Category: English

My boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart used my credit card to sponsor impoverished students, cultivating a persona of a beautiful and kind-hearted heiress. Then, the class funds went missing, only to be found in my locker. My boyfriend, looking heartbroken, said, “Blair, turn yourself in. I’ll wait for you.” I tried to explain, but no one believed me; the whole class accused me of theft. In the end, I was wrongfully imprisoned. My parents died in a car accident while trying to clear my name. My boyfriend seized the opportunity to take over my family’s company, but then announced his marriage to his childhood sweetheart. I died in prison, heartbroken. When I opened my eyes, I was back in time, when my childhood sweetheart was paying tuition for impoverished students. … “The university is organizing an endowment drive for the First-Gen Low-Income Student Support Fund. Who would like to pledge?” The moment the professor’s voice drifted through the lecture hall, a violent jolt ripped through my spine. I stared blankly at the podium, listening to the familiar pitch about financial aid, priority registration, and guaranteed fellowship nominations. My chest heaved. I drew in a ragged, desperate breath. I am alive. I am back. A split second later, Mia shot up from her seat in the front row. “Professor, I’d like to pledge seventy-five thousand dollars. I want it to go directly toward the living stipends of our FGLI students.” The words hung in the air, instantly sucking the oxygen out of the room. A collective gasp echoed off the auditorium walls. “Seventy-five grand? Mia, you can’t be serious.” Mia tilted her chin up just a fraction, the fluorescent lights catching the edge of the Van Cleef necklace resting against her collarbone. “It’s only seventy-five thousand. Why would I joke about something like that?” The room erupted. Cheers and applause washed over her. “Oh my god, Mia, you’re literally an angel,” Harper, our mutual roommate, gushed loudly. “You’re so loaded but you keep it so low-key. And when it actually matters, you’re incredibly generous. Unlike some people who parade around campus with massive, tacky designer bags just to show off.” Harper threw a pointed, venomous glare over her shoulder, her eyes locking onto the oversized leather tote slung across the back of my chair. I looked at the bag. I liked it because it was spacious. Back home, our estate manager used this exact model to haul fresh produce from the farmer’s market. Compared to the bespoke, one-of-a-kind pieces sitting in my walk-in closet, this was the most unremarkable, pedestrian bag I owned. A cold, creeping nausea settled in my stomach as the memories of my past life bled into the present. In that life, I had funded Mia’s entire existence under my father’s corporate philanthropic umbrella. I even gave her a supplementary Black Card to cover her “basic needs.” At first, I didn’t care about the few hundred or even a few thousand dollars she swiped here and there. Even on this exact day, when she grandstanded with my money to pledge seventy-five thousand dollars, I had felt a flicker of annoyance, but I’d kept my mouth shut. After all, my family’s foundation donated tens of millions annually. What was seventy-five grand? But that single moment of silence had been my undoing. It cemented Mia’s reputation as the campus’s golden-hearted heiress, while I was branded a vain, stingy poser. The nightmare had culminated in the ‘stolen class fund’ incident. When Mia led a witch hunt straight to my dorm and “found” the missing money in my closet, my boyfriend, Connor, had stood in front of the entire student body, looking at me with unbearable pity. “Turn yourself in, Blair. I’ll wait for you.” I was spat on. Expelled. Sent to prison. The university stripped me of my Vanguard Fellowship and handed it to Mia. And then, the phone call that shattered my soul: my parents, rushing to the precinct with the evidence to clear my name, had been run off the road. I died in that concrete cell. A slow, agonizing rot of the spirit. And in my final days, I watched on a smuggled phone as Connor—having hostilely taken over my family’s empire—proposed to Mia with a fleet of nine hundred synchronized drones lighting up the night sky. The internet crowned them the ultimate power couple. They had built their fairy tale on the blood of my parents. My nails dug into my palms, biting crescent moons into the skin. The phantom metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. At the front of the room, Mia was blushing, waving her hands in a performance of deep humility. “Oh, stop, you guys are exaggerating. I just want to do what I can to help people.” Then, right on cue, Mia shifted her gaze to me. Her eyes dipped to my bag, laced with manufactured concern. “Blair, that bag looks… really familiar. Listen, I know it’s normal for girls to want nice things, but please don’t let vanity ruin your future. You don’t have to pretend.” I didn’t even blink at her. I looked straight past her carefully contoured face to the professor. “Professor,” I said, my voice eerily calm, cutting through the chatter. “I’ll match it. Put me down for seventy-five thousand.” The professor blinked, adjusting his glasses. He looked at me with open skepticism. “Are you absolutely certain, Blair? If you commit to this ledger and fail to produce the funds, you will be disqualified from all academic honors, and your Vanguard Fellowship nomination will be revoked. Think carefully. Do not make impulsive decisions out of pride.” Mia rushed up the aisle, grabbing my arm with frantic, panicked fingers. “Blair, please! If you’re doing this just to compete with me, then I won’t donate. I’ll pull my pledge right now. I can’t watch you destroy your life just because you’re jealous of me. I would never forgive myself!” The moment she threatened to pull her funding, the FGLI students in the room snapped. Desperation is a volatile fuel, and Mia had just struck the match. They turned on me with absolute venom. “Blair, you selfish bitch! You’re going to cost us our stipends just to feed your massive ego?” “Do you have any idea what it took for us to get into this school? We skip meals! We count every single cent! Finally, someone is willing to help us breathe, and you’re going to ruin it because you want to play rich? You are disgusting.” “Get the hell out, Blair! You don’t belong here!” A guy in the row ahead of me, red-faced and shaking with stress, lunged. He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me hard. I stumbled, my hip slamming into the edge of the desk before I hit the floor. The classroom erupted into chaos. The professor shouted threats of suspension, slamming his hands on the podium until the room finally, reluctantly, fell back into a simmering silence. He looked down at me, his expression tight with disapproval. “Blair, wanting to help is admirable, but you must live within your means. For your own good, I am removing your name from the ledger.” I pushed myself off the floor, dusting off my jeans. The ache in my hip was grounding. It was real. “Professor,” I said, my voice dropping to a glacial chill. “It is not your place to dictate my financial decisions.” Mia gasped, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. “Professor, please don’t be hard on her! It’s fine, I just won’t donate. I don’t want to be the cause of all this.” She made it sound exactly like I was holding a gun to her head. It was a masterful, sickening performance. The guy who had shoved me stepped forward again, his fists clenched. “Are you fucking kidding me, Blair? Drop the act. If you have the money, let’s see it.” “Exactly! We don’t even want your dirty money. We don’t need your fake charity.” “I wouldn’t take a dime from you if I were starving. Professor, we refuse her donation!” The professor scowled at me, treating me like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “Blair, read the room. Stop being so deeply selfish.” A quiet, hollow laugh slipped past my lips. I looked around the room—at the desperate students, the condescending professor, and Mia, who was hiding a triumphant smirk behind her trembling hands. “Alright,” I said smoothly. “I won’t donate. Let the record show, this was your choice.” The tension snapped. The students instantly swarmed Mia, their eyes wide with relief and sycophantic devotion. “Mia, she backed down! Nobody is forcing you now. You’re still going to do the seventy-five grand, right?” Mia shot me one last look—a fleeting, piercing glance of pure mockery—before turning her angelic smile back to the crowd. “Of course I am.” The professor walked down the steps, his tone softening into reverence. “Mia, if you are certain, please sign the pledge form here. The wire transfer needs to clear the university’s account within three business days.” Without a second of hesitation, Mia took the pen and signed her name with a flourish. An hour later, I was walking back to the dorms with a takeout coffee when I saw them. Connor was standing by the courtyard fountain, laughing as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Mia’s ear. He was looking at her the way you look at something precious, something delicate. The moment his eyes shifted and caught me walking toward them, the warmth drained from his face, replaced by a harsh, suffocating coldness. “Blair. I heard what you did in lecture today,” Connor snapped, closing the distance between us. “Throwing a fit, pretending you could drop seventy-five grand just to show up Mia? When did you become so completely obsessed with status?” He paused, taking in my blank, unreadable expression, and forced his tone to soften. He played the role of the disappointed but caring boyfriend flawlessly. “Look, Blair, I’m just looking out for you. My family is comfortable, but seventy-five grand? That’s life-altering money. Were you really going to drain your parents’ retirement accounts just to stroke your own ego? You’re lucky Mia stepped in and saved you from making the biggest mistake of your life. You owe her a massive apology. Actually, she was looking at a Cartier Love bracelet recently. It’s only about five grand. You should buy it for her as a thank you.” I stared at Connor. I really looked at him. This was the man I had loved. The man I had pulled strings for, secretly securing him a highly coveted internship at my father’s firm. The man who had spun me sob stories about his “poor, struggling childhood friend,” begging me to help her out, which was why I’d given Mia the Black Card in the first place. I had loved him, so I loved the things he cared about. Now, standing in the dappled campus sunlight, I realized he was just painfully, terrifyingly mediocre. I let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “Connor. Do you need me to buy you a mirror? Because the audacity is actually blinding. You want me to buy your little untouchable angel a five-thousand-dollar bracelet? Your ego is bigger than your empty skull.” Connor physically recoiled. He blinked, genuinely stunned. In my past life, I had always capitulated. A few thousand dollars was nothing to me, and keeping the peace was everything. Today, I wouldn’t give him the loose change at the bottom of my purse if he were begging on the street. His face flushed a violent, ugly red. “Blair, what the hell is wrong with you?” I widened my eyes, offering him a look of deadpan innocence. “Do you need me to translate it into smaller words?” Mia immediately shrank behind Connor, her voice trembling. “Blair, I know you hate me. I’ll just stay away from you and Connor from now on. Please don’t fight with him because of me.” Connor threw a protective arm out, shielding her. “Stop acting like a paranoid bitch, Blair. I see Mia like a little sister. You drop thousands on a bag without thinking twice, so what’s the big deal about buying her one piece of jewelry? She’s basically going to be your sister-in-law one day.” I held Mia’s gaze for three long seconds. “Her mouth doesn’t spit gold, Connor. She’s not worth five grand. She’s not worth a dime.” Tears instantly spilled over Mia’s lashes. She looked utterly broken. Connor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. “You are completely out of line. Mia saved you from a seventy-five-thousand-dollar mistake. A gift is the absolute bare minimum. If you can’t even be a decent human being about this, then we’re done. We’re breaking up.” A profound, weightless relief washed over me. I smiled. It was the first genuine smile I’d worn all day. “Perfect. We’re done. Have a nice life.” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I turned on my heel and walked briskly toward the dorms, the faint, furious sounds of Connor shouting after me—warning me not to come crying back to him—fading into the background. The second I locked my dorm room door, I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, and froze the supplementary American Express Centurion card. Let’s see where you pull seventy-five grand from now, Mia. A week passed. The promised wire transfer never hit the university’s account. The FGLI students and the financial aid office began hunting Mia down. When she finally showed her face in our dorm room, she was a frantic, weeping mess. “I lost my card!” she sobbed to our roommates. “I left it right here on my desk, I swear. I just stepped out for a second, and when I came back, it was gone. And… and Blair was the only one in the room. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to accuse her, but I have no other way to pay the endowment! Blair, please. Please just tell me where my card is.” I leaned back in my desk chair, casually flipping a page in my textbook. “No idea. Haven’t seen it.” Mia dropped to her knees right beside my chair, burying her face in her hands. “Blair, I’m begging you. If you need money, I can give you cash! Just give me the card back so I don’t ruin the lives of all those students who are depending on me.” The performance was seamless. She had officially branded me a thief. Right on cue, Professor Aris walked into our dorm room, flanked by campus security. He looked at me with deep, exhausted disappointment. “Given the severity of the financial amount involved, we need to conduct a search of this room. Do I have your consent?” Harper and the other roommates eagerly nodded. The campus police began tearing the room apart. It took exactly four minutes. “Found it,” one of the officers announced. He was pointing at the bottom shelf of my open closet. Every head in the room turned. Resting conspicuously on top of a folded cashmere sweater was a heavy, anodized titanium black card. The silence in the room was thick and suffocating. The judgment radiating from the others felt like physical heat. From the hallway, Connor pushed his way into the room. He must have followed the security detail up. He looked at the card, then looked at me, his eyes swimming with tragic, manufactured heartbreak. “Just turn yourself in, Blair,” he whispered, his voice cracking perfectly. “You made a terrible mistake, but I still love you. I’ll wait for you.” I couldn’t help it. A short, sharp bark of laughter tore from my throat. I stood up, walked over to the closet, and picked up the heavy metal card. “This is my card,” I said plainly. Connor’s face twisted in disgust. “Stop lying, Blair. It’s over. That is an Amex Centurion. You expect us to believe a middle-class girl just happens to have a Black Card?” Harper crossed her arms, sneering. “I know for a fact that’s Mia’s. I’ve seen her use it at the dining hall.” I smiled. The corners of my mouth curled up into a terrifyingly serene arc. “Is that so?” Slowly, deliberately, I reached into the pocket of my jeans. I pulled out my wallet, slipped my fingers into the front slot, and withdrew an identical, heavy titanium Black Card. “You must mean this one, then,” I said, holding them both up to the light. “The problem is… they both belong to me.”

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The first time I ever went to my wife’s office was to call in sick for her. The receptionist stared at me, her impeccably arched eyebrows pulling together in utter bewilderment. “You have to be joking, sir. The woman you’re talking about is the CEO of this company.” She tilted her head, a mix of pity and suspicion in her eyes. “Besides, our CEO and her husband commute together every single day. And frankly… you don’t look like him.” Before I could even process the absurdity of her words, the silver doors of the executive elevator chimed open. My wife—the woman who was supposed to be bedridden with a fever in our cramped, moldy apartment—stepped out into the lobby. Her arm was looped intimately through the crook of another man’s elbow. Her first love. Her golden boy. Our eyes met across the expanse of polished marble. The radiant, effortless smile on her face froze, shattering into something brittle and panicked. I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was draped in head-to-toe designer labels, the kind of quiet luxury that screamed generational wealth. And as the reality of it all crashed into me, a laugh clawed its way up my throat. I laughed until hot, bitter tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “That single pair of earrings you’re wearing costs more than my annual salary,” I choked out, my voice echoing in the sudden silence of the lobby. “And yet, you played house with me. You pretended to be a struggling, entry-level accountant making barely enough to scrape by.” My chest heaved. The air felt too thin. “You told me your startup went bankrupt. I sold the only house my parents left me to plug your financial sinkholes. I wrote code for ten hours a day and delivered takeout until 2 AM! I had a bleeding ulcer and refused to go to the ER because we ‘couldn’t afford it’!” I took a step toward her. “Tell me! Why the hell would you play me like this?!” Vanessa’s lips parted, trembling slightly. She stammered, searching for a script that didn’t exist. The man beside her just smiled. He reached out and patted my shoulder with the condescending grace of a king addressing a peasant. “Hey, buddy. Don’t be too hard on her,” he said, his voice smooth like expensive bourbon. “When she married you, she made a promise to me. She swore that everything she had—her body, her assets, her future—would always belong to me.” He leaned in slightly. “So do yourself a favor. Stop dreaming about things that were never yours to begin with.” Seven years of marriage. Seven years of what I thought was us against the world, surviving on love and instant ramen. But I wasn’t her partner. I was just an unpaid extra in someone else’s love story. Except, I was Vanessa’s legally wedded husband. Did they really think they could strip me down to the bone and leave me with absolutely nothing? 1 “Shut your mouth. You don’t get to speak right now!” I snapped, my voice raw and loud enough to make the security guard flinch. I turned my bloodshot eyes back to my wife. “Vanessa. Tell me right now. Is this true?” Vanessa let out a long, heavy sigh. It was the sigh of a mother dealing with a difficult toddler. “Carter, listen to me,” she said, her tone maddeningly calm. “I just… I didn’t want you to lose your drive. If you knew I had money, I was afraid you’d get comfortable. Become a freeloader. I was protecting your pride. Besides, didn’t you tell me on our wedding night that you wanted to provide for me?” “Don’t you dare gaslight me! Seven years!” My voice cracked, vibrating with a rage so deep it rattled my ribs. “Vanessa, we have been married for seven years! Is that not enough time to know the kind of man I am? If I were the kind of guy to leech off a woman, would I have sold my dead parents’ home to fund your fake debts?!” My hands were shaking. I couldn’t stop them. “Or did you just think I was stupid enough to be your mark for the rest of my life?” She dropped Preston’s arm and reached out for me. “No, Carter, that’s not it at all—” I recoiled, stepping back so quickly my heel caught on the tile. The sole of my shoe was worn thin—literally flapping open at the edge—because I couldn’t justify spending forty dollars on a new pair. My gaze drifted to Preston. He was wearing handcrafted Italian leather loafers. A tailored cashmere overcoat draped perfectly across his broad shoulders. And there, gleaming under the lobby lights on his wrist, was a Rolex Submariner. I remembered Vanessa tracing the cheap leather band of my watch years ago, whispering, “When I make it big, I’m going to buy you a Rolex. You’ll be the envy of everyone we know.” She really did buy it. She just put it on another man’s wrist. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Not it? Then what the hell is he?” Vanessa glanced at him. “Preston is just a friend.” Preston’s arrogant smirk instantly vanished. “Nessa!” She shot him a sharp, warning look, squeezing his arm before turning her pleading eyes back to me. “Yes, Preston is my first love. I never hid my past from you, Carter. But right now, we are strictly business partners. He’s looking to invest in my firm.” I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached. “Then what the hell did he mean by what he just said?!” Vanessa looked at Preston cautiously, her voice taking on a dismissive, breezy quality. “Oh, come on, you know how he is. He’s got a twisted sense of humor. He was just messing with you…” “I wasn’t joking,” Preston cut in, his voice sharp. “That’s exactly what you told me on FaceTime the night of your wedding. While he was passed out drunk in the bed right next to you…” “Preston!” Vanessa hissed, panic finally cracking her composed facade. Preston rolled his eyes and clamped his mouth shut. But the damage was done. The bottom of my world fell out, leaving me plunging into a cold, breathless void. It was all true. Every sickening word. Vanessa couldn’t even look me in the eye. Her guilt was thickly veiled by a sudden, defensive impatience. “Don’t listen to him, Carter, he’s just running his mouth. Look, you need to go home. I have a major client meeting in ten minutes. We will talk about this tonight.” I took a slow, agonizingly deep breath. The air in my lungs felt like broken glass. “You don’t need to explain anything.” “Carter—” “Vanessa, I want a divorce.” The words tasted like ash, but they were the truest things I had said in years. “That’s five words. Let’s say… a million dollars a word. Five million to buy out our marriage and give you two your happy ending. Sounds like a bargain, doesn’t it?” 2 “Carter, lower your voice and be rational. We’ll discuss this at home.” “Home?” I let out a sharp, breathless laugh. “You mean the crumbling, peeling shoebox apartment we rent for seven hundred dollars a month?” I was laughing, but there was no joy in it. The lobby was coming alive now, employees pausing at the turnstiles, whispering, pulling out their phones. She lunged forward and grabbed my arm, her manicured nails digging into my cheap flannel shirt. “Stop causing a scene. You’re embarrassing me.” “Let go.” She tightened her grip. “Is this what this is? You’re throwing a tantrum because I didn’t fund your life? You want to play the victim in front of half the financial district so you can squeeze me for cash?” “I let you sleep next to me for seven years for free, you should consider yourself lucky! I promise you, Carter, the more you humiliate me like this, the less you will ever get from me!” I stared at her. I searched the contours of her face—the slope of her nose, the curve of her jaw—looking for the woman I had loved. She was gone. Or maybe she had never existed at all. Preston watched us wrestle, a cruel, amused smirk playing on his lips. “Let it go, Nessa,” he drawled, adjusting his cashmere coat. “It’s a bad look. Anyway, didn’t you promise to buy me that new Patek Philippe before our client lunch?” Vanessa didn’t miss a beat. “Yes. Absolutely. And I’m upgrading your car, too. We need to project the right image for the investors.” Preston shot me a triumphant, pitying look. “Hear that, buddy? Nessa’s money is my money. You want five million? Keep dreaming.” He took a step closer, invading my personal space, the scent of his expensive Tom Ford cologne suffocating me. “But look… you did keep her bed warm for me all these years. That’s hard work. If you swallow your pride and call me ‘sir,’ I’ll tell Nessa to cut you a check so you can replace those pathetic, falling-apart clearance rack shoes.” The words hit me harder than a physical blow. Images flashed behind my eyes in a rapid, sickening montage: the winter I spent shivering because I refused to buy a new coat. The video game I put back on the shelf because it was sixty bucks. The icy rain lashing my face on my delivery bike while a customer berated me over a spilled soup, all for a three-dollar tip. The humiliation didn’t just rise; it erupted. As Preston leaned his perfectly groomed face in close to mock me, a primal, animalistic rage took over. I didn’t think. I just swung. I put every ounce of my seven years of misery into my right fist, connecting with a wet crack right on his smug jaw. Preston staggered backward, his arms flailing as he hit the marble floor. Time seemed to suspend itself. For three seconds, the lobby was dead silent. Then, Preston touched his mouth, looked at his fingers, and his face contorted into pure, unadulterated fury. “Motherfucker! You broke my tooth! Nessa! The piece of trash hit me!” Vanessa reacted with the speed and ferocity of a protective mother bear. She threw herself in front of Preston, her hands gently cradling his jaw. “Carter, are you insane?!” she shrieked. She stood up, grabbed her heavy leather Chanel tote by the straps, and swung it at my head like a medieval flail. I didn’t have time to duck. The heavy brass hardware of the interlocking ‘C’s slammed into my cheekbone. The skin split instantly. A hot, searing pain flashed across my face, followed by the warm trickle of blood. I grabbed my face, glaring at her through the pain. “Don’t push me to hit a woman!” “Push you?!” Vanessa screamed, her poise completely gone. “Hit me! Do it! If you had half a spine, you wouldn’t be standing here making empty threats!” She pointed a shaking finger at my chest. “You have no ambition! Seven years of marriage and you’re still just a grunt writing code! If you weren’t so incredibly average, maybe you wouldn’t have to deliver food like a peasant to make ends meet!” “You’re a failure, Carter! And you’re projecting your own pathetic inadequacy onto us! Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to hide you? I don’t even tell my peers you exist because I am so deeply ashamed of you!” The blood dripped off my chin, landing in thick crimson droplets on the collar of my shirt. It was warm, but I felt freezing. A bone-deep, marrow-chilling cold. I thought about my boss. The endless overtime. The impossible deadlines. The way I let them treat me like a doormat because I was terrified of losing my salary and defaulting on the loans I took out for her. I never told her how much I suffered because I didn’t want to add to her stress. And now, my bleeding wounds were the very weapons she was using to execute me. I looked at her. I felt nothing but a terrifying, hollow clarity. “Vanessa,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, ragged and dry. “As of today, we are done.” She blinked, momentarily thrown off by my icy tone. “What?” “You think five million is too much? Fine. Every dollar you stole from me, every drop of blood I am bleeding right now—I am going to claw it all back in a courtroom. Down to the last cent.” Half of the company she built with my parents’ money. Half of the profits. The house she bought Preston. The cars. The Rolex. I was going to burn it all to the ground and take my half from the ashes. Preston scrambled to his feet, his hand still over his mouth. “In your dreams, you psycho!” I didn’t dignify him with a response. I turned on my heel and walked toward the revolving glass doors. With every step, my cheek throbbed. With every step, the blood dripped. But my spine was perfectly straight. A man can be broken, but he doesn’t have to bow. As for whether I was dreaming? I’d let my lawyers answer that for him. 3 By the time I walked out of the law firm, the sky was a bruised, inky black. I pushed open the door to my apartment, wincing as the painkillers began to wear off. The first thing I saw was an open Rimowa suitcase sitting in the middle of our cramped living room. Vanessa was neatly folding her silk dresses. Preston was lounging on our faded, second-hand sofa. “You’re back,” Vanessa said, not even bothering to look up. Her voice was flat, aggressively normal, as if the morning’s bloodshed had never happened. “Good. We need to talk.” She zipped up a compartment. “Preston has a delicate heart condition. The shock from your little stunt today triggered an arrhythmia. His doctor says he needs round-the-clock monitoring. I’ll be staying with him for a few days.” I walked over to the suitcase. Tucked in the corner of a mesh pocket was a foil square. I pulled it out. A premium Trojan condom. “Is this part of the doctor’s prescribed treatment?” I asked, dropping it onto the coffee table. “What’s his name, Dr. Feelgood from Tinder?” She snatched it off the table, rolling her eyes in exaggerated annoyance. “It must have been at the bottom of my purse and fell in when I packed my dresses. You are so violently insecure, Carter.” She snapped the suitcase shut. “I know you’re emotional today, so I’m not going to fight with you. Preston needs me right now. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” Needs. When she needed me, I was there. I gave her my parents’ legacy. My youth. My health. When I needed her, she was in the arms of another man. Was it fair? No. But marriage isn’t about fairness. It’s about a willing surrender. I had surrendered willingly for seven years. Now, the well was dry. The love was dead. “Okay,” I said quietly. I turned and walked into our bedroom. I opened the closet and began pulling her coats off the hangers, tossing them onto the bed. My hand brushed against something hard on the top shelf. I pulled it down. It was our framed wedding photo. She was laughing, radiant in a simple white dress. I was looking at her like she was the sun. “Carter, what are you doing?” She was standing in the doorway, a sudden flicker of genuine panic in her voice. “I thought you were going to bed.” I didn’t look at her. I walked over to the corner and dropped the heavy glass frame straight into the metal trash can. It hit the bottom with a dull, final thud. “I’m packing the rest of your things so you don’t have to trouble yourself with a second trip.” “I told you I’m only staying for a few days—” “Then let me be clear,” I cut her off, my voice deathly quiet. “Don’t ever come back. Take your things, take the man who ‘needs’ you, and get the hell out of my life.” Vanessa rushed past me, reaching into the trash to fish out the photo. She wiped a smudge off the glass and set it carefully on the dresser. “Stop acting like a child, Carter. Once he’s stabilized, I will come right back.” Preston materialized in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame. “Nessa, babe, I’ve got this incredible new tech startup idea. Huge ROI potential. I sent the pitch deck to your phone, take a look.” Vanessa barely glanced at her glowing screen before waving her hand. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ll have accounting wire you ten million in the morning.” Before her screen went dark, I caught the title of the deck. It was Preston’s tenth “startup.” Ten million dollars. How many nights in the freezing rain on a delivery bike would it take to earn ten million dollars? How many lines of code? I would have worked until my heart gave out, and I still wouldn’t have scratched the surface. I thought about the news stories of programmers dropping dead at their desks at thirty-two. If I hadn’t gone to her office today, that would have been my obituary. Dead, exhausted, paying off the debts of a millionaire who was sleeping with another man. Preston caught me staring. His lips curled into a wicked smile. “What’s wrong, Carter? Checking out my deck? Thinking about becoming an entrepreneur yourself?” Vanessa let out a derisive scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t have the stomach for it. He couldn’t tell a bull market from a bear market if his life depended on it. He’s destined to be a corporate drone until the day he dies.” “Are you done?” I asked, the ice in my voice freezing the room. She blinked, startled. I pointed at the door. “If you’re done, get out. Get the fuck out of my apartment.” “Carter, this is our—” “No. It isn’t,” I snarled, stepping into her space. “I pay the rent. I pay the electric bill. I pay for the water, the gas, and the groceries. I bought the mattress you sleep on. Aside from using it as a hotel for seven years, what exactly have you contributed to this home?” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because I was right. For seven years, I transferred her a thousand dollars a week to pay down her “debts,” while absorbing every single living expense. I skipped meals so I could buy her designer perfumes, terrified that her successful girlfriends would mock her. And all the while, she was drowning in cash, laughing at me, playing sugar mama to a pretentious parasite. Vanessa’s face hardened into a mask of cold pride. “Fine. I’m leaving. But don’t you dare come crawling back when you realize what you’ve lost!” “Get out!” The front door slammed shut. The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound was the low, mechanical hum of the refrigerator. And my own fractured breathing. My legs gave out. I slid down the wall until I hit the cheap linoleum floor. A tear broke free, splashing onto the floorboards. Then another. And another. I was a thirty-year-old man, sitting alone in the dark, weeping with the ragged, gasping sobs of an abandoned child. I don’t know how long I sat there. Hours, maybe. My phone buzzed against my thigh. I pulled it out. It was an iMessage from an unknown number. An image file. I clicked it. It was a photo taken in a dim, luxurious hotel room. Vanessa was fast asleep, her bare shoulder glowing in the ambient light, her face pressed contentedly against Preston’s bare chest. Beneath the photo was a single line of text: Thanks for giving her up. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned. Then, my thumbs moved over the keyboard. You’re welcome. Thanks for taking out my trash. Delivered. My private investigator had warned me that Vanessa was incredibly careful—he hadn’t been able to secure definitive proof of physical infidelity yet. Well. Now I had it. 4 The next morning, I stood outside the HR department of my tech firm. The piece of paper in my hand was so absurd I almost laughed. Embezzlement? Five hundred thousand dollars? I was a backend development lead. The absolute largest budget I had clearance for was replacing the team’s standing desks. How could I possibly move half a million dollars? I tossed the termination notice onto the HR director’s desk. “I want to pull the system operation logs and the third-party audit reports right now.” The director pushed his glasses up his nose, offering me a look of sickening pity. “Carter… the company was acquired late last night. If you want to see the logs, you have to talk to the new owner.” “Who the hell is the new owner?!” “A Mr. Preston Li.” … I bypassed security and kicked open the double mahogany doors to the CEO’s office. Sure enough, Preston was slouched in the executive leather chair, his feet resting on the glass desk. Vanessa was sitting on the sofa, calmly reviewing a stack of legal documents. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our star developer,” Preston gloated, his smile exposing his perfectly capped teeth. “Or should I say, former developer?” Blood roared in my ears. But I dug my nails into my palms and forced myself to breathe. “Vanessa,” I said, ignoring him completely. “The audit report is a forgery. Hardware procurement requires three levels of executive sign-off. I only have recommendation privileges, no signatory authority. The system logs will prove I never authorized those wires.” Vanessa finally looked up, her expression a mask of corporate indifference. “The system logs were corrupted in a cyber attack last night. The records are gone. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? The exact files detailing your procurement history simply vanished.” “A cyber attack?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I built this company’s security architecture from the ground up. I wrote the firewall protocols myself. You think anyone believes some phantom hacker just waltzed in?” Preston dropped his feet from the desk and leaned forward. “Which is exactly why you’re our prime suspect. Inside jobs are always the easiest, right? Deleting a few log files, faking some purchase orders… child’s play for a senior engineer like you.” I clenched my fists so tight my knuckles turned white. “You tampered with the core database!” Preston stood up, straightening his tie. “Careful now, Carter. Slander is an ugly thing. Right now, every digital footprint points directly to you. You’re looking at a civil suit that will bankrupt you for three lifetimes. And let’s not forget the federal prison time.” He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from my face. He dropped his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Or… you could get on your knees and beg me. If you put on a good show, maybe I’ll ask Vanessa to go easy on you.” My stomach churned with pure revulsion. I looked past him. “Vanessa! Are you really going to sit there and say nothing?!” She met my gaze, her voice airy and detached. “You got greedy, Carter. We’re giving you a way out. We’re actually doing you a favor.” “A favor?!” I exploded. “Vanessa, was playing me for an absolute fool for seven years not enough for you?! Now you’re framing me for a federal crime to ruin my life?! Do you hate me that much? You won’t be satisfied until I’m entirely destroyed?” Her face paled slightly, a flicker of something human crossing her eyes. Preston grabbed me by the bicep. “Who the fuck do you think you’re yelling at?!” “Get your hands off me!” I shoved him back. “You just want to see me beg, don’t you? You want to watch me crawl on my belly and lick your boots? You can go straight to hell!” I turned to Vanessa, my voice booming off the glass walls. “I will not pay a single dime. I will not confess to a single crime. Call the police right now if you have the guts. I’ll see both of you in court!” Vanessa’s lips parted, trembling. She looked like she wanted to say something, but Preston cut her off. “Nessa, babe, go grab a coffee. Let me handle him.” She hesitated, her eyes darting between us, before grabbing her bag and slipping out the door. The second the door clicked shut, the playful arrogance vanished from Preston’s face, replaced by a cold, reptilian malice. “Let’s cut the shit, Carter. You’re just bitter. You’re bitter she chose me over you. You’re bitter you aren’t going to get a dime in the divorce. And you’re bitter about that little photo I sent you.” Every muscle in my body locked. “Oh,” Preston grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Hit a nerve, did I?” “Great lighting in that picture, don’t you think? You know, she really is incredible. Her skin is so soft… she was practically melting for me…” The roaring in my ears grew deafening. “What is your point?” I rasped. “My point, Carter, is that you lost. Absolutely and comprehensively. Her body is mine. Her heart is mine. Every dollar she makes, this company, her entire future—it all belongs to me.” “And you? You’re just the garbage we need to take out to the curb.” My fist connected with his face before my brain even registered the command to swing. My knuckles grazed his cheek. He stumbled back, touching the red mark blooming on his skin. A flash of violent rage crossed his eyes, but then he started laughing. “Triggered? Listen to me, you pathetic loser. I’m giving you one last chance. Sign the divorce papers, walk away with zero assets, and disappear from this city. Do that, and I’ll drop the embezzlement charges.” “Half a million dollars, Carter. How many pizzas do you have to deliver to pay that off?” The last remaining thread of my sanity snapped. I lunged forward, tackling him around the waist. We crashed into the glass coffee table, shattering it. I pinned him to the floor, drawing my fist back to cave his face in, when the double doors flew open. Vanessa stood there, frozen. Preston immediately wiped the corner of his mouth, smearing a nonexistent drop of blood. “Nessa! Call security! I was just trying to negotiate a settlement and he went feral!” “I didn’t—!” I started. “Enough!” Vanessa screamed. She barked an order into her Apple Watch. Less than ten seconds later, two massive men in tactical suits burst into the room. They hauled me off Preston, locking my arms behind my back. One of them kicked the back of my knees, forcing me hard onto the carpet. A heavy hand slammed into the back of my head, pressing my wounded cheek violently into the floor. I couldn’t move. I could only listen to the sickeningly cold tone of my wife’s voice. “Preston. Whatever he did to you, pay him back.” I heard the clack, clack of Preston’s Italian loafers walking toward me. Then, the heavy leather sole of his shoe pressed directly onto my face. He ground his heel into my cheekbone, twisting it like he was putting out a cigarette. Then he pulled his foot back and kicked me squarely in the ribs. A sharp gasp punched out of my lungs. Blood began pouring from my nose, soaking the expensive carpet. But oddly enough, I didn’t feel the pain. I just felt an overwhelming sense of absurdity. Seven years of devotion. Seven years of giving her my actual lifeblood. And this was my reward. Face down in the dirt, bleeding at her feet. Vanessa looked down at me, her expression completely detached. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Carter? I’m calling the police right now. Let’s see how tough you are in handcuffs.” Just as she reached for her phone, it rang in her hand. She frowned and answered it. As she listened, the blood drained rapidly from her face. Her arrogant posture crumbled. She lowered the phone, staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. “You… you filed a lawsuit against me for the divorce…?”

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Chapter 1 Today is my mother-in-law’s seventieth birthday. But instead of seeing the birthday girl sitting at the head of the table receiving congratulations, I saw her hunched over in the sweltering, 100-degree kitchen, spinning like a top to cook for a family of over twenty people. Sweat poured down her deeply wrinkled face, and she nearly fainted several times. Meanwhile, my father-in-law, Arthur, sat in the air-conditioned living room playing poker and cursing. “You old bat, why are you so slow? Are you trying to starve me to death?” My husband, Tom, chimed in, echoing his father. Watching my mother-in-law trembling as she carried a massive bowl of boiling hot braised pork, the fire in my heart instantly flared up. Since you guys don’t want to act like decent human beings, I’ll revoke your humanity for you. I stormed into the kitchen and snatched the bowl of braised pork right out of her hands. “Eat, eat, eat! Go eat at your own funerals!” … “Ah! I’m burning alive!” Arthur shot up from the sofa like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, clutching his ankle and howling in pain. The steaming hot braised pork was scattered all over the floor. The greasy, rich sauce flowed freely across the floorboards, and the savory smell, mixed with the stench of Arthur’s feet, instantly filled the entire living room. The previously bustling living room fell dead silent. All the relatives had their mouths hanging open, staring at me in absolute shock. Tom was the first to react. He stood up abruptly, pointed at my nose, and roared, “Chloe, are you crazy? Today is my mom’s seventieth birthday! What kind of psycho fit are you throwing?” “Oh, so you do know it’s your mom’s seventieth birthday?” I put my hands on my hips, my voice even louder than his, shaking the ceiling. “A seventy-year-old birthday girl, slaving away in the kitchen for a bunch of able-bodied giant babies like you? Aren’t you afraid of bad karma shortening your lives?!” I pointed toward the kitchen. My mother-in-law was leaning against the doorframe, her face pale as a sheet, sweating profusely, and looking at us with pure terror. Her clothes were completely soaked through, clinging to her emaciated back like a crumpled piece of paper. “Mom has been busy in the kitchen all morning without even a sip of water. And you guys? Enjoying the AC, eating watermelon, cracking sunflower seeds, and complaining the food is too slow?” The more I spoke, the angrier I got. I grabbed the fruit platter off the coffee table and smashed it violently onto the floor. Crash! Glass shards flew everywhere, terrifying a few bratty kids into bawling loudly. “What are you crying for? Cry again and I’ll throw you out!” I glared fiercely, and the kids instantly stopped crying, shrinking into the adults’ arms, trembling. Arthur recovered from the shock, shaking with rage. He pointed at me and cursed, “Rebellion! Total rebellion! Tom, is this the good wife you married? How dare she flip a table! Beat her! Beat this unfilial shrew to death!” Goaded by his father, Tom lost face. He rolled up his sleeves and was about to charge at me. “Chloe, you don’t know what’s good for you, do you? Apologize to my dad right now and lick the floor clean, or I’ll destroy you today!” I sneered, pulled a can of pepper spray from my purse, and gave it a quick spritz in the air. “Come on then! Who dares to lay a finger on me? I’ve got nothing to lose today. At worst, I’ll burn this house down and we can all die together!” My “mutually assured destruction” posture successfully intimidated Tom. He stopped in his tracks, his face dark with anger, caught between a rock and a hard place. At this moment, my mother-in-law shakily walked over, pulled at the corner of my shirt, and pleaded through tears, “Chloe… stop it. I wanted to do it. Mom isn’t tired. Don’t ruin the family harmony over me…” Seeing her so subservient only fueled my anger, but mostly, it broke my heart. This old woman had been enslaved by Arthur for fifty years. Her knees had essentially taken root in the ground; she couldn’t even stand up straight anymore. “Mom, don’t worry about it!” I grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down on the sofa. “Today is your birthday, and you should be sitting here waiting to be served! If anyone dares to make you work, I’ll make sure they swallow more than they can chew!” Seeing this, Arthur violently smashed the teacup in his hand onto the floor and roared, “Fine! Fine! Nobody cooks, right? Then nobody eats! Let’s all just starve!” “If nobody cooks, then nobody cooks!” I plopped down next to my mother-in-law, crossed my legs, and gave Arthur a side-eye. “I’m not hungry anyway. Let’s see who gets to eat a hot meal today!” Chapter 2 The atmosphere in the living room froze to the absolute limit. The braised pork on the floor still glistened with grease, looking like a mocking, smiling face. Tom’s older sister, Sarah, suddenly chimed in with a sarcastic tone. While patting her son, who had just been crying from fright, she rolled her eyes: “Oh my, what a display of authority from my sister-in-law. We don’t even act this arrogant in our own homes, and now we come back to our parents’ house only to be subjected to her moods. Dad, this is impossible to live with.” Sarah was the textbook definition of a “married daughter is like spilled water” type. Every time she visited, she only knew how to eat and take things, never stepping a single foot into the kitchen. Hearing his daughter complain, Arthur’s temper flared up again. “Tom! Are you dead? You can’t even control a woman? I think you’re trying to piss me off to death!” Caught in the middle, Tom’s face turned the color of pig liver. He turned to look at me, lowering his voice, and said through gritted teeth, “Chloe, are you done? So many relatives are watching, do you really have to humiliate me like this? Hurry up, go to the kitchen and whip up a few dishes, and we’ll let this go.” “Humiliate you?” I laughed out loud, exaggeratedly, as if I had just heard the funniest joke. “Tom, do you even have any shame left? You let your seventy-year-old mother wait on your entire family, and you think you have dignity? Your sister was born from your mother, did she lose her arms and legs? She comes back and just opens her mouth waiting to be fed. Is she a giant baby or disabled?” Sarah jumped up in anger: “Chloe, who are you calling names?” “I’m talking about you!” I glared right back, not backing down an inch. “Your mom has high blood pressure and a herniated disc, don’t you know that? Have you ever brought her a single pill when you visited? Besides your mouth, what else did you bring?” Sarah was rendered speechless by my retort and could only turn to Arthur, whining, “Dad! Look at her!” Arthur slammed his cane hard against the floor: “Absolute rebellion! In this house, I am the sky! If I tell you to cook, you cook! If you don’t, get out of the Lee family!” “Get out?” I stood up and stared coldly at this arrogant old man. “Arthur Lee, get your facts straight. I paid the down payment for this house, I pay the mortgage, and the deed has my name and Tom’s name on it. If anyone is getting out, it’s you!” Arthur was stunned. He had always thought this house was bought by his son. Tom, for the sake of his ego, never dared to tell the truth. Tom panicked and rushed over to cover my mouth: “What nonsense are you talking about!” I violently threw his hand off: “What? You dared to do it but don’t dare to admit it? With that crappy job paying three thousand a month, you can’t even support yourself, let alone this whole family of leeches!” “You…” Tom was so angry he raised his hand to slap me. “Hit me! If you dare to strike, we’ll see each other at the divorce office tomorrow!” I puffed out my chest and stared him down intensely. Tom’s hand froze in mid-air, ultimately lacking the courage to strike. He knew that if we divorced, he truly would be left with nothing. Just then, my mother-in-law suddenly started coughing violently, a heart-wrenching, tearing cough, her whole body curling into a ball. I quickly turned around to pat her back, only to discover that on the handkerchief in her hand, there was a shocking patch of bright red blood. “Mom!” I cried out in alarm, “You’re coughing up blood?!” The whole family froze. Arthur just glanced over and said impatiently, “What an act. A couple of coughs won’t kill anyone! She just wants to be lazy!” Chapter 3 That blood lay there, glaringly obvious. My mother-in-law’s face was ashen, her eyes unfocused, yet she still tried to hide the handkerchief behind her back. “I’m… fine. It’s just a sore throat…” Her voice was weak, like a mosquito, and her hands shook terribly. “A sore throat makes you cough up blood?!” I yelled, tears pooling in my eyes. “Tom! Are you blind? Your mom is like this, and you’re still thinking about food?” Tom was a bit panicked too. He leaned in to take a look, but then quickly seemed relieved. “It’s probably just her bronchitis acting up again. It’s an old issue. Just drink some water to soothe it.” “Bronchitis?” I looked at this man in disbelief. “When was your mom’s last medical checkup? Do you even know?” Tom stammered, unable to form a sentence. Arthur snorted coldly: “Checkup? Are hospitals places for healthy people? You go in perfectly fine, and they’ll invent a disease for you! This is just a disease of laziness!” Saying this, he actually stood up and kicked my mother-in-law on her shin. “Stop playing dead! Hurry up and go cook the rest of the food!” My mother-in-law cried out in pain, her body tilting, almost sliding off the sofa. That kick felt like it landed right on my chest. The string of rationality in my brain snapped completely. “Arthur Lee! Go screw yourself!” Like an enraged lioness, I lunged at Arthur, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him down onto the sofa. “Are you even human? That’s the wife who has lived with you for fifty years! Not your slave!” Arthur hadn’t expected me to actually lay hands on him. He turned pale with fright but still tried to act tough: “You… you dare to hit your father-in-law? You’ll be struck by lightning!” Sarah screamed and rushed forward to pull me off: “You crazy bitch! Let go of my dad! Call the police! I’m calling the police!” Tom also rushed over, wrapping his arm around my neck to drag me backward. “Chloe! Are you done being crazy?! That’s our dad!” I was being choked, thrashing my arms and legs wildly. My nails dug deep into Tom’s arm, leaving bloody scratches. “Let go! Cough, cough… I need to take Mom to the hospital!” “What hospital! Until this meal is finished, nobody is leaving!” Arthur broke free, straightening his messy collar, glaring at me viciously. “Want to take her away? Over my dead body!” He turned to his wife, his eyes dark and malicious: “Margaret, if you dare walk out that door with her, don’t ever think about entering the Lee family cemetery! I’ll consider it as never having a wife!” My mother-in-law trembled violently. That was the threat she feared most in her entire life. In her traditional mindset, not being allowed into the ancestral cemetery after death meant becoming a wandering, homeless ghost. She struggled to stand up, pushing my hands away, tears streaming endlessly. “Chloe… stop fighting… I’ll go cook… I’ll go…” She stumbled toward the kitchen, every step looking like she was walking on knives. Watching her hunched back, Arthur smiled smugly. “See that? These are the rules!” Chapter 4 The sound of intermittent chopping echoed from the kitchen. Arthur sat back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and pointed at the mess on the floor, saying to me, “Aren’t you going to clean this up? Are we waiting until New Year’s?” Sarah looked at me with schadenfreude. “Sister-in-law, in this house, Dad’s word is law.” Tom held his scratched arm, his face dark. “Hurry up and clean it, don’t let the relatives see this joke.” I stood in the center of the living room, listening to the chopping from the kitchen. That was my mother-in-law using her life to maintain the “face” of this family. I wanted to rush in and pull her out, but I knew that as long as that old bastard Arthur was around, as long as the shackles in my mother-in-law’s mind remained, I could save her once, but not forever. I needed to do something drastic. I took a deep breath and suddenly smiled. “Alright, I’ll take the order.” My tone abruptly shifted. “I’ll take it and shove it up your ass!” I turned and walked toward the kitchen. Tom thought I had relented and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s more like it. Family doesn’t hold grudges overnight…” I walked into the kitchen. My mother-in-law was struggling to slice a potato, her hands shaking so much she could barely hold the knife. “Mom,” I called out softly. She looked up, her face covered in tears. “Chloe, it’s none of your business. Mom can do it alone…” I didn’t speak. My eyes fell on the pot of chicken soup simmering on the stove. That was the “longevity chicken” prepared specifically for Arthur. I picked up the pot of boiling hot chicken soup and turned to walk out of the kitchen. “Hey? What are you bringing the soup out for? It’s not even done yet!” Sarah asked, confused. I walked over to Arthur, looking down at him. Arthur felt a chill under my gaze. “What… what are you doing?” “Dad, aren’t you hungry? Have some soup.” A cruel smirk curved the corners of my mouth. The next second, I flicked my wrist. Splash— The entire pot of boiling chicken soup, meat and all, splashed onto the genuine leather sofa Arthur was so proud of, and all over his old face. “Ahhhh—!!!” A scream like a slaughtered pig instantly pierced through the entire building. Arthur rolled on the floor clutching his face, his skin instantly turning red and blistering from the heat. “Dad!” “Grandpa!” Tom and Sarah rushed over like madmen. The scene instantly descended into chaos. I slammed the pot hard onto the floor, making a deafening crash. “That was just the appetizer!” I stood amidst the wreckage, looking at Arthur howling and rolling on the floor, and the relatives staring at me with terror as if I were a monster. The pent-up frustration in my chest finally began to release. “Arthur Lee, don’t you love being served? From now on, you can lie in bed and let people serve you all you want!” Tom, eyes red, lunged at me, still clutching that fruit knife. “Chloe! I’m going to kill you! How dare you burn my dad!” “Tom! Try moving one more inch!” I stood my ground, just pointing coldly at the kitchen door. “Turn around and look at what happened to your mom!” While everyone was fussing over Arthur, no one noticed that my mother-in-law, who had been forcing herself to chop vegetables just moments ago, had now slid softly down the doorframe, falling silently like a withered leaf. A pool of blood spread out beneath her, even more glaring than the braised pork on the floor earlier. Tom’s movements froze. He turned his head and stopped in his tracks. But after a second of hesitation, he actually turned back and yelled at me, “She must have fainted because you scared her! Save Dad first! His face is ruined!” At that moment, I heard the sound of my own heart breaking—not for Tom, but for that mother-in-law who had been foolish her entire life. “Fine, very fine.” I took out my phone, dialed 911, and then called the police. “Hello, police? There’s domestic violence here, and attempted murder with a knife. The address is…” Hanging up the phone, I looked at Tom’s twisted, frightening face and smiled. Chapter 5 The wailing sirens of the ambulance and police cars arrived. The house was as messy as a war zone. Arthur’s face was burned beyond recognition, and he was howling like a ghost. Sarah stood by, adding fuel to the fire as she cried to the police, claiming I was a lunatic who had broken in and committed assault. The police officer looked at the utter destruction and frowned. “Who called this in?” “I did.” I stepped forward, pointing to my unconscious mother-in-law being lifted onto a stretcher, then pointed to the old man still throwing a tantrum on the floor. “Officer, this old man has a long history of domestic violence and abuse against my mother-in-law. A seventy-year-old woman, severely ill, forced to cook. She coughed up blood and he still kicked and beat her. What I did was self-defense, and to save a life.” “Bullshit!” Sarah screamed and jumped up. “Officer, look what she did to my dad! She burned him! That’s intentional assault! You have to arrest her and throw her in jail!” Arthur, lying on the stretcher, groaned and cursed simultaneously: “Arrest her! Shoot her! This vicious shrew!” The officer surveyed the injuries on both sides. On one side, an old man with a face full of blisters but enough lung capacity to loudly curse someone out. On the other side, an old woman with a face like pale gold paper, weak breathing, and covered in old bruises. It was obvious at a glance who was the vulnerable one. “Take everyone back for questioning! Get the injured to the hospital first!” At the hospital, outside the emergency room. Tom and Sarah hovered around Arthur’s hospital bed, fetching water, fanning him, their hearts aching so much they cried. “Dad, does it hurt a lot? That murderous Chloe, she was too ruthless!” “Is my face ruined? How am I going to show my face in public?” Arthur grumbled, clutching his bandages. On the other side, the red light of the resuscitation room glared harshly. My mother-in-law lay inside, all alone. I was the only one waiting at the door. After a while, a doctor walked out, looking grave, holding a piece of paper. “Family of Margaret Lee?” I immediately went up to him. “I am! I’m her daughter-in-law! Doctor, how is my mom?” Hearing the voice, Tom over there merely glanced up, didn’t move an inch, and continued feeding his dad water. The doctor glanced at the apathetic children on the other side. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes, followed by a sigh. “The patient’s condition is very poor. Severe lung infection, accompanied by old rib fractures. Most critically, we suspect late-stage lung cancer due to long-term inhalation of massive amounts of cooking fumes, coupled with extreme exhaustion and malnutrition… The coughing up blood earlier was caused by a tumor rupturing.” Late-stage lung cancer. Those words hit my head like a sledgehammer. Long-term inhalation of cooking fumes. Yes, in this house, my mother-in-law was a human exhaust fan. To save electricity, Arthur never even let her turn the exhaust fan on high. She had served them in that smoky, suffocating environment for fifty years. “We must perform emergency surgery immediately to stop the bleeding, and then transfer her to the ICU for observation. The cost will likely be quite high. The family needs to go pay the fees.” The doctor handed me a slip. I pinched the thin piece of paper, my hands trembling. I turned around, walked over to Tom, and slapped the slip onto his chest. “Stop playing dead! Your mom has late-stage lung cancer and needs immediate surgery. Go pay the bill!” Tom froze for a moment, pulled the slip away to look at it, and his brow instantly furrowed into deep wrinkles. “Lung cancer? Late-stage?” Sarah leaned over and shrieked, “Late-stage? Doesn’t that mean she’s hopeless? Why bother treating it?” “What did you say?” I glared intensely at Sarah. Sarah spoke with absolute self-righteousness. “Well, isn’t it? Treating late-stage cancer is like throwing money into a bottomless pit! No matter how much you spend, it’s wasted! Besides, Dad’s face needs skin grafts, which will cost a fortune too! Where’s the money to treat a disease she’s going to die from anyway?” Arthur also stopped his groaning. Through the gaps in his bandages, he said viciously, “Don’t treat her! Treat my ass! I’ve been sick of looking at her for ages, a body full of poor-man’s diseases! If she dies, it’ll make room for me! Save the money to fix my face!” Tom held the slip, hesitating for a long time, finally looking at me with evasive eyes. “Chloe… my sister has a point. Mom is seventy, she can’t handle the trauma of surgery. How about… we just do conservative treatment? Take her home, give her some painkillers…” “Conservative treatment?” I laughed out of sheer anger, tears sliding down the corners of my eyes. “Tom, that is your biological mother! She collapsed because she was cooking for you! And now you’re telling me to give up?” “Then what am I supposed to do? We only have this little bit of savings, and we can’t just ignore Dad!” Tom spread his hands, feigning helplessness. “Savings?” I sneered and pulled a bank card out of my purse. It was our family’s shared salary card. Tom usually held onto it, but today, in my rush to leave, I had casually slipped it into my pocket. “Your so-called savings are all in this card, right?” Tom’s eyes lit up, and he reached out to snatch it. “Yes, yes, yes! Give me the card quickly, I need to pay Dad’s hospital bills!” I pulled my hand back, letting him grab empty air. “Want to use the money to save your dad?” Right in front of their family of three, I pulled a pair of scissors out of my purse. Snip! I snapped the bank card in half. “Want to spend my money? Keep dreaming!” Chapter 6 “Chloe! You’re crazy!” Tom stared at the bank card snapped in two, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. He dropped to his knees with a thud, desperately trying to grab the two pieces of plastic, as if they were his very lifeline. “That’s our entire family’s savings! How am I supposed to pay for my dad’s treatment now?!” Sarah shrieked and lunged forward to grab my hair. “You’re trying to kill my dad! I’ll fight you to the death!” I backhanded her, a sharp slap landing squarely on Sarah’s face. Her cheek swelled instantly. The sound was incredibly crisp, and the entire hallway went dead silent. “Want to fight to the death? Come on then!” I held up the scissors, my eyes fierce. “Didn’t get enough back at the house, did you? This is a hospital. I don’t mind sending you to the ER again!” Sarah clutched her face, stunned by the blow. Staring at the scissors in my hand, she backed away in terror. Tom clutched the broken card and looked up to roar at me: “Chloe, don’t push it! Even if the card is cut, I can just report it lost and get a replacement in a few days! This money is still mine! I’m the primary account holder!” “Yours?” I sneered, looking down at this average, overly confident man. “Tom, have you forgotten? With your dead-end job paying three thousand a month, you can barely afford your own cigarettes and alcohol. Which penny of the two hundred thousand on this card did you earn? I earned all of it, working from dawn to dusk running my online store!” “Have you ever heard of marital assets? Even if I burned it, half of it belongs to me!” I crouched down, stared straight into Tom’s eyes, and enunciated every word: “And you’re mistaken about one thing. The money on this card? I transferred it out ages ago. While we were on the way to the hospital.” “What?!” Tom’s face instantly went deathly pale, like he’d seen a ghost. “Where… where did you transfer it?” “This money is going to be used to save Mom. As for your dad’s old face…” I glanced at Arthur, who was listening intently on his hospital bed, and gave a cold laugh. “Figure it out yourselves. Isn’t Sarah the filial one? Let your sister pay for it. Doesn’t her family own a supermarket? She can’t pull together a few hundred thousand?” The fire instantly redirected to Sarah. Sarah jumped like her tail had been stepped on. “Why should I pay? A married daughter is like spilled water! I didn’t get a share of the family assets, why come to me for elder care? Tom, you’re the son, you must pay for this!” When Arthur heard the money was gone and he hit a wall with his daughter, he trembled with rage. He pointed at Tom and cursed: “Useless! Can’t even control a woman! The money was all taken! Are you trying to let me die of pain?!” Tom, caught in the middle taking heat from both sides, finally directed all his fury at me. “Chloe! This is illegal transfer of assets! I’m going to sue you! I want a divorce!” “Divorce! Let’s get divorced right now!” I stood up and dusted off my hands. “Whoever backs out is a coward! But Tom, remember this: before the divorce is finalized, whoever holds the money holds the power. You want to save your dad? Sure. Kneel down and beg me, kowtow to Mom three times, and maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll give you enough to buy some burn ointment for your dad.” “In your dreams!” Tom gritted his teeth. “Then just waste away here.” Just then, the doors to the emergency room opened. A nurse wheeled out a bed and called out, “Family of Margaret Lee! The patient is awake, but her condition is critical, she needs surgery immediately! Who is signing and paying the fees?” I immediately rushed over. “I’ll sign! I’ll pay!” I grasped my mother-in-law’s frail, thin hand. Her eyes were half-open, and cloudy tears slid from the corners of her eyes. “Chloe… don’t spend the money… Mom won’t be treated… save the money… for Tommy…” Hearing this, I burst into tears despite myself. “Mom! You’re foolish! You feel sorry for him, but what is he doing? He’s calculating how to pull your plug to save money so he can fix his dad’s face!” My mother-in-law trembled, struggling to turn her head toward Tom standing a short distance away. Tom stood there, still clutching the broken card, his eyes evasive, not daring to look at his mother at all. Arthur yelled from his bed, “Tommy! Don’t sign! If you sign, you have to pay! That’s my life-saving money!” The light in my mother-in-law’s eyes dimmed little by little. Like a candle in the wind, that final glimmer of hope was completely extinguished. She closed her eyes, and two trails of clear tears fell. “Sign it… Chloe… Mom… will listen to you…” Chapter 7 The surgery fees were paid, and my mother-in-law was wheeled into the operating room. I sat on the bench like a guardian demon, coldly watching the nest of vile people arguing at the end of the hallway. Because there was no money to pay the fees, Arthur could only lie on a cot in the hallway. The nurses had given his burns basic treatment, and he groaned in pain. “Sarah! You ungrateful wretch! I fed you and clothed you, and now you won’t even fork over twenty thousand?” “Dad! My oldest boy needs to go to tutoring classes! Where would I find spare cash? Besides, my brother lives in a big house and drives a car, why should I pay?” “That house was bought by Chloe, that shrew! The car is in her name too! I’m completely broke right now, Sis!” Tom squatted on the floor, holding his head, looking utterly defeated. Listening to their arguing, I felt nothing but intense irony. This was the “family” my mother-in-law had served her whole life. Without my mother-in-law as their free maid and punching bag, this family instantly fell apart, revealing its true colors of selfishness and apathy. About four hours later, the light above the operating room went out. The doctor walked out and took off his mask. “The surgery was relatively successful; we removed a portion of the lung lobe. But given her age, she’ll need chemotherapy afterward. Whether she can pull through depends on her willpower.” I let out a breath of relief, my legs turning so weak I almost sat on the floor. When my mother-in-law was wheeled out, the anesthesia hadn’t worn off yet. With an oxygen mask on her face, she looked incredibly small and fragile. I escorted her all the way to the ICU. After settling my mother-in-law in, I walked out of the room and bumped right into Tom, who was loitering suspiciously by the door. Seeing me come out, he immediately put on a fawning expression, holding a boxed lunch he’d bought from who-knows-where. “Wife… you must be tired, right? Want something to eat?” He handed over the lunchbox, but his eyes kept darting toward the hospital room. “How… how is Mom?” I didn’t take the lunchbox; I just looked at him coldly. “Spit it out.” Tom awkwardly pulled his hand back and rubbed his hands together. “Um… the doctor said Dad’s face needs skin grafts immediately, or it’ll scar and be ruined, and it could get infected. The doctor has asked for the payment several times already…” “And so?” “Wife, look… Mom’s surgery is done. The remaining money… could you lend it to Dad first for this emergency? We’re family after all, blood is thicker than water…” “Lend?” I laughed, laughing so hard tears almost came to my eyes. “Tom, do you still not understand the situation? Your mom is in there fighting for her life, and instead of thinking about how to care for her, all you care about is the face of your domestic-abuser dad?” “He’s my dad! I can’t just watch his face rot away, can I?” Tom grew anxious. “Besides, Mom’s fine now, right? The money is just sitting there…” “Get lost.” I only had one word for him. “Chloe! Don’t push your luck!” Tom finally dropped his act, showing his true colors. “Let me tell you, you will give me that money whether you want to or not! I am your husband, and I have the right to manage our household assets!” “Husband?” I took out my phone and played an audio recording. It was the recording I secretly made on the ambulance earlier. In the recording, Tom’s voice was crystal clear: [Chloe… my sister has a point. Mom is seventy, she can’t handle the trauma of surgery. How about… we just do conservative treatment?] Tom’s face instantly went deathly pale. “Why… why did you record that?” “Why?” I put away my phone, my eyes icy. “To keep it as evidence, of course. Tom, I’ve already consulted a lawyer. During your mother’s severe illness, not only did you refuse to fulfill your duty to provide for her, but you also attempted to divert life-saving funds for cosmetic surgery for her abuser. That’s called the crime of abandonment!” “If you dare harass me again, or touch a single penny of Mom’s life-saving money, I will post this recording and the videos of your dad’s domestic abuse all over the internet! I’ll send them to your company group chats! I’ll make sure that precarious job of yours is completely over!” Tom was terrified by my threats. A coward like him feared losing his livelihood and social death more than anything else. He pointed at me, his finger trembling for a long time, and finally spat viciously. “Fine! Chloe, you’re ruthless! Just you wait! Wait until Mom wakes up, let’s see how she deals with you! She listens to my dad the most. If she finds out you didn’t save Dad, she’ll definitely kick you out!” With that, he slinked away in defeat. I watched him go, feeling a sense of desolation. He was gambling. Gambling that the woman who had been beaten and scolded for fifty years would continue to accept his abuse for decades more. And I was gambling too. Gambling on the decades of silent screams within that frail body.

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At two in the morning, I climbed through Arthur Sterling’s window and pierced his nipple. He looked like he wanted to bite me to death. Later, after high school graduation, I broke my promise to monopolize him for the rest of his life. I went to a university thousands of miles away from him. Seven years later, we met again at a gala. He looked at me with eyes that suggested I was a complete stranger. I thought whatever we had was long over. Until I accidentally tripped into his arms and felt something hard press against me from beneath his shirt. 1 I looked up at him in shock. Arthur was clearly stunned for a moment, too. “You… you still kept it?” Before I even finished my sentence, Arthur gritted his teeth and said: “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not the one you put there.” Hearing his words, I lowered my eyes and nodded: “Okay. I understand.” Makes sense. How could he possibly still have it? Arthur turned and walked away first. I downed the wine in my glass in one gulp. The Arthur Sterling of today was no longer the poor kid from back then. Just by standing there, countless people flocked to him. Case in point: the moment he stepped away, a crowd swarmed him, trying to strike up a conversation. I let out a bitter laugh. Before I could even move, someone linked their arm through mine. “Hey, why did you walk away so suddenly?” I blinked and looked at my date, who was gazing at me affectionately. Look at my memory. I almost forgot I brought a date tonight. Say what you will, but guys are naturally proactive. We barely exchanged two words before he dragged me into a private lounge. I sat on the sofa, not even having the time to raise my hand to stop him. Bang! The lounge door was kicked open. Arthur strode in. He grabbed my date, who was busy unbuttoning my shirt, and threw him to the floor with one swift motion. “All these years later, and you still have zero shame.” Arthur glared at me, his eyes bloodshot. I let him bite my lip, running my hand through his hair, thinking: All these years later, and you’re still this impulsive. He still completely loses it when someone else touches me. 2 The first time I heard the name Arthur Sterling, I thought: This guy is definitely going to be a CEO someday. Hell, maybe he’s rich right now? But I was wrong. The first time I saw Arthur, he was wearing ratty sneakers that were falling apart, carrying a clean but clearly ancient backpack. His face was expressionless, cold as ice. “Arthur Sterling. Eighteen.” That was his self-introduction. That’s when I remembered. Last night, at my lavish 18th birthday bash, one of my boys mentioned we were getting a new kid in class today. I knew exactly what kind of person I was. And I never hid it. Too many people knew who I was. Too many people wanted to suck up to me. Living by the philosophy of “enjoy life while you can,” I generously welcomed them all with open arms. But Arthur was different. He was interesting. He managed to completely ignore me sitting right next to him for two whole weeks. After two weeks, I realized he really had zero interest in me. So, for the first time in my life, I made the first move. “Hey, wanna be friends?” I smiled and held my hand out to Arthur. Growing up, whenever I smiled like that, no one ever refused me. “Sorry. Not interested.” That was Arthur’s reply. Everyone who knew me knew I was a complete delinquent, a rich punk who did whatever he wanted. But it was my first time actually trying to force someone’s hand. After a few failed attempts to chat him up, I had my boys pin Arthur against the wall in the bathroom. In front of everyone, I grabbed him by the neck and kissed him hard. After that, Arthur’s peaceful days were over. Forget just our class; wasn’t there anyone in the whole school who didn’t want to get on my good side? When I had a new flavor of the week by my side, Arthur—the guy I used to bully—became everyone’s favorite target. His chair was thrown out the window. His textbooks were shredded. A few times, while walking back to class with my new fling, I saw Arthur with fresh bruises on his face. Of course, I was too busy having fun back then. I had no idea all of this was because of me. I didn’t truly get to know Arthur until one specific night. 2 (Part 2) Even though I was a delinquent, I rarely ate street food. Because my mom was always in my ear, nagging about how dirty and unregulated those food trucks were. I actually listened to my mom. But one of my boys was having a birthday, and he said he wanted me to go get street tacos with him. Being the fiercely loyal friend I am, how could I deny his birthday wish? That night, I ordered practically the entire menu from the taco stand for him. The guy bringing our food was Arthur. His face was just as cold while serving food. I guessed people probably gave him a hard time at work, too. If you’re poor and act all high and mighty, you’re not going to survive out here. But I didn’t bully him that night. I had already kissed him to assert my dominance; I didn’t have a fetish for endless bullying. But one of the guys with me started talking. “I heard he works three jobs a night.” I paused my mobile game and laughed: “Three jobs? How much can he even make?” “A hundred bucks? Probably not even that. I heard it from someone else—his mom died, his dad remarried, and his stepmom thought he was in the way, so they transferred him here. His family was dirt poor to begin with, and all their money goes to his dad and stepmom’s new kid. They probably never even planned on sending him to college.” I don’t know what I was feeling at that moment. But I knew that when my dad was dead broke working three jobs a day, he had my mom standing behind him. Arthur only had himself. From that day on, out of pity, I started paying attention to Arthur. 3 Right before midterms, the school handed out forms to everyone. The form asked if we “voluntarily” wanted to purchase supplementary study guides. These kinds of forms—asking if you’re “voluntary”—basically mean you don’t have a choice. Only one person in the entire class checked “No.” When the homeroom teacher asked the person who checked “No” to stand up, I already knew who it was. I counted in my head. Seven seconds later, Arthur stood up. He still had bruises on his face from some unknown fight. He remained expressionless, just pressing his lips tightly together. Much later, after knowing him for a long time, I found out: When Arthur is upset, he presses his lips together. Those seven seconds… that was his pride. After class, I went to the teacher’s office. The homeroom teacher was still holding the form with “No” checked, talking to another teacher. “Isn’t he just deliberately embarrassing me? Who can’t afford fifty bucks for study guides these days? If he’s really that broke, why is he even in school?!” I snatched the form right out of his hand, grabbed a pen, and changed the “No” to a “Yes.” “I’ll pay for his study guides.” That was the first time I stuck my neck out for Arthur. After school, I carried his set of study guides into the classroom and slammed them onto his desk. He looked up at me, his voice cold: “I didn’t buy these.” Even though I guessed he wouldn’t accept them, I still found it annoying. “Buy one get one free. I don’t need ’em, so they’re yours.” Looking back now, I was such an idiot back then. Who would believe an excuse like that? Arthur didn’t even look at me again. He stood up to leave. I had no idea why he hated me so much. But at the time, I just wanted him to take the books. So I grabbed his wrist and forcefully kissed his cheek. “There. Now you didn’t get them for free.” … Arthur ended up keeping them. Not because he agreed to use a kiss as collateral. But because I told him if he didn’t take them, I’d have my guys drag him into the woods tomorrow and force them on him. Arthur probably actually believed me. But I was just messing around. Sigh. I was such a bastard. 4 The guy who didn’t buy the study guides ended up with study guides. This became the new excuse to bully Arthur. When I walked into the classroom this time, I didn’t have my flavor of the week with me. Because yesterday, to deliver Arthur’s books, I stood my date up. A few guys in the class were surrounding Arthur. They were holding his study guides, ripping them up page by page right in front of his face. Shreds of paper fluttered down like snow. I grabbed a chair and smashed it into the guy tearing the book. The classroom went dead silent. I stepped forward, grabbed the guy by the hair, stepped on his stomach, and said: “You dare rip up the books I gave him? Do you have a death wish?” The guy and I ended up in the principal’s office. One phone call from my mom, and I was released without a scratch. I was let out while classes were still going on. When I got back to my classroom, I saw Arthur standing outside in the hall. The homeroom teacher had kicked him out, saying the fight between me and that guy was all his fault. I ruffled my hair, stood in front of him, and said: “Damn, why don’t you fight back when people mess with you?” Arthur looked at me, his eyes colder than ice: “Didn’t you order them to do it?” … He actually thought I was the mastermind. That I was just playing some twisted game with him all along. If that’s what Arthur thought… Then from now on, no matter who bullied him… The blame would fall squarely on my head. Arthur, you play hardball. The one thing I, Liam Vance, cannot tolerate in this life is being misunderstood. To dispel Arthur’s suspicions, I became his most aggressive protector in the entire school. If someone bullied him, I beat them up. If someone mocked him, I beat them up. If someone was passive-aggressive to him, I beat them up. After fighting left and right, the principal’s phone was nearly blown up by my mom’s calls. Finally, thanks to my relentless brawling, my mom had to come down to the school. She looked at me, nursing a few minor cuts from fighting so much, and then looked at Arthur, who I had protected flawlessly. She sighed and said: “I’ve never seen you care about someone this much.” Care? Both Arthur and I froze. Before my mom left, she gave me a huge bag of snacks and told me to share them with my friends. I shoved all the snacks into Arthur’s arms. 5 No one at school dared to bully Arthur anymore. Not even the stray dogs on the street dared to bark at him. Ever since my mom came that day, Arthur stopped being so repulsed by me. Because I could finally put my arm around his shoulder. Turns out, treating Arthur well meant I could get closer to him. I was incredibly smug about it. Over time, treating Arthur well became a habit. Whenever I bought something, I’d buy an extra for Arthur. If I found a good restaurant, I’d bring Arthur next time. When my mom hired top-tier private tutors for me, I brought the tutors to Arthur’s tiny apartment so we could study together. Then, on the finals, Arthur ranked 1st in our grade. I ranked 6th from the bottom. My mom said there was progress; at least I wasn’t dead last anymore. The moment I truly wanted to claim Arthur for myself was during winter break that year. During the holidays, every family was celebrating and bustling with noise. I FaceTimed Arthur to say Happy New Year. He was buried in practice exams and just replied, “Happy New Year.” It was completely silent where Arthur was. I had been to his place many times. I knew he lived alone in a rundown, tiny apartment his grandmother left him before she passed. I suddenly had an idea. I hung up the phone, packed a suitcase, and bolted out the door. My mom asked where I was going. I said I was going to find Arthur. My mom said “Oh,” and then suddenly realized: “You’re flying to the East Coast?!” … Winter on the East Coast is brutally cold. When I got off the plane, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. At two in the morning, I knocked on Arthur’s door. Listening to his approaching footsteps, I felt like my heart was going to pound out of my chest. When Arthur opened the door, I threw my arms open and smiled: “Happy New Year!” I had a whole speech prepared, something about “With me here this New Year, you won’t be lonely!” But I never got to say it. Because Arthur blocked my mouth. He grabbed the back of my head and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. That night, he kissed me until my legs gave out. 6 I didn’t know what kind of relationship Arthur and I had. But after that night, I became a little addicted to him. I spent almost the entire winter break at his place. “Are we really not going to kiss?” became my catchphrase. Arthur would be doing practice tests, and I’d sit next to him asking, “Are we really not going to kiss?” He’d look at me and not say a word. A while later, he’d turn a page of his test. “Come here.” I’d instantly lean in and get a brief, intimate moment. At that time, we weren’t officially together, but the vibe was definitely more than friends, constantly teasing my heart. Once school started again, things completely changed. I had never wished more that I wasn’t a playboy. And the other problem was, I had too many friends. Today it was this guy’s birthday, tomorrow that guy’s party. Compared to hanging out with Arthur every single day during winter break… Once school started, I barely made it to his place once every two weeks. But Arthur never reacted, so I assumed he didn’t care. Until my “first love” transferred to our school. Truth is, I had absolutely zero romantic feelings for my “first love.” We were just friends who hung out a bit more often, and somehow the rumor mill branded him my “first love.” But that’s how high school is. The slightest rumor about me would spawn eight hundred different versions. Among them, the version where I was hopelessly pining for my “first love” was the most popular. Arthur still didn’t seem to care. He just coldly and ruthlessly did his practice problems. So I didn’t bother explaining. “Liam, it’s my birthday today. Karaoke tonight, you coming?” I looked up from my desk at my “first love.” To be honest, I didn’t even remember it was his birthday. But I had been to countless birthday parties for him over the last couple of months. And according to my schedule, I was supposed to go to Arthur’s place today. “I’ve got stuff to do today, I can’t make it. I’ll have someone drop off a gift for you later.” Hearing that, my “first love’s” voice instantly softened: “But it’s no fun if you don’t come. It’s fine, just hang out for a bit. You can leave when you need to, please?” “What time?” “Six.” Six. I checked my phone. I usually went to Arthur’s at eight. I had time. So I nodded: “Fine.” … 7 At 9:00 PM, I stood outside Arthur’s door. My head was still spinning. If I had known my “first love” wouldn’t let me leave, I wouldn’t have gone at all. Now look what happened. I dragged it out until now, cutting my time with Arthur short again. I knocked on Arthur’s door. Because I was pretty drunk, I didn’t even hear his footsteps before the door opened. Then, an ice-cold voice dropped on my head: “What are you doing here?” I looked up groggily. What do you mean, what am I doing here? I’m here to kiss you. I stepped forward, grabbed his hand, and went up on my tiptoes to kiss him. But I didn’t kiss him. Instead, he grabbed me by the neck. Arthur looked at me, his voice so deep it sounded like he hated me: “Liam, do you know how dirty you are?” … Me? Dirty? I kicked the door Arthur slammed in my face several times. He was really that heartless, just throwing me outside. And calling me dirty. I gave Arthur the silent treatment. If he was disgusted by me, I wasn’t going to press my hot face against his cold ass. Plenty of people liked me. Why should I only try to please Arthur Sterling? I had a new flavor of the week, one after another. Every day, I’d bring a new fling into the classroom to flirt. But the truth is, I didn’t even kiss any of them. Ever since I kissed Arthur, I never kissed anyone else again. I didn’t even have any intimate contact with them. But Arthur actually called me dirty. I paraded a bunch of guys right in front of Arthur, and he had zero reaction. But the moment he got close to someone else, I lost it. 8 It was a quiet, nerdy kid from the class next door. I don’t know when it started, but he was always walking home with Arthur after school. He was also constantly coming to Arthur with homework questions. Watching from the sidelines, I practically ground my back teeth to dust. Why. Why, why, why. Why call me dirty and then go get cozy with someone else? Later, one of my boys booked a private room at a club and called me over. I knew him from middle school. We had one thing in common: he liked guys too. In the middle of the night, he started telling me how much he liked his new boyfriend. He even mentioned he got him a nipple piercing. “What’s the point of that? Isn’t it uncomfortable?” I frowned, completely unable to understand. Until he said one more thing: “Every time I kiss him and see it, I feel like it’s proof that he’s mine.” … At 1:00 AM, I climbed onto Arthur’s balcony and started knocking on his window. If I knocked on the door, he could lock me out. He couldn’t do that with the window, because I could break the window. The literal coercion involved in doing that deed left me with lingering fear long after. But looking at that thing… I selectively ignored Arthur’s murderous glare. “Are you done throwing your tantrum? Now leave.” He stood up and pulled his T-shirt down. I knew I had definitely hurt him just now. And I knew exactly what what I did tonight represented. So I grabbed his hand and said: “Can we stop fighting? I…” I paused for a second and said: “I won’t mess around with other people anymore.” … If I had known that’s all it took to coax Arthur, I would have said it from the start. When I woke up the next morning, I took Arthur to a professional piercer and a doctor. After all, I wasn’t a professional. I was crazy last night, but I was still worried about infection. Once everything was properly handled, Arthur and I went back to school.

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Everyone in the underworld knew that I was the one untouchable weakness of syndicate boss Damien Thorne. Years ago, when I was taken hostage by a rival cartel, Damien risked being gunned down by the feds. He threw away his weapons and gave up his entire fortune just to ransom me back. To ensure no one ever dared to bully me, he danced on the razor’s edge between the criminal underworld and the law. When I got pregnant, he practically waited on me hand and foot, terrified to even let my feet touch the floor. Rumors constantly swirled that he was keeping a pampered canary in a gilded cage on the side, but I never believed them. Until his little bird decided she didn’t want to follow the rules and fluttered right into my face. To beg for my forgiveness, Damien chopped off one of his own fingers. The very next day, that same canary slapped an ultrasound photo onto my lap. “Damien wanted a baby with me so badly, he practically wore himself out~” … “Scarlett… the doctor said your body was already prone to miscarriage… combined with this severe emotional shock… the baby is gone…” “The baby is gone… the Boss is going to lose his mind… he wanted this child for ten whole years…” After Damien’s canary left, my anger and grief triggered a massive hemorrhage. I literally miscarried from the sheer heartbreak. My best friend, Becca, drove me to the city hospital. She stayed by my side, comforting me every second, terrified I might do something drastic. Only she knew how much I had wanted this baby. Since the day I found out I was pregnant, this child had been treated like absolute royalty. Because I was high-risk, I stayed indoors for months, drinking herbal supplements and resting constantly just to keep the baby safe. When Damien found out I was pregnant, the ruthless boss actually cried tears of joy. He issued a syndicate-wide decree: anyone who upset me or endangered this child would face a fate worse than death. So how ironic was it that the one who ultimately destroyed everything was him? My mind was plagued by the arrogant, gloating face of his canary. Yesterday. Damien’s mistress, Chloe Vance, came to me with a video of her and Damien tangled in the sheets. Seeing her spoiled, arrogant face, I calmly forwarded the audio of our conversation to Damien. He rushed to the scene in a blind panic. He kicked and beat Chloe until she was curled into a ball on the floor, and his men eventually had to drag her away. Holding the explicit video of them, I choked back a sob. “The rumors outside… they’re all true?” In that moment, he looked so filthy to me. I didn’t want him anymore. But Damien simply dropped to his knees. Before I could even react, he pulled a switchblade and sliced off his right pinky finger right in front of me, offering his blood as penance. “Scarlett, it’s my fault. I betrayed you. Please forgive me. Just this once, I’m begging you, Scarlett.” We had been in love for ten years. How could my heart not ache? I agreed to give him one last chance. But today, Chloe found me for the second time. Seeing the fresh hickeys on her neck and the ultrasound photo she threw in my face, I felt like Damien had driven a knife straight into my spine. So this was how he had “handled” Chloe after he left yesterday. Ten years of love, and we finally had a baby. I had fantasized endlessly about our beautiful future as a family of three. I swallowed my pride and forgave you. I only asked that you never do it again. Was that really so hard? The baby was gone. Everyone at the hospital expected me to break down in hysterical sobs. But my voice was eerily calm. “It’s gone… then it’s gone.” I made Becca swear to hide the miscarriage from Damien. And I booked a ticket on a cruise ship bound for Belize. When I returned to the penthouse, the air was filled with the rich aroma of slow-cooked beef stew. Damien saw me walk in and presented the stew to me like a prized treasure. He clearly had no idea that Chloe had paid me a second visit today. “Where did you go? You need to rest at home while you’re pregnant. If you need anything done, just have the boys handle it.” I stared at that incredibly gentle, caring face, searching for a trace of guilt. But his perfect, practiced composure made my blood run cold. Seeing my icy glare, the ruthless syndicate boss who held absolute power in the underworld dropped to his knees without hesitation. “Are you still mad at me? If anything happens to the baby… I’ll go insane, Scarlett.” “You know I only love you. I can’t live without you…” “I already had my men throw Chloe into the bay. I swear, nothing like this will ever happen again.” He pulled out his phone, showing me a video of his men supposedly tossing Chloe into the dark waters. The stump of his pinky finger was still seeping blood through the bandages. But this pathetic, groveling display was just a cheap theatrical performance. Even now, he was still trying to play me for a fool. Damien, are you trying to tear my soul apart? When I woke up, Damien was gone. The smell of his cologne lingered on the sheets, making me feel physically nauseous. I got dressed and went to an offline visa center nearby to finalize my travel documents. Not long after, a text from Damien popped up on my screen. [I threw a celebration party for you today. I’ll come pick you up soon.] On my way back from the visa center, I happened to pass by the front hall of one of his exclusive clubs. From a distance, I saw the brightly lit venue. As I got closer, I heard that familiar, sickly-sweet voice. “I’m so jealous of Scarlett. She gets a whole party thrown by you. When will I get a celebration like this?” Through the crack in the heavy oak doors, I saw Damien’s face darken as he pinched Chloe’s chin. “As long as you don’t make a scene in front of Scarlett, I’ll give you whatever you want. Except a title. You will never be my wife.” Chloe whined playfully, “I want that pigeon-blood ruby necklace Scarlett was wearing, please~” Damien agreed easily. “As long as you aren’t stupid enough to run to her again, you’ll have everything she has.” So, his furious rage yesterday was entirely for my benefit. I thought he would reign it in after the last incident. I thought he would cherish my forgiveness and never cross that line again. But he never thought he was wrong. He just thought he hadn’t hidden his cheating well enough. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed. It was a call from Chloe. She clearly called me on purpose so I could hear them flirting. “Alright, I have to go pick Scarlett up now,” Damien’s voice echoed through the speaker. Chloe tugged on his collar, pulling him toward a side room. “Stay with me a little longer~ Once she gets here, you’ll have to play the devoted husband all day~” “No, I need to get her. She just got pregnant, she’s fragile. I can’t risk a miscarriage.” “You only care about her baby~ Did you forget I’m carrying your child too? Why don’t you dote on me?” “Of course I dote on you. You’re my baby, aren’t you?” I pretended I had just arrived at the venue and spoke loudly to the guards outside. “What are you guys celebrating?” “The Boss said he threw this party to lift your spirits during your pregnancy, ma’am.” I found it hilarious. Everyone was helping Damien lie to me. I glanced at the frosted glass of the VIP room. I couldn’t see their faces, but the overlapping shadows on the floor were rhythmically moving. It was obvious what they were doing. Hearing my voice outside, Damien tried to stop Chloe. “Alright, that’s enough. If Scarlett finds out, the consequences will be more than I can handle.” “Oh come on~ Doesn’t the risk make it hotter? Plus, it’s been so long since we did it here~” “If she knew we’d been sleeping together for three years, she’d definitely be pissed.” “If you keep misbehaving, I’m going to have to punish you.” After that, Damien stopped talking. The phone only transmitted their continuous, breathy moans. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that my whole body shook with pain. Damien… this is how you trample me, over and over again. A full half-hour later, Damien emerged from the side room, pretending he had been handling “syndicate business.” His face was still flushed with the afterglow of his session with Chloe, wearing that same gentle smile he always gave me. In that moment, it made me want to vomit. He placed his hand on my stomach, his palm still radiating Chloe’s body heat. “Is the baby behaving? Do you know how long I’ve wanted this, Scarlett?” Ten years. For ten years, Damien had whispered in my ear every night, going crazy for a child. But none of that stopped him from using hands that had just been all over another woman to play the loving father. The deep love and happiness I thought I had were built entirely on secrets and lies. Peeling back that glamorous facade revealed a truth so disgusting it was hard to breathe. After the party ended, Damien made an excuse about urgent syndicate business and left early. I guessed he was going back to comfort his hidden canary in the VIP room. Bang! Bang! Suddenly, two gunshots rang out across the hillside estate. I looked up numbly, watching several men from a rival cartel charging straight at me. I watched as one raised his gun, aiming right at my face. Just when I thought I was going to die, a familiar figure threw himself in front of me. It was Damien. As he tackled me, the assassins fired several more shots. Damien shielded my body as we tumbled down the rocky slope. From start to finish, he never let me go. He took a bullet to the left side of his chest, his body torn and bleeding from the sharp rocks. Yet all he did was hold me and whisper, “Don’t be afraid.” The infiltrators were quickly subdued. They were just advance scouts who had managed to slip past security and happened to run into me. Years ago, Damien had killed the pregnant wife of a rival border boss. Now, that boss was desperate for revenge. In the hospital, I stared blankly at Damien lying in the bed. You were willing to give your life for me… so why did you treat my heart like garbage? His injuries were severe, but on the third day, he insisted on getting out of bed. He claimed he had a critical negotiation with a rival boss. Hearing those words, the tiny shred of softness that had briefly returned to my heart turned to ash. Seeing me stare at him, guilt flashed in his eyes. “It’s extremely important. I have to go.” “Okay,” I said lightly. For the past few days, wedding supplies had been moving through the syndicate headquarters. Coupled with the digital wedding invitation Chloe had smugly texted me last night, how could I not know where he was really going? Maybe Chloe was right. Damien didn’t love me anymore. And as I looked at his face, all I could see was the nauseating image of him entangled with her. Soon after, I boarded my cruise ship bound for Belize. Ding— A text from Damien: [I’m at the negotiation site, Scarlett.] As if desperately trying to prove himself, he sent me a staged photo of a tense meeting, exactly at the time he was supposed to be arriving at Chloe’s wedding. How did I know it was fake? Because I was watching the wedding live. Chloe was video-calling me, broadcasting the event. The wedding was held in an underground bunker, clearly to keep it hidden from me. Damien was wearing a tuxedo. The blood from his chest wound had already seeped through the fabric from the physical exertion. Yet even bleeding out, he still attended his wedding to Chloe. On the live stream, Damien stood at the altar. After the priest finished the vows, Damien kissed Chloe’s hand and looked at her with deep affection. “I do.” I laughed at my own pathetic stupidity. When he told me this morning that he had an urgent negotiation, I actually harbored a tiny, pathetic shred of hope. Maybe he really did have an emergency? With a man like Damien, the more you trust him, the more he treats you like a fool. After stepping off the altar, Damien texted me: [The negotiation went smoothly. What do you want for dinner?] Me: [Are you really at a negotiation?] The moment I hit send, my phone blew up with frantic calls and texts: [I really am! Wait for me to get back, I’ll explain everything.] On the livestream, Damien looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He didn’t even care that the wedding was ongoing. He frantically tore off his tuxedo jacket and sprinted out of the venue like his life depended on it. But I had already left the country. Even though my ship was in international waters, Damien’s syndicate had massive reach. To ensure I could slip away right under his nose in Belize, I composed myself and sent another text to distract him. [I’ve been feeling out of breath lately. Becca and I are going to take a walk around the border town. We’ll be back tonight.] [I want beef stew for dinner. I want you to cook it yourself.] Sending those texts was just a way to buy myself time. …

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After my ex-boyfriend dumped me for a master manipulator, I furiously hunted her down. She was fully made up, cowering and begging me not to hit her in the face. I slapped my hands together in a pleading gesture: “Sister, what kind of dark magic did you use to make that cheapskate buy you designer bags and clothes, when I couldn’t even get him to buy me a cup of boba tea?!” She let out a long sigh of relief and proceeded to teach me exactly how to hook a wealthy “sucker.” Later, I brought a man to her to show off my homework. She stuttered, “B-brother? You’re the sucker?!” 1 Lately, my best friend and designated dating strategist had descended into a state of severe cognitive dissonance. She would exhibit two violently contradictory attitudes toward the exact same behavior. It all started when she and I simultaneously entered the “dating” phase of our lives. My boyfriend’s name was Arthur Sterling. He was shy, introverted, gentle, and incredibly rational. I had never met Chloe’s brother, but based on her descriptions, he was a stingy, short-tempered, absolute idiot. Chloe was currently incredibly annoyed. Her foolish—but undeniably wealthy—brother had been ensnared by a highly skilled gold digger. “Can you believe this? That woman literally just sends my brother links and demands he buy her gifts.” When I saw that message, my eyes went wide. Because just two days ago, for my birthday, I had asked Chloe for advice. She had specifically instructed me to just send my boyfriend links and demand gifts. Me: “Uh… Chloe, but that’s exactly what I did.” Chloe replied instantly: “Sister, how can you possibly compare yourself to that scheming bitch?” I stared at my phone screen, genuinely questioning where Chloe’s moral compass actually pointed. Then came Valentine’s Day. Arthur and I were out on a date, and Chloe started aggressively spamming my WeChat. “You’ve only been dating for three months! Do NOT spend the night with him!” “I’m begging you! If you do, it’s all over! AHHHHH!” My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Arthur looked down, gripping his knife and fork. The sound of him cutting his steak suddenly seemed incredibly loud and grating. On Valentine’s night, getting relentlessly bombarded with messages while on a date made it look exactly like I was juggling multiple guys. I frantically tried to explain: “It’s a female friend! She might have an emergency, she needs me to go back and help her.” Under Arthur’s scrutinizing, analytical gaze, I awkwardly grabbed my phone and practically sprinted away from the terrace restaurant. As I speed-walked, I sent Chloe a voice memo: “Baby, I promise, I am sleeping in my dorm tonight. I’ll video call you later, okay?” Just as Arthur drove past me, he happened to hear me say that. His hands froze on the steering wheel. His expression wasn’t great, but he managed to keep his emotions relatively stable. “I’ll drive you back.” A few days later, Chloe came to me with more gossip. “Oh my god, my brother is so pathetic. He spent a fortune on that woman, and she actually cheated on him on Valentine’s Day.” “Her game is terrifyingly advanced. She scams them for their money and their hearts, but she never actually sleeps with them.” I stared at my phone, letting out a long, heavy sigh. I had absolutely zero interest in Chloe’s unlucky brother. I was much more concerned with my own disastrous situation. “Chloe, ever since you made me go back on Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend has completely ignored me.” Chloe sent a shocked reaction sticker: “Tsk. A man like that is absolute trash.” She launched into a creative tirade, explaining how typical it was for men to expect women to throw themselves at them, and then throw a tantrum when they don’t get what they want. “Dump him immediately. The next one will be more obedient.” Huh? Dump him just like that? We hadn’t even been dating for that long! 2 The only reason I even knew someone like Chloe existed was entirely thanks to my ex-boyfriend, Liam. When Liam and I dated, he insisted on splitting the bill for everything—even two cups of boba tea. My friends constantly mocked me for being hopelessly, blindly in love. Right as I was finally preparing to dump him, he beat me to the punch and initiated the breakup. He claimed he had found “true love.” That true love was Chloe. I heard he bought Chloe designer bags, expensive clothes, and even maxed out his credit cards to buy her a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. Liam broke up with me because Chloe firmly stated she refused to be pursued by a man who already had a girlfriend. Bad news travels fast. I quickly became the biggest laughingstock on campus. That little master manipulator, Chloe, had delivered a fatal, humiliating blow. Furious, I tracked Chloe down at a nightclub. She was leaning toward the bathroom mirror, touching up her makeup. She was wearing a full Chanel suit, radiating the scent of expensive camellia perfume. Even her hair looked impeccably, meticulously styled. She looked incredibly expensive. “Sister, I’m Liam’s ex-girlfriend.” Chloe frowned slightly, thinking for a long moment before it finally clicked. She parted her lips slightly: “Oh, you mean that grad student from University A?” She turned off the faucet, looking straight into the mirror without even glancing at me, and asked lazily what I wanted. I didn’t say a word. I just slowly walked toward her. Chloe was petite and delicate. If a physical fight broke out, she definitely wouldn’t stand a chance against me. She backed into the corner, covering her face with her hands, slowly sliding down the wall. “Sister, I swear I didn’t lead him on! If you’re going to hit me, please don’t hit my face!” Uh… why was she so easily terrified? I grabbed her arm and yanked her up. She stood frozen against the wall for a second. I slapped my hands together in a pleading gesture, looking at her with desperate, puppy-dog eyes. “Sister, what kind of dark magic did you use to make that cheapskate buy you designer bags and clothes, when I couldn’t even get him to buy me a cup of boba tea?!” Chloe bent over, letting out a massive sigh of relief: “Sister! Why didn’t you just say so?! Is that all this is about?!” “Waaaaah, I seriously want to know so badly!” 3 Chloe and I instantly clicked, bonding over our mutual frustration. She held nothing back, teaching me everything she knew. She said this kind of thing required intuition; it couldn’t just be explained with words. But since I was her very first disciple, she promised to provide full, hands-on guidance. She told me to go find an experimental subject first. “Sister, are there any specific requirements for this experimental subject?” A confident smirk curled Chloe’s lips. She shook her head mysteriously: “Just make sure he’s handsome. The more handsome, the better.” It’s that simple?! I added Chloe on WeChat and decided to head back and hunt for a suitable subject. The moment I walked out the door, I spotted the perfect candidate. A man stepped out of a car. He was tall, lean, and radiated an aura of aloof impatience. Seeing him from a distance, Chloe’s voice immediately echoed in my head: The more handsome, the better. This was clearly a gift from the heavens. I sprinted over and blocked his path. “Brother, can I get your WeChat?” Hearing me call him “brother,” the man’s brow immediately furrowed in deep annoyance. He flatly stated he didn’t use WeChat and tried to walk past me. I quickly grabbed his arm. I couldn’t let him escape! “Well, I see you have a mouth. Can we make out then?” I tried my absolute best to force an innocent, harmless smile. His eyes widened in absolute shock, clearly wondering if he was hallucinating: “Uh… I do have WeChat. You can add me.” He seemed to be in a rush. While repeatedly apologizing, I dutifully scanned his QR code and added him. He actually found my flustered apologies amusing: “It’s fine. Take your time.” He was surprisingly gentle. I couldn’t stop myself from blushing, my head spinning slightly. Getting a handsome guy’s WeChat was step one. That night, I started chatting with him. “Hi. Did you have fun today?” After a very long time, he finally replied. “I wasn’t there to have fun. I was looking for my sister.” The silence in my room was deafening. This guy seemed like a complete creep. I mean, honesty is great, but generally speaking, it’s advised not to be that blatant about looking for a hookup. But I replied instantly anyway. “So, did you find her?” “Of course I found her. I even brought her home.” I hesitated for exactly three seconds before blocking him. This one was a dud. All style, absolutely zero substance. 4 The next day, I ran into this handsome creep right at the gates of my university. He stood there in a fully tailored suit, sticking out like a sore thumb among the sea of college students. Girls walking by kept stealing glances at him, but he seemed completely oblivious to their stares, muttering constantly to himself. “Remember, I was looking for my actual sister, not a ‘sister’.” (T/N: In Chinese slang, “sister” or “meimei” can mean a young woman one is casually dating or hooking up with, similar to “baby” or “shawty”.) When he spotted me in the crowd, I immediately turned to run, but he sprinted over and blocked my path. “I’m sorry. I phrased it poorly yesterday. I was looking for my actual, biological sister. We share the same parents.” He tapped his phone screen, pulling up our chat history. “You blocked me. I thought about it for a long time, and I even asked my sister. She told me you probably misunderstood. Can you please unblock me now?” I stared at him blankly, pulled out my phone, and removed him from my block list. His eyes lit up slightly. He reminded me to keep in touch, and then turned to leave. I was speechless. He came to my campus first thing in the morning just to demand I unblock him so we could ‘keep in touch’? I called out to him: “Um, it’s lunchtime. Do you want to grab something to eat?” I suddenly realized I didn’t even know his name. “I’m Mia. What’s your name?” “Arthur Sterling.” Arthur had seen the background photo on my WeChat profile, which happened to be the iconic landmark of University A. Arthur intended to take me out to eat, asking if I preferred Japanese, Korean, Thai, or Chinese cuisine. I took him to a cheap hotpot joint. Chloe had specifically taught me: Take rich guys to eat cheap food, and take broke guys to eat expensive food. The key is providing a highly differentiated experience. Based on Arthur’s outfit, he definitely wasn’t broke. I ordered a super spicy beef tallow broth and looked at Arthur expectantly. He pressed his lips together tightly, then looked back at me. Under my eager gaze, he carefully used his chopsticks to pick up a single slice of meat, rinsed it three times in a glass of plain water, took one bite, and instantly started coughing uncontrollably. I had no idea he couldn’t handle spicy food. I watched helplessly as he coughed so hard he triggered a severe stomach cramp, and I ended up having to rush him to the hospital. While I was at the nurses’ station paying Arthur’s medical bill, I unexpectedly ran into Chloe. Her brother happened to be hospitalized here too. Chloe asked me conspiratorially: “Wasn’t that guy from last time a total creep? My brother is currently single. Want me to introduce him to you so you can practice?” Who sets their own brother up like that?! And why did she call it ‘practice’?! Chloe sighed helplessly: “My brother is an absolute idiot with way too much money, he’s just a bit on the older side. But he’s still a prime target. Better to let you benefit than some random stranger.” I declined Chloe’s offer: “Never mind. That handsome guy from before wasn’t a creep; it was just a misunderstanding on my end.” Chloe looked deeply confused: “How do you ‘misunderstand’ someone being a creep? Is your brain malfunctioning again?” “Sister, I really feel like this one is different.” After all, even when Arthur was clutching his stomach in absolute agony, he still aggressively insisted on paying the hotpot bill before we left. Chloe severely criticized my judgment, then demanded I take her to see this supposed creep. “Mia, you are completely hopeless. I need to see what kind of guy has you this mesmerized.” I sighed. “Shouldn’t you go check on your brother first?” Chloe smiled and gestured for me to lead the way: “It’s a chronic issue; he won’t die. Your situation is much more urgent. Lead the way.” Unable to argue with Chloe, I led her to Arthur’s room. “Just take a quick look from a distance. Don’t scare him; he’s very introverted.” “Mia, feeling sorry for a man is the quickest way to guarantee a lifetime of misery.” I brought Chloe to the door of the hospital room. She peeked her head in to look. Suddenly, she gasped: “Holy shit! I see my brother!” 5 Chloe immediately ducked out of sight in a panic. I was intensely curious about what her brother looked like, but there were four people in the shared room. Which one was her brother? Arthur was sitting on his hospital bed, clutching a thermos, quietly drinking water. Ah, he’s so cute. Meanwhile, Chloe was crouching on the floor, muttering: “What is wrong with him? Why is he staying in a shared room?” Hearing that, I looked at the patient in the bed furthest inside. He looked significantly older and was loudly complaining and expressing his intense dissatisfaction. His yelling even startled Arthur in the adjacent bed, making him look visibly uncomfortable and anxious. I glanced down at Chloe: “Aren’t you going to go in and calm your brother down? He seems incredibly irritable.” “You think he’s irritable too, right? If I go in there, I’m just asking to get yelled at. Let’s just pretend I was never here.” Chloe wanted to bolt, but I wasn’t about to leave. I rolled up my sleeves, fully prepared to go teach her brother a lesson in basic human decency. Chloe whispered frantically: “Don’t, don’t! My brother absolutely despises it when people create loud noises in public spaces!” Excuse me? He has the audacity to complain about that?! What a hypocrite! I raised my foot, kicked the door open, and marched right in. Chloe’s face drained of color. She let out a tiny shriek and sprinted away in absolute terror. I pointed directly at the older man: “You! Yeah, you! If you don’t like shared rooms, go pay for a private suite! What the hell are you yelling about?! Everyone else can handle it, why can’t you?!” Dead silence fell over the room. After a long pause, the man muttered weakly: “I wasn’t yelling… my IV infiltrated and the vein swelled up. I was trying to call the nurse.” Arthur was staring at me in absolute shock. Actually, everyone in the room was staring at me in absolute shock. Well, this was incredibly awkward. I blame the hospital doors for being too soundproof. I pressed my lips together, forcing a painfully awkward smile, and took large strides toward the man’s bed. He looked terrified and scooted backward. I reached out and pressed the call button above his bed. “It’s fine, sir. Just press this button next time.” The man swallowed hard, pulled his blanket up to hide his face, and mumbled: “Thank you.” I turned around. SWISH! Every single patient violently yanked their privacy curtains shut. Except Arthur. I looked at him. He hesitantly held up his thermos: “You must be thirsty. Do you want some water?” I wanted to cry. I took a few deep breaths: “I am so sorry. I misunderstood the situation. I thought he was complaining about being in a shared room…” Arthur looked incredibly uneasy, avoiding my gaze: “I don’t think anyone is going to dare complain about anything anymore.” I sighed, took the thermos from him, and took a sip. Arthur’s hand holding his paper cup froze mid-air. I immediately started coughing violently. 6 Ever since the hospital incident, things between Arthur and me had become even more awkward. There was absolutely zero romantic tension. But he definitely had some level of interest in me. In the chaotic, noisy food street near the university, Arthur sat across from me, eating his noodles with elegant, aristocratic restraint. This was already the third time this week he had come to find me for lunch. And it was only Wednesday. He came every single day, but he barely spoke. The few sentences we exchanged proved we had absolutely nothing in common, and our tastes in food were entirely opposite. But he was wealthy, handsome, and we were a perfect match. I sighed internally. It was just so incredibly difficult to make any progress. Suddenly, someone pushed open the door, marched directly over to our table, and slammed two cups of boba tea down in front of us. I looked up from my noodle bowl in complete shock. It was my recently acquired ex-boyfriend, Liam. I immediately started coughing violently. Does anyone understand the lethal, agonizing level of second-hand embarrassment I was experiencing?! Liam was the type of ex who made you feel profound, intense shame for ever having dated him. Before Liam could even open his mouth, I grabbed him and sprinted wildly toward the door. Arthur froze, frowning slightly. I peaked back to check Arthur’s reaction, while Liam spoke up beside me: “Mia, let’s get back together.” I waved my hands frantically: “Absolutely not necessary. If you never show your face in front of me again, I’ll be eternally grateful. You don’t need to feel guilty; it was an amicable breakup. If there’s nothing else, please leave.” Liam followed my gaze and saw Arthur, immaculately dressed in a tailored suit, paying the bill at the counter. He let out a cold scoff: “Mia, the second you broke up with me, you immediately found a rich guy, didn’t you? You never actually loved me. You just hated that I didn’t have the money to buy you expensive gifts. Pretending to be a good girlfriend must have been exhausting for you, huh?” It was glaringly obvious. Liam had failed to win Chloe over and was now trying to crawl back to me. Normally, I wouldn’t waste a single second engaging with him, but his passive-aggressive tone, combined with him aggressively playing the victim, instantly ignited my temper. “Liam, I gave you an easy out, and you’re refusing to take it, huh?! What the hell are you pretending to be so noble for?! You liked Chloe! Why don’t you admit it was because you liked her money?! Look at yourself! Stop acting like you’re the victim here! I didn’t like you because you’re a massive, hypocritical cheapskate! When we were dating, you insisted on splitting the bill for two cups of boba tea, and we had to take turns paying for meals! Do you honestly think everyone else is an idiot?!” “So what?! You agreed to it! I didn’t force you! At the end of the day, my only ‘crime’ is not having money, right?! The only reason you’re sitting here keeping this guy company is because he’s rich!” Liam was descending into a state of impotent, pathetic rage. I immediately fired back: “Tsk, tsk, getting defensive? I love rich guys! And it’s absolutely none of your fucking business!” Arthur happened to walk out the door at the exact moment I shouted that. His footsteps faltered, his expression growing thoughtful. Liam looked incredibly smug: “Well, now you have to explain yourself to your personal ATM.” Crap. I’m doomed. Arthur and I had barely just started to establish a connection, and his impression of me was tanking lower and lower. We walked down the tree-lined path in complete silence. Arthur kept glancing at me, clearly wanting to say something. I accepted my fate: “Mr. Sterling, if you have something to say, just say it.” “Do you… truly love wealthy men? Approximately what net worth are we talking about? Do you have specific requirements? Could you elaborate on your criteria for a partner?” I genuinely thought I was hallucinating. I stared at him blankly. What the hell did he mean? Arthur’s eyes darted away, looking completely out of his depth: “I’m not astronomically wealthy, but I have a decent amount. I was wondering if I… fall within your range of consideration?” This time, I understood perfectly. He was utilizing an incredibly bizarre method of confessing his feelings. Or, more accurately, engaging in a very formal courtship ritual. I had never experienced anything like this. If I told him I didn’t actually care about money right now, it would probably break his heart. “Uh… I think… your net worth is exactly perfect.” God knows what his actual net worth is, because I was 100% focused entirely on his face. Arthur’s eyes lit up brightly: “So, does this mean we’re officially in a relationship?” I cupped my cheeks, nodding twice rapidly, my face burning bright red. He is so incredibly cute. Ah—I’m literally dying.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “391851”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Less than a month after we were married, my millionaire wife, Eleanor Croft, went bankrupt. Everyone laughed at me, the opportunist who’d made a bad bet. I ignored them. I gathered every penny I had, handed it to her, and said, “I believe in you.” For three years, we lived on nothing. We were so poor that when my father was on his deathbed, her company accountant couldn’t even scrape together the five thousand dollars needed for his surgery. I watched my father’s eyes close for the last time. I hated myself a million times over for failing to borrow the money, but I never once thought of hating her. Not until I saw a video from her company’s team-building event, posted by one of her employees. Finn, her handsome assistant, was wearing a Patek Philippe watch, the kind I’d agonized over but never dared to buy. He had dozens of them. The tie he wore required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit just to be put on the waitlist for the full collection. 1 “Ms. Croft, wasn’t that five thousand dollars originally earmarked for your husband? Why was it suddenly reallocated as a bonus for Finn?” I was standing outside her office when I heard the accountant’s voice. I held my breath, my eyes burning as I strained to hear what was inside. Eleanor’s laugh was light, careless. “I offered to buy it for him, but he wouldn’t let me. Said I’d already spent hundreds of thousands on him, that he was turning into my kept man. The collection he wanted was exactly five thousand dollars short, and he insisted on earning it himself. Giving it to him as a bonus makes it feel less like a gift. It makes him happier.” I stumbled, nearly losing my balance. My father’s life-saving money was casually diverted to Finn for a tie, all because of a single comment? Then what about my father? And wasn’t Eleanor still struggling to keep her company afloat? Where did the hundreds of thousands of dollars come from? “Ms. Croft, the company has been out of the red for a long time now. We could have easily allocated another five thousand for your husband. Why did you have to take his money and give it to Finn?” Eleanor sighed. “A while back, Finn wanted to go on a trip, but your husband snatched up the very last train ticket. Finn missed seeing the sunrise over the Grand Canyon and was heartbroken for weeks. This was just… making up for what he owed Finn.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The day I bought that train ticket was the day I received the notice that my father was in critical condition. I didn’t want to bother her at work, so I hadn’t even told her. The train’s booking system was first-come, first-served. Just because Finn was a second slower than me, it became a debt I owed him? “Hey, Ryan? What are you doing here?” The sound of Finn’s polished leather shoes echoed behind me. The voices inside the office fell silent. 2 “Ryan?” Eleanor opened the door and grabbed my hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your father? What are you doing here?” I stared into her eyes. “He’s gone.” Her breath hitched. “What? Why?” “We were five thousand dollars short for the surgery. I couldn’t get it in time.” The accountant gasped, instinctively glancing at Eleanor. I caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes. “How could this happen…” Seeing her delayed, performative remorse, my first instinct was to slap her. To demand why she gave the money to Finn for such a ridiculously trivial reason. But I realized I didn’t have the right. Every cent I had was gone, spent on my father’s medical bills. I didn’t even have money for a funeral. The substantial savings I once had were handed over to her without a second thought the day she told me she was bankrupt. Now, I had to beg this very person to cover my father’s burial costs. Seeing me bite my lip to hold back tears, Eleanor rushed to wipe them away. “Don’t be afraid, Ryan. I’ll get through this with you. Even if I’m struggling, I’ll find a way, no matter the cost.” Even now, she was still pretending to be poor. “That’s right, Ryan. Ms. Croft may be having a hard time, but she’ll do her best for you,” Finn said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. My gaze fell on the gold ring on his ring finger. Finn quickly pulled his hand back, his smile a little strained. I understood then. Eleanor had bought him that ring, too. Perhaps out of guilt, Eleanor spared no expense for the funeral. She took a full week off from work to stay by my side. On the day of the service, I thought I could hold it together, but the moment I saw my father’s portrait, the tears came like a flood. She stood beside me, but her eyes kept darting down to her phone. Only when a relative approached her would she quickly put it away and force a somber expression onto her face. “Ryan, something’s come up at the office. I have to go, now.” She squeezed my hand tightly. “I’ll come back to get you when it’s over.” She turned and hurried away, her footsteps echoing her urgency. There was a time when she only moved that fast when she was on her way to see me. I didn’t stop her. I took out my phone and opened an account with the username “Finn.” Just as I expected, a new photo had been posted. It showed a view from the floor-to-ceiling windows of a riverside penthouse, a floor littered with empty wine bottles. The caption: If I just pretend to be pathetic too, will you finally look at me? It was tagged to an account with the username “E.” E. Eleanor. Finn. I can’t remember the feeling that washed over me when my trembling fingers first found that account and hit ‘follow,’ wanting only to watch the progression of their affair. After the funeral service ended, the account updated again. It was a selfie of a man being embraced from behind by a woman. His workout clothes clung to his perfect physique, hinting at the defined abs and V-line beneath. You couldn’t see his face. But the hand resting on his waist wore a wedding ring I knew all too well. The caption: I know you’ll never let me be lonely. “E” had liked the post. And commented: The one who loves you would never let you be sad. A low laugh escaped me. I stood in the empty memorial hall. The wind howled, and it felt as if I was the only person left in the world. Me, and my father’s portrait behind me. Eleanor never came to pick me up. Darkness fell, and the funeral home emptied out. Finally, she called. “Ryan, things at the office are a little complicated, and it ran right into a press conference. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you. I’ll be done in two hours, tops. I’ll come straight there.” I laughed, sitting in the back of a taxi. “Don’t bother. I have a gift for you.” “What?” On my phone, a livestream of the press conference was playing. The large screen behind Eleanor suddenly flickered to life. Unspeakable sounds filled the air. On a large bed in a riverside penthouse, two familiar figures were tangled together in a desperate embrace. 3 A week ago, when I first found Finn’s account, I had already started preparing for this day. With my father laid to rest, I finally had the time and energy to deal with them. I am not the kind of person who swallows humiliation. My revenge had to be public, absolute. I wanted to ruin them. And there was no better stage than a press conference. By the time I arrived, the venue was in chaos. The reporters’ questions had shifted from company matters to Eleanor Croft’s extramarital affair. Then they saw me. A path spontaneously cleared for me through the crowd. “Ryan?” Eleanor stared at me in disbelief. Finn cowered behind her, his eyes wide with terror. “Ryan…” SLAP! A sharp slap echoed as my hand connected with her face. Eleanor winced. “Ryan!” SLAP! Another one, just as hard. She looked at me, stunned. “Who did you give the five thousand dollars to?” Her breath caught. “You… you know?” SLAP! A third. “Do you have any idea it was only five thousand dollars! With that money, my father could have lived!” At the mention of the man who had cared for her as a child, Eleanor looked down, silent. But the reporters smelled blood and swarmed forward. “Mr. Cole, what five thousand dollars? Could you tell us more?” “You want to know?” I gestured. The large screen changed again. “Then watch closely.” I had compiled everything into a presentation over the past week. “This five thousand was originally allocated by my wife for my father’s surgery, but her assistant…” “Enough!” A hand clamped over my mouth. Eleanor kicked the screen viciously, causing half of it to distort into a mess of pixels. “Eleanor! Let go of me!” She gripped my wrist, dragging me toward the private elevator. In the CEO’s office, she threw me onto the sofa. “You recorded those videos?” I let out a cold laugh. “Yes. What about it? Did you really think I didn’t hear your conversation with the accountant that day? I looked up Finn’s address as soon as I got home. You have some nerve, Ms. Croft. A riverside penthouse for an assistant, while I was still living in a rented apartment with you!” “That’s enough!” Eleanor’s chest heaved. “You don’t understand. During my hardest days, he was the one by my side. He stayed up all night with me, pored over financial reports with me, met with clients with me! Now that I’ve succeeded, don’t I owe him this?” I thought I had misheard. “He was with you? Then what about me?” Eleanor froze. “Eleanor, was he the one who gave you the start-up capital after you went bankrupt? When the debt collectors came, was he the one who refused to give up your location, even when they held a knife to his back? Did he give you every last penny he had? Was he the one crammed into that tiny apartment with you, eating instant ramen, or was that ME?” Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She avoided my gaze. I laughed bitterly. “You don’t want to answer? Fine, I’ll answer for you. He did NONE of that! The only person who walked through hell with you from start to finish was ME!” “I said, that’s enough!” she roared. The sudden outburst startled me. She stared at me, her eyes burning. “You’re only saying all this to remind me of how much you sacrificed, aren’t you? I was worried you’d hold your help over my head, that you’d demand a fortune once you found out I was back on my feet! That would have destroyed our relationship, which is why I hid it from you. But he’s different! Even after I spent hundreds of thousands on him, he still wanted to earn that last five thousand himself! Do you understand now? That’s the difference between you two. That’s why I favor him and guard myself against you.” An unexpected laugh escaped me. “So, you thought I married you as an investment?” She pressed her lips together. “Didn’t you?” I turned away, using a bitter smile to hide the tears in my eyes. “Fine. Let’s say I was only after your money. Then tell me, Eleanor, what kind of man seduces his savior’s wife?” Eleanor’s breath caught. She probably remembered. Without me, Finn would have died at the hands of those thugs. 4 Finn was handsome. He had the kind of face that women instinctively wanted to protect and adore, which naturally made him a target for jealousy. He’d been bullied and harassed his entire life. Until the day I walked into an alley armed with a steel pipe. I came out with a fractured leg and a split lip. Finn, apart from the endless stream of tears, was untouched. From then on, he became my loyal protégé. I decided to see it through and got him a job at Eleanor’s company. Eleanor despised incompetence. She complained more than once about the deadweight I had saddled her with. It took all my pleading to convince her not to fire him, to save him from being sold to a brothel by his gambling-addicted mother. Then she went bankrupt. We were too busy scrambling for rent and food to argue about him anymore. But I never imagined that while we were fighting for our survival, Finn had never truly suffered at all. The savings I gave Eleanor weren’t just to keep the company from folding. A large portion of it went to ensuring that Finn, the assistant, was completely unaffected by the bankruptcy. “Name your price. What will it take for you to leave him alone?” Eleanor’s voice was devoid of emotion. I looked at her and sneered. “I don’t want money. I want his life ruined.” She frowned. “Impossible.” “Eleanor, are you really this protective of him now?” A complex emotion flickered in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve lost your chance.” A cry echoed from outside the door. Eleanor’s head shot up. “Finn!” She threw the door open. Finn was being dragged by his collar, slapped repeatedly across the face. “You worthless piece of trash! You can do this disgusting thing, but I can’t bear the shame!” a man roared. “Sir!” Eleanor cried out, panicked. Finn’s father bellowed back. “Stay away! I’m disciplining my own son! What’s it to you?” “Dad, I…” “Shut up! Have you forgotten who saved you? Who broke his leg for you? You could have been with anyone, but you just had to be a homewrecker, didn’t you?” SLAP! SLAP! Two more resounding smacks, splitting Finn’s lip. Camera flashes went off relentlessly. The reporters captured every moment. After I’d saved Finn, his father and I had always been on good terms. I’d visit him during the holidays, just like I visited my own father. “You animal! Why did I have a son like you! If you love being a homewrecker so much, you can do it after I’m dead!” He turned and lunged for the window. Finn panicked, but he was too slow to stop him. “Sir!” Eleanor screamed. “Finn is not a homewrecker!” His father stopped and turned. A bright red marriage certificate was brought out. Eleanor opened it, revealing a photo of her and Finn, stamped with a clear, official seal. “Finn and I are legally married. Ryan Cole is the real homewrecker.” My breath caught in my throat. Finn’s father looked from her to me, utterly bewildered. “If you’re married, then Ryan is…” I pulled out my own marriage certificate with Eleanor, staring her down. “If you married him, then what is this?”

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My daughter fell into a storm drain in our apartment complex, and soon after, a torrential downpour began. I desperately called property management for help. After my repeated pleas, they assured me my daughter had been rescued. But when I finally arrived home, my daughter was nowhere to be seen. When I found her again, she was floating in the icy storm drain, long gone. Grief-stricken, I confronted property management, demanding answers. Instead, they used my status as an influencer against me, twisting the narrative to claim I had deliberately harmed my daughter for publicity. A furious wave of online abuse crashed down on me. Shattered by the loss of my child and the relentless cyberbullying, I drove in a daze, crashing head-on into an oncoming truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment my daughter fell. I quickly realized that the truth was far more sinister than I had ever imagined. 1. My phone suddenly rang, startling me. It was my daughter. I quickly answered. “Mommy, I fell into a drain, and I’m so scared! Please come and save me!” My daughter’s tearful voice came through the phone. In that moment, I knew I had been reborn. “Piper, don’t be scared! It might rain soon, so feel around with your feet for anything you can stand on. Stand there and wait for Mommy. I’m bringing help right away!” In my previous life, after receiving Piper’s call, I immediately dropped everything and rushed home. But my studio was too far from our apartment complex. On the way, a massive downpour caused traffic jams. To make matters worse, there was an accident on my route, and I was stuck, unable to move. I could only call the property management, pleading and urging them to rescue her quickly. They readily promised, “Madam, don’t worry, our team is already on their way and is conducting the rescue.” I felt a slight ease, calling Piper’s smart watch, but it wouldn’t connect. Calling property management again, they told me my daughter had been rescued. I asked to speak to her, but they claimed she was frightened and had fallen asleep. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, never imagining the property manager would lie to me. When I finally got back to the complex, Piper was nowhere to be found. I frantically interrogated the property management, but they all became silent. I had no time for their nonsense and immediately contacted the fire department to search for my daughter. When the firefighters found her, she was floating in the storm drain, lifeless. Grief-stricken, I demanded answers from the property management. They all stuck to the same story, claiming they never received my distress call. I showed them my call logs, but they insisted I had only called to report a faulty motion-sensor light. I only regretted not recording the calls! Afterward, a video of me arguing with the property management was posted online. The property staff collectively accused me of staging the incident for attention, claiming I had deliberately caused my daughter’s death for publicity. The internet mob, eager for drama, believed them and subjected me to a relentless online attack. Some even broke into my home, vandalizing it. My husband, who was away on a business trip, rushed back but also believed the online rumors, insisting on a divorce. Overwhelmed by the loss and the cyberbullying, I was in a daze. While driving to pursue legal action, I crashed head-on into an oncoming truck. Thankfully, fate had given me another chance. This time, I would save my daughter and ensure those heartless people at property management received their just punishment! First, I called the fire department. Then, I called property management and began recording the call. “Is this property management? My daughter fell into the storm drain in the complex. Please send someone to rescue her immediately!” “Alright, we’ll send someone right over.” They agreed readily, but I knew they wouldn’t actually help. This time, I chose a different route home. Although it was longer, it had less traffic and was mostly clear. I called property management again, asking, “Has my daughter been rescued?” “Our people are already working on it. Stop calling and rushing us. It won’t help; rescues have to be done step by step!” They hung up abruptly, clearly annoyed. By now, the rain had started, big drops pelting my car window. Despite the wipers, visibility was very poor. I called Piper again. “Piper, are the property management staff near you?” 2. My daughter’s terrified, tearful voice came through the phone. “No, Mommy, I’m scared.” Just as I suspected. Property management was just fobbing me off. “Don’t be scared, Piper. The firefighters will be there soon, and Mommy is almost there too. Is the rain heavy where you are? Did you find anything to stand on?” “I’m standing on a big rock, Mommy, please hurry. It’s so tiring to stand like this.” “Be a good girl, Piper. Mommy will be there any minute. You have to hold on!” Tears streamed down my face. In my previous life, when Piper fell into the drain, the water initially only reached her waist. But because property management delayed the rescue for so long, all the rainwater flowed into the drain, submerging her and causing her to drown. The pain of losing my daughter was excruciating. I absolutely would not let it happen again in this lifetime. Suddenly, the fire department called me. “Ms. Jones, we arrived at the complex entrance but were blocked by property management. They said the child has already been rescued and told us to leave.” I was furious. “Please don’t go back! My daughter hasn’t been rescued! Property management is lying!” The firefighter hesitated. “Ms. Jones, we understand you’re anxious, but property management wouldn’t lie about a rescue, would they?” “I’m begging you, please go back and check! My daughter is definitely still in that drain! Please, I’m begging you to go back and check!” After my repeated pleas, the fire department finally agreed to go back and verify. I tried calling my daughter again, but her smart watch was unreachable. I was furious. How could property management treat a human life so lightly? Not only did they refuse to help, but they also blocked the firefighters. Was it just because they feared such an incident would affect property values, or was there something else going on? I couldn’t comprehend it. I called property management again. “Did you or did you not rescue my daughter?” “She’s already been rescued.” “Then let me speak to her.” “The child was scared and has fallen asleep.” It was the same excuse as my previous life. I wanted to crawl through the phone and tear them apart! “Then wake her up and let her answer the phone!” They grew impatient. “Don’t think you can order us around just because you’re an influencer. You have no special privileges here!” They slammed the phone down. When I called back, they simply wouldn’t answer. Then the fire department called again. “Ms. Jones, property management took us to the drain, and there was no one inside.” “How is that possible? Our complex has six drains. Did you check all of them?” “We only checked five. One is abandoned, and the opening is completely blocked. No one could possibly be inside.” “My daughter is definitely in there! Please, can you go and check that one too?!” The firefighters were clearly in a difficult position. Before the call even ended, I heard someone shouting in the background. “Why aren’t you firefighters leaving? Do you know how much you’re affecting us by just standing at our complex entrance? People will think there’s a huge emergency. Leave now!” Property management was already trying to drive them away. The firefighter on the phone said, “The property manager is directly blocking the entrance and refusing to let us in. They insist the child has been rescued and sent home. I’m sorry, Ms. Jones, we don’t have the authority to forcibly enter a complex without an emergency.” “No! Property management is lying! I have surveillance at home; my daughter isn’t there! You have to believe me, my child is still in that drain! Please, you have to save her!” By the end, I was openly weeping. 3. “Ms. Jones, I understand how you feel, but property management really has no reason to lie about this. It’s a matter of life and death; if someone isn’t rescued, they would also be held responsible.” I truly didn’t know how to explain the situation to the firefighters. I could only say, “Please, I beg you to go back and check again. I will bear all the costs, including any wasted manpower, resources, and potential losses incurred from this deployment! Please, I’m begging you!” Under my continuous tearful pleas, the fire department finally agreed. But soon, the fire department called again. “Ms. Jones, although we managed to force our way into the complex, property management is refusing to cooperate. We don’t know where the drain is. Do you know where the opening is?” I thought of several locations, but none of them were right. Our complex was huge, with many residential buildings, like a maze. It was easy for someone visiting for the first time to get lost. Time was ticking away. Every minute of delay meant another minute of danger for my daughter. My heart was churning, but thankfully, I was just around the corner from home. When I reached my front door, I saw the firefighters preparing to leave. I quickly stopped them and then led them to the property management office. “Take me to the drain, now!” The property manager was impatient. “Who are you?” “My daughter is still in that drain! Who do you think I am?! Lead the way!” “We already told you your daughter has been rescued. If you go home now, I’m sure she’s there!” “I have surveillance at home! My daughter never came back!” “We already sent her home. If she’s not there, she must have run off again herself. Your daughter is seven or eight years old; there’s nothing we can do if she runs off!” I was shaking with rage. They were murderers, pure and simple. They were treating a human life as dirt! I stopped wasting words and pulled out a fruit knife, pressing it against the property manager’s throat. “Take me there, now!” The property manager was terrified. “This lunatic! Call the police for me!” The firefighters tried to calm me down, but my daughter’s life was on a countdown. I couldn’t calm down. I pressed the knife closer. “If you don’t take me there, I’ll kill you and make you my daughter’s grave mate!” Seeing the killing intent in my eyes, the property manager finally got scared. “Alright, alright, I’ll take you! Just put the knife away. I’m scared, and I’ll walk slowly like this.” I hesitated, then removed the knife. The moment I did, the property manager shoved me away. “Murder! Call the police! There’s a crazy woman here!” I quickly shouted, “Stop him! He refuses to take us to check the drain; there must be something wrong!” The firefighters reacted quickly and caught up to him, but even held by them, he wouldn’t cooperate. “Why are you helping that crazy person? I told you the child was rescued ages ago! You’re letting her threaten me with a knife! I’m going to sue you; you’ll all be facing charges!” The property manager was utterly arrogant. By this point, I had completely lost my rationality. “If I can’t save my daughter, then you can go down and join her!” I charged at the property manager like a madwoman but was pulled back by two firefighters. “If my daughter dies, you’re a murderer! Every single one of you at property management is a murderer!” The property manager sneered, uncaring. “You need proof for those accusations. Where’s your proof? We did rescue your daughter. Everyone at property management can testify to that.” In that moment, I finally realized that all these people were colluding, determined to kill my daughter.

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I’ve been the Admiral’s secret husband for six years, yet everyone at the Naval Base treats me like a desperate charity case—a military doctor who couldn’t take a hint and spent years pathetically chasing a woman out of his league. She let them believe it. She never offered a single word of clarification. It wasn’t until the gala following the joint maritime exercises that the whispers turned into a public execution. Someone raised a glass, their voice dripping with mock pity: “Dr. Miller, the Admiral’s fiancé is a world-renowned diplomat. Maybe it’s time to stop living in a fantasy world.” Even she was there, swirling her scotch, her eyes as cold and distant as the North Atlantic. “Neil,” she said, her voice a flat line. “Don’t waste any more of your time on me.” In my last life, I would have been blinded by fury. I would have slammed our marriage certificate onto the table, only for her to look me in the eye and call it a forgery. My father-in-law, desperate to save the diplomat’s face, would have had me thrown into the brig for a week of “reflection.” Later, when I was deployed and our ship was ambushed by pirates, I sent out a distress signal with my dying breath. She missed the window for the rescue mission because she was at the Metropolitan Opera, draped in pearls next to her diplomat. That was when I finally understood: I was never her husband. I was just a pawn she used until the wood began to splinter. In this life, I looked at her frozen, indifferent face and simply smiled. “You’re right,” I said. “I wish you both a very long, very happy life together.” I set my glass down. “By the way, my transfer to the National Naval Medical Center was approved this morning. Goodbye, Diana.” 1. The laughter died in their throats. Everyone froze, including Diana Montgomery. Diana was the Navy’s golden girl—the only daughter of Admiral Richard Montgomery and the youngest destroyer captain in the fleet. And me? I was just a staff surgeon in her shadow, an “unremarkable” medic who supposedly harbored delusions of grandeur. Dominic West, the diplomat standing at her side, let his smug grin falter. I didn’t give them a second to recover. I turned and walked straight for the exit. “Neil Miller!” Diana caught up to me in the deserted hallway, her fingers bruising my wrist as she spun me around. I stopped, but I didn’t look at her. “What is this?” she hissed, her voice vibrating with suppressed rage. “A transfer? Who authorized that? What kind of game are you playing now?” In my previous life, when I had miraculously crawled back from the pirates and asked why she hadn’t come for me, she had used that exact same tone. Neil, what kind of drama are you stirring up now? I wrenched my arm back. The force of it made her stumble. I pulled the transfer papers—stamped with the heavy red seal of the Bureau of Medicine—from my jacket and held them inches from her face. “Look closely, Captain. It came from the Surgeon General’s office. Even your father can’t touch this.” Her pupils contracted. I had earned this transfer by saving the life of a high-ranking Senator’s grandson a year ago. In my last life, I had asked for nothing, and the Senator told me he owed me a debt beyond measure. In this life, I called in the favor early. “Cancel it,” she commanded instinctively. “I don’t permit this.” I let out a dry, jagged laugh. I stepped into her space, staring directly into those beautiful, ruthless eyes. “On what grounds, Diana?” I lifted my hand, my finger nearly touching the tip of her nose. “On the grounds of our secret, shameful marriage license? Or on the grounds that you’ve stood by and watched people humiliate me for six years?” Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The color drained from her cheeks until she looked like a ghost. I stepped closer still, until I could feel the heat of her frantic breathing. “You mean nothing to me anymore, Diana. Not a single thing.” At the end of the hall, Dominic West appeared. He stepped between us, his brow furrowed in a performance of noble concern. “Dr. Miller, how can you speak to Diana like that? She’s been more than patient with you over the years, considering you’ve never been quite… up to her standard.” “Move,” I said. “Listen, Neil—” “I said, move.” My voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made Dominic take an involuntary step back. He looked shaken, his polished exterior cracking. “Dr. Miller,” he stammered, trying to regain his footing. “I never wanted to be your enemy. I just love Diana. Is that a crime?” “Not at all,” I nodded. “But standing in my way is.” I brushed past him. Behind me, his voice rose in a desperate warning. “Neil, you’re just a common medic. Without the Montgomery name protecting you, you are absolutely nothing!” I stopped and looked back over my shoulder. “Is that so? Then I’m doing you a favor, aren’t I? I’m finally vacating the seat you’ve been dying to sit in.” Dominic’s face twisted. He looked like he wanted to swing at me, but a hand caught his arm. Diana had stepped forward, her expression unreadable as she held him back. “Dominic, let it go.” “Diana, did you hear him? He has no respect for you. I’m the only one who truly—” Diana didn’t answer him. She was staring at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. “Admiral Montgomery,” I said, giving her a mocking, formal tilt of my head. “I hope you and Mr. West have a wonderful life.” I walked away and didn’t look back. 2. My transfer was flagged the next morning. I received the notification from HR at dawn. The reason was written in that classic, bureaucratic jargon: The base is launching a high-level classified medical research initiative. As a key surgical specialist, Dr. Miller is a mandatory core member. No transfers permitted until project completion. I sat at my desk, looking at the rejection. I slowly tore it into pieces and let them flutter into the trash. I didn’t even know what the project was. It didn’t matter. This was the Montgomery family doing what they did best: controlling the board. They were used to people being orbiting planets around their sun. My sudden bid for independence was an insult they couldn’t ignore. My phone buzzed. An unknown number. I picked up but stayed silent. After a few seconds, Diana’s mother spoke. A woman who lived in a world of silk scarves and casual cruelty. “Neil, don’t be difficult.” Her voice was thick with the condescension one might use for a disobedient golden retriever. “The Montgomery family isn’t something a man of your background can simply discard when he feels slighted. But it’s also not something you can just walk away from. Come home, apologize to Richard and Diana, and we will pretend this little tantrum never happened.” I listened to her lecture, feeling a strange sense of amusement. “Ma’am,” I said, my voice flat. “Keep the ‘blessing’ of your family name. I’m done with it.” I hung up. I knew that quiet defiance would infuriate them more than screaming ever could. The retaliation was swifter than I expected. Within forty-eight hours, rumors began to poison the base. There were different versions, but the core was the same: Dr. Miller had compromised his medical ethics. He had used his position to harass the Admiral’s daughter. He was a social climber who had tried to force his way into the elite through stalking and manipulation. I couldn’t walk into the cafeteria without hearing the jagged edges of whispers behind my back. I knew this was Dominic’s handiwork. As a diplomat, he dealt in the currency of reputation. He wanted to destroy my name in the one place I had given my youth and blood. He wanted to make me radioactive. The funny thing is, when you’ve already died once, you stop caring about what people say at your funeral. Three days later, the base hosted a foreign delegation—several high-ranking naval attachés from the UK and France. Dominic was there as the lead liaison. I was the only attending surgeon on call for the event. During the afternoon break, the nightmare started. A large British attaché suddenly collapsed, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple, clutching his throat. I was on him in seconds. “Severe anaphylaxis,” I shouted. “He’s in shock! Get me the crash kit and the EpiPen! Now!” A corpsman scrambled for the emergency kit, flipped it open, and went pale. “Doctor… there’s no epinephrine. The auto-injectors are gone.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Impossible. I had personally checked and restocked those kits yesterday. The room devolved into chaos. Accusations flew instantly. “How is this possible? Who was in charge of this kit?” “If he dies, this is an international incident!” I looked past the crowd and saw Dominic standing by the door. There was a faint, jagged smile on his lips, a flash of pure triumph in his eyes. This was the trap. A medical “accident” that would not only end my career but likely land me in front of a court-martial. They weren’t just trying to stop my transfer; they were trying to bury me. 3. They threw me into the brig. I was facing a military tribunal for dereliction of duty. Endangering the life of a foreign dignitary through gross negligence—a charge heavy enough to strip me of every medal I’d ever earned. The cell had no windows, just a single, humming yellow light. I sat on the cot, remembering the night I died in my previous life. It had been just like this: dark, cold, and lonely. But that time, I hadn’t seen the blade coming. On the third day, Diana appeared. She stood against the light of the corridor, her face a mask of disappointment. “If you sign a confession admitting to oversight, my father will intervene,” she said. “You’ll be reprimanded and demoted, but you’ll stay in the Navy. You’ll stay under our protection.” She paused. “It’s your only way out, Neil.” I leaned my head against the cold stone wall and looked at her. It was almost funny. This was exactly how she had led me into the abyss before. Always with that tone of “generous” mercy, telling me what was best for me while she tightened the noose. Back then, I was stupid enough to think it was love. “Are you dreaming?” I asked, my voice rasping. “We both know Dominic took those injectors.” Her brow furrowed, a flash of annoyance crossing her face. “Neil, stop being hysterical. Don’t drag innocent people into your mess. Dominic isn’t capable of that.” Dominic isn’t that kind of person. Always that sentence. In her mind, Dominic was the polished, perfect gentleman. I was the small-minded, paranoid liar. Even in my last life, when I sent the distress signal, she had said: I trust Dominic’s assessment. He said it was just a pirate lure, not a real emergency. I was bleeding out while she was watching a soprano hit a high C. I stopped smiling and stood up, walking slowly to the bars. I looked deep into her eyes—eyes I used to drown in, eyes that now felt like glass. “Diana,” I whispered. “You’re going to come back here and beg me.” “Remember that. You will be the one begging.” She blinked, then let out a sharp, mocking breath. “I think three more days in here isn’t enough,” she said, turning to leave. “Keep dreaming, Neil.”

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I am the real daughter. On the very first day we were reunited, my biological mother pushed a bank card across the table toward me. “One million dollars a month. You don’t have to genuinely treat me like your mother, but you will act the part in front of outsiders. Do not embarrass me.” I froze for half a second. The next second, I dropped to my knees and hugged her leg tightly, refusing to let go. “Mom! Why are you setting conditions with me?! We are a match made in heaven! Anyone who tries to tear us apart will face divine retribution!” She frowned in distaste. “…Stop talking nonsense.” I immediately changed my tune. “Understood, understood. Keep a low profile. We’ll just call this a family bonding subsidy. I accept.” Twelve million dollars a year. Forget acting like a loving daughter—for that kind of money, if she told me to call the fake daughter “Big Sis,” I’d say it sweeter than anyone else on earth. 1 My knees hurt a little. The marble floor was incredibly hard. But the smile on my face didn’t falter for a second. Eleanor Vance, the biological mother I had just been reunited with, had clearly never seen a display like this before. “Get up,” she said, her tone clipped. “What do you think you look like right now?” I scrambled up from the floor with practiced efficiency. “Yes, Mom. Whatever you say, Mom.” “Let’s get the ugly truth out of the way first.” She sat back into the plush sofa and crossed her legs. “Mia has lived in this house for twenty-two years. Her health is fragile; she has a heart condition and cannot handle stress. To the outside world, you two are twins. She is the older sister, and you are the younger sister. I do not want to see any petty jealousy or dramatic fighting over favoritism.” I took the bank card with both hands and shoved it deep into my pocket. “Rest assured, Mom.” I stood at attention, practically saluting. “As long as the funds clear, Mia is my biological sister. If she wants water, I absolutely will not hand her a Coke. If she wants to walk, I will absolutely not let her use a wheelchair. Oh, wait, no, I mean I will personally carry her on my back.” Just then, a girl appeared at the top of the grand staircase, gripping the railing and looking down at us. This was the fake daughter who had occupied my place for twenty-two years: Mia Vance. Her eyes were red. She looked at me, tears falling before she even spoke a word. “Mom… is this… is this Ms. Miller?” If this were a typical soap opera, this would be the moment I pointed at her nose and called her a thief. But I was built different. This wasn’t my enemy. This was my walking, talking cash cow from another mother. If Eleanor wasn’t trying to protect Mia’s fragile feelings, would she have ever offered me a million-dollar monthly salary? Mia bit her lip, looking utterly pathetic. “Ms. Miller, I am so sorry. I stole your life… If my presence bothers you, I can move out…” Eleanor’s face darkened, and she opened her mouth to intervene. “Sis! What are you talking about?!” I widened my eyes, putting on a look of profound, agonizing heartache. I channeled the exact same level of sincerity I used when hustling portable chargers to old ladies at the train station. “What do you mean ‘stole’?! That’s a terrible word! For twenty-two years, you have suffered immensely in this wealthy household!” Mia looked completely lost. A tear hung precariously on her eyelashes, unsure if it should fall. “…Huh?” I grabbed Mia’s hands tightly, pouring every ounce of fake emotion I possessed into my voice. “Sis, just look at you! You’re so thin! The food in this mansion must be terrible, right? And the rules! The pressure must be suffocating! I heard rich people have to learn piano, painting, equestrianism, and socialize every single day. That sounds exhausting! “I was completely different. I fed pigs and chopped wood in the village. Look at me—I’m strong as an ox and eat like a horse! That kind of grueling, bitter life is only fit for a rough girl like me. Knowing you took my place and endured all this suffering for so many years… as your younger sister, my heart simply bleeds for you!” Mia’s mouth hung open. She stared at me for a long time, completely unable to formulate a response. I struck while the iron was hot, turning back to Eleanor. “Mom, look at this! Sis is treating me like a stranger! From now on, with me here, nobody is going to bully my sister. Sis, you just live your life exactly as you always have. I promise I will keep my mouth shut, I will never cause trouble, and I will absolutely not give you or Dad any reason to worry.” “Alright, that’s enough. Since we’ve cleared the air, let’s eat.” 2 I had barely picked up my chopsticks when a middle-aged man walked into the dining room. This was my biological father, Richard Vance. Well, technically, he married into the family. The Vance family had the money, and he had the looks. Back in the day, it was the classic trope of a poor boy marrying a rich heiress. “So this is the one… who came from the village?” He handed his suit jacket to the maid, unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked toward the table. “Why is she dressed like that? And she has terrible posture.” I looked down at myself. I bought this outfit off a cheap discount app. Sure, it wasn’t high fashion, but it wasn’t like I was exposing anything inappropriate. Richard sat down, completely ignoring me. Instead, he picked up a choice piece of fish and placed it directly into Mia’s bowl. “Mia, eat more. You’ve looked so exhausted these past few days. It breaks my heart.” Mia glanced at me quickly, then said softly, “Thank you, Dad. Dad… my sister just got back. You should give her some too.” What a perfect, pristine white lotus. Even now, she was making sure to draw aggro toward me. Right on cue, Richard slammed his chopsticks onto the table. “Her? She grew up in the country; what hasn’t she eaten? Why would she need me to serve her?” “Since you’re back, you will follow the Vance family rules. Wash off that repulsive, rural stench. Do not embarrass your mother in public. Also, what was your name again? Chloe Miller? How incredibly vulgar.” He waved his hand in disgust. “We’re changing it tomorrow. I’ve already decided. Your new name is Chloe Vance.” The million-dollar monthly salary covered enduring my biological mother’s bad temper. The contract did not say anything about tolerating her husband’s pretentious bullshit. I calmly took a bite of a spare rib, chewing silently, and glanced up at Eleanor. Eleanor acted like she hadn’t heard a thing. Got it. If the boss didn’t intervene, it meant this was considered an extra, out-of-scope service. I put down my chopsticks and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Dad, I can’t change my name.” Richard’s eyes bulged. “What did you just say? You just walked through the door and you’re already talking back?!” “I’m not talking back.” I put on my most earnest, sincere expression. “The name Chloe Miller might sound a bit common, but it’s the name my adoptive parents gave me. Yes, they treated me terribly. They beat me, yelled at me, and made me feed pigs and farm the land. But they still raised me for twenty-two years. “If I change my name the second I return to my wealthy biological family, what will the public think? They’ll say the Vance family uses their wealth to bully the poor. They’ll say I’m a vain, greedy opportunist who completely abandoned her roots.” I let out a heavy, theatrical sigh. “I mean, I don’t care. If people want to curse my name, let them. But Mom is different! Mom is a prominent entrepreneur! The Vance Corporation relies on its public image. What if the media spins this as ‘Wealthy Family Forces True Daughter to Erase 20 Years of Adoptive Ties’? The stock price would plummet!” I turned to Eleanor, looking exactly like a deeply concerned, devoted daughter. “Mom, am I right? Losing hundreds of millions in market value just for a name… it’s just not worth it.” Richard pointed a shaking finger at me. “You… you’re twisting the facts! What does this have to do with the stock price?!” “How is it not related?” I asked, feigning shock. “The internet loves to hate the rich these days. Dad, do you not go online? Oh, right, you just drink tea and play golf all day. You don’t handle the company’s affairs, so it makes sense you wouldn’t know.” “Enough.” Eleanor finally spoke. “Chloe makes a valid point. A name is just a label; changing it involves too much paperwork anyway. Chloe Miller it is. I think it’s fine. It keeps her grounded.” Mia looked at me with a completely different expression now. I flashed her a massive, toothy grin and popped a piece of cheesy lobster into my mouth. Wow, rich people food was delicious. Some people choked on the bread of charity. But me? I prefer to earn my keep standing tall. After dinner, Eleanor called me into her study. “You are very smart,” she said. “Thank you for the compliment, Mom.” I stood respectfully in front of her desk, my hands clasped together. “Do you know why I brought you back?” “Because blood is thicker than water?” I ventured cautiously. Eleanor scoffed. “Because Mia’s fiancé only recognizes the true Vance bloodline. We need an alliance with the Sterling family. Mia isn’t a biological Vance, so the marriage won’t hold. But Mia’s health is too fragile. She could never survive being married to the Sterling family’s notorious playboy heir. So…” “You will marry him in her place.” Oh ho. I knew there was no such thing as a free lunch. This was the real reason I was here. A high-society alliance. A wealthy heir. A substitute bride. Wasn’t this just another massive business contract? “That’s going to cost extra.” The words slipped out of my mouth instinctively. Eleanor paused for a second, then laughed. “Deal.” She pulled open a drawer and tossed another bank card onto the desk. “This is the advance on your dowry. I’ll add an extra five hundred thousand a month for emotional damages. As long as you lock down the Sterling family, half of the Vance family’s assets will eventually be yours.” “Mom, just sit back and watch. I don’t care if he’s a rich heir or the King of Hell himself, I’ll have him trained and eating out of my hand.” 3 The next day at noon, to celebrate my return, the family hosted a luncheon with several extended relatives from the Vance side. I didn’t hold back. I sat down and prepared to feast. But before my chopsticks could even reach the center of the table, Richard spun the lazy Susan, stopping a plate of premium, double-head abalone directly in front of Mia. “Mia, your health is delicate. You need the nutrients.” The lazy Susan spun again, and what stopped in front of me was a plate of stir-fried bitter greens. Richard cast a sideways glance at me. “Chloe, your stomach is used to cheap, coarse food. Eating rich food too suddenly will give you indigestion. Dad is doing this for your own good. Eat more vegetables. It cleanses the grease.” Mia looked deeply conflicted and said softly, “Dad, is this really appropriate? My sister just got back…” “What’s inappropriate about it?” Richard raised his voice. “A wild boar can’t digest fine grain. Giving it to her is just a waste.” Seeing that I stayed silent, Richard assumed I was intimidated. His ego inflated, and he kept going. He poured himself a glass of red wine and swirled it. “Speaking of which, our Mia really is incredibly lucky. That Sterling marriage arrangement was originally meant for you. Thank goodness your health is fragile. That Julian Sterling… tsk tsk. Everyone in our circle knows what he is. He drinks, he gambles, he sleeps around, and his temper is explosive. I heard he broke a model’s leg just last month.” He took a sip of wine and patted Mia’s hand, looking utterly relieved. “A fiery pit like that is only suitable for a thick-skinned, feral girl to jump into. It’s the perfect match: a trash can for a trash lid. Absolute garbage paired with absolute garbage. A match made in heaven.” Mia’s tears were threatening to spill again. “Dad, please don’t talk about my sister like that…” “Dad is just telling the truth!” Richard was getting more and more animated. “Those rich playboys are nothing but scumbags. If the Vance family didn’t need their business, who would even bother acknowledging him? Only an ignorant country bumpkin like Chloe would treat him like a prize.” I glanced at Eleanor, who was sitting at the head of the table. Understood. When the boss couldn’t conveniently tear someone a new one, the biological daughter had to step up and do the dirty work. I stood up. Richard was mid-rant, spit flying from his mouth. He was startled by my sudden movement. “What are you doing? Are you going to get more rice? You have absolutely no manners…” I flashed him a brilliant, radiant smile. The next second, I gripped the edge of the heavy marble table, anchored my stance, and flipped it with explosive force. The table full of abalone, bird’s nest soup, red wine, and hot broth flew through the air in a very ungraceful parabolic arc before crashing violently onto the floor. The greasy, thick abalone sauce splashed directly onto Richard, instantly ruining his custom-tailored suit. “Ahhhh…!” Mia shrieked and hid in Richard’s arms. Richard was utterly stunned. His finger trembled as he pointed at me. “You… you… you absolute savage! Are you out of your mind?!” I dusted off my hands, my face a mask of righteous indignation. “Dad! You have crossed the line!” I pointed at the mess on the floor, my voice booming even louder than his. “Who is Julian Sterling?! He is my future husband! He is the Vance family’s future, most vital business partner! And here you are, in front of all these people, publicly slandering the heir to the Sterling Group as garbage and a scumbag! What if word gets out?! What if the Sterlings pull their investment?! What if the Vance stock crashes?! What if you destroy all of Mom’s hard work?!” I clutched my chest, looking agonizingly heartbroken. “It doesn’t matter if I, Chloe Miller, suffer a little. Even if you forced me to eat scraps, I would accept it. But you cannot use the future of the Vance family as a joke just to elevate your favorite daughter! You are undermining Mom’s empire! You are cutting off our family’s primary source of wealth!” Richard was suffocating under the weight of the massive accusations I had just hurled at him. “You… you’re talking out of your ass! I’m your father! I can say whatever I want!” “You are my father, but you are also a man who married into the Vance family wealth!” I took a step forward, my aura completely dominating the room. “You eat the food the Vance family provides, yet you smash the bowl we eat from! You are biting the hand that feeds you! As a member of this family, I, Chloe Miller, will absolutely not tolerate such ungrateful, treacherous behavior!” Richard was trembling with sheer rage. He tried to lunge forward to hit me, but slipped on the greasy soup covering the floor and fell hard, landing face-first in the mess like a dog. “Enough.” Eleanor’s voice chimed in right on cue. She placed her napkin on the table, not even glancing at Richard groveling on the floor. She simply looked at me with a cool expression. “Since the mood is ruined, dinner is over. Chloe, Julian Sterling has requested a meeting this afternoon. Go get ready.” I nodded obediently. “Yes, Mom. I’ll go get ready right now. I promise I will dress beautifully, I won’t embarrass our family, and I absolutely will not let that fifty-million-dollar dowry go to waste.” With that, I stepped directly over my groaning biological father and headed upstairs without looking back. Faintly, I heard Eleanor’s icy voice behind me: “Mop the floor. And from now on, anyone who speaks out of turn at the dinner table won’t be eating at all.” 4 My meeting with Julian Sterling took place at an exclusive, dimly lit private club. The legendary, notorious rich heir was sprawled on a leather sofa. He had a cigarette in his left hand, a glass of liquor in his right, and the top three buttons of his shirt undone. He looked incredibly impatient. “Oh, so this is the… village girl the Vance family dug up to replace Mia?” “I heard you used to feed pigs in the country? What, did the Vance family think I’m a pig, so they hired a professional breeder to take care of me?” His posse of wealthy frat boys erupted into obnoxious laughter. I didn’t get mad. I picked up an empty glass from the table and poured myself a drink. “Mr. Sterling, you’re hilarious. Raising pigs is incredibly hard work. You have to wake up before dawn, mix heavy feed, and shovel manure. It requires serious technical skill.” “Taking care of you is infinitely easier. As long as the money clears, if you tell me to go east, I’ll never go west. If you tell me to beat a dog, I’ll never chase a chicken.” Julian froze. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so brutally straightforward. He sat up straighter. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the VIP room was shoved open. A woman in a flowing white dress burst into the room. “Julian…” Her voice trembled, her eyes locked entirely on him. “Are you really going to marry this… this country bumpkin?” Julian’s face instantly turned black. I raised an eyebrow. I knew exactly what this was. According to the dossier Eleanor had provided, this was Julian’s legendary “first love,” Lily. Back in the day, she dumped Julian because he was a “useless slacker” and ran off with a college athlete. Now that she heard Julian was entering a massive corporate marriage, she suddenly rushed back to play the role of the devoted, heartbroken lover. Before Julian could say a word, Lily charged right up to me. “Ms. Miller, right? I know you’re only marrying Julian for his money. How much will it take for you to leave him? One million? Two million?” Two million? Who the hell did she think she was talking to? My current net worth was evaluated in the hundreds of millions. “Ms. Lily.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Please mind your phrasing. I am currently Julian Sterling’s fiancée. I am the future Mrs. Sterling, officially recognized by both our families. You storming in here and throwing pennies at my face… don’t you think that’s incredibly disrespectful to my professional integrity?” Lily was stunned. “What professional integrity?!” I took a step forward, physically blocking her line of sight to Julian. “Taking care of Mr. Sterling is my job. My client… excuse me, my fiancé, is currently drinking and in a bad mood. You barge in here crying, screaming, and trying to use pocket change to insult his taste in women. Are you trying to create a hostile work environment, or are you openly questioning Mr. Sterling’s judgment?” Lily’s face went completely pale with rage. “You… how could someone like you possibly be worthy of Julian?! Julian and I have a deep, emotional foundation!” “An emotional foundation?” I scoffed, glancing back at Julian. The idiot was watching me with intense amusement, showing absolutely zero intention of intervening. I turned back, directing my full firepower at Lily. “Ms. Lily, ’emotions’ are too abstract. They don’t retain value. You claim you had such deep emotions, so why did you run away? And now that you’re back, what happened? Did the athlete get bored of you? Do you want to come back and graze on your old pasture? I’m sorry, but this pasture has already been fenced off by me. Whether it’s fresh grass or dead grass, it’s mine, and no one else is touching it!” 5 After my relentless verbal barrage, Lily’s tears finally spilled over. She ignored me, looking past my shoulder directly at Julian, and pulled an old, worn-out watch from her purse. “Julian, this was the very first gift you ever gave me. I’ve kept it all these years… Are you really going to be this heartless? Are you really going to let this feral, country shrew humiliate me?!” In that moment, I saw a flicker of emotion in Julian’s eyes. That was the spark of an old flame trying to reignite! Absolutely unacceptable. If that flame caught fire, my fifty-million-dollar dowry would be burned to ashes. Moving with lightning speed, I snatched the watch right out of her hand. “Oh my! The leather strap is completely worn out and peeling, and Ms. Lily still kept it? You are so incredibly frugal!” I held the watch up to the dim club lighting, clicking my tongue twice. “But with Mr. Sterling’s current net worth, this cheap flea market garbage stopped being worthy of him a long time ago. Since Ms. Lily doesn’t want it anymore, did you bring it here so we could help you throw it away? No problem. I’m used to doing the dirty work; we don’t need to bother Mr. Sterling with this.” With that, I simply opened my fingers. Plop. The watch dropped directly into the ice bucket on the table. “Chloe Miller!” Lily shrieked, lunging forward to claw at my face. I smoothly dodged to the side and allowed gravity to carry me directly into Julian’s lap. “Hubby! Help! The crazy lady is attacking me!” The way I screamed “Hubby” was a masterclass in dramatic, heart-wrenching vulnerability. Julian’s entire body went rigid for a full second. But he didn’t push me away. He raised one hand, easily blocking the hysterical Lily. “Enough.” “Are you done throwing a tantrum? If you’re done, get out.” Lily stared at him in utter disbelief. “You’re protecting her?! You’re actually protecting this shameless, gold-digging whore?!” Julian laughed. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me tighter against his chest. “She’s here for the money. What’s wrong with that?” Julian looked at Lily, his eyes filled with pure mockery. “People who only want money are the cleanest. It’s infinitely better than someone who constantly preaches about ‘true love’ while their heart is full of nothing but selfish, manipulative calculations.” With that, he looked down at me. “Come on, wifey. Let’s go buy you some things.” My eyes practically sparkled with dollar signs. “Yes, Hubby! I want the most expensive things they have!” Lily was still sobbing hysterically behind us, but I didn’t have time to deal with her anymore. Julian and I walked out of the VIP room and got into his limited-edition sports car. I thought he was going to take me to a jewelry store to buy some shiny trinkets. Instead, he drove us straight to the most exclusive luxury mall in the city. “You called me ‘Hubby’ pretty smoothly back there,” he said, steering with one hand, looking at me with a half-smile. “What kind of reward do you want?” I immediately sat up straight and pulled out my phone’s notepad app. “Mr. Sterling, let’s speak frankly. That ‘White Lotus Defense’ operation I just executed was highly hazardous work. It requires hazard pay. But since you’re offering gifts, I won’t hold back.” I pointed at the Hermes boutique ahead. “I want that bag, and that diamond necklace, and…” Julian raised an eyebrow. “Your taste is that tacky?” “Tacky?” I shook my head. “Mr. Sterling, you don’t understand. These items retain their value! They are hard assets! If one day you decide to kick me to the curb, I can liquidate these and live comfortably for the rest of my life. This is what we call risk hedging.” Julian stared at me for a long moment, then suddenly slumped over the steering wheel, laughing so hard he couldn’t stop. “Chloe Miller, you are an absolute piece of work.” He tossed a sleek, black American Express Centurion card into my lap. “Go swipe it. As long as you manage to piss Lily off to the point of a stroke, I’ll buy this entire mall for you.”

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