every time I brought up marriage, he would brush it off, claiming the company was just starting up. So, he was keeping a side piece. With a cold smile, I called the Skyline Penthouse booking line. After giving the receptionist Ethan’s name and phone number, she replied politely. “Yes, Ms. Vance has booked the main hall for tomorrow afternoon for a wedding ceremony. Would you like to modify the reservation details?” I froze for a few seconds before hanging up. A sharp, piercing pain stabbed at my chest. Ethan and I had been dating for three years and living together for five. He had never paid a single cent of rent or utilities, racking up a total of $35,000 in unpaid bills. He always said he was too busy with work. He promised that when we bought a house, he would put my name on the deed. It was all a lie. I took a pen and wrote on the back of the wedding invitation, stroke by stroke. “Wedding Gift: $35,000 in unpaid rent and utilities owed by Ethan Vance. Please collect on his behalf, Tiffany.” Once done, I stood up and walked to the breakroom. Tiffany was drinking coffee and chatting with a colleague, a sweet, smug smile plastered on her face. I walked over and slammed the invitation onto the table in front of her. “Tiffany, congratulations on your upcoming wedding.” “Please accept this wedding gift. After all, you’re about to own half his debts anyway.” The smile on Tiffany’s face froze. She looked at me, completely bewildered. “Chloe, what is this supposed to mean?” “Nothing much.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “Just letting you know that the man you’re marrying, Ethan, is my boyfriend.” “Liar!” Tiffany’s face flushed red, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Ethan said he knew you, but you’re just casual acquaintances!” “Casual acquaintances?” I laughed, pulling up my phone to show her a photo of Ethan and me. It was taken at the beach last summer. He had his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, smiling warmly. I said slowly, “We’ve lived together for five years. When he started his company, I borrowed $50,000 from my Aunt Sarah to fund him. When his first venture failed, I co-signed his $800,000 business debt.” “Tiffany, do you really think ‘casual acquaintances’ do that?” The surrounding colleagues immediately turned to stare, whispering. Tiffany couldn’t hold back her tears. She grabbed the invitation and ran out of the office, sobbing. Less than ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was Ethan. His voice was dripping with fury. “Chloe! What the hell did you say to Tiffany? She’s crying and threatening to call off the wedding! Our entire partnership with Sterling Group is about to blow up!” I let out a soft laugh. “Ethan, instead of asking what I said to her, why don’t you ask yourself if you’re the one marrying her tomorrow?”

The line went silent for a few seconds before Ethan’s voice returned, suddenly sounding pathetic and desperate. “Chloe, the wedding with Tiffany is just a business arrangement. The Sterling Group has a strict policy that only married executives can lead this new project. I’m doing all of this for our future! Once I get my share of the project dividends, I’ll divorce her. Then, I’ll buy us a mansion and give you the grandest wedding ever, okay?” “A business arrangement?” I couldn’t believe he was still trying to feed me this garbage. I shut him down instantly. “So the downtown condo you bought her with corporate funds is a business arrangement? The $5,000 monthly allowance you wire her is also part of the contract?” “Ethan, do you think I’m an idiot?” I was practically shouting, my chest heaving with rage. “How… how do you know about that?” His voice panicked. “Chloe, listen to me, those were just…” “Save it.” I cut him off coldly. “I only have one question. When are you paying back the $35,000 you owe me for rent, and when are you releasing me from the $800,000 debt I co-signed?” Hearing me mention money, Ethan’s tone turned vicious. “Chloe, don’t push it! It’s just a few thousand bucks! Are you really going to ruin my entire career over this?” “I’m warning you, go apologize to Tiffany right now, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” He slammed the phone down, not even giving me a chance to fire back. I opened my bottom drawer and pulled out the yellowed debt-guarantee agreement. Three years ago, Ethan had literally dropped to his knees, begging me with teary eyes to co-sign that loan. He said he would marry me once the company succeeded. He said he would never let me suffer. He said our future would be beautiful. But I was never in his future. I was just a tool—someone whose trust and credit he could exploit to fund his lifestyle and charm another woman. I took a photo of the agreement and drafted a text message. “Ethan Vance’s co-signed debt of $800,000, plus $120,000 in accumulated interest, totaling $920,000. Please sign as a co-debtor, Tiffany.” I attached a voice clip of him begging me to sign the papers three years ago and sent it to Tiffany. “Congratulations, Tiffany. The moment you sign that marriage certificate, half of his debt becomes yours.” I don’t know how much time passed before my office door was slammed open. “Chloe! What the hell is wrong with you?” Ethan marched in, his eyes bloodshot, completely stripped of his usual polished demeanor. “Tiffany is locked in her room crying, trying to cancel the wedding! Mr. Sterling has put the entire project on hold! Are you trying to ruin everyone?” I looked up at him, my eyes devoid of any emotion. “Everyone? Do you mean you, or Tiffany?” He choked on his words, his tone suddenly softening. “That money… Aunt Sarah said I could pay her back slowly…” “Oh, slowly?” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “So you’re slowly paying back my aunt, while using company funds to buy Tiffany a luxury condo downtown? Ethan, how many years in federal prison do you get for embezzlement again?” Ethan’s voice dropped, trembling. “What do you want?” “Two choices.” My voice was dead calm. “First, wire the $920,000 into my aunt’s account before the wedding tomorrow, and I’ll keep my mouth shut. Second, I walk into that wedding venue with all the evidence and hand it to every single guest, especially the bank executives Tiffany’s dad invited.” “How would you even get my financial records!” “Did you forget?” I whispered softly. “Your company’s online banking is tied to my phone number. I receive a text alert for every single suspicious transaction.” Realization dawned on Ethan. He tried one last desperate attempt to gaslight me. “Chloe, we’ve been together for five years. Are you really this heartless? You want to destroy me?” I looked at him blankly. “You did this to yourself.” In the end, Ethan left the office, his face pale as a ghost.

After he left, Sienna placed a hot coffee on my desk. “Chloe, if you want to cry, just cry.” “I’m fine.” I smiled at her. “By the way, you interned in the commercial lending department before, right?” She blinked, nodding. “Do me a favor.” I unlocked my phone and pulled up the public financing announcement for Tiffany’s father’s company, Sterling Group. “Look up the status of their latest loan application. Keep it quiet. Don’t leave a paper trail.” Sienna’s eyes widened, but she nodded quickly. “Got it. I’m on it.” By 9 PM, I received the preliminary audit report for Sterling Group’s latest $30 million bank loan. The status was *Pending Approval*. And one of the key guarantors listed was none other than Ethan Vance. Of course. The only reason Ethan had climbed onto the Sterling family tree was to secure this massive loan. His ambition was terrifying. I kept digging into Ethan’s projects over the past few years. I discovered he had used his executive position to pocket kickbacks and funnel corporate money. During the five years I thought he was working hard for us, he had rotted to the core. At 11 PM, Ethan sent two threatening texts. “The money will be wired first thing tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid.” “If Tiffany finds out about this debt, she’ll die!” I scoffed. “Whether she lives or dies is none of my business. I just want my money.” Before midnight, Aunt Sarah texted me confirming she had received the full wire transfer. She asked how Ethan and I were doing, and if we were finally getting married. I gave her a brief, bitter reply, and then got ready for my grand entrance at the Skyline Penthouse. The wedding march was reaching its climax when I walked in. Ethan and Tiffany were standing under a lush arch of white roses, exchanging rings. The officiant spoke into the microphone. “Tiffany Sterling, do you take Ethan Vance to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer…” “Objection.” My voice, projected through a Bluetooth microphone I brought, echoed loudly across the ballroom. “Maybe you should ask her if she’s willing to marry a man who is $920,000 in debt, has embezzled $3 million from his own firm, and is currently under investigation by federal auditors.” Every single guest gasped and whipped their heads around. The color drained from Ethan’s face. Tiffany’s eyes widened in sheer horror. I walked up the aisle, straight onto the stage, and took the microphone from the stunned officiant. “Before you answer that, Tiffany, you might want to listen to this.” I raised my phone and hit play. Ethan’s voice, talking to his accountant, blasted through the speakers. “Chloe is carrying that $800,000 debt. She won’t say anything. Once the Sterling loan is approved, I’ll use the cash to plug the company’s holes. No one will ever know…” Tiffany turned to Ethan, her white gown shaking as she trembled. I looked down at Mr. Sterling, whose face had turned a deep shade of crimson. “Ethan used my credit to guarantee his personal debts, and he planned to use your company’s loan to cover up his financial crimes.” Before anyone could speak, I played the second audio clip—the recording from last night. “I’ll clean up the $3 million embezzlement for the condo after the wedding. Just don’t expose me at the venue, and I’ll pay you off.” The crowd erupted into whispers and shouting. Mr. Sterling slammed his hands on the table and stood up, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Who are you! Stop spreading lies at my daughter’s wedding!” I smiled warmly. “I am Ethan’s actual girlfriend of five years. I’m also the co-signer of his massive debt, and the whistleblower who just submitted all the embezzlement evidence to the authorities. The forensic team should be at his office right now.” As if on cue, Mr. Sterling’s phone started ringing off the hook. The caller’s voice was loud enough for those nearby to hear. I caught words like *loan suspended*, *emergency audit*, and *fraud investigation*. Ethan lunged forward to grab my microphone, but two security guards—whom I had tipped off beforehand about a potential disruption—tackled him to the ground. “Chloe! You bitch! You ruined me!” he screamed, pinning his face against the polished floor. I looked down at him. “You ruined yourself.” “The moment you made me sign that debt agreement and went to sleep with another woman, you should have expected this day.” I turned to Tiffany. She had collapsed into the arms of her bridesmaids, her expensive makeup ruined by tears. “Tiffany, now you can answer the officiant.” “Tell him if you still want to marry Ethan.”

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After I gave birth, Ethan was so worried I’d get postpartum depression and feel insecure that he went out of his way to replace our pretty maid with Bertha—a frumpy, two-hundred-pound housekeeper. Even though his company was incredibly busy, he made sure a different bouquet of fresh flowers and a thoughtful gift were delivered to my luxury postpartum recovery retreat every single day. That was until I received a torn custom designer gown. That very moment, I decided to end it. “We are getting a divorce. I don’t want a single penny of your money, and I never want to see your face again.” The moment he got my text, he literally walked out of a multi-million-dollar business negotiation and rushed over to my retreat. “Chloe, I replaced our housekeeper of eight years just so you wouldn’t feel insecure!” he panted, trying to defend himself. “You said you loved this designer, so I paid double and pre-ordered this gown six months in advance!” “And now you’re telling me you want a divorce? What is wrong with you? What more do you want?!” I coldly threw the expensive gown onto the floor. “Why don’t you give this gown to your new housekeeper then? I am divorcing you, Ethan. No matter what.”

It took less than thirty minutes after I sent that text for Ethan to burst into my private suite at the recovery retreat. Beads of sweat lined his forehead. He had obviously run all the way here. “Chloe Vance, do you have any idea how big the deal I was negotiating just now was?” He was trying to suppress his anger, but his voice was shaking uncontrollably. “Just because of one text from you, I left the entire board of directors waiting in the conference room!” I pulled the pre-drafted divorce papers from my nightstand and slid them across the table. “Perfect timing. Sign this.” “I get sole custody of our daughter. You can keep all your assets. I don’t want a single dime.” Ethan’s face went pale in an instant. “What kind of game are you playing right now?” He stared at the document in sheer disbelief. “Just because of this gown? If you don’t like it, I’ll order you another one. Ten of them! A hundred! Whatever you want!” “I get it. You’re mad at me because I’ve been too busy to spend time with you lately. But don’t use divorce to throw a tantrum.” I looked Ethan straight in the eye. “You know me, Ethan. I don’t joke about things like this.” He grabbed my hands, his eyes pleading. “Babe, please. I know your hormones are all over the place right now. You can scream at me, you can hit me, but please, don’t do this.” Outside the open door of my suite, a small crowd started to gather in the hallway. The nurses and some of the other wealthy mothers staying at the retreat began whispering among themselves. “What is she drama-queening about now? Her husband literally sends her different flowers and gifts every day. He’s like the perfect husband.” “Right? I heard he even fired his hot, young maid and hired a two-hundred-pound, plain-looking housekeeper just so she wouldn’t worry about him cheating!” “Some women are just so ungrateful. She just had a baby and she’s already starting drama.” The whispers weren’t loud, but they were loud enough to carry into the room. Ethan heard them too. He softened his voice, putting on his best caring-husband act. “Chloe, I know your hormones are making you sensitive right now.” “We’ve been together for so many years, and we just had our beautiful baby girl. If something is bothering you, just tell me. We can fix this together.” “But divorce? You can’t just throw that word around.” He sounded so incredibly sincere. But all I felt was a cold, bitter disgust. From college sweethearts to marriage, Ethan and I were each other’s first loves. We started our business together back in college. During the hardest times, I drank so much at business dinners to secure clients that I ended up with stomach bleeding. In the hospital room, he had held my hand tightly, swearing he would never let me suffer again, promising to make me the happiest woman in the world. And for a long time, he did exactly that. Everyone envied me for having such a perfect partner. During my pregnancy, even a slight frown on my face would make him worry for days. He insisted on doing everything himself whenever he could find the time. To prove he wouldn’t stray while I was stuck in recovery, he even replaced our cute, efficient maid of eight years with Bertha, a frumpy, obese woman. But I simply pulled my hand out of Ethan’s grip. “I am divorcing you. It’s final.” Seeing my cold determination, Bertha, who had been hovering outside the door, suddenly pushed her way into the room. “Mrs. Sterling, how can you treat Mr. Sterling like this?!” She yelled in her raspy voice, her chubby face twisted with righteous indignation. “Do you have any idea how much Mr. Sterling has done for you?!” “Just because you casually mentioned you liked this designer brand, Mr. Sterling pulled so many strings and paid a fortune to get this custom gown made for you.” “And you? You just throw a fit and demand a divorce over a dress!” I gave her a disgusted look. “You’re just a housekeeper. What right do you have to raise your voice at me in my own room?” “Since you care about him so much, why don’t you marry him instead?”

Bertha’s face instantly flushed red with embarrassment. “Mrs. Sterling… please. Look at me. How could someone like Mr. Sterling ever look at a girl like me?” I let out a cold laugh. “My own mother hasn’t even arrived yet, but you, a housekeeper, sure rushed over here fast, didn’t you?” Bertha’s eyes flickered with panic. She quickly tried to explain, “I—I was just bringing some documents Mr. Sterling left at home. I was just tagging along.” “When I heard you wanted a divorce, I just got worried. I felt bad for Mr. Sterling. Please don’t overthink this.” As she spoke, she actually started crying. “I’ve been fat since I was a kid. No boy ever looked at me in school.” “If Mr. Sterling hadn’t taken pity on me and given me this job, I wouldn’t even have the money to pay for my mom’s medical bills.” The onlookers outside whispered as they took in Bertha’s bloated frame and acne-scarred face. They shook their heads. “Is this wife crazy? She’s actually insecure about a housekeeper who looks like that?” “Exactly! Look at her size. She’s literally twice the size of her husband. What could he possibly see in her?” “If I looked like that housekeeper, I wouldn’t even dare to step out of the house, let alone try to steal someone’s husband!” Hearing the crowd take his side, Ethan’s confidence seemed to return. He squeezed my hand tightly and whispered, “Chloe, even strangers can see how ridiculous this is. Why are you being so stubborn?” “I hired Bertha specifically so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything during your recovery.” “We’ve been together for years. Why can’t you just trust me?” I looked at him and sneered. “Fine. Fire her right now.” Ethan froze. A flash of hesitation crossed his eyes. “Mrs. Sterling!” Bertha suddenly fell to her knees, tears streaming down her round cheeks. “Mrs. Sterling, my mother is in end-stage kidney failure! She needs dialysis every week, and my salary is the only thing keeping her alive!” “I know I’m ugly and I hurt your eyes. I promise I’ll only do the cleaning and cooking when you’re not around. I will never show my face to you again! Please, please don’t let Mr. Sterling fire me!” She wept hysterically, her heavy frame shaking with each sob. Sympathetic murmurs immediately broke out from the crowd in the hallway. “Oh my god, she’s so pitiful. Can’t the wife show some mercy?” “Exactly. The wife is just paranoid. The poor housekeeper did nothing wrong.” “I get that post-pregnancy hormones make you emotional, but this is just straight-up bullying.” The whispers grew louder. Bertha even reached out and grabbed the hem of my robe. “Mrs. Sterling, I swear I’ll stay far away from Mr. Sterling. Please, just give me and my mother a chance to survive.” Seeing my face remain completely emotionless, Ethan’s expression hardened. “Chloe, this is too much. Why do you have to bully a poor housekeeper?” Watching the two of them perform their little sob story, I wanted to laugh. “Ethan, you know exactly what dirty laundry you’ve been hiding. Stop treating me like an idiot.” I didn’t want to waste any more words. I threw the divorce papers directly at his face. Right then, the crowd parted, and my mother rushed into the room. Her face was pale with worry as she pushed through the onlookers to get to my bedside. “Chloe! My sweet girl, what on earth is going on? Why are you suddenly talking about divorce?” “Tell me, did Ethan do something to hurt you?” “If you’re hurting, tell me. I’m right here. I won’t let anyone mistreat you.”

Looking into my mother’s worried eyes, my throat tightened. My mom had always spoiled me. Ever since I got pregnant, she had protected me like I was made of glass. She and my dad had a perfect marriage, and she had always assumed Ethan and I were just as happy. Hearing about the divorce was a complete shock to her. I opened my mouth, but the words felt heavy. Seeing my hesitation, Ethan quickly stepped forward. He looked incredibly polite and humble. “Mom, thank god you’re here. Please help me talk to Chloe.” “I think I’ve just been too busy with work lately and haven’t spent enough time with her. She’s upset, and now she’s taking it out on our marriage.” His words immediately painted him as the victim to the crowd outside. “See? What a great guy. He’s taking all the blame.” “Honestly, postpartum depression is real, but threatening divorce every second is just toxic.” “He literally sends flowers and gifts every day. Sure, he’s busy, but his heart is in the right place. What else does she want?” My mother listened to the murmurs, then looked at Ethan’s seemingly sincere face. Her brow furrowed slightly. But she still turned to me gently. “Chloe, I know you wouldn’t make a scene for no reason. What is it really?” As she spoke, her eyes drifted to Bertha, who was trying to shrink her massive body into the corner of the room. Seeing Bertha’s plain, overweight appearance, a flash of confusion crossed my mother’s eyes. “Ethan replaced your old maid with someone… so plain, just to make sure you felt secure,” my mother said carefully, choosing her words. “If he went to those lengths… Chloe, are you sure you aren’t just feeling lonely because he’s been working so much?” “No, Mom,” I said, lifting my head. My voice was quiet but steady. “It’s not because he’s busy. I am divorcing him. And nothing will change my mind.” “Babe!” Ethan’s eyes welled with tears. “What did I do wrong? Just tell me and I’ll fix it! I swear I’ll fix it!” “I can put the company on hold. I’ll stay here with you and the baby every day, okay?” “Our daughter is so small. She needs a father. Please don’t talk about divorce anymore.” Hearing him mention our daughter, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the bassinet where my baby girl was sleeping peacefully. Bertha chimed in again, “Mrs. Sterling, this is all my fault! If you really can’t stand the sight of me, I’ll leave!” “I’ll sell my own blood to pay for my mom’s dialysis! I can’t let you and Mr. Sterling divorce because of me!” That comment was the final straw for the crowd outside. “Are you kidding me? She’s literally forcing this poor girl to sell her blood!” “She is heartless! That poor housekeeper!” People in the hallway started openly criticizing me, their voices rising. The whole scene was so absurd it was almost comical. Any remaining doubt in my heart vanished completely. I pushed the divorce papers closer to Ethan. “Ethan, if you want to play the saint and charity case for her and her sick mother, go ahead. It has nothing to do with me.” “Sign the papers, and you can play hero all you want. I won’t care.” “But I’ve changed my mind. I’m not just taking our daughter. I’m stripping you of every single asset. You are leaving with nothing.”

The words “leaving with nothing” sent a shockwave through the room. Ethan’s face twisted. “Chloe Vance, do you even hear yourself?” I looked at him, completely calm. “You heard me. I want you to leave with absolutely nothing.” “Are you out of your mind?!” he hissed under his breath. “I built this company with my own blood, sweat, and tears! On what grounds are you demanding my assets? Because of your baseless, paranoid accusations?!” “Your blood, sweat, and tears?” I repeated softly. “Ethan, did you forget where the seed money and the core technology for the company came from?” “Did you forget how many times I had to bail you out of your own messes?” I stared him down. “Last year, when your terrible decision-making caused a massive cash flow crisis, who was the one who used her family connections to secure the emergency funding that saved us?” “And now you think you own it all?” I let out a cold chuckle. “How do you sleep at night, using my family’s resources while gaslighting me like I’m an idiot?” “I have never lied to you!” Ethan defended himself passionately. “Chloe, you can’t just make things up because you’re in a bad mood! You need proof!” “Proof?” I looked at him and smirked. “Don’t worry. I have all the proof I need. It’s coming.” “Right now, I just want to see your attitude. Are you going to sign, or not?” My mother looked between the two of us, torn. “Chloe, sweetie, please tell me what’s actually going on. You can’t just get a divorce over a misunderstanding.” “But if you’re saying it’s because of the housekeeper… surely there’s a mistake?” Ethan immediately seized on my mother’s doubt. “Mom! Exactly! Think about it!” “Why would I ever do anything with her? What could I possibly gain from that?” He pointed at Bertha, his voice dripping with insulted pride. “Yes, I admit I’ve been busy and haven’t been home much. But she can’t just slander me like this!” Beside him, Bertha kept her head down, looking like a trembling, innocent victim. “Fine!” I finally spoke. The room fell dead silent. Everyone stared at me. “Since you all want a reason so badly, and since you’re forcing me to drag this trash into the light…” I took a deep breath, speaking clearly so everyone could hear: “I’ll tell you exactly why I am divorcing this man!”

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I had a poor appetite and left half my bowl of rice. My dad, Arthur, gently patted my head with concern. “Why are you eating so little, sweetie? You’re getting so thin.” My mom, Clara, chimed in from the side, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s growing up. She’s starting to care about her looks. Unlike me. After I had her, I gained so much weight and never lost it.” Arthur didn’t notice the coldness in her eyes. Without even looking up, he agreed, “True, you are a bit on the heavier side now. It’s not healthy. You should go on a diet.” Right after Arthur left the house, Clara marched into my room, holding the hot rice cooker pot. She grabbed the back of my neck and slammed my face straight into the scalding hot rice. “Eat! I said eat! Eat until you throw up!” “Always playing the fake little angel in front of him! Let’s see you play dead now!” The boiling hot rice pressed hard against my cheek. Every single grain felt like a branding iron. “M-Mom… it burns…” I struggled wildly, my hands clawing at the air, but her grip on my neck was like steel. “Burns? Good! It should burn!” Clara’s voice hissed in my ear, filled with a twisted, manic excitement. “Don’t you love playing the victim in front of him? I’ll give you something to actually cry about!” Only when the residual heat of the rice finally faded did she roughly let go of me. I collapsed onto the floor, clutching half of my face. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t even scream. I could only make muffled, whimpering sounds like a wounded animal. In the mirror, the left side of my face was blistered and bright red. A few squashed grains of rice still stuck to my skin. I looked pathetic and ridiculous. Clara looked down at me, a twisted sense of satisfaction spreading across her face. “Clean yourself up.” She pulled out a few wet wipes and threw them at my face. “When your father gets back, tell him you were clumsy. Tell him you slipped while carrying hot soup and fell face-first. Got it?” With tears in my eyes, I nodded desperately. I didn’t dare to say no. A few days later, Arthur returned. When he saw the lingering scars on my face, his expression changed instantly. He rushed over to me. “Lily! What happened to your face?” I lowered my head, not daring to look him in the eye. I repeated the lie Clara had forced me to memorize: “…I was clumsy. I slipped.” Clara chimed in right on cue, her voice sounding full of “concern” and mild annoyance. “She’s sixteen, yet she’s still so clumsy.” “Fortunately, the soup wasn’t boiling hot. Otherwise, half her face would have been ruined.” Arthur gently cupped my face, blowing softly on my cheek. “You silly girl. Be careful next time.” His hands were warm and dry. He smelled of tobacco and aftershave. Instinctively, I wanted to lean into his warmth. But behind him, Clara’s gaze felt like poisoned needles stabbing into my back. I quickly took a step back, escaping Arthur’s touch. “Dad, I’m fine. I’m going to my room to do homework.” I fled to my room, shut the door, and slid down against it. The tears fell silently. I wanted so badly to tell Arthur the truth. But I didn’t dare. Arthur loved me, but he loved Clara too. Clara always told me that the only reason Arthur cared about me was because I was her daughter. I believed her. Besides, Arthur was always so busy. Most of the time, we didn’t even see each other once a week. I was nothing but a doll in Clara’s hands, to be played with or broken at her whim. From that day on, I stopped responding to Arthur’s kindness. Because I knew that every ounce of love he showed me would only make Clara burn with jealousy. And later, she would take out all her bottled-up rage on me in the most brutal ways.

From that day on, I deliberately avoided Arthur. On the rare occasions he came home, I locked myself in my room. When he called me for dinner, I always said I wasn’t hungry. When he wanted to talk about school, I answered with one-word grunts. Arthur thought I was just going through a rebellious teenage phase. He only sighed with helplessness. Clara, however, seemed very pleased with my “good behavior.” For a while, the tension in the house eased up. Until Arthur came back from another business trip. He brought back a beautiful white dress for me. “Our Lily will look like an absolute angel in this,” Arthur said, holding the dress against me with a proud, beaming smile. Looking at the dress, I didn’t feel joy. I felt a cold, paralyzing terror. Sure enough, Clara’s face darkened instantly. She forced a stiff smile. “Why buy her a white dress? It gets dirty so easily. Besides, her skin isn’t as fair as mine. It’ll just make her look washed out.” Arthur, completely oblivious to her jealousy, said cheerfully, “No way! Lily has your complexion. She’s fair and beautiful. I remember you used to love white dresses when you were young. Back then…” “Enough!” Clara snapped, her voice sharp and screeching. “That was a long time ago! Why bring it up!” Arthur froze, startled by her sudden outburst. Trying to clear the awkwardness, he chuckled, “Alright, alright, I won’t. Lily, go try it on.” Holding the dress, it felt like a hot coal burning my hands. I wanted to refuse. I wanted to tell Arthur I hated white dresses. But looking at his expectant, loving eyes, the words clogged in my throat. “Go on, Lily. Go try it on. Your dad spent a long time picking this out for you.” “Yeah, your dad bought this specifically for you. He didn’t even get me anything. Go put it on. Show your dad…” Clara smiled sweetly, but her eyes were cold as daggers. I had no choice. I walked into my room with a heavy heart. I put on the dress and lingered inside for as long as I could before stepping out. The moment Arthur saw me, his eyes lit up. “Beautiful! So beautiful! I knew it, my daughter is the prettiest girl in the world!” He pulled out his phone, snapping photos of me non-stop. Clara stood right behind him. She didn’t say a word, just stared at me with murderous eyes. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a girl in a pretty new dress. I felt like a prisoner standing on the scaffold, waiting for the blade to fall. That night, Arthur went to bed early, exhausted from his trip. Just as I finished my shower, my bedroom door creaked open. Clara walked in. In her hand, she held a pair of sharp kitchen scissors. “Put the dress on,” she commanded. “Mom, it’s so late…” “I said, put it on!” With trembling hands, I pulled the white dress back over my body. Clara looked at me with satisfaction, then raised the scissors. “Snip—” A long lock of my dark hair fell onto the pristine white fabric. She grabbed my hair, cutting it chunk by chunk. In the mirror, my long, beautiful hair was hacked into an ugly, uneven mess. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced myself not to let them fall. “Fair skin? Like me?” Clara mocked, whispering harshly in my ear as she cut. “What makes you think you can ever compare to me?” “You are nothing but a tool I birthed to keep him tied to me. To secure my place!” “And now you want to wear white dresses like me? You don’t deserve it!” She threw the scissors aside, grabbed my head by the hair, and slammed it hard against the mirror. “Crash!” The mirror shattered. Through the web of cracks, I saw my own broken, tear-stained face.

Arthur was still incredibly busy. He left early the next morning. By the time he returned a few weeks later, the bruise on my forehead had faded. My hacked hair had grown out slightly, looking like an edgy pixie cut. Arthur was surprised at first, but then he smiled. “Our Lily looks great with short hair too! I know what this is—it’s called a cool, modern look, right?” I hesitated, wanting to say something, but the moment I caught Clara’s warning glare from the kitchen, I kept my mouth shut. Soon, it was my sixteenth birthday. Arthur said he had missed too many of my birthdays because of work, and he promised to make it up to me this year. He started planning two weeks in advance. He ordered a cake from the best bakery in town and took a whole day off just to spend it with me. On the morning of my birthday, he woke me up early, excitedly holding out a small velvet box. “Happy birthday, Lily! My baby girl is another year older.” I opened the box. Inside was a delicate silver locket. Arthur smiled and clicked it open. Inside was a photo of him from his younger days—handsome, tall, and smiling. “When I’m not around, this locket will protect you for me.” A warmth bloomed in my chest, and my eyes grew hot. But when I looked up and saw Clara standing in the doorway, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She was standing there in her messy loungewear, hair uncombed, face pale. She stared at the locket in my hand with a look of pure, consuming madness. Arthur followed my gaze and smiled at her. “Clara, look at this. Doesn’t it look beautiful on Lily?” Clara didn’t say a word. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled her lips back into a smile that looked more like a corpse’s grimace. Cold sweat broke out across my body. I instinctively reached up to take the necklace off. But Arthur stopped my hand. “Keep it on. It’s your birthday present from me.” That day, Clara was unusually quiet. She even cooked a big dinner filled with my favorite foods. She kept putting food on my plate, smiling warmly the entire time. But underneath that calm surface, I could feel a volcano ready to erupt. Sure enough, by evening, Arthur’s phone rang. It was an emergency at work. He had to fly out immediately. “Lily, I’m so sorry. I can’t stay to blow out the candles with you,” he said guiltily, stroking my hair. “When I get back, I promise I’ll bring you an even bigger present to make it up to you, okay?” I grabbed the edge of his coat, shaking my head desperately, my eyes begging him. “Don’t go, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone with her.” But he didn’t understand. He just thought I was being affectionate. He smiled and comforted me, “Silly girl, I’ll be back before you know it.” The front door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hallway. The apartment fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Clara slowly stood up. Her slippers dragged against the hardwood floor. Step by step, she walked toward me. I froze, too terrified to look back. “Did you have a nice birthday?” her voice whispered from behind me. A shiver ran up my spine. She walked around to face me, then knelt down so we were eye-to-eye. She reached out, her fingers gently tracing the silver locket around my neck. Her touch was incredibly soft, as if she were handling a priceless treasure. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. “So much more beautiful than the one he gave me the year we got married.” Suddenly, her fingernails dug viciously into my skin. “You cheap little slut… are you trying to steal my husband from me now?”

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My bestie secretly whispered a jaw-dropping secret to me: her husband had two cocks. As an oncologist, I immediately warned her that it was likely a tumor. If it wasn’t surgically removed, it could turn into terminal cancer. Chloe scoffed at my advice. “A tumor? Please, you’re just jealous because you haven’t seen it.” “Whatever. You’re single and lonely, Avery. What would you know about a real man?” But I kept nagging her out of love, and she finally agreed to take him to the hospital. The ultrasound confirmed it. It was indeed a malignant tumor. Who would have thought that after Garrett had the tumor removed, his sexual performance completely tanked? Chloe brainwashed her husband, telling him that I was the one who ruined their marital bliss. “She knew you had a double package, Garrett! She was so jealous of me that she did this on purpose!” “Now you’re useless in bed, and it’s all her fault! A wicked bitch like her deserves to die!” The next thing I knew, Garrett pushed me off the hospital’s rooftop garden. I plummeted to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the exact day Chloe came to me with her little secret. This time, I was going to mind my own business.

“Avery, come closer. Let me tell you something crazy. My husband is… gifted. He literally has two cocks! I am the luckiest girl alive!” When I finally processed what my bestie, Chloe, was saying, my pupils dilated in sheer horror. My back went stiff, cold sweat broke out across my neck, and my hands clenched into tight fists. Seeing my reaction, Chloe swatted my arm playfully, a smug, blushing grin plastered on her face. “Look at you, completely speechless! Shocked, right? I was stunned too when I first found out.” “I’m only telling you because you’re my bestie. Keep it on the down-low, okay?” Only this time, I noticed what I had missed in my past life—underneath her fake modesty, Chloe’s eyes were filled with bragging rights and deep satisfaction. My entire body was tense, my fists still clenched, and my breathing grew shallow. It wasn’t because of her wild confession. It was because of the mind-blowing realization that I had been reborn. I was back to the day before all the tragedies started. In my past life, when she asked me out saying she had good news, I actually thought she was pregnant. I had even prepared a baby shower gift, only for her to brag about her husband’s double anatomy. She had leaned in, vividly describing their bedroom activities in graphic detail. But as a doctor, red flags instantly went up in my head. Every organ in the human body has a specific function. It is biologically impossible to suddenly grow a duplicate organ out of nowhere. Besides, Garrett wasn’t born with it. If it suddenly appeared, something was seriously wrong. Since we grew up together and I genuinely cared for her, I gave her my professional opinion. I suggested she take Garrett to a urologist immediately. If it was a tumor, early removal could save his life and prevent cancer. Instead of thanking me, Chloe’s face turned incredibly sour. She made up a dozen excuses, insisting it was a genetic blessing. After that day, she slowly began to distance herself from me. I thought she was just being forgetful, so after my hospital shifts, I kept messaging her on Snapchat, desperately trying to persuade her. I even researched medical journals and sent her case studies of similar tumors. Eventually, she agreed to the checkup. The diagnosis was exactly what I feared: a tumor. Because I was an oncologist, she cried and said she only trusted me, begging me to be the lead surgeon. I felt so bad for her that I cleared my busy schedule, postponed other surgeries, and personally operated on her husband. But once Garrett recovered, his bedroom performance withered. Chloe lost her mind. She accused me of being jealous of her happiness and intentionally ruining her husband’s manhood. She dragged Garrett to the hospital, screaming and staging protests to demand millions in malpractice compensation. And once they got their way, she lured me out under the pretense of a chat, only for Garrett to push me off the balcony when my guard was down. This time, I was done playing savior. Seeing that I hadn’t responded for a long time, Chloe nudged me again. “Avery? Are you even listening to me?” “I wonder if it’s a genetic thing in his family. To just grow another one at this age…” “Actually, Garrett has a younger brother, Gavin. If Gavin turns out to be just as gifted, want me to set you up? We are best friends, after all.” Ah, yes. “Best friends.” I sneered inwardly but kept a polite, slightly embarrassed smile on my face. “No, thanks. I’m not really into that. You know I’m happily single.” “Plus, my residency training is kicking into high gear, and I have to write a major research paper. I barely have time to sleep.” Chloe sighed, looking disappointed. “What a waste. But as a doctor, have you ever seen anything like this before?” “Like, could Garrett be sick or something? Think about it, how can a guy just grow a second one…” So, she actually knew something was wrong. She was just testing me. I quickly waved my hand. “I really wouldn’t know. I’m in oncology, Chloe, not urology. I don’t deal with genetic anomalies or male reproductive issues.” Chloe stared at me thoughtfully. “I see…” “Well, if you don’t know, forget it. It’s probably nothing anyway.” Seeing that our food was gone, and remembering the chilling look of satisfaction on her face when I died in my past life, I couldn’t stand being near her for another second. I made up an excuse about a hospital emergency and hurried out of the restaurant. 2 Chloe and I had been friends since childhood. At least in my head, we were the kind of besties who shared everything. Her family was lower-middle class, and her parents openly favored her deadbeat younger brother. Growing up in that toxic environment made Chloe insecure, sensitive, and timid. Because of her personality, she was a loner at school and became an easy target for bullies. I was different. I was an only child from a wealthy, loving family. Naturally, I was outgoing and confident. When I saw her being bullied, I stepped in to protect her. I helped her with her studies, shared my clothes, and introduced her to my circle of friends. Gradually, she blossomed. She became cheerful, lost her shyness, and made new friends. As we grew older, she constantly told me I was her favorite person and her life mentor. She said her biggest dream in life was to become a girl just like me. That was why I never suspected she could ever harbor such hatred towards me. But after experiencing death, I finally started questioning our entire friendship. Did Chloe ever actually feel grateful to me? Over the next few days, Chloe tried to invite me out several times. But I rejected her with every excuse in the book. To make my excuses look real, I didn’t take a single day off. I practically lived at the hospital. The exhausting shifts actually comforted me. They reminded me that I was alive. However, despite my best efforts to ghost her, Chloe’s mess still found its way to me. One evening, I logged into my professional Instagram account and saw a new comment on my latest post. A brand-new account with a burner username from my local area had commented: “Dr. Avery, is it possible for a man to have two cocks? Or could it be a tumor?” I stared at the comment for a long time, my fingers hovering over the screen. As an oncologist, I often received medical questions from random netizens on Instagram. Usually, I would reply to them. But this time, I froze. The username was completely anonymous, and the profile was blank. It was obvious. Someone had made a burner account specifically to bait me. I suddenly remembered that this had happened in my past life too. Back then, I hadn’t thought about reminding Chloe again. But after seeing this comment, I immediately connected the dots. I replied to the user with my medical opinion and then reached out to Chloe. I explained the risks and begged her to take Garrett to the hospital. Looking back, how many people in this city could possibly have such a rare medical condition? I had been so naive in my past life, thinking it was just another random patient. Now I realized the person behind that burner account was either Chloe or Garrett himself. Instead of replying, I posted a quick update: Taking a social media break for an upcoming training seminar. Logging off! Then, I logged out of the app. I told myself I wouldn’t touch my socials for the next few weeks. I managed to avoid her online, but I couldn’t avoid her at work. Chloe showed up at my hospital. The moment I stepped out of the operating room, she rushed toward me, intercepting me in the hallway. “Avery! Thank God I found you.” “I’ve been calling you non-stop, but your phone is dead. I really need your medical advice.” My surgical assistant saw how pale and exhausted I was and immediately stepped in. “Dr. Avery just finished a grueling twelve-hour surgery after back-to-back prep meetings. She hasn’t slept in over twenty hours. Perhaps you could schedule an appointment or come back tomorrow?” Her words finally got through to Chloe. She glared at me, clearly annoyed, and sighed. “Fine.” 3 Running away wasn’t going to solve the problem forever. The fact that she had cornered me at my workplace meant I needed to take the offensive. The biggest question was: if Chloe already suspected Garrett had a tumor, why hadn’t she taken him to a clinic yet? In my past life, they went to the hospital, which ultimately led to my death. In this life, I stepped back, yet she was still chasing me down. Unless… She didn’t just want Garrett gone; she wanted to drag me into it too. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. Why would she hate me that much? Chloe had dropped out of college early and married Garrett, a blue-collar worker who worshipped the ground she walked on. Garrett was what older folks called a “good, honest man”—he didn’t drink, didn’t gamble, and didn’t cheat. But he was also broke. Shortly after they married, Chloe got pregnant and became a stay-at-home mom. With Garrett’s sole, meager income, their lives were financially tight. Every time we met, she would complain about her boring, broke life. She complained that Garrett couldn’t make real money, that they were living paycheck to paycheck, and she even talked about divorcing him. But lately, she had stopped complaining. She seemed to be in a fantastic mood. A few days ago, I even noticed she was wearing a brand-new solid gold necklace. When I asked, she claimed Garrett had made some extra cash and bought it for her. I was highly suspicious. Having known Garrett for years, I knew he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, let alone the cash for luxury jewelry. Was Chloe seeing someone else? Now that the seed of doubt was planted, I decided to investigate. During my days off, I started keeping tabs on Chloe’s daily routine. She was a housewife, and her son was already in elementary school. Her husband worked long hours, which left her with plenty of free time during the day. It didn’t take long for me to catch her. One morning, after dropping her son off at school, she didn’t head to the grocery store or go home to clean. Instead, she walked into a quiet alley, applied a bold red lipstick, and waited on a street corner. Ten minutes later, a sleek black sedan pulled up. Her face lit up with a brilliant smile, and she slid into the passenger seat. I quickly followed them in a rental car. I tracked them all the way to a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city. I watched them get out of the car, hand-in-hand, and walk inside. I snapped several clear photos of them together before parking nearby to wait. About two hours later, they walked out. Chloe’s hair was slightly messy, and she looked thoroughly satisfied. They even shared a passionate kiss inside the car before he drove her back. I saved all the photos in a secure cloud folder. They were my insurance policy. But that wasn’t all. Over the next month, I dug up another terrifying piece of information. Chloe had secretly taken out a massive accidental death insurance policy on Garrett. When I found out, my mind immediately raced to those horrific “spouse-killing-for-insurance” true crime stories. She was clearly planning something sinister. To keep myself safe, I quietly terminated my apartment lease and moved to a secure condo with strict gated access, cutting off any chance of her cornering me at home. While Chloe stopped reaching out, two weeks later, Garrett messaged me on Snapchat. “Dr. Avery, are you free? There’s something I want to ask you, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate.” I didn’t reply immediately. I let the message sit for three days before typing a cold response. Garrett, you are Chloe’s husband. If you think it’s inappropriate, then it’s best not to ask. Setting boundaries with a bestie’s husband was the smartest thing to do. Fortunately, my coldness worked, and he didn’t text back. But almost immediately after I sent that message, Chloe called me. Realizing I had just been active online, I had no choice but to pick up. “Hey, Chloe. What’s up?” Chloe’s voice sounded panicked. “Avery! Remember what I told you about Garrett’s… you know, his extra part? He says it’s starting to hurt really badly. I’m scared something is wrong.” 4 My heart sank. She was trying to bait me into giving medical advice again. As a doctor, I gave advice to hundreds of patients, and they were always grateful. Even if they didn’t like the diagnosis, they never blamed me personally. But Chloe wasn’t a normal patient. She was a ticking time bomb. I had to be incredibly careful with my words. “I really can’t say, Chloe. Like I told you, I’m not a urologist, so I don’t know much about that area.” “Maybe you guys are just… keeping too busy at night?” I joked lightly, trying to keep the mood casual. “You should talk to Garrett and see what he wants to do.” Right then, a nurse knocked on my office door. I quickly called out to her and turned back to the phone. “Chloe, I have to go. An emergency patient just came in, and we need to prep for surgery. I’ll call you back later.” Without waiting for her reply, I hung up. After a grueling six-hour surgery, I was completely drained. I went back to my office to change, only to find Chloe and Garrett standing right outside my door. The young nurse looked terrified. “Dr. Avery, I tried to stop them, but they just pushed past me…” I waved my hand. “It’s fine. Go get some rest.” I knew that even if the nurse stopped them today, Chloe would just find another way to corner me tomorrow. Once the nurse left, Chloe plopped down on my office sofa. “Avery, what am I supposed to do?” She burst into tears, covering her face. Garrett stood beside her, his face dark and silent, looking incredibly stressed. I stood there, watching her cry without offering any comfort. Seeing that her tears weren’t getting a reaction out of me, Chloe stopped acting and grabbed an envelope from Garrett’s hand, tossing the scan results onto my desk. “Avery, I know you’re the best doctor in this hospital. After Garrett’s pain got unbearable, we went to get him checked. Look at this.” She tapped her finger on the diagnosis line, her voice cracking with fake sorrow. “The doctor said it’s a tumor. It’s not a second cock, and he needs surgery immediately.” “But I looked it up online! People say it could be chimerism. You know what that is, right? It’s when one twin absorbs the other in the womb. That means it could still be a second part! But the doctor insisted…” “Avery, I only trust you. You’re the top oncologist here. Your face is literally on the hospital’s wall of fame! Since we’re best friends, you have to perform the surgery.”

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I was in the middle of a catastrophic labor, facing a sudden amniotic fluid embolism. My life was hanging by a thread. But I wasn’t entirely hopeless. My husband, Dr. Ryan Mercer, was the most renowned OBGYN in the state. With him here, I believed my baby and I would make it. But at the critical moment of my resuscitation, he redirected my life-saving blood transfusion to his first love, Chloe Sterling. “This blood belongs to Chloe,” Ryan said, his voice cold and unyielding. “I don’t care if her internal hemorrhaging was caused by a ruptured cyst from a wild, multi-partner hookup. I believe she has her reasons!” “Save her first. I want to hear her explanation myself.” Using the last of my fading consciousness, I kept crying out Ryan’s name, begging him to save me. But he didn’t even look back. He turned around and walked out with the nurses. As my consciousness slowly slipped away, I could hear the chaotic noise from the next room as they rushed to match Chloe’s blood type. Finally, a nurse noticed my monitor was screaming in alarm. “Dr. Mercer! The patient’s blood pressure is bottoming out!” He paused for a second. Then, his cold voice drifted through the door. “Even if we resuscitate her, the baby might not survive. Give the blood to Chloe first.” 1 “Dr. Mercer! Your wife has an amniotic fluid embolism! She’s hemorrhaging!” The nurse’s voice trembled, piercing through the heavy surgical doors. Outside, my husband’s voice remained calm, without a single hint of panic. “I said, stabilize the patient first. We cannot stop Chloe’s surgery.” A bone-chilling coldness washed over me. I was being pushed into the abyss by the person I loved most. Then, I heard him comfort Chloe in a gentle voice I hadn’t heard in years. “Don’t worry, sweetie. It’s just a minor procedure.” At that moment, my heart was completely shattered. “Ryan! Are you out of your mind?! Why did you redirect the O-negative blood bags reserved for my patient to the next room?!” Leo from the blood bank screamed in frustration outside the door. Ryan’s voice turned incredibly cold. “Are you questioning my medical judgment? Keep pumping the blood into Miss Sterling. Use alternative expanders for my wife.” My body felt like ice. Every breath was a suffocating agony. I heard Ryan reprimand Leo. “Chloe saved my life once. She has her dream Broadway audition tomorrow. She’s prepared for so long, and I won’t let her down.” “As for my wife, the survival rate for an amniotic fluid embolism is extremely low anyway. Even if we save her, the baby is likely dead. It’s not worth wasting the blood.” So, in his eyes, my baby and I weren’t even worth as much as Chloe’s Broadway audition. Absurdity and despair drowned me like a tidal wave. “If you say another word, Leo, don’t bother coming to work tomorrow.” Leo’s face must have been flushed with anger. He stood there speechless for a long time, only able to mutter, “Two lives, Ryan… how could you?” However, his voice was quickly drowned out by Ryan’s hushed, jealous whispers as he asked Chloe who those men at the party were. My vision began to blur. The strength in my body drained away with every drop of blood I lost. Vaguely, I heard the nurses whispering nearby. “Dr. Mercer is so devoted. He personally managed Miss Sterling’s transfusion and didn’t let go of her hand the whole time.” Meanwhile, in my room, there were only the cold clinking of surgical instruments and the heavy, panicked breathing of my doctors. Chloe had been wheeled into the operating room next door, with Ryan as her primary surgeon. I heard him tell her, “Don’t be scared. I’m right here.” But my surgeon was sweating, trying his best to keep me alive with what little resources he had. His voice was filled with sheer helplessness. “Her condition is critical. Do we have to perform a hysterectomy?” A nurse whispered, “If we just had those blood bags, we could save both the baby and her uterus.” A sharp pain shot through my abdomen. It was my baby, making its final, desperate struggle. No, please. Baby. Don’t leave Mommy. Next door, Ryan’s gentle voice continued to soothe Chloe. “It’ll be over soon. Just take a nap, and you’ll wake up perfectly fine.” The surgical lights flickered above me. I heard the nurses whispering in hushed tones. “How tragic. She’s our Head Nurse, and her husband is the Chief of OBGYN. Yet, she can’t even secure a single blood bag during labor.” “Don’t you know? The woman next door is Dr. Mercer’s true love. For Chloe, he doesn’t care about his own wife and child. He’s so romantic.” The “romance” they spoke of was being paid for with my life and the life of my unborn child. Just as my consciousness was about to fade entirely, Ryan finally appeared beside my bed. His face was a mask of cold indifference. 2 Behind him stood Chloe. Her surgery was complete, and she was wearing a hospital gown, her makeup still looking pristine. The moment Ryan opened his mouth, it was to scold me with irritation. “How could you be so careless? You made Chloe worry about you. She just got out of surgery and insisted on dragging herself over to see you.” My gaze drifted past him, landing on Chloe’s pitiful, tear-stained face. She took a step forward, her eyes instantly turning red. “It’s all my fault, Evelyn. If I hadn’t needed that blood, you wouldn’t be like this. You have to get through this surgery…” Then, she turned to Ryan, leaning weakly against his chest. “Ryan, my head is so spinny. My incision hurts. I’m so tired.” Ryan immediately wrapped his arms around her, his eyes overflowing with anxiety and tenderness. He didn’t even give me a second glance. He held Chloe close and turned to leave. Their retreating figures were like a knife, severing the very last thread of hope in my heart. I lay on the operating table. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. Under the harsh surgical lights, I heard the doctors whispering. “We can’t save the uterus. The fetus is dead. We must perform a D&C and a total hysterectomy immediately.” My body was numb, but my mind was terrifyingly sharp. I remembered the early days of my pregnancy, when Ryan would gently stroke my belly. He had said, “Evelyn, this is the symbol of our love. I will protect you and our baby with my life forever.” How sweet it was then, and how mocking it was now. The moment the scalpel sliced through my skin, my eyes flew open. The hollow, empty sensation in my abdomen made me scream in agonizing despair. “My baby!” I struggled wildly, wanting to hold onto the last proof that my poor child had ever existed. Several nurses pinned me down, and a needle was plunged into my arm. Before my mind plunged into total darkness, I felt it all. I felt my child and my uterus being ripped away from my body, piece by piece. The lead surgeon sighed, lecturing the resident beside him. “Remember this. This is an amniotic fluid embolism—the most dangerous complication in obstetrics. It’s a miracle if they survive.” When Ryan showed up again, it was only to sign my discharge papers. He kept his head down the entire time, smiling as he texted Chloe on Snapchat. The nurse handed him the surgical record. “Dr. Mercer, we need a family member’s signature here to confirm the patient has been informed of the total hysterectomy.” He frowned impatiently and scribbled his name quickly. The document that declared I could never be a mother again was less important to him than a Snapchat message from Chloe. After signing, he said without looking up, “Chloe is weak and needs a quiet place to recover. You’ll be moved to a general ward for now.” “Once she’s discharged, I’ll arrange for you to move to a VIP suite and hire the best nurse for you.” Every single word was a reminder that I would always come second to Chloe. Before he could finish, his phone rang. The name Chloe flashed on the screen. The coldness on Ryan’s face melted instantly, replaced by a tender warmth. “Hey, babe. What’s wrong? Don’t worry, I’m coming right now.” Listening to whatever she said on the other end, he stood up abruptly. “What? You want those macarons from that French bakery downtown? Okay, I’ll go grab them for you right away.” Ryan hung up. Without even glancing at me, he turned and rushed out. 3 I lay alone in the empty hospital room, my hand resting on my flat, hollow belly. There had been a tiny life growing there. Now, there was nothing. I slowly closed my eyes, tears silently spilling over my temples. The last warmth in my heart had officially died. Right then, the door to my room was gently knocked open. Dr. Aiden Kingsley, the Head of Hematology, walked in. He was one of my few true friends in this hospital. He asked about my condition, a deep frown clouding his handsome face. “Evelyn, there’s something strange about your blood work. I need to run some more tests.” I nodded numbly. He picked up my chart from the floor, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke in an incredibly low voice. “We found traces of chemical compounds in your blood.” “It’s an abortifacient. A miscarriage-inducing drug.” Aiden’s words felt like a thunderbolt, making my mind go completely blank. “And based on the concentration, it has been administered to you in small, consistent doses over a long period. Evelyn… someone was slowly murdering your baby.” Just then, Ryan walked back in, holding a fancy box of organic supplements. He placed them on my nightstand, offering a fake smile. “Rest up, Evelyn. Don’t overthink things. Once Chloe is fully recovered, I’ll get you the best physical therapy.” Staring at his hypocritical face, a wave of intense nausea washed over me. “Did you kill my baby?” The smile on his face froze, and a flash of panic crossed his eyes. “What nonsense are you talking about?” I stared straight into his eyes, pronouncing every word clearly. “The miscarriage drugs. Did you put them in my food?” He looked at me as if I had lost my mind, and then his panic turned into fury. “Evelyn Vance! Have you gone insane? Why on earth would anyone drug you?” He leaned down, grabbing my jaw tightly, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Do not let the loss of the baby drive you mad. This behavior is not going to help your recovery!” Suddenly, the door was pushed open. Chloe walked in, a look of exaggerated surprise on her face. “Oh, did I interrupt something? Ryan, I came to tell you the good news.” As she spoke, she casually stroked her flat stomach, her face flushing with a smug, joyful glow. “I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” 4 My brain went entirely blank. The blood in my veins seemed to freeze. As if that wasn’t enough of a blow, Chloe casually shook her wrist. A beautiful, vintage emerald bracelet slid down her arm, catching the light. It was my mother’s heirloom. It was my dowry. My mother had given it to me, telling me it was a family protector that brought good health and healing. Chloe acted as if she had made a slip of the tongue, quickly covering it with her hand. But her eyes were filled with blatant malice and triumph. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Evelyn. Ryan insisted I wear it. He said my body is too weak after the surgery and that this heirloom would help me heal. You don’t mind, do you?” Watching their pathetic, disgusting show, the hatred burning in my chest threatened to consume me. I laughed. I laughed so hard that tears streamed down my face. Then, I spat out a single word. “Get out.” Ryan’s face darkened instantly. Chloe whimpered and hid her face in his chest. As Ryan ushered Chloe out, I heard him coaxing her gently. “Don’t be upset, babe. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you to see this psycho.” My already shattered heart was ripped to shreds once again. “Once the baby is born, we’ll get married,” Ryan whispered to her in the hallway. From that day on, Ryan gave me the silent treatment. For a whole week, he never showed up. Instead, his assistant brought over a set of divorce papers. Written in black and white was a clause: Evelyn Vance voluntarily waives all marital assets and will leave with nothing. At the end of the document, there was a handwritten note from Ryan: If you stop making a scene, we can go back to how things were. He honestly believed I would crawl back to him, crying and begging him not to leave me, just like I used to. But he didn’t know that my heart had died the very moment my baby did. During this week, Aiden had been secretly helping me. He handed me a more detailed toxicology report. “The drugging method was highly professional. Whoever did this had advanced medical knowledge and had daily access to your meals.” One name instantly popped into my head. Ryan. Ever since I got pregnant, he had personally prepared a cup of “prenatal organic tea” for me every single morning, without fail. He had even boasted multiple times about how Chloe had gone out of her way to find this special, healthy recipe just for me. So, from the very beginning, it was a massive, calculated conspiracy. Aiden then handed me a USB drive. “I dug deeper. The prescriptions for those abortifacients were issued from a private clinic registered under Chloe Sterling’s name. The purchase history started in your second month of pregnancy.” Every single piece of evidence fell perfectly into place. I stared at the divorce papers, picked up a pen, and signed my name at the bottom. I packed my minimal belongings, slipped the USB drive and all the physical evidence into my inner pocket, and prepared to leave this hellhole. But as soon as I reached the stairwell, I ran straight into a furious Ryan. He snatched my suitcase away, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at me. “You’re that eager to run away from me? Evelyn, hand it over!” He knew. Ryan lunged at me, trying to grab the USB drive from my coat pocket. I fought back with everything I had. During the struggle, he gave me a violent shove. I lost my balance, falling backward, and tumbled down the concrete stairs. My body crashed heavily onto the landing. A sudden warmth pooled between my thighs, and fresh blood instantly stained my pants. A flash of panic crossed Ryan’s face. But right then, Chloe, who was standing at the top of the stairs, clutched her stomach and let out a painful groan. “Ryan… my stomach hurts so bad…” Without hesitation, Ryan abandoned me. He rushed up the stairs to scoop Chloe into his arms, his face pale with worry. Before leaving, he threw a cold, mocking glance over his shoulder at me. “I’ve already destroyed the hospital backups of those files. Give up, Evelyn.” He paused, delivering the final, venomous blow to my soul. “Don’t even think about leaving me. Who else would want a barren woman like you? You’ll come crawling back to me like a dog, begging for my mercy!” Lying in a pool of my own blood, watching their retreating figures, I used my remaining strength to pull out my phone and dial 91The operator’s voice came through, filled with urgency. “911, what is your emergency?”

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My best friend ran to me, crying hysterically. She claimed her husband was a violent, sex-obsessed psycho who wouldn’t even leave her alone during her pregnancy. Looking at the dark purple bruises covering her skin, my heart ached with a mixture of pity and rage. Without hesitation, I paid out of my own pocket to hire the most ruthless divorce lawyer in the city for her. But the moment she turned around, she got pregnant with their second child. To make matters worse, she told her husband that I was the one trying to sabotage their beautiful marriage. To get revenge, her husband dragged me into a dark alley, brutally assaulted me, and tortured me to death. And my best friend? She stood right there, ignoring my desperate pleas for help, calmly recording the entire thing on her phone. Afterward, she uploaded a carefully edited version of the video online, playing the ultimate victim. “I can’t believe my best friend tried to seduce my husband while I was pregnant!” With endless, suffocating hatred, I died. But then, I woke up. I was reborn, back to the exact moment she came to cry to me. This time, I just smiled at her and said: “He wants to get intimate with you even when you’re pregnant? Oh my god, he is literally obsessed with you! He loves you so much!”

“Chloe, I don’t care what anyone says. I am definitely divorcing him this time.” My best friend Ruby’s screeching voice echoed in my ears. I shook my pounding head, trying to force myself awake. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Ruby, standing in front of me with her clothes half-off, showing off a body covered in nasty purple bruises. Her face was contorted with anger. Staring at this eerily familiar scene, I pinched my thigh as hard as I could. The sharp sting shot through my leg. It was real. I had actually been reborn. In my past life, Ruby had come to me crying just like this, stripping off her clothes to show me her injuries. She had screamed, “Chloe, Marcus is a literal beast! I just gave birth, and he forced me to do that to him while I was still healing!” Seeing her battered body, I had felt so much pain and anger for her. I spent my own savings to hire the best divorce lawyer available. But instead of leaving him, she got pregnant again almost immediately and sold me out to save her own skin. To please Marcus, she even set up a trap to force me to marry his creepy cousin, Justin. I fought back with everything I had and managed to escape. But in the end, a furious Marcus dragged me into a filthy alleyway. He beat and assaulted me until I took my last breath. All the while, Ruby stood there, holding her phone, recording my slow death. She completely ignored my screams. Later, she edited the footage and posted it on Instagram to play the victim. “I can’t believe my best friend tried to seduce my husband while I was pregnant.” Overnight, I became the internet’s favorite punching bag—the “homewrecker” who tried to steal her bestie’s husband. Meanwhile, Ruby used her sob story to gain millions of followers, making a fortune off of sponsorships. The suffocating terror of being tortured to death still gripped my chest. Instinctively, I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms to hide the burning hatred in my eyes. Seeing that I hadn’t responded for a while, Ruby snapped. She raised her voice, yelling at me. “Chloe! Are you even my friend? I got beaten to a pulp, and you’re just standing there daydreaming?!” She marched over, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up. She made me look directly at her bruised body, repeating every word slowly. “Chloe, I said I’m divorcing him. I. Am. Divorcing. Him. Did you hear me?” She stressed the word “divorce” over and over again. I immediately understood her hidden agenda. She didn’t actually want a divorce. She just wanted me to validate her anger and offer her financial support so she could use me as leverage to threaten Marcus. She chose me because she knew I was a soft-hearted fool. In my past life, I hadn’t seen through her sick game. I had stupidly thrown my money and energy into helping her. And it cost me my life. Remembering this, I swallowed the bitter hatred rising in my throat. I casually brushed her hand off my chin and said in a flat tone: “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over such a minor issue? Didn’t you say he was your soulmate?” Ruby froze. Then, her voice went up an octave. “This is domestic violence! Domestic violence happens once, and then it happens forever! How can you call this a minor issue?!” Her voice carried a note of panic. I sneered in my mind. So, she did know that abusers never change. She and Marcus had had a whirlwind romance. She hadn’t even met his parents before she decided she absolutely had to marry him. As her best friend, I couldn’t bear to see her ruin her life, so I begged her to slow down. But she just sent me a wedding invitation when she was already visibly pregnant. I was furious, but looking at her pregnant belly, I had no choice but to accept it. I even bought her an expensive designer necklace as a wedding gift. And the moment she got beaten, I tried to save her. In return, she destroyed me. How utterly pathetic. Just then, a frantic, heavy pounding echoed from my front door. BANG! BANG! BANG! The violent noise made the walls shake. I looked at the rattling door, then at Ruby’s guilty, pale face. I knew exactly what was happening. This was my new apartment. No one knew the address except Ruby. The beast slamming against my door could only be Marcus. I didn’t know what Ruby had told him to make him this furious, but it definitely wasn’t anything good. I forced down the disgust rising in my chest. A second before the door was kicked open, I seized my chance and yelled at Ruby at the top of my lungs: “What?! You want to divorce Marcus over something so stupid?! “Didn’t you tell me he’s the love of your life? “He wanted to be intimate with you right after you gave birth—doesn’t that prove how obsessed he is with you? “Honestly, Ruby, you need to grow up. You’re a married woman now!” I screamed as loud as I could, making sure Marcus could hear every single word through the door. Ruby was completely stunned by my sudden change of attitude. She stared at me, her eyes wide with utter disbelief. But the moment Marcus burst through the door, a look of smug relief washed over her face, her eyes instantly filling with adoration. I looked up. Sure enough, Marcus walked in holding a heavy iron tire iron. He glared at me, swinging the iron bar back and forth. It looked like he was ready to crack my skull open at any second. This was only the third time I had seen him. The first time was at their wedding, which had been too rushed for me to get a good look at his face. The terror of my past life flashed through my mind, making my blood run cold. I clenched my jaw, forcing a calm smile onto my face, and said to Ruby: “Couples fight all the time. See? Marcus is already here to take you home.” Hearing my words, Ruby let out a sweet, triumphant laugh. Her ego inflated instantly. She said haughtily, “I guess you’re right. Tough love is still love. If he didn’t care about me, why would he only hit me and not anyone else?” I was completely dumbfounded by her twisted logic. I glanced at her face. She tilted her chin up proudly, refusing to look at Marcus, waiting for him to beg for her forgiveness first. But Marcus’s eyes were locked onto her exposed, bruised body. In the next second, he lunged forward, grabbing her and kissing her violently. He muttered, “Didn’t I show you enough love? Fine, let me show you how much I love you right now…” Ruby put up a half-hearted struggle, which only turned Marcus on even more. Watching them practically get it on right in front of me made me want to throw up. To stop them, I deliberately swiped a glass cup off the table. CRASH! The loud noise finally made them freeze. Ruby’s face was flushed, her legs shaking, but her eyes were filled with smug satisfaction. Marcus, on the other hand, glared at me with a dark, murderous expression. Under his terrifying gaze, I trembled slightly but forced myself to speak. “This is a newly renovated apartment. The fresh paint fumes are toxic… it’s bad for conceiving a baby boy.” My voice shook. I wasn’t sure if Marcus would buy it, but I had to take the gamble. Fortunately, Marcus just gave me a chilling look, then scooped Ruby up in a bridal carry and walked out. He looked as desperate as a starved animal. Ruby clung to him with a smug, seductive smirk. The moment they left, the adrenaline drained from my body. I collapsed onto the floor, my knees weak, staring at the empty doorway. My mind spun rapidly as I began to plan my next move.

Without my interference this time, Ruby got pregnant with their second child much faster than in my previous life. She posted her ultrasound photo all over Instagram, acting like a clueless, pampered princess. “My amazing hubby is so strong! Got me pregnant again in a flash. “And guess what? It’s a boy this time! ” She attached photos of a massive diamond ring alongside some highly inappropriate, semi-nude pictures of her and Marcus. It was nauseating. I knew for a fact she had given birth via C-section only three months ago. Her uterus hadn’t even fully healed, yet she was bragging about being pregnant again. It meant Marcus had forced himself on her almost immediately after she got home from the hospital. Graphic, bloody medical scenarios flashed through my mind. I felt sick to my stomach. Just then, my office door was slammed open. Ruby and Marcus barged in, looking frantic. “Chloe! You have to help me! “Those incompetent doctors at the clinic actually told me to get an abortion! This is my son they’re talking about!” Ruby’s eyes burned with a vicious hatred, so intense it felt like she wanted to kill me on the spot. I looked at the couple, then at the ultrasound report on my desk. I rubbed my aching temples. I deeply regretted not taking a personal day today. As an OB-GYN, any decent doctor looking at her chart would advise an abortion. Getting pregnant two months after a C-section was practically a suicide mission. It was basic medical common sense. But it was obvious that neither Ruby nor Marcus cared about medical science. They only wanted one thing: to bring this baby to term. Preferably a boy. I decided to keep my tone strictly professional. “Looking at the ultrasound, the fetus is currently healthy. “However, regarding your maternal health…” Before I could finish, Marcus cut me off with an ecstatic shout. He swept Ruby into his arms, yelling in excitement: “Baby, did you hear that?! The baby is healthy! “My family finally has an heir! My mom’s psychic was right, this one is definitely a boy!” Ruby gave him a strained smile, then looked at me with a desperate, pleading gaze. She whispered under her breath, “Chloe… I just had a C-section two months ago. My body can’t handle this…” I almost laughed out loud. Why didn’t she think about her body when she was busy letting him use her? I ignored her silent plea and said coldly: “I can only confirm the fetus is viable. If you want to know about your own health, you need a full physical workup. “Do you want me to schedule that?” Seeing my cold indifference, a flash of pure hatred crossed Ruby’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but Marcus cut in again. “Baby, your bestie literally just said the baby is healthy. What are you hesitating for? “Don’t you want to give me a son?” His voice dropped, laced with a dangerous threat. Ruby flinched. Instinctively, she tried to shift the blame onto me to appease him. She clung to Marcus’s arm, whining like a child. “Babe, of course I love you, and of course I want to give you a son. “It’s just… Chloe kept telling me before that getting pregnant so soon after a C-section would kill me.” She shot me a smug, triumphant look. Sure enough, Marcus snapped. He kicked my heavy office desk, flipping it completely over. Before I could react, I was thrown to the floor along with the desk. But Marcus wasn’t done. He slowly walked toward me, his towering shadow looming over my fallen body. The skin on my hands was scraped and bleeding, throbbing with sharp pain. I looked up at the security camera on the wall, quickly calculating the angles in my head. As Marcus stepped closer, I positioned myself in the camera’s blind spot. Then, with all the strength I could muster, I kicked him squarely in the groin. My kick landed perfectly. It was enough to send him crashing to the floor, howling in agony. Watching him writhe in pain brought a rush of pure satisfaction to my chest. Ruby rushed to his side, glaring at me like a feral beast. “Chloe! You bitch! What did you do to Marcus?!” The hatred in her eyes was so raw, it was almost hard to believe. We had grown up together. We used to share everything. We were inseparable. Yet, she had dragged me into hell twice. Neither in my past life nor in this one had she ever cared about my life. The ghost of being assaulted still haunted my skin. Even after taking countless showers since my rebirth, I still felt dirty. I had nightmares every single night. I couldn’t hold back my rage anymore. I stood up, walked over to her, and blocked the camera with my body. I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look me in the eyes. “Hurts, doesn’t it? But this pain is absolutely nothing compared to what I had to go through.” At this moment, all my mercy was gone. Only hatred remained. I didn’t care about the consequences anymore. In this life, I was going to drag them both straight to hell. Ruby was clearly terrified by my sudden madness. She quickly helped a groaning Marcus up and scurried toward the door. Before leaving, she spat out a weak threat. “Just wait, Chloe… you’ll pay for this.” I casually brushed the dust off my clothes, completely unfazed. “Bring it on. Let’s rot in hell together.”

I thought that after that incident, Ruby and I were officially done. Yet, she actually had the audacity to show up at my apartment again, heavily pregnant. This time, she brought a few of our former college classmates with her. I couldn’t throw her out in front of everyone, so I swallowed my disgust and let them in. As soon as she sat down, Ruby began proudly showing off her brand-new bag. She raised her voice, making sure I could hear her from the kitchen. “Marcus bought me this Birkin bag. It cost seventy thousand dollars! “He said it’s a reward for being such an obedient wife. I guess I’m just lucky. I’ve got the wide hips to carry his heir.” Our former classmates squealed in envy, praising her for marrying a rich, handsome guy, begging her to introduce them to some of his wealthy friends. Ruby basked in their flattery, boasting that she would take everyone out for a lavish seafood dinner. But my suspicion only grew. The others might not know, but I knew very well that Marcus wasn’t some rich heir. He was a high school dropout from the projects who survived on welfare. Even if he had landed a decent job, there was no way he could afford a seventy-thousand-dollar bag. Then, Ruby leaned in closer to the girls, whispering mysteriously: “Honestly, making money is so easy… “As long as you’re good at pleasing wealthy men, forget about designer bags—luxury cars and penthouses are yours for the taking.” The other girls squealed with excitement, joking about their own bodies and how “fertile” they looked. I was highly curious about this “easy money” scheme, so I kept my ears open. But Ruby suddenly glanced toward me and lowered her voice to a whisper. I immediately realized why she had brought them here today. She wanted to use my apartment and my professional status as a doctor to legitimize whatever shady business she was running, recruiting these girls into her scheme. I brought out a plate of sliced fruit and joined them, acting casual. “What kind of moneymaking scheme are we talking about? Count me in!” I softened my tone, pretending to be naive and greedy. Ruby’s eyes lit up. She pulled me down to sit beside her, running her hands over my body, nodding in approval. “Chloe, you’re a natural. With your body, you’ll make a absolute fortune.” I had always been naturally curvier than most girls. To find out what she was up to, I forced myself not to recoil from her touch and smiled. “Really? I guess I’ll have to follow your lead to get rich, Ruby.” My submissive act highly pleased her. She immediately pulled out her phone and called Marcus, telling him to come over and pick us up. Our classmates were practically drooling with envy, begging Ruby to introduce them to rich guys just like Marcus. It made my skin crawl. I excused myself to go change. Watching Ruby brainwash those girls in my living room, I knew this “business” was deeply illegal. Actually, the reason Ruby and I became best friends wasn’t just because we grew up together. It was because I had always sensed a darkness in her—a darkness that mirrored my own. It was a dangerous thrill, and I loved it. I smiled, fingering my necklace, and quickly typed a message on my phone. Once finished, I hit send. Right on cue, Ruby’s impatient voice yelled from the living room: “Chloe! Hurry up! We can’t keep them waiting!”

When we walked down to the street, Marcus was waiting in a rusty, dented van. He sat in the driver’s seat, heavily chain-smoking, his face dark and menacing. Our classmates had never met Marcus in person before. Seeing his sketchy appearance, they immediately looked disgusted, holding their noses as they whispered to Ruby: “Ruby… is that your driver? Why is he so dirty?” Ruby’s face turned bright red with embarrassment. She tried to cover it up quickly. “Why do you care what the car looks like? As long as he takes you to make money, who cares?” But looking at the sketchy van that didn’t match Ruby’s “trophy wife” persona at all, the girls hesitated. Nobody wanted to get in. Looking at them, I knew for sure that whatever Marcus and Ruby were doing, it was highly dangerous. I decided to play along and give them an out, while pushing Ruby further into the trap. “Ruby, if they don’t want to make money, forget it. Let them stay poor. We don’t need them.” I walked over and linked my arm with Ruby’s. Encouraged by my support, Ruby sneered at the girls. “Chloe is right. You guys are destined to be poor. Don’t go then.” I patted Ruby’s arm while subtly signaling the other girls to leave. But they ignored my warning, standing there, torn between fear and greed. Just then, Marcus got out of the van. He threw his cigarette butt onto the ground. He marched straight toward us, and without a word, slapped Ruby hard across the face. “Bitch! Stop wasting my time! You can’t even handle a simple task!” The force of the slap sent Ruby spinning, and she knocked into me. Instead of fighting back, Ruby immediately knelt on the pavement, begging for forgiveness. Marcus ignored her. He began walking around me, his filthy, lustful eyes scanning my body like he wanted to strip me right there. Under his creepy gaze, I forced myself to look terrified, lowering my head in submission. Seeing my submissive act, Marcus lost interest and grunted. The other girls were terrified, trembling in a corner. Marcus looked around to make sure there were no security cameras. Then, he grabbed the girls one by one and violently threw them into the back of the van. He shoved me and Ruby in last. No one dared to breathe, terrified of triggering his explosive temper. The girls who had been dreaming of quick cash were now crying silently. I frowned. This was an undeveloped area with zero surveillance. If anything happened to us here, the police wouldn’t even know where to start looking. But the trap was set. I could only pray that Ethan had received my text. The drive was brutal. The bumpy mountain roads made everyone quiet down. The initial excitement was entirely gone, replaced by pure dread. One of the girls began to gag from motion sickness. She whimpered to Ruby in the front seat: “Ruby… please tell your husband to pull over. I’m going to throw up…” But Ruby ignored her, busy feeding Marcus chips. She replied carelessly: “Just throw up in the car. Who cares?” Some of the girls began to complain, but Marcus just sped up, ignoring them completely. I had prepared myself for this, so I remained calm. I pulled out tissues and water from my bag, passing them to the girls, whispering for them to stay quiet. They calmed down slightly, clutching the water bottles. I stared out the window as the van climbed deeper into the desolate mountains, my heart pounding. I kept touching my necklace, drawing comfort from it, before closing my eyes. After about four hours, the van finally screeched to a halt outside a remote estate. The sudden stop jolted us awake. Before we could figure out where we were, two men wearing black ski masks threw the back doors open. They brutally dragged us out, snatching our phones and bags, and stuffed gags into our mouths. We were forced down a dark corridor and shoved into a massive iron cage. Everyone was crying, desperately regretting their greed. I looked around. The cage was already filled with dozens of other young women, all staring blankly at the floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “463151”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I have a little flaw. My brain always runs a half-beat behind everyone else’s. Three years ago, on a rainy night, a man in a tailored suit was lying on the curb, reeking of alcohol. I dragged him inside and made him a bowl of instant ramen. After he finished eating, he looked up and said, “Marry me.” I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Sure,” I said. During our three years of marriage, he hired eight maids for me. Every month, he deposited two hundred thousand dollars of allowance into my card. I was too lazy to even change the default PIN. Yesterday, he came home looking terrible. He slid an envelope across the table. “The Vance family is completely ruined. I’m nine hundred million dollars in debt.” “There’s five million left on this card. It’s for you.” I was peeling a mandarin orange. My hands were sticky, and I couldn’t grab the pen. He grabbed a tissue, wiped my fingers dry one by one, and then gently pressed the pen into my palm. I signed the divorce papers. As I walked out, I suddenly remembered that my pregnancy test had shown two pink lines this morning. Whatever. I’d deal with it later. 0

“Chloe, Ethan asked me to collect your things.” A man in a black suit was standing at the door, wearing a Vance Family driver’s ID badge. He was holding two empty suitcases. I leaned against the doorframe and glanced at him. “What things?” “Ethan said you need to move your personal belongings out by the end of the day.” I looked down at the second mandarin orange I was halfway through peeling. We signed the papers last night, and the movers were already here before nine this morning. Talk about efficiency. “I don’t need the suitcases. I don’t have anything to pack.” The driver blinked, clearly caught off guard by how chill I was about being thrown out. He peeked past me into the ten-thousand-square-foot penthouse. It was packed with designer furniture and expensive decor. None of it belonged to me. Three years ago, when I walked through those doors, I had nothing but the clothes on my back. I was leaving the exact same way. I stuffed the orange into my coat pocket, slipped into a pair of flats, grabbed my phone, and walked out. The driver hesitated as he followed me. “Chloe… that card… Ethan said you took it?” “It’s on the coffee table.” He stopped in his tracks. “You didn’t take it?” “Forgot.” I didn’t actually forget. I was just too lazy to take it. To him, that five million was his final shred of dignity. To me, it was just a number. As the elevator descended, my phone buzzed. Caller ID: Ethan Vance. I stared at the screen for two seconds and let it ring. The scent of orange peel was still on my fingertips. A little sour. When the elevator hit the underground garage, the white Porsche he had bought me was still parked in its designated spot. I hadn’t brought the car keys either. I hailed an Uber. When the driver asked where to, I thought about it. “The Sterling Estate, East Side.” On the way, my phone rang three more times, all from Ethan. On the fourth time, I finally picked up. “Why didn’t you take the card?” His voice was raspier than last night, sounding like he hadn’t slept a wink. “Forgot.” “Chloe, five million is the last thing I can give—” “I know.” Silence stretched over the line for a few seconds. “Where are you going?” “Home.” Another silence. Then, he whispered, “I’m sorry.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the buildings flashing past the window. “Ethan, you wiped my sticky fingers dry before making me sign those papers. I’ll remember that.” “It was classy.” “Thanks.” I hung up. The Uber driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, probably thinking I was a weird passenger. Just got kicked out of my house, yet I was chatting like I was talking about the weather. When I arrived at the gates of the Sterling Estate, I paid the driver and got out. Standing at the entrance, I looked up at the massive iron gates. I hadn’t been back in three years. The climbing ivy on the pillars looked exactly the same. I pressed the buzzer. Thomas, our butler, opened the gate. He was in his sixties and had worked for the Sterling family for thirty years. The moment he saw me, his expression went from polite professional to pure shock, and then to a deep, heartbreaking pity. “Miss Chloe.” “Thomas, I’m home.” He looked behind me. Nothing. No car, no luggage, no entourage. “Just you?” “Just me.” He didn’t ask any questions. He just stepped aside to let me in. I slipped into a pair of slippers and walked into the living room. Nothing had changed. The velvet sofa was still there, and my late mother’s favorite orchid was still sitting on the coffee table. Thomas brought over a cup of warm tea. “Your grandfather is in the study. Shall I inform him?” “No need.” I held the warm mug and sat on the sofa, not rushing to see my grandfather. Thomas stood by my side for a moment, unable to help himself. “Miss Chloe… is it the Vance family…?” “Yeah. We’re divorced.” His lips twitched, but he swallowed whatever he was about to say. He turned toward the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. It had a perfectly poached egg in it, topped with finely chopped green onions. It looked almost identical to the ramen I had made for Ethan three years ago. I looked at the bowl and suddenly wanted to laugh. Three years ago, I dragged a guy home, made him some food, and married him. Three years later, the guy is gone, but the warm food is still here. I took two bites when my phone vibrated. It wasn’t Ethan. It was a Snapchat friend request from an unknown account. The add message read: *Hi Chloe, I’m Serena Hale, a close friend of Ethan’s. Can we talk?* I stared at the name for a few seconds. Ethan’s friend. In our three years of marriage, he had never mentioned this name once. I tossed my phone face-down on the table and went back to my soup. The soup got cold, and the broth tasted a little too salty. Thomas poked his head out of the kitchen. “Is it good, Miss Chloe?” “It’s great, Thomas. I might need to stay here for a while.” “Your room is always ready. I just aired out the sheets yesterday.” I froze, holding my spoon. “Yesterday?” Thomas didn’t say another word. He just turned and vanished back into the kitchen. Yesterday. He aired out my sheets yesterday. It was as if someone had told him beforehand that I would be coming back today. 0

“You sure are keeping your cool.” My grandfather was sitting in his leather armchair in the study, his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, holding today’s newspaper. The front-page headline screamed: *Vance Group’s Capital Chain Snaps: Debts Exceed $900 Million, CEO Ethan Vance Missing.* Missing. But he was literally calling me last night and this morning. “Grandpa, I’m back.” “I see that. I’m not blind.” He flipped the page of the newspaper without looking up. “Did you sign it?” “I signed.” “Did you take the money?” “No.” His eyes finally lifted from the paper, staring at me from over his glasses. It was a complex look. Anger, heartbreak, and a hint of something I couldn’t quite read. “You turned down five million dollars. You’re just like your mother—stubbornly proud to a fault.” I didn’t say anything. My mother passed away when I was young, and Grandpa rarely spoke of her. But whenever he did, his tone was harsh, though his eyes always grew red. “Chloe, do you have any idea how I’ve spent the last three years?” “I know.” “You think you know everything? Then do you know when the Vance family’s financial sinkhole actually started?” I shook my head. He folded the newspaper and set it on the desk. “Two years ago.” Two years ago. Ethan and I had only been married for a year. “The Vance family’s collapse didn’t happen overnight. Someone set a trap. Step by step, they strangled their supply chain and poached their clients one by one.” “Who?” Grandpa looked at me but didn’t answer. “Go get some rest. Some things don’t need to be rushed.” I knew his temper. If he didn’t want to say it, no amount of asking would make him. As I walked out of the study and reached the top of the stairs, Thomas was waiting at the bottom. “Miss Chloe, your room is the third door on the left on the second floor. Just like before.” “Thanks.” “Oh, by the way,” he hesitated, “Your grandfather wanted me to let you know that the Sterling family’s legal team will be arriving tomorrow morning.” “Our legal team?” “He said it’s about your divorce agreement. He wants to review it personally.” I paused on the stairs and looked back at him. “But I already signed it.” Thomas’s expression was incredibly subtle. “Your grandfather said… just because you signed it doesn’t mean it counts.” I didn’t ask further and went up to my room. The room was indeed exactly the same as it was three years ago. Even the ugly alarm clock on my nightstand hadn’t been moved. I bought that clock in high school. The plastic casing was cracked, held together by scotch tape, but it kept perfect time. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed. It was a text message from that Serena Hale girl. She couldn’t add me on Snapchat, so she went straight to my number. *Chloe, I know you probably don’t want to talk to anyone associated with Ethan right now. But there are things you should know. The nine hundred million Ethan owes? It wasn’t all from bad business deals.* I stared at the text, my thumb hovering over the screen. I didn’t reply. I tossed my phone onto the pillow and rolled over. My stomach felt a bit off. A dull, heavy sensation. I remembered the two pink lines from this morning. The pregnancy test was still sitting on the bathroom counter back at the penthouse. I forgot to pack it. Just like that five-million-dollar card. I forgot. Maybe my brain really is a half-beat behind. I never get stressed when I should, and I don’t even know how to feel sad when things go wrong. I wasn’t excited when I married Ethan, and I wasn’t heartbroken when I left him. But I was definitely hungry. Thomas’s soup hadn’t been enough. I wanted more. I rolled out of bed and padded downstairs to raid the fridge. It was packed with fresh groceries, as if someone had prepared for my arrival. I grabbed two eggs, planning to fry them up. My phone rang again. This time, it was Ethan. I cracked an egg into the pan and picked up with one hand. “Why didn’t you take the card?” “I told you. I forgot.” “Are you back at the Sterling Estate?” “Yeah.” He went quiet. “Chloe, did your grandfather…” “Did my grandfather what?” “Nothing.” More silence. The edges of the egg started to sizzle and bubble in the pan. “Ethan, what are you trying to say?” “You’re pregnant.” My hand holding the spatula froze. “I saw the test. It was on the bathroom counter.” Hot oil splattered from the pan, burning the back of my hand. I turned off the stove. “How far along?” “I don’t know. I haven’t been to the doctor yet.” I heard him take a long, deep breath on the other end, like he was trying to suppress a massive wave of emotion. “The baby is mine.” “Duh.” “Chloe, listen to me—” “Ethan,” I interrupted, “When you handed me that divorce agreement last night, did you know I was pregnant?” He didn’t speak. “You didn’t, right?” “…Right.” “Well, now you know. What of it?” “I’m coming to see you.” “For what? You owe nine hundred million dollars. Are you coming over to discuss which preschool we should enroll the kid in?” He went silent again. I scooped the slightly burnt egg onto a plate and took a bite. It was burnt, but still edible. “Don’t come. My brain is slow. I need time to think.” I hung up, chewing on the burnt egg. serena’s text was still lighting up my phone screen: *The nine hundred million Ethan owes? It wasn’t all from bad business deals.* I stared at it for a moment. I swallowed the egg, my throat feeling dry. I tapped her message and hit reply. *Then what was it?* She replied almost instantly. *He was set up.* *And the person who set the trap is someone you’d never expect.* 0

*Who are you talking about? Just say it clearly,* I texted back. She didn’t reply right away. I sat at the kitchen bar, finished my burnt egg, and drank a glass of milk. My stomach settled, and my mind cleared up a bit. Ten minutes later, Serena texted again. *Chloe, text isn’t the best way to explain this. Can we meet up?* I didn’t reply. I left my phone on the counter and washed my hands. Thomas walked in, holding a folder. “Miss Chloe, your grandfather wanted you to look over this before the legal team arrives tomorrow. Just so you’re prepared.” I dried my hands and took the folder. It was a copy of my divorce agreement with Ethan. Sticky notes were attached to it with Grandpa’s handwriting: *Clause 3 and Clause 7. Major red flags.* I flipped to Clause 3. *“All marital assets accumulated during the marriage shall be solely managed and disposed of by Party A (Ethan Vance).”* Clause 7. *“Party B (Chloe Sterling) voluntarily waives all rights to division of marital property.”* I stared at those two clauses. I hadn’t read them closely last night. He handed it to me, and I just signed. My hands were sticky with orange juice, he wiped them clean, handed me the pen, and I signed. “Miss Chloe, do you know what Ethan did in your name during your marriage?” Thomas’s voice was calm, like he was reading the weather forecast. “What do you mean?” “After Ethan married you three years ago, he used your name as a spouse to secure three massive mortgage loans against assets registered under your name.” I blinked. “I have assets under my name?” Thomas looked at my blank expression and went quiet for two seconds. “Miss Chloe… you didn’t know?” “Know what?” He didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away. I stood in the kitchen, clutching the agreement. Three massive properties. Under my name. I didn’t even know I owned anything. I said my brain runs a half-beat behind, but this was on a whole different level. I ran upstairs to Grandpa’s study. The door was closed. I knocked twice. “Come in.” “Grandpa, Thomas said three of my assets were mortgaged.” Grandpa was pouring tea. His hand was incredibly steady. “You didn’t know?” “No.” He set the teapot down and looked at me. “Before your mother passed away, she transferred everything she owned into your name. A massive commercial plot on the West Side, two office towers Downtown, and a trust fund.” My mouth fell open. “How much is all of that worth?” Grandpa picked up his teacup and blew on it. “Not much. Just about ten times Ethan’s nine-hundred-million-dollar debt.” The clink of his cup against his teeth was very quiet. I stood there, my brain short-circuiting. “To protect you from fortune hunters, your mother put everything into a blind trust. It was set to automatically activate when you turned twenty-two. You happened to turn twenty-two the year you got married.” “Did Ethan know about this?” Grandpa set his cup down, his gaze turning sharp. “How do you think he suddenly ended up lying on the side of the road in front of you?” A rainy night. A man in a suit, smelling of alcohol. The guy I dragged home. “Are you saying—” “I didn’t say anything,” Grandpa interrupted, taking another sip of tea. “Figure it out yourself.” I stood outside the study door, feeling the taste of the burnt egg turning sour in my mouth. That bowl of ramen three years ago. He ate it, told me to marry him, and I said okay. I had always thought I was the one who rescued him. Now, it looked like he had been waiting on that street corner for days, just waiting for me to “rescue” him. My phone rang. Ethan. I declined the call. As I walked downstairs, I looked at Serena’s text again. *Chloe, I’ll be waiting at the Sapphire Café on the East Side tonight. Come or don’t. But there’s something I think you should see with your own eyes.* *It’s a love letter Ethan wrote during college.* *To me.* I leaned against the banister and read the text twice. A love letter to her. From college. Ethan had never mentioned his college days to me. And I had never asked. That’s just how I am. I’m not curious, I don’t pry. If people don’t tell me, I don’t ask. If he made me ramen, I married him. If he told me to sign, I signed. I stuffed the phone in my pocket. I walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed an apple. I took a bite. Sour. Thomas walked over and looked at me. “Miss Chloe, do you want me to get the car ready?” “Where am I going?” “Aren’t you going out?” I stared at him, and he stared back. “Thomas, do you know everything that’s going on?” He took a step back. “I know nothing. I am merely a butler.” Then he added, “But your grandfather did ask me to tell you one thing.” “What?” “He said—don’t stay out too late. You’re eating for two now.” I froze with the apple in my mouth. Grandpa knew too. Who was actually the slow one in this family? Turns out, it was just me. 0

“You came.” Serena was sitting in a corner booth at the Sapphire Café. An untouched black coffee sat in front of her. I sat down across from her and took her in. Long hair, minimal makeup, wearing a soft cream knit dress. She had an old, worn watch on her wrist. She was pretty. The quiet, elegant kind of pretty that you couldn’t find a single flaw in. “You’re Serena Hale?” “Yes.” “What kind of ‘friend’ are you to Ethan?” She twirled her coffee cup. Her fingers were very pale. “College classmates. We dated for two years.” Her tone was flat, as if she were talking about someone else. I leaned back against the booth. “So, the ex-girlfriend.” “Yes.” “And?” She pulled a worn envelope from her bag and slid it across the table. The edges were frayed. On the front were two lines of text written in Ethan’s handwriting. I recognized his handwriting. It was beautiful and sharp. *To Serena Hale.* “Read it yourself,” she said. I pulled out the letter. It wasn’t long, just one page. The gist of it was Ethan saying his family was putting massive pressure on him to marry an heiress from an equal social standing. He didn’t want to drag her down, so he was letting her go. The last line read: *Once I have the power, I will come back for you.* I folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “Read it.” “Aren’t you mad?” “Why would I be? What he did in college has nothing to do with me.” Serena stared at me, her eyes blinking in surprise. “Chloe, are you seriously not mad?” “No. I wasn’t the one dating him in college.” She looked down and let out a soft laugh. It was a brief laugh, but I caught the emotion behind it. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was a faint trace of disappointment. She wanted me to be furious. She had dragged me all the way out here to show me this letter just to make me miserable. If I was miserable, she would have her opening. “Chloe, I didn’t just ask you out today because of this letter.” “Go on.” “Before the Vance family went under, Ethan reached out to me.” I picked up the glass of warm water the waitress had brought and took a sip. “When?” “Three months ago.” Three months ago. Back then, Ethan hadn’t mentioned a single thing about his company’s troubles to me. He came home every day, ate dinner, and sat next to me scrolling through his phone while I peeled oranges. “Why did he reach out to you?” “To borrow money.” Serena lowered her voice. “He said his company was hitting a rough patch and needed emergency liquid capital. He asked if I could help.” “Did you?” “Yes. I lent him thirty million.” I set my glass down. Thirty million. The ex-girlfriend. Three months ago. He borrowed thirty million dollars from his ex-girlfriend and didn’t tell his wife. “Where did you get thirty million?” “My own company. I run a biotech startup. We just closed our Series A funding two years ago.” A biotech entrepreneur ex-girlfriend. With her own company. Who casually lends him thirty million dollars. “And then?” “Then the Vance family went under anyway. My thirty million went down the drain.” She slid the envelope aside and crossed her hands on the table. “Chloe, I’m not here to ask you for the money. I’m here to tell you that the Vance family’s collapse wasn’t a natural business failure. It was a setup.” “What do you mean?” “I investigated. The suppliers that suddenly pulled out of the Vance Group? They all trace back to the same parent holding company.” I stared at her. “Who owns it?” “I’m still digging. But I have a lead.” She paused, her gaze locking onto my face. “Chloe, do you want to team up with me?” “To do what?” “To find the person who did this. And to help Ethan get his empire back.” I toyed with my glass, staying silent. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in closer. “I know you might feel like this has nothing to do with you since you signed the divorce papers. But—” “Serena,” I cut her off. “Yes?” “You lent him thirty million, you’re investigating the mastermind behind his downfall, and now you want to partner with me. Are you trying to help him, or are you just trying to win him back?” Her face froze for a fraction of a second. It was incredibly brief. But I saw it. It was the look of someone who had been exposed and couldn’t mask it in time. “I just… he’s my friend, after all.” “Friends don’t carry around ten-year-old love letters to show to their friend’s ex-wife.” Her fingers tightened. I stood up. “Thanks for the info. But I’m not interested in a partnership.” As I reached the door, she called out to me. “Chloe.” I turned around. She was still sitting there, her expression having reverted back to that gentle, quiet mask. “Do you know why Ethan married you?” I looked at her. “Because of the assets under your name. His family dug into your background and realized you were a Sterling. That rainy night wasn’t an accident. It was a staged play.” “You think you rescued a stray man. In reality, he waited in the pouring rain on that street for three days just to get picked up by you.” I didn’t say a word. I pushed the door open, letting the cold wind rush in. Three days. He waited in the rain for three days. Just to be “rescued” by me. For once, my brain didn’t run a half-beat behind. Everything clicked instantly. But knowing it didn’t change anything. My stomach started aching with that dull, heavy pressure again. I pressed my hand against my lower abdomen and hailed a cab. “Where to?” the driver asked. “East Side Women’s Hospital.”

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