Category: English

I was seven months pregnant. After my prenatal checkup, I dozed off in the passenger seat on the ride home. When I woke up, the baby in my belly was gone. I instantly freaked out, but my husband just smiled at me with absolute adoration. “Still half-asleep? You were never pregnant, honey. What baby?” I thought it was a sick joke and forced him to turn the car around and speed back to the hospital. But the nurses said I was there for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam. The OB-GYN shook her head and swore she had never seen me in her life. Even my own mother called me, her voice red and teary. “Sweetheart, is the stress of trying to conceive getting to you? Why don’t we go see a psychiatrist?” But just two hours ago, I had literally watched the tiny, beating heart of my child on the ultrasound monitor. How could a seven-month pregnancy just vanish into thin air like a magic trick? I refused to believe I was crazy. I called the cops, demanded security footage, and tore through the clinic’s records. There was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy or my checkups. Everyone was convinced I had lost my mind. In a haze of heavy sedatives and utter despair, I slipped and fell from the hospital roof. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of my prenatal checkup. 1 “Chloe, time to get up. We can’t be late for your checkup today.” Mark’s voice floated through the bedroom door, as gentle and loving as always. I groggily opened my eyes, my hand instinctively dropping to my stomach. I froze for two seconds, then shot up in bed and yanked up my pajama shirt. It was round and heavy. The little one inside seemed to be startled by my sudden movement and gave me a sharp kick. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. In my previous life, today was the exact day Mark accompanied me to the Women’s Clinic for my seven-month checkup. After it was over, I felt incredibly drowsy and dozed off in the passenger seat. When I opened my eyes again, my stomach was completely flat. The baby was gone. My husband claimed I had never been pregnant. The nurses said I was there for a basic physical. Even my own mother told me my anxiety over getting pregnant had caused me to hallucinate. I refused to accept it. I caused a massive scene at the hospital, and eventually, security dragged me away and admitted me to a psych ward. But even as I fell from that rooftop to my death, I couldn’t understand it. How could a seven-month-old fetus, a baby I had felt moving inside me, just vanish without a trace? They all said she was a figment of my imagination. But right now, she was unequivocally resting inside my belly. I stroked my stomach, the tears silently falling down my cheeks. “What’s wrong, honey? Did you have a nightmare?” Mark leaned halfway into the room, pausing when he saw my red, teary eyes. I looked at him, my emotions an absolute tangled mess. In my previous life, he was exactly like this—gentle, considerate, the absolute best husband in the world. But after the baby disappeared, he was the one who swore I had never been pregnant, and he was the one who followed the doctor’s advice to lock me in a psychiatric facility. In this life, I didn’t know if I could trust him at all. But no matter what, until I uncovered the truth, I couldn’t tip my hand. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well,” I forced a tight smile. “I don’t feel like going out today. Let’s reschedule the checkup.” Mark paused, walking over to feel my forehead. “Are you feeling sick?” “Just really exhausted.” “Alright then. I’ll call the clinic and push it back three days,” he said, looking down at his phone. “That specialist is in the office on Wednesday anyway.” Watching his profile, my mind raced. In this life, if I just hid at home and refused to go to the clinic, would my baby be safe? But how long could I hide? I had to figure out exactly what happened in my previous life. Why did every single person swear I was never pregnant? I closed my eyes, pressing my palm against my skin, feeling the subtle movements of the little life inside me. It’s not a hallucination. I had three days to uncover the truth. The first day, I found nothing out of the ordinary. All I could do was take photos of every single prenatal medical record I had accumulated over the past seven months and back them up to a secure cloud drive. I remembered that in my past life, when I frantically searched the house for my old ultrasound printouts, they were all gone. Even the hospital’s security cameras magically had no record of me. But I still felt paranoid, so I booked a last-minute maternity photoshoot at a local portrait studio. During the shoot, I paid the assistants extra to take a ton of behind-the-scenes videos on my phone, clearly documenting me walking around with a massive baby bump. Only then did my anxiety ease slightly. Next, I called my mom. “Mom, I’m really craving your homemade lasagna.” “Of course, sweetie! I’ll make a huge batch and bring it over. You’re eating for two now, you need the calories.” “Mom, do you remember how many months pregnant I am right now?” “Seven months, Chloe. How could your own mother forget that?” I recorded that entire conversation. In my past life, my mother had looked a police officer dead in the eye and told him I was never pregnant. In this life, no matter what crazy tricks they pulled, these audio files weren’t going to just vanish. The day of the rescheduled checkup arrived. Mark went to the billing counter to handle the copay, leaving me sitting on a bench in the waiting area. A nurse in standard pink scrubs walked over. Seeing my belly, she offered a warm smile. “Carrying high and pointy like that, I’d bet money it’s a boy.” Mark returned just in time to hear her and chimed in smoothly. “Boy or girl, I don’t care. If it’s a boy, we’ll protect his mom together. If it’s a girl, I’ll protect both my girls.” The nurse covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh my, your husband is so sweet.” I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I remembered this nurse. In my past life, she had said those exact same words: Carrying high and pointy, I’d bet money it’s a boy. But later, when I tore through the hospital looking for her, she had stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Ma’am, are you confused? You were here for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam.” This time, I had quietly opened the voice memo app on my phone and recorded her every word. The examination room was on the third floor. The OB-GYN doing my ultrasound was a middle-aged woman in her early forties with a gentle demeanor. Dr. Evans. In my past life, she was the one who examined me too. When the baby disappeared and I charged into her office demanding answers, she had looked completely bewildered. “Ma’am, I have never seen you before in my life. Are you sure you have the right doctor?” But my memory was crystal clear. It was her. I stared at her face. She was looking down, adjusting the monitor, completely oblivious to my intense glare. “Alright, go ahead and lay back. Lift your shirt for me.” I lay down. The cold gel hit my skin, and the probe slid across my stomach. The familiar, tiny silhouette appeared on the screen. “Developing beautifully,” Dr. Evans said. “The head circumference is slightly above average. Just keep an eye on your sugar intake so the baby doesn’t get too big for delivery.” I stared at the monitor, my eyes tearing up again. “Dr. Evans, could I take a quick picture with you?” She paused, surprised. I quickly added, “First-time mom. I just really want to document the journey.” She smiled warmly. “Of course. Go ahead.” I pulled out my phone, switched to the front camera, and leaned in close. Click. I looked down at the photo. Dr. Evans’s face, my face, and the ultrasound monitor clearly showing the baby in the background. It was all there. Crystal clear. Let’s see you try to deny this in this life, I thought fiercely. Walking out of the exam room, I purposely tracked down that nurse. “Nurse Rachel, could we grab a quick picture?” I held up my phone. “I’m making a pregnancy vlog for the baby.” Rachel was incredibly accommodating. “Where’s your husband? Let’s have him take a full-body shot of us.” Mark was pulled over, and he snapped several photos of Rachel and me. In every single photo, my massive baby bump was front and center. “Why are you so hyper today?” Mark asked with a chuckle. I put my phone in my purse. “First pregnancy, remember? I just want to make a lot of memories.” In reality, I wanted to make a lot of evidence. This time, I had photos, videos, audio recordings, and multiple witnesses. I refused to believe they could pull off whatever they did last time. Walking out of the hospital, Mark helped me into the passenger seat. “Tired? Take a quick nap. I’ll wake you when we get home.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to that famous brunch spot downtown.” He paused, then smiled. “Alright. Whatever the queen wants.” In my past life, I had fallen asleep in the car on the way home. When I woke up, my child was gone. This time, I absolutely refused to sleep. And I needed to be somewhere packed with people! The diner wasn’t far from the hospital. We got there in twenty minutes. But there was a massive crowd waiting outside. “Want to go somewhere else?” Mark asked. “No. I want this place.” I waddled over to the crowded waiting area and sat down. Mark offered a helpless smile and went to the host stand to put our name in. The waiting area was packed. A waitress carrying a tray walked over. “Ma’am, please have some crackers while you wait. We can’t have our expecting mothers going hungry.” She handed me a small bag of artisan crackers. I thanked her, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. With so many people watching, nothing could possibly happen to me here, right? I leaned back against the bench, watching the bustling crowd, but my eyelids started to feel incredibly heavy. I had barely slept the night before. Now, sitting in the warm, cozy waiting area, waves of unnatural exhaustion began crashing over me. I fought desperately to keep my eyes open, but my vision rapidly blurred into darkness. …… “Chloe?” Someone was shaking my shoulder. I jolted awake. My very first instinct was to grab my stomach. It was flat. I froze, and frantically felt it again. Flat. I violently yanked up my sweater. My stomach was completely smooth and flat. “What’s wrong?” Mark crouched in front of me, looking deeply confused. I opened my mouth, my voice trembling violently. “The baby is gone…” “What?” “The baby is gone!” I pointed at my stomach, screaming. “My seven-month-old baby is gone!” Mark froze for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. “Chloe, are you still half-asleep? Since when were you ever pregnant?” I stared at him, my eyes wide with terror, and shrieked: “What do you mean?! We literally just left the prenatal clinic!” Mark frowned slightly, looking genuinely concerned. “Honey, we did go to the hospital today, but it wasn’t for a prenatal exam. You had a routine physical.” Those exact words again. My entire body began to shake. I stumbled out of my chair and lunged at the waitress who had given me the crackers, grabbing her arm. “Earlier! You said I was an expecting mother and gave me crackers so I wouldn’t go hungry! Do you remember?!” The waitress looked terrified. “Ma’am, what are you talking about? We don’t even serve crackers here.” I stood there, paralyzed. Then I frantically dug into my purse, pulled out my phone, and opened my photo gallery. The selfies with Dr. Evans and Nurse Rachel… they were all gone. Refusing to give up, I opened Facebook. Yesterday, after the maternity shoot, I had posted the behind-the-scenes videos. Dozens of friends and coworkers had liked and commented on it. But that post had vanished completely from my timeline. “Impossible…” My trembling fingers kept scrolling. Mark walked over and gently squeezed my shoulders. “Chloe, you’ve been under so much stress trying to conceive. You’re having hallucinations.” I violently slapped his hands away and sprinted out of the diner. I had to go back to the hospital. I had to find that doctor, and that nurse. They had to remember me. When I burst through the clinic doors, Nurse Rachel was taking a pregnant woman’s blood pressure. I grabbed her arm. “Nurse Rachel! Do you remember me?!” Rachel jumped, looking at me in utter bewilderment. “Ma’am, do you have the wrong person?” “How could I have the wrong person?! You literally took photos with me this morning!” Rachel thought for a second, then shook her head, cutting me off. “I’ve been working the inpatient ward all morning. I wasn’t even in the outpatient clinic. Were you here for a prenatal exam?” I froze. “Then what about the female doctor who did my ultrasound?!” Rachel flipped through the clipboard on the desk. “All the attending ultrasound technicians on duty today are male. There are no female doctors on shift.” My brain exploded with a deafening ringing sound. A pregnant woman sitting nearby muttered to her husband, “Is she mentally ill?” “Probably drove herself crazy trying to get pregnant. My cousin did the same thing. Tried for three years, ended up having phantom pregnancies and hallucinating babies…” “Seriously, look at her stomach. It’s completely flat. Who is she trying to fool…” I ran into the hospital bathroom like a madwoman, lifted my shirt in front of the mirror, and stared at my stomach. Smooth. Flat. As if I had never been pregnant a day in my life. I slid down the wall of the bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tile floor. My mind was completely blank. No. This is wrong. I must have missed something. My phone rang. It was my mom. I scrambled to answer it. “Chloe, did you get the lasagna I dropped off?” I opened my mouth, a desperate spark of hope igniting in my chest. “Mom… do you remember that I’m pregnant?” The line was silent for two seconds. Her voice came back laced with pure confusion. “Pregnant? Haven’t you and Mark been trying for over a year with no luck?” My hand gripping the phone began to shake violently. “Mom, I literally sent you my maternity photoshoot videos yesterday. Did you forget?!” My mom sounded even more confused. “No you didn’t, sweetie. You just called me saying you were craving lasagna. That’s all.” I opened my text messages. The videos in our chat history were gone. My mom’s voice filled with deep concern. “Chloe, are you overworking yourself? Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, honey. A baby will come when the time is right…” Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, an icy chill seeped into my bones. Was I doomed to repeat this nightmare? Was I trapped in this impossible loop forever? No. I refuse to be a sitting duck! I splashed cold water on my face and marched out of the bathroom. I immediately heard a commotion down the hall. “That’s her. She’s the one harassing the staff…” “Call security. She’s clearly having a psychotic break…” I looked down the corridor. A crowd had formed outside the OB-GYN clinic. In the center, Mark was explaining something to a nurse. When he saw me, he rushed over. “Chloe, where did you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” I stared at him. This man. We had been married for five years, and he had always been loving and perfect. Right now, his eyes were filled with nothing but profound worry and heartbreak. I stared dead into his pupils. “Mark, do you really not remember taking me for my prenatal checkup today?” Mark sighed heavily, reaching out to hold my hand. “Honey, let’s go home first. You need to rest, okay?” “Answer the question!” He paused, his eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. “Chloe. You were never pregnant.” I closed my eyes. There it is. “Ma’am, please stop disrupting hospital operations.” Two security guards approached me. “We received a complaint that you are harassing medical staff. Please cooperate and leave the premises.” I took a step back. The hallway was full of people staring at me, whispering loudly. “What a shame. She’s so pretty, but completely out of her mind…” “I’ve seen cases like this. They all end up in a straightjacket…” “Her poor husband…” Mark stepped in front of me, speaking to the guards. “I am so sorry. My wife has been under extreme psychological stress lately. I’ll take her home right now.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the exit. I followed mechanically, my brain totally numb. But right at that moment, I caught a glimpse of the digital calendar hanging on the lobby wall. I stopped dead in my tracks, grabbed the arm of a passing nurse, and asked, my voice trembling violently: “Is… is the date on that clock correct?” The nurse was startled by my intensity but answered anyway. “Yeah, it’s correct. Why?” So that was it! I finally understood why my baby was gone, and why there was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy! Chapter 2 “Ma’am, you need to leave,” the security guard said, his hand already clamping down on my shoulder. Mark chimed in with the perfect tone of a loving, exhausted husband. “Chloe, please, be good. Let’s just go home…” I stared dead at the digital calendar on the wall. March 15, 2024. The day of my prenatal checkup was March 15, 2023. An entire year. When I fell asleep in that diner and woke up, it wasn’t a few hours later. It was a whole year later! A horrifying realization suddenly crystallized in my mind. “Chloe?” Mark asked, his voice probing cautiously. “What are you thinking about?” I slowly turned my head, looking at his mask of gentle concern. In my past life, he had looked at me exactly like this right before having me committed to an asylum. In this life, if I kept causing a scene, the ending would be exactly the same. I forced down the tidal wave of horror and panic inside me, and squeezed out an exhausted, fragile smile. “Nothing. I’m just so tired. I think I really am having hallucinations.” Mark visibly exhaled a sigh of relief and supported my arm. “That’s okay. Let’s get you home.” I let him guide me out the hospital doors. Behind us, the crowd continued to whisper. “What a tragedy, going crazy so young.” “Her husband is a saint for putting up with that.” I kept my head down, burying the absolute storm of fury in my chest. Mark helped me into the passenger seat and leaned over to buckle my seatbelt with practiced care. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re in the garage.” “Okay,” I closed my eyes, my voice soft and perfectly level. As the engine started, I pretended to sleep, squinting through my eyelashes to study his profile in the driver’s seat. Mark Davis. What the hell did you do to me? Back at the house, Mark tucked me into bed and brought me a mug of warm milk. “Drink this, then get some real sleep.” I took the mug, faked a sip, and the moment he left the room, I poured the entire thing into a potted plant. Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, my brain was spinning at lightspeed. If my theory was right, then how did no one notice I was missing for an entire year? Was someone actively impersonating me on my social media and messaging apps? The only person who could pull off an elaborate, sustained identity theft like that was the person closest to me. Mark. But I needed hard proof. When I was certain he was fast asleep next to me, I quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed my phone, and dialed a number. “Hello, Private Investigator? I need a deep background check on someone.” The voice on the other end was gruff. “Ma’am, this kind of work isn’t cheap, and it takes time.” “Money is not an issue. As for time…” I gritted my teeth. “How fast can you do it?” “A week.” “I’ll pay you double if you have it in three days.” “Deal.” I hung up, wiped the call log, hid my phone, and slipped back under the covers. Mark rolled over, his arm draping heavily over my waist. “Why are you still awake?” he mumbled. “Just going to sleep now,” I whispered softly. I didn’t let a single tremor of fear enter my voice. Those three days were like walking on a tightrope over a pit of vipers. Mark smothered me with care. He cooked me organic, nutrient-dense meals every day, walked with me in the evenings, and meticulously reminded me to take my pills. “These are your vitamins. The doctor said your body has been very weak lately. You need to build your strength back up,” he said, pressing the white pills into my palm. I smiled, took them, and the second he turned around, I spit them into a tissue and buried them in the trash. I refused to consume anything he gave me. God only knew what chemicals were in those pills. On the second day, I used the excuse of visiting my best friend to sneak out and meet the private investigator. “Got it,” the PI slid a manila folder across the cafe table. “Your husband, Mark Davis, has a hidden prior marriage.” My fingers trembled as I opened the folder. A photograph showed Mark in a tuxedo, his arm wrapped around a woman in a wedding dress. He looked blissfully happy. The woman looked terrifyingly familiar. “His ex-wife’s name is Rachel Brooks,” the PI said. “She used to be a registered nurse at the Women’s Clinic. Actually, she still works there.” My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. The nurse who had taken my blood pressure, the one who smiled and told me I was carrying a boy. That was Mark’s ex-wife? “There’s something much worse,” the PI slid a second folder toward me. “They had a son together. He was six years old, diagnosed with acute leukemia. He desperately needed a bone marrow or stem cell transplant.” “From my research, stem cells from a biological sibling have the highest success rate. And the absolute highest quality stem cells come from the umbilical cord blood of a newborn sibling.” The folder slipped from my hands and hit the floor. Every single disjointed puzzle piece violently slammed into place. Mark and his ex-wife’s son was dying. He needed a sibling to save his life. But they were divorced. They couldn’t just have another baby together. And I… happened to be pregnant. “How is their son doing now?” my voice was a raspy whisper. The PI shook his head. “He passed away last month.” I closed my eyes, the tears falling silently. “There’s one more thing,” the PI’s voice grew heavy. “Over the past year, your husband made three massive wire transfers to a shell account tied to the hospital. A total of $800,000. The ultimate beneficiary was the OB-GYN department at the Women’s Clinic.” “I also hacked into your sealed medical records. On March 15th of last year, you were there for a prenatal checkup. But on that exact same day, there is a surgical log under your name. An emergency, forced premature C-section.” My entire body shook violently. “Where is my baby?!” “The logs state that a premature infant girl survived the procedure, and was signed out and discharged to the biological father, Mark Davis.” Discharged? Discharged to where?! I shot up from my chair, the world spinning so violently I almost collapsed. “Ma’am, are you alright?” the PI asked, alarmed. I gripped the edge of the table, inhaling sharply. “I’m going to the police.” The next day, I marched straight into the local police precinct. “I need to report a crime! My baby was kidnapped!” The desk sergeant looked up. “Ma’am, take a deep breath. Start from the beginning. What happened?” “Last year, I was seven months pregnant. I went to the hospital for a checkup, and then…” I took a shaky breath. “Then I slipped into a coma. When I woke up, my baby was gone, my stomach was flat, and everyone told me I was never pregnant!” The officer’s expression shifted into something uncomfortable. “Ma’am, are you saying you were in a coma for an entire year?” “Yes!” “And where were you during this year?” “I…” I froze. I didn’t know. Where the hell had my physical body been kept? “Ma’am, do you have any proof of this?” I reached for my phone, but the PI was still compiling the hard copies of the financial records and medical logs. I didn’t have the smoking gun in my hand yet. I panicked, but my silence translated to guilt in the eyes of the police. The officer sighed, his tone shifting to that polite, patronizing voice reserved for the mentally unstable. “I suggest you go to a hospital for a psychological evaluation. If there was genuine medical malpractice, we can connect you with the medical board. But in all likelihood, you are experiencing a mental health crisis…” “No! I want to file a police report! This is human trafficking!” “Ma’am, please calm down…” “I am calm!” I slammed my hands on the desk. “Rachel Brooks, a nurse at the Women’s Clinic, stole my baby! Investigate her!” My shouting drew the attention of the other officers and the civilians in the lobby. “What’s going on?” “Oh, another crazy medical conspiracist…” “She looks so normal, but she’s completely unhinged…” Hearing those whispers made my chest tighten. It was happening again. Just like my past life. Everyone thought I was insane. “I am not a psychopath!” I spun around and screamed at the lobby. “My child was stolen! Go investigate the hospital! Investigate Rachel Brooks!” “Ma’am, you need to calm down!” Two officers stepped forward to restrain me. Right at that moment, the hospital delegation arrived. The Vice President of the Women’s Clinic walked in, flanked by two corporate lawyers. He looked gravely serious. “Officers, we were notified that someone is publicly and maliciously defaming our hospital. We demand legal intervention.” The VP looked at me, his eyes ice-cold. “Mrs. Davis, you caused a massive disturbance at our facility yesterday. We chose not to press charges because we sympathized with your mental distress. But we will not tolerate you escalating this to false police reports.” “False reports?” I sneered. “Your OB-GYN department took an $800,000 bribe from my husband to cut me open, force a premature delivery, and steal my child, and you have the audacity to call it a false report?!” The VP’s face twitched slightly, but he recovered instantly. “What $800,000? What forced delivery? Mrs. Davis, do you have a shred of evidence for these insane allegations?” “I…” I choked. The $800,000 was discovered by my PI. It was an illicit transfer and wouldn’t hold up as immediate hard evidence without a subpoena. And the hospital could easily delete or alter my surgical logs. “An accusation without evidence is defamation,” the VP turned back to the police. “We demand you open a case against Mrs. Davis for filing a false police report. Furthermore, our hospital retains the right to sue her for reputational damages.” “Exactly, we can’t let these crazy patients get away with this!” “She looks so put together, how can she be this insane?” “I heard her husband treats her like a queen. Poor guy.” The crowd in the lobby started pointing fingers. Someone even pulled out their phone and started live-streaming me. “Hey chat, look at this psycho at the police station claiming her baby was stolen, when she was never even pregnant!” My entire body was shaking. Not from fear, but from a volcanic, consuming rage. It was exactly the same. Exactly like my past life. They stood on their moral high ground, weaponizing the word “crazy” to turn my trauma into a public spectacle.

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After three years in wedding planning, I finally secured the perfect venue for my own upcoming nuptials: The Legacy Ballroom at the Grand Regency. It took months of exhausting negotiation, countless late-night pitch revisions, and draining my entire savings account just to make the non-refundable deposit. My fiancée, Chloe, had even taken a high-stress corporate job across the country just so we could save faster to build our life together. Then came Mr. Vance. He was a difficult client who had rejected five distinct wedding concepts I’d drafted for him. Suddenly, he laid eyes on my personal booking at the Legacy Ballroom and decided it was the only option. “How about you assign the venue booking to me?” he suggested nonchalantly. “I’ll pay you five times your deposit amount.” He gave me a smarmy smile. “My wife and I decided on a date that fits perfectly. I really want to surprise her.” I didn’t even have to think about it. I politely declined. The very next day, Mr. Vance showed up outside my apartment building, and he brought his wife. “That planner is utterly unreasonable, baby,” Vance grumbled, leaning against his luxury SUV. “You have to put him in his place for me!” The woman watched him dote on him with an indulgent smile. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll offer him a hundred times the deposit,” she said smoothly. “Whatever makes you happy. I’ll handle him.” She laughed softly as she stepped forward, looking up at me. Then, her smile instantly vanished. We both froze, staring at each other in total disbelief. This was Chloe. My Chloe. The woman I was supposed to marry, the one who claimed she was working 3,000 miles away because we were broke. … The panic in Chloe’s eyes lasted only a fraction of a second before she masked it perfectly. Instead of explaining, she shot me a warning look—a silent command to stay quiet. Vance, completely oblivious to the agonizing tension, pulled out a checkbook and tapped it against his palm. “Let’s be blunt,” Vance said, sliding a pen from his breast pocket. “Write down whatever number you want. I want the Legacy Ballroom.” He slipped his arm around Chloe’s waist. “My wife is picking up the tab.” I looked up, desperately searching Chloe’s eyes for a hint of guilt, remissness, anything. There was nothing. Just cold calculation. To get this booking, I had camped out outside the reservation office for three days in freezing rain. My face had actually developed mild frostbite. By some miracle, another couple had canceled, and I had grabbed the slot. I had been so ecstatic I couldn’t sleep. I spent the entire night on a video call with Chloe, dreaming together about our future wedding. Looking at her now, it was obvious she had never even opened the wedding planning shared document I sent her. She didn’t realize I chose the Legacy Ballroom because that was where we had our very first date five years ago. I didn’t take the checkbook. Chloe broke the silence, her voice devoid of emotion, framing her words with terrifying significance. “Are you in a rush to get married?” I didn’t know who was asking that question. Chloe Vance, the wealthy wife? Or Chloe, my fiancée? But she, of all people, should know the answer. My family had been pressuring me to get married for five years. Every single time, I had offered a strained smile and told them, “There’s no rush. We’ll get married when we save enough money.” But the anxiety kept me awake at night. I hid my desperation from her because I didn’t want to add stress to her high-powered job. And now… I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Actually, there’s no rush at all.” Chloe’s expression flickered, becoming complicated. Vance, however, beamed and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Good,” Vance said, scrawling a number on the check that I had never imagined seeing on a single piece of paper: One Million Dollars. “Take it,” he said, ripping the check out and shoving it toward me. “Don’t worry about it. I spend more than this on a business dinner.” “My wife and I spent millions on our reception, but after seeing the venue options, we decided the Legacy Ballroom is the only place suitable for us.” Vance looked me up and down, a sneer forming. “Listen, buddy, if you don’t have the cash, don’t pretend you do. Find a nice little diner for your wedding. That seems more your speed.” I was wearing a suit jacket from three years ago. It clashed violently with the luxury designer brands covering both of them. But Chloe had given me this jacket. It was the only “expensive” birthday gift she had ever bought me. Chloe lightly pulled Vance’s arm, and he snapped out of his arrogance. “Right. I’m pretty direct, don’t take it personally.” “Here,” he said, handing me a heavy, gold-embossed business card. “This is my wife’s card. We still need to discuss the details for the bride’s gown revisions.” The card read: [CEO, Sterling Group: Chloe Vance.] The Chloe I knew would wear the same T-shirt until it faded to white and cut her own hair to save twenty bucks. I realized now that every time I excitedly showed her the hundred-dollar gift cards clients gave me as bonuses, she must have been secretly laughing at me. I watched them walk away, their bodies close, their intimacy natural. I closed my eyes. Five years of long-distance. working night and day, sacrificing everything to save money… only to find out I was planning her wedding to someone else. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. A message from Chloe: [Meet my assistant at the villa later. We need to talk.] The bitter resentment bottled in my chest exploded. I started typing furiously, sending message after message. [Why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you ever tell me you were married?] [What am I to you?] But my messages vanished into a void. They remained “Delivered,” but never “Read.” Chloe’s assistant ushered me into a luxury sedan, driving us to a remote, gated community on the outskirts of the city. “This is a property the Sterling family owns, Mr. Vance doesn’t know about it,” the assistant said coldly. “Wait for Ms. Sterling here.” Sterling. Her maiden name. The servants surrounding the estate shot me looks of open amusement and disdain. As if the word “Mistress” was tattooed across my forehead. Except, I was a man. I walked into the massive villa, feeling utterly lost. Everything here was alien. Chloe had told me she lived in a small, rented apartment. In reality, just one of her spare properties was a palace. Meanwhile, I had spent five years living in a leaky, drafty basement apartment just to save an extra $300 a month on rent for our future. Seeing Chloe Sterling’s marriage certificate to Mr. Vance displayed prominently on the nightstand crushed my final defensive line. The date they signed the license… was the day my father passed away. I had called her that day, helpless and broken, needing her support. She had told me, “Work is insane, I can’t leave right now.” That lie had stripped away my last source of strength. In reality, that day was her joyous wedding day. Chloe pushed the door open, linking her arm through mine just as she always used to. “Ethan, he’s my childhood friend. It was an arranged marriage. I had no choice.” “I know you’re understanding. Can you forgive me?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I violently pushed her away, my eyes burning with rage and betrayal. “Then what was our five years together? What am I to you?” “I’m a bitch,” Chloe answered instantly, her voice decisive. “That’s why I want to make it up to you. You can live here. Vance never comes here, as long as you keep a low profile.” I looked around the room, staring at everything that didn’t belong to me, and laughed. I had waited for her faithfully for five years. And the only position she had for me in her life now was “Side Piece.” Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the door. “Sir…” Vance stood in the doorway, his face twisted in utter shock. He marched forward and, before I could react, planted a brutal punch squarely on my jaw. “I knew that perfume on her smelled familiar!” he roared. “I didn’t expect it to be the Side Piece trying to screw my wife!” Chloe panicked, stepping in front of me to shield me. “Let me explain…” Vance pushed her aside with brute force. He grabbed the collar of my jacket and started violently dragging me toward the hallway. “Get out! Get the hell out!” I struggled desperately, but my foot slipped on the polished marble floor. I tumbled headfirst down the massive spiral staircase. My blood-curdling screams echoed through the entire villa. As Chloe scrambled to run down the stairs after me, Vance suddenly clutched his head in apparent agony. “Chloe, my head… it hurts…” With just that one sentence, Chloe completely forgot about me. She linked her arm through Vance’s to support him and stepped directly over my broken body. I felt like every bone in my body was shattered. I lay in a pool of my own blood, consumed by utter despair. No matter how hard I yelled, how loud I screamed her name, Chloe never looked back. Not once. I begged the servants for help, but they twisted their heads away in disgust, muttering words like “homewrecker” and “Side Piece.” The fantasy I had cherished for five long years collapsed completely in that moment. My mouth was covered in blood. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to crawl up. I dialed a dusty, forgotten international number. “You said you’d always have a position for me. Does that still stand?” The second I hung up the phone, I received a notification from the hospital. Chapter 2 When I rushed to the hospital, my mother was lying in the intensive care unit, breathing her last breaths. “Ethan Miller, why would you become a homewrecker…?” I was paralyzed with shock. “Mom, listen to me…” But before I could even start to explain, my mother turned her head away in absolute disappointment, refusing to listen to another word. As she was wheeled into the operating room for emergency surgery, I finally realized what was happening. Her phone was in the basket of her belongings, publicly broadcasting a news alert. Vance had posted their marriage certificate online, publicly accusing me of being the Side Piece who destroyed his family. Countless hateful terms like “trash man” and “homewrecker” flashed across the screen. The violent rage and heartbreak overwhelmed my system, and I collapsed into a sea of pain. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed myself. Chloe was sitting by my bedside. She had massive dark circles under her eyes, looking utterly exhausted. But her eyes held no sympathy. They held threats. “Post an apology to Vance on social media.” “Vance said that if you’re willing to swallow your pride, he’ll turn a blind eye to us in the future.” I froze. Every drop of blood in my body felt like it was flowing backward. She had deceived me for five years, and now I was the one who had to take the responsibility for her mess? Tears exploded from my eyes. Rage ground out three words from between my gritted teeth: “In your dreams!” Before the words even finished leaving my lips, she silently pulled out a thick stack of my mother’s medical bills from over the years. “You’ve probably figured it out by now. I’m the one who has been paying for your mother’s treatments all this time.” “If you don’t agree, I can always choose to stop paying.” I looked up at her, utterly broken. Once, Chloe Sterling had sworn to me that no matter how hard life got, as long as she was around, I would never have to worry about money. She said she would do everything in her power to give me the best life possible. But that was before. Staring at the mountain of bills on the nightstand, I gave a numb nod. The moment I posted the statement online, a tidal wave of abuse flooded my phone. I didn’t dare open the notifications. I didn’t dare leave my apartment. People actually mailed razor blades and dead rats to my address. Until my wedding planning business app started blasting an emergency alert. When I rushed to the shop, a bucket of red paint hit me squarely in the face. “You shameless bitch! A Side Piece is all you’ll ever be!” “Mr. Vance had a severe depression episode and almost overdosed on sleeping pills because of you!” “You used your wedding planning job to seduce another woman’s wife!” In the blink of an eye, the business I had dedicated my life to building was completely annihilated. “Stop! Stop it!” Just as the crowd was about to get even more violent, Vance appeared. His hair was messy, and his eyes were bloodshot. “You knew our wedding was coming up, and you deliberately threw my custom tux into the sewer.” “You can punish me, but you can’t punish my wedding…” As he spoke, he carelessly rolled up his sleeve to reveal a few fresh, self-inflicted scars on his forearm. Under the crowd’s pitying gaze, he turned to Chloe to demand justice. “Chloe, if you want to protect him, then we should just cancel the wedding. I’ll give him my spot.” My heart clenched, and I waited for her answer. At the very least, I was her boyfriend of five years who had stuck with her through thick and thin. I was the lover she had promised the rest of her life to. But the next second, Chloe Sterling turned a terrifyingly dark gaze toward me: “So your apology was just a lie, and you were still retaliating against him behind my back!” “Since you refuse to listen, I guess I have no choice but to punish you.” A horrific feeling of dread flooded my chest. Before I could react, three massive bodyguards slammed me into the ground. I felt a violent, blinding pain as they brutally snapped my fingers back. The last image of her gentle smile that I held in my mind shattered along with my bones. My guttural screams did nothing to evoke a single ounce of sympathy from her. “You’re a monster! A monster!” The bodyguards stopped their assault, only for Chloe to turn around and order: “Snap three of his fingers every single day. Do not let him leave this shop until he sincerely begs for forgiveness.” Vance smiled triumphantly as he followed her out. Right before leaving, he turned back to shoot me a look full of gloating and pure hatred. Chloe Sterling locked me inside my ruined shop. Every single day, I lived in agonizing dread, waiting for the torture to begin again. Until finally, all my fingers were broken and twisted, and both my legs had been brutally snapped. They tossed me aside like a rag doll, covered in blood and scars. I don’t know when Vance walked in. He stood over me, sneering down at my pathetic state. “How does it feel to be the Side Piece? Do you finally accept that Chloe loves me?” My heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand sewing needles. It was exactly because Chloe loved him that she was willing to make me take the fall for being a “homewrecker” just to save him from crying. Even though I had faced reality, my heart still cracked open in sharp, exquisite pain. He mocked: “Do you honestly think that if Chloe removes your vas deferens, I’ll allow you to survive?” I whipped my head up, my expression filled with confusion. Vance’s eyes danced with immense satisfaction. He let out a condescending, arrogant laugh. “Oh, you didn’t know? While you were unconscious, Chloe Sterling had your vas deferens surgically removed.” “You’re never going to be a father, you worthless piece of trash.” The man got more and more energized as he spoke, unable to hide his gloating triumph. “The Sterling family will only have one heir.” “Because Chloe Sterling said you were just a toy she used to satisfy her sexual urges. Why on earth would you be worthy of having her children?” My mind went completely blank. I couldn’t process the words. The truth was a thousand times more brutal than anything I had imagined. Every beautiful memory of her love for me that I cherished instantly became ugly, twisted, and grotesque. Next, the man slapped a piece of paper directly onto my face: “Ethan Miller, look! You actually shocked your mother to death!” Catastrophic tinnitus exploded in my ears. Choked-off sobs began to leak from the corners of my mouth. My eyes burned with blood-red rage. I violently spat in his face. “Karma will come for you!” The man ground his teeth in fury. “You honestly think you still have a chance? I will never let that happen.” With that, a sickening, pungent scent of natural gas filled the room. By the time I realized the danger and tried to escape, Vance had already slipped out of the room and locked the heavy door from the outside. I clawed at the door until my fingernails ripped off, leaving ten horrifying streaks of blood on the wood. The next second, with a deafening BOOM, a violent tidal wave of intense heat engulfed me. My vision slowly began to blur. I felt like I was seeing that gentle memory of me wearing a suit, dropping to one knee to propose to Chloe Sterling. But that wedding… would never, ever happen. By the time Chloe Sterling received the call from the emergency responders and rushed to the scene, the horrific image before her eyes caused her to freeze in absolute terror…

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “399942”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The night before my wedding, I was scrolling through a local Reddit forum and stumbled upon a trending post. [Tomorrow is my wedding day. I secretly swapped my fiancé’s daily vitamins with heavy sleeping pills so my adopted brother can take his place at the altar. How do I stop feeling guilty?] The comments section was an absolute bloodbath of people cursing out the original poster (OP), but she remained arrogantly unapologetic. [I’ve always loved my adopted brother anyway. If it wasn’t for the fact that my fiancé is the true heir, and marrying him is the only way I can secure the corporate funding I need, who would actually want to marry that naive idiot?] [He loves me to death anyway. Once the deed is done and the marriage is consummated, I’ll just sweet-talk him a little, and he’ll gladly hand over his entire family fortune to me.] Someone in the comments asked what she would do if her fiancé refused to let it go. The OP replied casually: [Then I’ll just let Liam suffer a little bit and take the idiot into my home as a second husband. Once I rebuild my empire, I’ll orchestrate a trap to bankrupt his family, then throw the idiot onto the streets to beg for scraps as an apology to Liam.] The internet was outraged, furiously condemning the OP for being a treacherous, ungrateful snake. Suddenly, I noticed a very familiar profile picture “like” the OP’s comment. [He stole everything that rightfully belonged to me anyway. Once I successfully take his place at the wedding, not only will his bride be mine, but his billion-dollar dowry will be mine too!] His profile picture was a matching set with the OP’s. It was a photo of the custom plush dolls sitting on the nightstand of the “fake heir” who lived in my house. I picked up the bottle of vitamins on my nightstand and swallowed a pill without a second of hesitation. What they didn’t know was… their grand master plan was celebrating a little too early. The next day, I slept until the sun was high in the sky before finally rubbing my temples and walking out of my bedroom. I ran right into my mother in the hallway. Tears were still glistening in the corners of her eyes. When she saw me, she froze for two full seconds before gasping aloud, “Arthur?! What are you doing here?!” My dad heard the commotion and hurried over. He looked at me, then looked out the window at the wedding motorcade that was already driving away in the distance. He looked thoroughly confused. “If you’re here, then who just got into the Sterling family’s wedding car?” I put on a flawless mask of utter confusion. “What do you mean? What happened?” “Yesterday, my brother gave me a new bottle of vitamins. After I took them, I felt incredibly dizzy and just slept until now.” Instantly, the festive, joyous atmosphere in the mansion evaporated. The servants and family members exchanged bewildered glances. My mom was the first to react. Her face turned to pure ice. She reached out and violently grabbed the arm of Maria, our head housekeeper, who was discreetly trying to back away. “I was wondering why a mere housekeeper was crying harder than the groom’s actual mother when the wedding car left! It turns out the person you just sent off to get married was your own fake son!” Maria instinctively recoiled, her eyes darting nervously around the room as she stammered. “M-Madam, whatever do you mean?” “The Young Master overslept on his own! How can you blame that on me?” My dad stood to the side, barking a furious order to the security detail. “What are you standing around for?! Go catch that ungrateful bastard Liam and drag him back here right now!” Just as the words left his mouth, our estate manager came rushing up the stairs, panting heavily. “S-Sir… The Sterling family… the wedding ceremony has already concluded.” My mom let out a cold, furious scoff. “So what if the ceremony is over?! Do you think a sparrow can magically turn into a phoenix just because it wears a suit?! A fake is a fake!” With that, she ordered the security team to follow her and marched straight toward the Sterling family’s wedding venue. I lowered my eyes and obediently followed behind my parents. But in my heart, I was laughing coldly. I knew it wasn’t just a simple matter of the ceremony being over. When our two families were planning the wedding, Victoria Sterling had fiercely insisted on a highly traditional, old-fashioned ceremony. She claimed that the Sterlings were a family with centuries of history, and it was a strict ancestral rule. Looking back on it now, she had premeditated this entire thing. In those traditional ceremonies, the groom’s face is heavily veiled throughout the procession, making it incredibly easy for Liam to pull a bait-and-switch. Calculating the time, by now, the deed was definitely done, and the marriage had been consummated. Standing nearby, Maria could barely suppress the triumphant, victorious smirk playing on her lips. Seeing that, I was absolutely certain. The trap had been sprung. When I was just a baby in the hospital nursery, Maria had intentionally swapped me with her own son, Liam. It wasn’t until we were ten years old that Liam suffered a severe fall. A routine blood test at the hospital revealed the horrifying truth: he was a fake. My parents spent an astronomical amount of money and resources to finally track me down and bring me home. But because they had raised Liam for a decade, my parents were kind-hearted. They allowed the fake son and his biological mother to remain living on the estate. They never imagined they were harboring a viper in their own home. Liam had always believed that because of me, he lost his title and glory as the eldest son of a billionaire dynasty. That twisted resentment was what drove him to concoct this disgusting, underhanded scheme. Even if I caught them in the act, my family was one of the most powerful, elite dynasties in Manhattan. They calculated that to protect my family’s reputation and avoid a massive public scandal, I would be forced to swallow this humiliating insult and stay quiet. While I was lost in thought, our group arrived at the doors of the lavish bridal suite that Victoria had supposedly prepared exclusively for me. The wedding guests, sensing the drama, had followed us upstairs and were crowding around the hallway to watch the show. The heavy oak doors were violently kicked open. Inside the room, a disheveled Victoria panicked, frantically grabbing a discarded tuxedo jacket to cover the naked man beneath her. Her face turned as black as storm clouds as she screamed at us, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Invading our privacy on our wedding night?! Have you lost your minds?!” My mom let out a sharp sneer. She took quick, purposeful strides forward and violently ripped away the tuxedo jacket that was covering half of Liam’s face. “Your wedding night? Open your damn eyes and look closely! Who exactly is the groom?!” My mom pointed a trembling finger at me, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance of absolute shock. “Liam?! Why are you in that bed?!” The moment the crowd saw Liam’s face, the hallway erupted into utter chaos. “Wait, isn’t the guy in the bed the fake son who got exposed years ago? Why is he in the Sterling heiress’s bed?!” My dad let out a cold, booming laugh. “I apologize for making you all witness this circus. The man in that bed is the son of our housekeeper. We raised him out of the goodness of our hearts for over two decades. And now, blinded by vanity and greed, he stole his brother’s wedding and is disgracing himself right here in front of everyone.” Victoria frantically pulled the duvet up, trying to cover Liam’s pale, naked body. Her brows knitted together in intense annoyance. “Arthur Sterling! When are you going to stop throwing this tantrum?!” “You overslept and missed the ceremony! Liam only took your place at the altar to protect your family’s reputation!” “I had too much to drink earlier, so I didn’t recognize him in the dark. But now that we’ve slept together, I have to take responsibility for Liam.” “Anyway, you’re both sons of your family. It doesn’t matter which one of you I marry; it won’t affect the corporate merger between our families.” “I know you’re desperately in love with me, and you brought all these people here to cause a scene because you want to switch back.” “Don’t worry. Even if I stay married to Liam, I can guarantee that the position of the Sterling family’s primary heir will forever belong to the child you and I have together.” “There. Are you satisfied now?” My dad was grinding his teeth so hard they looked ready to shatter. “Arthur is the sole, legitimate heir to my family! You were caught sleeping with another man on your wedding day, and now you have the audacity to humiliate him like this?!” I forced my eyes to turn red, letting a pool of unshed tears gather in my lower lashes. My mom pulled me into her arms, looking heartbroken, while my dad stood protectively in front of us. He turned to me and said, “Arthur, don’t worry. Dad will get justice for you!” The guests were whispering furiously, casting looks of absolute disgust at the people in the bed. “Did I hear that right? His family is one of the most respected, powerful dynasties in New York, and the Sterling heiress wants the legitimate heir to act as her secret sidepiece?” “The real heir is over six feet tall and built like an athlete. The fake son is short and scrawny. How drunk would the Sterling heiress have to be to mistake the two of them in bed?” Hearing the crowd’s mockery, Victoria frowned deeply in displeasure. She looked at me as if I were an irrational, hysterical child throwing a baseless tantrum. “Arthur, it’s just a minor hiccup. I already promised you that your child will be my primary heir. If you want to move into the Sterling mansion later, I won’t stop you.” “Why are you being so relentless? Dragging all these people here to make us a laughingstock… you are being completely unreasonable!” Looking at her arrogant, self-righteous face, I was so angry I actually laughed! She wanted to use my family’s wealth to throw a century-defining wedding for her and the fake son, and then expected me to willingly play the “other man,” ensuring my future child would be born as a dirty, illegitimate secret. What massive, delusional audacity! The Sterling family’s ancestors had been brilliant, but by her generation, the dynasty was nothing but a rotting, hollow shell hiding behind a gilded exterior. If it weren’t for the arranged marriage pact made by our grandfathers, and the massive financial backing my family provided, her name would have been wiped from the Manhattan elite registry a long time ago. And Victoria actually thought she could have her cake and eat it too, enjoying a harem of men. She was absolutely dreaming! My dad was so furious he started laughing. “The Sterling family has barely enjoyed a few days of luxury, and you’ve already forgotten how you used my family’s money to claw your way out of bankruptcy?” Victoria’s grandmother, the matriarch of the Sterling family, hurriedly pushed her way through the crowd to run damage control. “Now, now, what kind of talk is that?” “Planning a wedding is exhausting. Victoria has been working herself to the bone for a month. It’s totally understandable that she had a momentary lapse in judgment today.” “It’s just a simple misunderstanding. Once we talk it out, everything will be fine.” My family had always been cautious. A month before the wedding, my parents had hired a private investigator to look into Victoria. The night before the wedding, the PI handed me a thick stack of explicit photos of Victoria and Liam hooking up. I was shocked, furious, but mostly, in disbelief. Until I stumbled upon that viral Reddit post. I abruptly woke up to reality. Victoria wasn’t just cheating; she was plotting to use my family’s immense wealth as a stepping stone to rebuild her empire. And once my family outlived our usefulness, she was going to orchestrate our bankruptcy and destroy us. I was absolutely not going to let her vicious scheme succeed. Hearing the grandmother’s excuses, my mom let out a cold scoff. “Mrs. Sterling, do you think everyone in my family is a complete idiot?” “Arthur was brought back to our estate when he was ten. He and your granddaughter grew up in the same social circles. No matter how ‘exhausted’ she was, how could she possibly mistake the man she’s known for over a decade in her own bed?” Hearing this, Liam hurriedly threw on a silk bathrobe, dropped to his knees with a loud thud in front of the crowd, and began crying beautifully, like a tragic victim in a movie. “Mom, it’s all my fault! My brother overslept! I was so terrified our family would be humiliated, so I took it upon myself to put on the tuxedo!” He turned his head to look at me, tears streaming down his face, his voice breaking. “Brother, it’s all my fault! But no matter what happened, Victoria and I are already legally married! If you keep causing a scene like this, you’re the one throwing away our family’s reputation! Even if you don’t care about me, don’t you care about the family that gave you life?!” His eyes were bloodshot. He looked so pitiful and wronged, as if he were the victim of a massive injustice, completely erasing the fact that he was the one who conspired to sleep with the bride. Instead, I was the villain who was embarrassing the family by demanding justice. Right at that moment, the private investigator I had contacted earlier arrived, handing a thick envelope to my dad. “Sir, I’m afraid this situation is far darker than it seems.” My dad ripped the envelope open. Inside were the explicit photos I had obtained earlier. In photo after photo, Victoria and Liam were engaged in degrading, humiliating sexual acts, completely disregarding any basic sense of human decency or morality. My dad’s face turned beet red with rage. He violently hurled the stack of photos onto the bed. “What else does the Sterling family have to say for themselves?!” “Mrs. Sterling! If your granddaughter was in love with our housekeeper’s son, she could have just said so! There was absolutely no need to orchestrate this disgusting circus on her wedding day to humiliate my son!” “The corporate merger is terminated immediately! My family is pulling all our funding from the Sterling Corporation!” The moment my dad’s words hit the air, the Sterling matriarch’s face went ghastly white. Without my family’s massive capital injections, the Sterling Corporation’s supply chain would instantly collapse, leaving them drowning in astronomical debt. The matriarch swung her hand and delivered a brutal, resounding slap directly across Victoria’s face. “Look at what you’ve done! Look at the disaster you’ve caused!” With that, she pointed a trembling finger at Liam. “Guards! Grab this filthy stray dog and throw him out into the street!” Victoria covered her stinging cheek, shooting me a glare so venomous and hateful it felt like she wanted to skin me alive. In her twisted mind, I—the victim—had become the villain who ruined her wedding and destroyed her relationship with her grandmother. She shielded Liam behind her, stubbornly locking eyes with the matriarch. “Grandma! Liam and I grew up together. We’re truly in love! If Arthur hadn’t shamelessly begged and forced me to marry him, Liam and I would have been together years ago!” She shot me a look of absolute, unadulterated contempt. “Arthur is arrogant, spoiled, and completely unworthy of being the husband of the Sterling CEO. I already promised him that his child would inherit everything! What right does he have to drag all these people here to throw a tantrum, humiliating both our families?!” Looking at her shameless, delusional face, my stomach churned with disgust and profound regret. How could I have ever been blindly devoted to someone this vile? I stared coldly at the adulterous couple, mercilessly ripping away their last shred of dignity. “So what you’re saying is… you two conspired to swap my daily vitamins with heavy sedatives, causing me to oversleep and miss the ceremony, and you genuinely believe you did both our families a massive favor?” “I simply accompanied my parents here to cancel this pathetic circus, and suddenly I’m the criminal ruining both families’ reputations?” I leaned forward, locking eyes with both of them, and spoke in a voice loud enough for every single person in the room to hear clearly: “If you two were so madly in love, why didn’t you just announce it from the beginning?” “Was it because you specifically wanted to trample my family’s dignity into the dirt? Or was it because you didn’t just want a wedding… you wanted to steal every single penny of my family’s entire fortune?!” The faces of the two people in front of me instantly drained of all color, turning as white as paper. Victoria’s eyes darted around nervously as she stammered, “What… what nonsense are you talking about?!” Tears streamed down Liam’s face as his voice trembled. “Brother, just because you couldn’t win the heart of the woman you love, why must you falsely accuse me out of jealousy? I genuinely love Victoria!” I tapped my phone screen once. Instantly, the link to the viral Reddit post from last night was Airdropped and texted to every single person in the room. The guests clicked the link. The entire horrific plot was laid bare for everyone to see. “What a disgusting pair of sociopaths! Using such filthy, underhanded methods to climb the social ladder, and then plotting to destroy their benefactors! Absolute scum!” “Doing something this vile and then bragging about it on the internet? If that was my kid, I’d strangle him myself to save the family from ruin!” Some people directed their crosshairs entirely at Victoria. “The Sterling heiress really has absolutely zero shame. If she wanted the housekeeper’s son, she should have just married him.” “Orchestrating this entire trap… it was obviously for the dowry, right? Plotting to steal their family fortune, while simultaneously forcing the legitimate heir to act as her secret sidepiece… Does she think our elite social circles are entirely populated by idiots?!” The Sterling matriarch trembled with apocalyptic rage. She swung her hand and delivered another brutal slap to Victoria’s face. Victoria’s head snapped to the side, but she still instinctively wrapped her arms around Liam to protect him. Seeing this, the matriarch was consumed by fury and despair, clutching her chest. “You ungrateful, rebellious child! When are you going to wake up?! You still refuse to repent?!” “Crawl over to your father-in-law and mother-in-law right now! Beg for their forgiveness! Throw that filthy stray out of this room immediately, and finish the wedding ceremony with Arthur properly!” With that, she turned to me, her face plastered with a desperate, fawning smile, and reached out to grab my hand. I didn’t change my expression. I simply took a half-step backward, smoothly dodging her grasp. The matriarch’s smile froze for a second before she doubled down on her groveling. “Arthur, my dear boy, this is entirely our fault. I failed to discipline my granddaughter properly.” “As her grandmother, I am personally apologizing to you. Whatever you want, the Sterling family will give it to you.” “I promise you, nothing like this will ever, ever happen again.” At that exact moment, Victoria straightened her back, her face a mask of absolute, stubborn defiance. “Grandma! The man I love is Liam! In this lifetime, the only man who will ever sit in the seat of the CEO’s husband is him!” “We aren’t even married yet, and Arthur is already acting this arrogant and disrespectful! He has zero respect for our family!” “If you force me to marry a man like him, it will literally kill me!” “If it weren’t for the sake of our family’s alliance, even touching that naive idiot would make me sick! Me being willing to give him a child was already an act of supreme charity!” “If he doesn’t know what’s good for him, then he can enjoy being the laughingstock of all of Manhattan! A man whose engagement was canceled in public… he’s lower than a pool boy! Who would ever dare to marry him now?!” I looked coldly at the woman I had deemed the love of my life since I was ten years old. Fourteen years of history. I had given her almost everything a person could possibly give. Two years ago, when the old Mr. Sterling passed away, the stunningly mediocre Victoria took over as CEO of the Sterling Corporation. Within three short months, she managed to offend more than half of their primary investors. Not only did she completely botch the corporation’s flagship project, but despite the fierce opposition of her entire board of directors, she aggressively poured money into over a dozen ventures that were guaranteed to fail. In just six months, the Sterling dynasty—which had taken a century to build—had its supply chains completely ruptured and was drowning in billions of dollars of debt. The Sterling family liquidated their assets, but they still couldn’t cover the deficit. Seeing a century-old legacy about to burn to the ground, I begged my father to step in and save the Sterling Corporation from declaring bankruptcy. At the time, Victoria had knelt in front of my father, weeping hysterically, swearing that she would never betray me in this lifetime. She swore that between us, there would only ever be death, never separation. Relying entirely on my family’s immense resources and connections across multiple industries, Victoria was able to bring the Sterling family back from the brink of death in just two years. Now, before the Sterling family had even stabilized their footing in the elite circles of Manhattan, she was already impatient to force me into being her illegitimate sidepiece. The guests in the room looked at her like she was completely clinically insane. Everyone in the room knew that while the corporation technically bore the name “Sterling,” aside from Victoria holding the empty title of CEO, the company essentially belonged entirely to my family. A woman who relied completely on her fiancé’s money to maintain her billionaire lifestyle… where did she find the audacity to provoke her literal financial lifeline like this? But Victoria was completely oblivious. She genuinely believed that I was still desperately, unconditionally obsessed with her, just like before. Seeing my silence, she tightened her grip around Liam’s waist. “Arthur, if you get down on your knees and bash your head against the floor three times right now, I might be generous enough to forgive your childish tantrum.” “Otherwise, you will never even get the chance to give me a child, let alone move into the Sterling estate!” Looking at her arrogant, delusional, nauseating face, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. An idiot like this… whoever wants her can have her. A man destined for greatness doesn’t walk into a cursed house. My dad let out a freezing, booming scoff. “The absolute treasure of our family… do you really think you are worthy of even speaking his name?” “This wedding is canceled.” “In the future, if Arthur ever wants a wife, there are countless brilliant, elite women in New York who would line up around the block for him. If he never wants to marry, I will gladly support him for the rest of his life.” With that, he clapped his hands three times. His voice dropped to a dark, commanding baritone as he ordered his security detail: “Men! Pack up every single piece of my son’s dowry and load it back into the trucks!” “The two hundred briefcases of cash, the equity shares in twenty different tech firms, the ten custom Rolls-Royces, the thirty luxury properties across eight different countries… and the three billion dollars in liquid cash wired into the Sterling corporate accounts. Claw every single penny of it back! Do not leave a single cent behind!” The sheer, astronomical magnitude of my dowry made the entire room gasp in collective shock. “The Sterling family is completely finished. Without his family’s money, the Sterlings aren’t even a hollow shell!” “Throwing away a billion-dollar empire for the son of a housekeeper… she is literally as stupid as a pig!” Liam screamed in pure, unadulterated panic. “No! That dowry belongs to me!” My mom stepped forward and delivered a brutal, resounding slap directly across his face. “Our family only has one legitimate son! You think you are worthy of dreaming about that dowry?! If you want a dowry, go ask your housekeeper mother for it!” My family’s private security team flooded into the room, preparing to confiscate the assets. “Hold it right there!” Victoria stood up, using her body to block the security team. “Father-in-law, have you conveniently forgotten the prenuptial agreement our families signed during the engagement?” “Only if I betray a son of your family do you have the right to withdraw your funding. Otherwise, not only does this entire dowry belong to the Sterling family, but your family is also legally obligated to surrender all your corporate equity to us!” “Liam’s name is legally registered under your family’s household. At the end of the day, he is technically a son of your family. Everyone in this room is a witness! The Sterling family kept our promise! It is your family that is breaching the contract!” Legally, her words were flawless. My dad was so furious the blood rushed to his head; he clutched his chest, gasping heavily for air. My mom’s eyes were blood-red. She wanted to fight for justice, but Victoria’s airtight legal defense left her completely speechless. Liam twisted his waist, leaning seductively against Victoria’s chest, smiling with absolute, victorious arrogance. “Brother, it doesn’t matter if Mom and Dad refuse to acknowledge me. What matters is that I am now the legally recognized husband of the Sterling CEO.” “If you’re willing to drop to your knees right now, bark like a dog, crawl through my legs, and entertain me… for the sake of the family that raised me, I might be generous enough to get Dad a job as a security guard.” “Consider your dowry a tribute to me, the legitimate husband. It will all be transferred directly into my personal accounts.” The Sterling family’s private security violently shoved me aside. It looked as though my entire dowry was about to be swallowed whole by the Sterling family. My mom, enraged, tried to physically block them, but the Sterling guards, emboldened by their sudden power, shoved her hard, sending her crashing to the floor.

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1 The day I was born, the smiles on my parents’ faces froze the moment the nurse handed me to them. Floating just above my bald head, invisible to everyone else, was a line of numbers. 6570 days. Not one more, not one less. Exactly eighteen years. The nurse thought they were just nervous first-time parents. Only they knew the truth—it was my expiration date. While other families in the maternity ward celebrated new life, my parents were already staring at my end. For the next eighteen years, I was the most precious thing in our house. No matter how poor we were, the eggs were mine, the new clothes were mine, the meat was mine. My little brother could only watch with hungry eyes. “Let your sister have it,” my parents would always say. “She doesn’t have much time.” I understood my place from a young age. I never made a fuss, never threw a tantrum. I was just quietly waiting to die. On my eighteenth birthday, I blew out the candles and said a silent, heartfelt goodbye to the world. The next morning, my parents and my brother walked into my room, their eyes red and swollen, dressed in somber clothes. I rubbed my eyes and smiled at them. “Good morning.” The air in the room went still. The grief on their faces slowly morphed into shock, then stiffened into something cold and hard. … The silence stretched for a full ten seconds. “You… how are you…” My brother, Sammy, hid behind my mother, his voice trembling as if he’d seen a ghost. “I’m not dead,” I said. My father’s expression flickered. He forced a smile. “Not dead. That’s good, that’s good…” He nudged my mother. “Go on, make some breakfast.” Mom stared at me, then gave a numb nod. She walked to the door, then turned back, her eyes filled with a complicated emotion I couldn’t decipher. For the first time in my eighteen years, I felt that something was deeply wrong in our home. Breakfast was thin porridge and a side of pickles. As usual, Sammy placed the single boiled egg in front of my bowl. I reached for it. Smack. My mother slapped my hand, hard. A bright red mark bloomed on my skin instantly. “You’re a grown girl now, fighting with your brother over an egg! Have you no shame?” I pulled my hand back and just ate my porridge. After the meal, I scrambled to clear the table and wash the dishes. In the past, whenever I tried to help, Mom would gently stop me, a loving smile on her face. “You’re our little princess, you don’t need to do this.” This time, she just shot me a cold look and said nothing. After I washed the dishes, I forgot to wring out the dishcloth, leaving it damp on the edge of the sink. When my mother came in and saw it, her face twisted with rage. “Are you blind? You just leave the cloth like that? You want it to grow mold?” I froze, then quickly reached for the cloth. “I raised you for eighteen years!” she shrieked, following me. “Didn’t we give you the best of everything? The eggs, the meat, the new clothes! Did your brother ever get anything new?! All you know is how to take! You can’t even wash a few dishes properly…” “Mom, I did wash them. It’s just the cloth…” “Don’t you dare talk back to me! Who do you think you are?!” She snatched the cloth from my hand and threw it on the floor. “Look at you! Standing there with that miserable face! You’ve lived eighteen years and you can’t even wring out a dishcloth! What good are you?!” My father walked in then. He glanced at my mother’s contorted face, then at my stunned expression. He waved a dismissive hand, as if trying to end a pointless argument. “What’s all the shouting for? Just get on with your day!” Biting my lip, I asked softly, “Mom, Dad… are you like this because I didn’t die?” Their bodies went rigid. My father took a deep breath and managed a strained laugh. “We’re just… not used to it. We need some time… to adjust.” I watched them walk away, hearing them mutter to each other. “How can she just not die? What kind of mess is this?” I didn’t understand. Wasn’t me being alive a good thing? I looked out the window. The sun was the same as always. But when its light hit my skin, I suddenly felt very, very cold. 2 After that day, the atmosphere in the house changed completely. I was moved into the tiny, windowless utility room. Mom said Sammy was a growing boy and needed the sunnier room. She no longer asked me what I wanted to eat. She’d just set the table in silence, putting out two plates, then glance at me and reluctantly add a third. My father spoke even less. Sometimes he’d come home and see me sitting in the yard, and he’d just stop, turn around, and go in through the back door. Only Sammy would occasionally peek at me through the crack of the utility room door, his eyes filled with a strange curiosity, as if he were observing some kind of freak. Before, I was the treasure they had spent eighteen years doting on. Now, I was the scapegoat for everything that went wrong. The faucet was left dripping. My dad’s brow furrowed, his voice stripped of its old warmth. “Did you do this on purpose? Wasting water! Do you have any idea how much the bills are? You’re such a burden!” “Dad, I really didn’t…” “Don’t call me Dad!” he yelled, then turned and walked away. Sammy failed a test by one point. “It’s all your fault, wandering around the house, distracting your brother! We were supposed to have peace, and you ruined everything!” Dinner one night was a little undercooked. My mom slammed her fork down. “It’s because you’re still here! Cursing this house with bad luck! Even the stove is against me now!” I stood there, helpless, my eyes burning as tears streamed down my face. “I thought I was going to die, too,” I whispered. The breaking point came when I flipped a light switch, and the bulb flickered once before dying completely. My mother exploded. “You jinx! Ever since you passed eighteen, everything in this house has been breaking! You’re a curse!” “Eighteen years! Over six thousand days! Your father and I counted every single one of them while we raised you! We gave you everything, and Sammy got nothing! We prepared ourselves to say goodbye, we practiced it in our minds over and over again… but you…” She didn’t finish, but I understood. Their eighteen years of sacrifice, their careful nurturing of a life with a deadline—it had all become a sick joke. It wasn’t that I was alive. It was that they had lost their investment. The sacrifices they made, the things they’d denied my brother, the suffering that was supposed to end with my death… it was all for nothing. I thought if I worked hard enough, if I swallowed my pain and tried to make up for my “mistake,” my parents would soften. They would remember how much they used to love me. I took over all the housework. Laundry, cooking, shopping, cleaning. I was more diligent than any maid, preparing varied meals and keeping the house spotless. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t earn a single kind word or a smile from them. I grew thinner, my face gaunt and pale. The neighbors started to notice. They’d whisper amongst themselves. One of them, Mrs. Gable, tried to reason with my parents. “Don’t be so hard on Annie. She’s your daughter, after all.” But my mother, in front of everyone, spat back with disgust, “We wish we’d never had her. She’s a monster, a bad omen who ruins everything she touches! As long as she’s here, this family will never know peace!” My father stood beside her, nodding. “We raised her for eighteen years. We’ve done more than enough! Now she’s just a leech, dragging us all down!” Their words were like knives, twisting in my heart until I could barely breathe. Every little problem in the house became a reason to attack me, but it was what happened with my brother that was the final blow. 3 One day, it was just Sammy and me at home. I needed to use the bathroom, but the door to the utility room was stuck. It was locked from the outside. Panicked, I pounded on the door. “Sammy! Let me out!” No one answered. All I heard was the sound of crashing from the kitchen, followed by my brother’s sharp cry of pain. The door was finally yanked open by my mother. Her hand came with it, a slap so powerful it sent my head spinning. “You curse! I knew you’d cause trouble!” Her eyes were bloodshot, like a cornered animal. She collapsed to the floor, beating her thighs and wailing. “Why is my life so miserable? I raised a monster for a daughter! She’s ruined our lives!” Just then, my father came home. He saw Sammy on the floor, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. He saw my mother’s hysterical rage, and it was like a sickness that infected him, too. He grabbed me by the collar, dragged me up, and threw me onto my bed. “Annie Reed! You disaster! Why don’t you just die!” My voice was raw from crying as I tried to explain. “Mom, Dad, it wasn’t my fault! Sammy locked me in! He fell because he was trying to steal the candy from the top shelf…” They locked me in the room. No food, no water. I could hear the world outside. My mother cooking in the kitchen, the sound of my father’s footsteps when he came home from work, Sammy crying out that his leg hurt. No one mentioned me. I curled up on the cold mattress, my cheek throbbing and swollen. A fever took hold, my body shivering with cold even as it burned from within. My consciousness began to fade. I guess this is it, I thought. I’m really going to die this time. It’s better this way. Death would be a release. In my delirium, my eighteen years flashed before my eyes like a movie reel. I remembered my parents’ eyes, always filled with a strange mix of pity, helplessness, and sorrow. They looked at me like I was a fragile porcelain doll, one that could shatter at any moment. They never talked about my future. Our whole life was a countdown. When I was five, my brother stole a piece of meat from my plate. My mother caught him and beat him severely. “Why does she get to eat it and I can’t?” he sobbed. My mother didn’t answer. She just kept hitting him. Afterward, she hid in the kitchen and cried for a long time. Later, Sammy whispered to me, “Annie, are you going to die?” “Mom said you’re going to die. I don’t want you to die, Annie. You can have all my meat from now on.” The memory of their faces, twisted with a love born from impending loss, merged with the cold, hate-filled faces of the present. My head throbbed. Did they love me? Yes, they did. But their love had an expiration date. It was built on a countdown. It was a love meant for goodbyes. Eighteen years. The countdown ended, and so did the love. If I had died on schedule, their love would have been preserved in memory, forever gentle. Mom would be lovingly stroking my hair, telling me I was the prettiest princess in my new dress. Dad would be lifting me high, promising to show me the world. Sammy would be secretly saving his yogurt for me. Those memories felt so close, yet impossibly far. I managed to force my eyes open. I was still in the dark utility room. No light, nothing. I twitched my fingers, trying to feel for the letter under my pillow. A letter to my parents and brother. I’d written it a long time ago. A bitter smile touched my lips. I just hadn’t died when I was supposed to. There was also a small pink piggy bank. It didn’t have much, but it was enough to buy Sammy a small toy. I fell asleep again. I hoped when they found me, they’d see these things and maybe they wouldn’t be so angry anymore. This time, my sleep was deep and dreamless. I could hear my own heartbeat. One beat, then another, then another. Then, slowly, slowly… it stopped. The utility room fell completely silent. No one knew. No one came. The little girl who was always waiting to die didn’t have to wait anymore. 4 The moment I left my body, I felt weightless. I floated in the air, looking down at my own stiff form on the bed. So, I thought, people really do have souls after they die. I passed through the wall, finally free from that cramped little room. Lunch was on the table. Three sets of plates and forks. My mother served the food, my father dished it out, and Sammy sat waiting. I took my usual seat, waiting for one of them to ask, “Where’s Annie?” But they didn’t. After they ate, Sammy limped toward the utility room. My spirit soared. Open the door, Sammy! I cried out silently. I won’t bother you anymore! But before his hand could touch the doorknob, my mother’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Sammy! What are you doing?! Get away from there! Does your leg not hurt anymore?!” He flinched and hurried away. That afternoon, our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, came over to borrow some salt. “Where’s Annie? I haven’t seen her for a couple of days.” My mother’s face tightened for a second before she smoothed it over. “She’s not feeling well. Resting in her room.” “Is it serious? I have some medicine…” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. No medicine can help me now, Mrs. Gable. “No, thank you!” my mother said, a little too quickly. “It’s nothing. She’ll be fine after a day or two.” Mrs. Gable didn’t press further. Another chance to be found, lost. After she left, my mother glanced towards the utility room several times, but she never walked over. That evening, my father came home. I spread my arms to block his path. Dad! Please, go check on me! I promise I’ll never make you angry again! The countdown is really over this time! But he walked right through me. “Is she still locked in?” he asked. Mom didn’t answer. “Open the door,” he said. I almost wept with joy. Was I finally going to be discovered? Would they be sad? Would they finally say I was a good daughter? Just as my mother started walking towards the utility room, the phone rang, shrill and urgent. My father answered it. His face went pale, and he swayed on his feet. My mother rushed to his side, steadying him. I sighed. So close. So close to being found. “Let’s go! Back to the old town!” he choked out. “The village called… they said Mom is fading fast!” They grabbed Sammy and rushed out, frantic. The door to my room remained closed. I was forgotten again. Even without a heartbeat, the news about my grandmother pierced me with pain. In all my eighteen years, she was the one who loved me most. Knowing I was on a timer, she’d had countless sleepless nights. I followed my parents back to my grandmother’s house to see her one last time. She lay on her bed, frail and skeletal. She gripped my father’s hand, her words a struggle. “Mark… where’s Annie? I don’t see her.” My father looked away, guilty. “She… she’s at home. She didn’t come…” Grandma’s eyes flew open. “You fool. What did you do?” Startled, my father confessed. “Annie misbehaved. I… I grounded her, wouldn’t let her eat…” Hearing this, my grandmother’s strength seemed to vanish. She mumbled something. “Mom? What did you say? I can’t hear you,” Dad said, leaning closer. “What about Annie? What do you mean she didn’t die?” He pressed his ear almost to her lips. I was too far away to hear what she whispered. But I saw my father’s body go rigid, as if struck by lightning. A look of pure, uncomprehending horror spread across his face. He forgot to even blink. “ANNIE!” His scream was so full of terror it startled me. His face was ashen. Ignoring my mother’s confused questions, he started running back towards our house, chanting, “It was a mistake… a mistake…” What was a mistake? CRASH! The utility room door was thrown open. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the scene inside. My father’s legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. Floating above, I looked down at myself, curled on the bed. Shockingly thin, my cheek still bruised, my hair a tangled mess on the pillow. I was so quiet. Quieter than I had ever been in life. “What is it?” my mother panted, finally catching up. When she saw my small, stiff body, a terrified shriek tore from her throat. “Oh, God! Annie!” My father reached out a trembling hand to check for my breath, and his face crumbled with utter despair. “What happened? How did this happen?!” my mother screamed, shaking him as she collapsed to the floor. Dad just stood there, frozen, a roaring in his ears. But my grandmother’s faint words echoed like thunder. “Mom said…” He swallowed hard. “She said we were fated to be childless. She… she traded her remaining years of life for Annie… The countdown was hers. The death date was hers…”

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I’m an embalmer at the Southwood Mortuary, gifted with a peculiar sensitivity—I can hear the final words of the departed. When an unidentified young woman’s desperate cry, “Nathaniel Carr… help me… don’t kill me!” pierced my ears, a chill seized me. It was the exact name of my sister’s fiancé, whom she had just brought home yesterday. My family branded me a jealous lunatic, smashing teacups to silence me. As the wedding bells chimed, my sister smiled on the altar, and the groom approached me, a wine glass in hand, his gaze behind his spectacles like a viper’s: “I hear… you can speak with the dead?” 1. I am an embalmer at the Southwood Mortuary. For three years in this profession, constantly dealing with the deceased, my parents considered me cursed, and my sister, Stella, found me an embarrassment. What they didn’t know was that I possessed a unique gift: a special sensitivity. At the moment of suturing a body or applying makeup to a deceased person, I could hear their last words left on Earth. Today, an unidentified young woman’s body had arrived. She was found wedged in the rocks by the sea. The seawater had distorted her features, and her limbs were already showing the early signs of adRusselld decomposition, a truly gruesome sight. The coroner had ruled it an accidental drowning. But the instant I picked up the powder puff and touched her cold, swollen cheek, a piercing, desperate voice shot straight into my eardrums. “Nathaniel Carr… help me… don’t kill me!” “The ring… it’s in his fish tank… I’m the ninth…” The powder puff slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor. Nathaniel Carr. That name was all too familiar. Just yesterday, my radiant sister, Stella, had brought her new fiancé home. He was a refined gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses, the CFO of a successful company, named Nathaniel Carr. My parents beamed with approval, and Stella preened like a proud peacock, showing off to me about her impending marriage into wealth. And now, that man’s name echoed in the dying words of an unknown woman, a name twisted into a chilling spectral warning. “The ninth…” A shiver of dread ran through me. If this young woman’s words were true, Nathaniel Carr was not only a murderer but a serial killer. And my own sister was about to become his wife. That evening, I returned home to an atmosphere thick with celebration. The living room was piled high with luxury gifts – Nathaniel had sent them over as engagement presents that afternoon. Mom was holding a pearl necklace to her throat, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, the quality of this! Let’s see how old Mrs. Miller’s daughter next door can compare now. Stella really has a knack for things, unlike some people who spend all day with the dead, bringing back bad luck.” Stella was on the sofa, manicuring her nails, and rolled her eyes at Mom’s comment. “Mom, why bring her up? As long as she doesn’t show her face at my engagement party and embarrass me, that’s all I ask.” I took a deep breath and walked to the coffee table, blocking the television light. “Sis, you can’t get engaged.” I looked into Stella’s eyes, trying to keep my voice steady. “Nathaniel Carr is dangerous.” The room fell into a deathly silence. Three seconds later, Stella let out a snicker, as if she’d heard the funniest joke imaginable. “Celeste, are you crazy? What’s wrong with Nathaniel? Is it because he’s too rich, or because he loves me too much, and it’s driving you insane with jealousy?” “It’s not jealousy.” My fists clenched, nails digging into my flesh. “Today, an unidentified young woman’s body came into the mortuary. Before she died… she spoke to me. She said Nathaniel Carr killed her, that he’s a serial killer! The body is in Mortuary Cabinet 3. Sis, just believe me this once, at least look into his background!” To make them believe, I had to describe my inexplicable ability to “hear last words” as a “dream” or an intuition. Suddenly, an exquisite bone china teacup came hurtling towards me. 2. The teacup shattered at my feet, porcelain shards spraying, one slicing my ankle. Mom had thrown it. She stood up, pointing a finger at my nose and screaming, “Celeste! Are you deliberately trying to ruin your sister’s happiness? Huh? You’re an unwanted embalmer, spending all day with corpses, has your brain rotted too?” “Making up stories about your future brother-in-law? A murderer? Why don’t you just say he’s an alien?!” Stella stood up, her heels clicking as she strode over, looking down at me. The disgust in her eyes almost spilled over. “Celeste, I know you’ve always been a dark soul. When we were kids, if I wanted a new dress, you’d say it would rain and get dirty. Now I’m marrying into wealth, and you’re cursing my fiancé as a killer.” “Has your mouth sewn up so many dead people’s mouths that it only spits venom?” “I’m not cursing you!” My eyes reddened with urgency. “The young woman said Nathaniel Carr has a ring hidden in his fish tank! That’s proof! If we just check—” “Enough!” Dad slammed his hand on the table. “Nathaniel took us to his villa just this afternoon. That huge fish tank has expensive Koi carp, worth thousands! You want us to go rummage through it? Do you want our family to become the laughingstock of the entire city?” “Get back to your room!” Mom pushed me. “You’re such bad luck! What if Nathaniel finds out tomorrow and thinks we have a lunatic in the family? From today on, you’re not allowed out, and you’re certainly not allowed at Stella’s engagement party!” I was shoved into my small, north-facing bedroom. From outside, their joyful laughter echoed, discussing tomorrow’s hotel menu, debating whether to honeymoon in the Maldives or Switzerland. I leaned against the door, the young woman’s desperate cry reverberating in my mind. “The ninth…” Sister, if you become the tenth, who will be there to hear your last words? Early the next morning, I slipped out of the house while everyone else was still asleep. I couldn’t just stand by and watch Stella walk into danger, no matter how much she humiliated me. I decided to go to the police station or look for clues related to the unidentified young woman. But I had no evidence. Besides the voice in my head, I had nothing. If I went to the police now and said, “The body told me Nathaniel Carr killed her,” they would most likely send me to a psychiatric hospital. It would only tip off Nathaniel Carr and make him cautious. I returned to the mortuary. Just outside, I saw a black SUV parked. A man in a black trench coat was crouched on the steps, smoking, a scattering of cigarette butts at his feet. He looked disheveled and fierce, his eyes bloodshot, but his face was remarkably handsome, with sharp, defined features. He saw me approaching in my work uniform, extinguished his cigarette, and asked in a hoarse voice, “Are you the embalmer in charge of the young woman in Cabinet 3?” I nodded. “Are you family?” The man closed his eyes in pain. “I’m her brother. I’m a private investigator. I’ve been looking for her for three months… I never expected to find her here.” His name was Garrett. I’d seen that name in the news; he was Southwood’s most renowned forensic consultant, having solved many cold cases, but his sister’s disappearance had remained a mystery. Garrett followed me into the morgue. The moment the white sheet was pulled back, this six-foot-plus tough man instantly broke down, falling to his knees and wailing. “Lily… it’s my fault… I couldn’t protect you…” I stood by, watching his unbearable grief, and the impulse within me could no longer be suppressed. This was true love for the departed. Unlike my family, who met warnings of death with only disdain and curses. “Mr. Russell,” I said softly. “Your sister suffered greatly when she passed.” Garrett abruptly looked up at me, his eyes like a wounded beast. “How do you know? The coroner said she drowned…” “She told me she was held underwater until she drowned.” I met Garrett’s eyes, deciding to take a gamble. “The killer’s name is Nathaniel Carr. The evidence is in his fish tank—a ring.” 3. Garrett froze. Any normal person hearing such words would think I was a charlatan. But he didn’t. He stared intensely at me, as if grasping at a last straw. “Are you certain? Do you know what you’re saying? Nathaniel Carr is a rising star in Southwood’s business world. If you make false accusations, you’ll be legally responsible.” “I’m an embalmer.” I pointed to my ears. “I can hear the dead. Your sister said she was the ninth victim. If you don’t believe me, you can check Nathaniel Carr’s fish tank, or look into whether his previous girlfriends all mysteriously disappeared.” The air hung heavy for a full minute. Garrett suddenly stood up and bowed deeply to me. “I believe you.” His voice was hoarse yet firm. “For three months, I’ve investigated all of Lily’s social connections. The only one I couldn’t get a full background on was Nathaniel Carr. My gut told me he was suspicious, but I had no evidence, no direction. Ms. Clarke, thank you for giving me a lead.” He pulled a black business card from his coat and handed it to me. “Regardless of the outcome, I, Garrett Russell, won’t forget this. If he’s responsible for nine lives, it’s not just Lily. Ms. Clarke, you know this secret is dangerous. A man like Nathaniel Carr is very perceptive.” I offered a bitter smile. “My sister is getting engaged to him today.” Garrett’s expression instantly changed. “Then your sister is in great danger.” “I tried to warn her,” I said, lowering my gaze. “But she thinks I’m jealous, and my parents think I’m bad luck.” Garrett was silent for a moment, then retrieved a miniature tracking device from his car, designed to look like a simple brooch. “Wear this. If you’re in danger, press it, and no matter where you are, I’ll be there. You’ve brought peace to my sister’s restless spirit, which makes you my benefactor, Ms. Clarke. If your family doesn’t believe you, you can consider me your support.” In that moment, in the cold morgue, I felt a warmth I hadn’t experienced in a long time. My own parents considered me worthless, yet this man, a stranger I had just met, prioritized my safety. I accepted the brooch, looking at Garrett. “Mr. Russell, if you find evidence, could you please not make it public immediately? I want… I want my sister to see that man’s true colors.” “You want to save her?” Garrett asked. 4. I shook my head, remembering the teacup that had shattered at my feet last night. “I want to save myself. Only with Nathaniel Carr’s downfall can I shed the labels of ‘lunatic’ and ‘jealous freak.’ As for my sister… that’s the path she chose.” Half a month later, Stella and Nathaniel Carr’s wedding proceeded as scheduled. During that half-month, my family treated me like a thief, terrified I would disrupt the wedding. I, in turn, enjoyed the peace, moving into the mortuary’s staff dormitory, exchanging updates with Garrett daily. Garrett’s efficiency was astonishing. Instead of directly searching the fish tank, he followed the “ninth victim” lead, using his network to discreetly investigate Nathaniel Carr’s movements over the past decade. Sure enough, Nathaniel Carr would move to a new city every year or so, and around the time of his departure, young women would mysteriously disappear locally. While most bodies were never found or were ruled accidental, with the “core suspect” I provided, all the pieces of the puzzle began to fit. On the wedding day, Mom specifically called me. “Celeste, today is Stella’s big day. I know you’re feeling unbalanced, but you’re still her sister. You have to come today; we’re taking family photos. If you don’t, don’t ever call me your mother again!” I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed in a black business suit, and touched the brooch pinned to my collar. “Okay, I’ll be there.” I went, not for blessings, but to bear witness. To witness how this family, caught in a bubble of vanity, slowly descended into an abyss. The wedding was held at Southwood’s most luxurious five-star hotel. The moment I entered, I received countless strange glances. In a sea of guests adorned in evening gowns and glittering jewelry, my all-black attire stood out jarringly, almost as if I were attending a funeral. “Oh dear, is that the younger daughter from the Clarke family who works at the crematorium?” “So ill-mannered, dressed like that for a wedding. Isn’t she just trying to upset her sister?” “I heard she even spread rumors that the groom was a murderer. Clearly, something’s wrong with her head.” Stella, in a custom-made gown worth a fortune, clung to Nathaniel Carr’s arm, looking like a haughty queen. Seeing me, her smile faltered, then she adopted a magnanimous, forgiving expression, speaking into the microphone: “Thank you all for coming to my wedding. Although my sister, due to her work, has a rather… peculiar personality, and even some misunderstandings about me, I’m still very happy she could make it.” These words made her seem gracious while simultaneously confirming my supposed immaturity. Nathaniel Carr pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up, his gaze falling on me. That look—cold, slimy, like a snake crawling up my spine. He smiled as he walked towards me, raising a glass of wine: “Celeste, isn’t it? Stella tells me you have some ‘special’ thoughts about me? I hear… you can speak with the dead?” The surrounding guests erupted in laughter. Boom! The last thread in my mind snapped. I sharply looked at Stella, who stood not far away. She was looking over here with a shy, adoring expression, utterly oblivious that in her eagerness to please this man, she had revealed my professional habits and past warnings as amusing anecdotes to curry favor! She had personally handed my ace card into the devil’s grasp. Nathaniel Carr watched my pale face, the smile on his lips deepening. He gently tapped my rigid wine glass, producing a sharp clink, like the prelude to a death knell. “Don’t be nervous. I’m quite interested in ‘bodies’ myself. If the opportunity arises, I’d truly like to learn… how those speechless dead people manage to accuse you.” 5. I looked at him, unafraid. “Mr. Carr, the dead do speak. And not only do they speak, they also hold grudges.” Nathaniel Carr’s pupils constricted slightly, but his smile remained. “Oh? Then I’d truly like to hear it, given the chance.” “You will,” I said softly. “Soon.” Just then, Mom rushed over, tugged me aside, and hissed in a low voice, “You wretched girl, shut up! If you dare to say another word, I’ll tear your mouth off! Go sit in a corner quickly, don’t be an eyesore!” During the family photo segment, the photographer directed the positions. “Alright, bride and groom in the center, parents on either side, sister… sister, stand a bit to the side, a bit further.” I was pushed to the very edge, half my body out of frame. The moment the flash went off, I saw Nathaniel Carr’s hand resting on Stella’s waist, his long index finger gently tapping the lace of her wedding dress. It was his habitual motion when looking for where to strike. And Stella, her face beaming with happiness, was utterly unaware. After the photos, I skipped dinner and turned to leave. Just as I exited the banquet hall, I received a message from Garrett, with an attached image. It was the DNA comparison result from trace human tissue extracted from Nathaniel Carr’s villa’s drainage pipes. Along with a blurry photo, taken through a floor-to-ceiling window, of a shimmering object under the light at the bottom of the huge fish tank. The caption contained only four words: [The hunt begins.] I glanced back at the brilliantly lit banquet hall. Sister, your dream of marrying into wealth has come true. But your nightmare has only just begun. I took out my phone, cropped my half-body out of the family photo, then blocked Mom and Stella’s contact information. From today, I was the sole witness, and the cold, detached avenger. Since you chose not to believe me, you will bear the price of this “sweetness” yourselves. After leaving that nauseating wedding, my life paradoxically became incredibly peaceful. I blocked everyone in my family and moved into the single dormitory provided by the mortuary. Although it was only a small studio, without endless scolding or my sister’s condescending mockery, it was paradise to me. Garrett became a frequent visitor. He was no longer the disheveled, heavy-drinking man; he had shaved his beard, cut his hair short, and regained the sharp, decisive look he wore as a police consultant. But every time he came to see me, he would bring a hot breakfast or some strange but practical small gift, like pepper spray or a miniature voice recorder. “Morning.” Garrett placed a cup of hot soy milk on my desk, his gaze sweeping over the makeup kit I was organizing. “Work today?” “Yes, an elderly man who died in a car accident.” I put on my gloves, speaking calmly. “His family wants him to have a dignified farewell.” Garrett leaned against the door, quietly watching me work. He never seemed bothered by the smell, nor did he find my job gruesome. This silent companionship brought me an unprecedented sense of peace. When I finished suturing the old man’s wounds, and my fingers touched his cold earlobe, that familiar voice did not appear. The old man had passed away peacefully, with no last words. This, in my profession, was actually the norm. Demons like Nathaniel Carr, burdened with multiple lives, were ultimately a rarity. “By the way,” Garrett pulled a document from his coat and handed it to me. “This is what you asked for.” It contained Nathaniel Carr’s recent movements, and… screenshots from Stella’s social media. Since I had blocked them, Garrett had become my “eyes.” In the screenshots, Stella showcased the pristine blue waters of the Maldives, with the caption: “My husband says he wants to show me the whole world. This is what marrying for love looks like.” Below were Mom and Dad’s comments: “Our daughter is so happy! Your mom is envious!” And various other relatives’ praises. Garrett let out a cold laugh, tapping his finger on the desk. “The photos are edited. Nathaniel Carr never took her out of the country; they’ve been at his villa in Southwood. He restricted her from traveling, using the excuse of a company IPO audit, claiming her passport was confiscated.”

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After my husband died, I saw the comments: [The male lead faked his death to test the second female lead.] [The second female lead will soon be unable to stand the loneliness and cheat, and the male lead will be the female lead’s, darling!] [I can’t wait to see the second female lead outside, drenched in rain, begging the male lead not to leave her, only to discover the female lead inside, playfully begging him to stop kissing her. So satisfying!] I was utterly wronged and swore I would never waver. But on the day of the funeral, my idol appeared. He held an umbrella for me, his voice a low murmur: ” Scarlett, my brother is gone, but you still have me.” Wait, is this a test? 1. I went to a fortune teller. The fortune teller said, “You are destined for two husbands. This current one is not the one you truly love.” “Nonsense!” I snapped, furious. A shadow enveloped me from behind. A long, slender, bony hand reached over and snatched the fortune stick from my grasp. I turned, meeting John’s eyes. “Darling, don’t believe it.” He smiled ever so faintly, absently turning the fortune stick in his fingers. His face was devoid of expression. I knew he didn’t care. His marriage to me was merely a compromise. Many pursued him; given his stature, he could find someone better if he left me. I was simply the one who pursued him the longest. If he couldn’t marry the one he loved most, he’d marry the one who loved him most. I just didn’t expect him to settle the score with me in bed that night. There was none of his usual tenderness. His advances were fierce, utterly beastly. I knew that arrogant expression all too well. He didn’t love me all that much, but I was only allowed to love him. “John,” I softened, “I only love you.” I swore repeatedly that I would love him for as long as he lived. He asked, “What if I die?” I paused, “…I’d still love you.” He caught the few seconds of hesitation in my voice. One eyebrow arched. My foot, which had been idly kicking his chest, instinctively recoiled, but he seized my ankle tightly. He said, “Scarlett, if I die, you can only love me.” Deep in the night, John, clad only in trousers, leaned against the window sill, legs crossed, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he answered his phone. “The news of your faked death will be out tomorrow.” The person on the other end gave him instructions: “You’ll stay on the island for six months. Once the mole here is caught, you can return.” John grunted vaguely. The person asked again, “Are you really not going to tell your wife you’re faking your death?” John wasn’t telling me, both for work and to make a gamble. When John was seven, his mother ran off with another man, taking his younger brother but leaving him behind. He loathed betrayal. He wanted to bet on whether I would truly remain faithful, only then would he fully accept me. “Did you find anything?” he asked the person on the other end. “Followed her for half a month,” the person said. “Your wife has no other men.” “Always from home to work and back, she’s a steady woman.” “Honestly, everyone knows she loves you most,” the person couldn’t resist quipping. “John, are you really worried she’ll go looking for someone else if she thinks you’re dead?” “Let her, if she wants to.” He scoffed, dismissing it. “She’s not the only one who wanted to marry me.” John hung up, unconsciously feeling the fortune stick in his pocket. He clenched it in his palm, staring for a few seconds. He ruffled his hair in annoyance, then slightly tilted his head to glance at me, sleeping soundly in the room. With a backhand, he tossed it into the trash can. The next day was our anniversary. I waited for him at home all day, only to receive news of his death. I listened numbly as people around me spoke of an incident during a mission. I returned home alone, seeing his black coat, worn just last night, draped over the sofa. I picked it up, intending to wash it, but then realized there was no longer any need. The realization brought with it a suffocating heartache that spread from my icy neck to my fingertips. I clutched his coat, unable to recover for a long time. Until the day of the funeral. I saw the scrolling text: [Here it comes, here it comes! The male lead faked his death to test the second female lead.] [The second female lead will soon be unable to stand the loneliness and cheat, and the male lead will be the female lead’s, darling!] [The stupid second female lead can’t resist temptation, thinking she’s found a treasure, but when the male lead returns, she’ll regret it terribly.] [The female lead is completely the male lead’s ideal type. They’ll fall in love on the island over time. The male lead is stubborn but can’t resist!] [The second female lead fawned for so many years, and the female lead gets everything just by standing there!] [I can’t wait to see the second female lead outside, drenched in rain, begging the male lead not to leave her, only to discover the female lead inside, playfully begging him to stop kissing her. So satisfying!] I looked at the comments, finding them ridiculous and deeply unfair. So, I was the second female lead. No wonder no matter how good I was to John, I could never warm him up. But I couldn’t accept that I would cheat! And the comments even said I cheated at the funeral. God as my witness. I was a respectable, honest woman; how could I possibly betray my husband before his memorial week was even over?! The most infuriating part was that, looking around, no one at the funeral was as handsome as John! We simps only simp because we’re obsessed with good looks! [It’s hilarious to think that the second female lead will wake up every morning to that ugly man’s face.] [No wonder she’s unwilling, but what good is it? The hot guy is the female lead’s.] [Wait, who’s that handsome man?] [Oh my god, what long legs!] I looked up. Amidst the bowing mourners, through the swirling incense smoke, a resolute, handsome face stood out. After offering three sticks of incense, the crowd parted. A fine mist of rain fell, and he approached me, holding a black umbrella. He stood before me, his voice a low murmur: “Scarlett.” “My brother is gone, but you still have me.” A few steps behind him hung his brother’s newly placed black-and-white portrait. 2. Felix. My idol. The singer I had loved for ten years. In high school, I used to secretly listen to his songs under the covers of my dorm bed to fall asleep. In my most sacrilegious dreams, I dared not even imagine his face. Now, he was less than half a meter from me. “This is John’s younger brother.” Someone beside me whispered that he was the brother John’s mother had taken away, the brother John despised most. That’s why, in all our years of marriage, I had never met him. I was Felix’s sister-in-law. … In a fleeting few seconds, my mind raced with thoughts like: Even though I know my idol will eventually date, if he actually does, I’ll want to die, hating any sister-in-law flaunting herself in front of me. What? You say I’m the sister-in-law? Heh heh, I’m the sister-in-law. No, no, not that kind of sister-in-law. Dammit. I was flustered and nervous, my throat tightening as I faced my idol’s close-up face, losing my voice entirely. But I couldn’t let the moment drop. I had to greet him, I had to— “A-quack.” My constricted throat ultimately produced a duck-like squawk. So embarrassing. I wanted to faint on the spot. But I was just the second female lead, and my body was robust. Ten minutes later, I found an undisturbed, dim corner in the stairwell to wallow in self-pity. “Have you seen Scarlett? Felix is looking for her.” Outside, two of John’s relatives passed by, their voices growing closer. “Hey, I heard John didn’t leave Scarlett a penny?” “That’s right, a man’s money is where his heart is. That gold-digger ended up with nothing.” “Don’t say that, I think Scarlett is a good, honest girl too. Her eyes are all red from crying.” The footsteps faded. The comments on screen still flashed scenes from the island: [Ahhh, the male and female leads met!] [What does it mean that the male lead keeps staring at the female lead?] [The male lead’s dog likes the female lead. Dogs are more honest than people!] I took a deep breath, twisted the doorknob, and prepared to go home. The moment I opened the door, a force pulled me back. The person let go and looked down at me. “Found you.” In the narrow stairwell, the door was half-open, pushed by the wind, letting in only a small corner of light. “Are you hiding from me?” Felix’s face was obscured in the darkness, his voice growing clearer. “Do you hate me, like my brother does?” I took half a step back and shook my head. “I don’t hate you.” Heaven knows I found it hard to breathe just looking at his face. But then, he was even taller than his brother, completely blocking me, leaving me nowhere to hide. He asked, “Then… do you like me?” Someone passed by, and the door was pushed open a bit further by the airflow. I instinctively recoiled deeper inside. He was amused by my action, raising a hand to block the draft for me. When the person outside left, light streamed back in, and I saw his dark, warm eyes. “Do you remember me?” he asked. “We were in the same class in freshman year of high school.” Felix’s name permeated my entire school life. He transferred schools and debuted in his sophomore year of high school. He became famous overnight, winning countless awards. The year of the college entrance exam, I struggled to get into a regular university. On the first day of orientation, my roommate lay in bed talking about her favorite singer named Felix. Later, after graduating college, my roommate had stopped following celebrities, but I was still listening to his music. Tickets to Felix’s concerts sold out in seconds. The one time I finally managed to snatch a ticket, I was called back to the office for urgent overtime. I couldn’t help but cry at my desk. I thought, I’m not sad because I can’t go. It’s because in that moment, I clearly realized that he and I lived in two different worlds. I might never meet him in this lifetime. “I remember.” I looked up at him. “It’s quite a coincidence. I didn’t expect you to remember me, and even less that we’d become relatives.” I tried to keep my voice from trembling. “Who would have thought I’d see you again, sitting at the same table at my husband’s funeral?” He heard me call his brother my husband, saw my red-rimmed eyes. He remembered this was his brother’s funeral. “Oh.” He turned sideways, creating a bit of distance between us. Fine raindrops, mixed with a diagonal wind, slapped against the door, chilling my exposed forearms. He had briefly touched me there just moments ago. “My brother was quite unfair.” He didn’t look at me. “How could he do that to you?” Felix had been famous for years, low-key, without scandals, and always maintained a good reputation. Even years later, at a class reunion, someone would say, “I was being harassed by some guys from outside school, and Felix, who I’d barely spoken to, silently called the police and helped fight them off.” “He’s truly a good person.” I thought, Felix must be a kind-hearted person. That’s why, with that face that made my imagination run wild, he looked at me with an earnest, gentle expression and asked: “What do you want?” “As my brother’s family, I will compensate you.” I was truly terrible. In that moment, I clearly realized I was a villainous second female lead. My mind was filled with: If he slept with me, would it be like sleeping with a fan? Would it affect his career? Maybe not. Control yourself! I lowered my head and said, “No, thank you.” But then, his deep voice asked again, “Are you really sure?” “No, thanks. You don’t owe me anything.” “Oh.” Tree shadows swayed outside the window, and the door was fully blown open by the wind. Someone outside the stairwell was looking for me. I turned to leave. He watched me go, then leisurely said, “Scarlett.” “Then can I ask for some compensation?” Confused, I turned to look at him. “What?” “Marry me.” He said, “I’ll take care of you on his behalf.” 3. Felix and I returned to the wake one after the other. People around us ate, some glancing my way, continuing their previous conversation. “Do you think John will regret it?” “Regret what?” “If he’d known life was so short, he should have married someone he truly loved, not the one in front of him.” Someone subtly hinted for him to stop, but couldn’t resist scrutinizing my expression. [The second female lead doesn’t know yet, does she? The female lead just ignored the male lead slightly, and he’s already getting uncomfortable.] [The second female lead is currently scouting for an affair partner. Wonder which ugly guy she’ll pick.] [When the male lead returns, won’t he be furious comparing them?] [Who told her to cheat?] The comments scrolled, and people around me whispered. I should have been devastated. But now, staring at John’s portrait on the wall, I had only one thought: Marry my idol? Is this a test? Oh. Oh. Oh. It had to be this way. I couldn’t help it. I raised my hands to my face and began to cry. The more I cried, the more my mouth twitched at the corners. What else could I do? I was merely a morally corrupt second female lead, incapable of resisting temptation. Darling, you’re gone. And my wish came true. The people who had been whispering saw how pitifully I cried and couldn’t bear to mock me further. In the corner, the person who had called John that night watched my reaction and sighed. He took out his phone and sent a message to an unknown number: “John, don’t play too hard.” “Scarlett loves you so much; she almost cried herself speechless at the funeral today.” A few seconds later, the reply came: “Got it.” “I’ll just sweet-talk her when I get back.” 4. Six months later, John was preparing to return. The mole was dealt with. Everyone knew he wasn’t dead. But he waited all night and received no call from me. “Your wife must be mad, she cried so much at the funeral.” His brother urged him to call me. But he wouldn’t. He was accustomed to me being the one to give in. “Spoiled her too much. She can call or not.” However, he didn’t expect me not to meet him at the airport. I used to go, even in the middle of the night. He waited for half an hour at the airport, watching the comings and goings, but I wasn’t there. He clutched the gift he bought for me, an inexplicable irritation bubbling up. “Home.” The driver asked, “Which home?” John raised an eyebrow. “Wherever my wife is, that’s where I’m going.” The driver paused, then hesitantly said, “Madam has already moved out.” He frowned. “Moved where?” The driver gave an address. Five minutes of dead silence in the car. John let out a soft chuckle. He leaned back casually in the seat, his eyes cold, dark, and subtly mocking, but the amusement didn’t reach them. “Why are you giving me Felix’s address?” The driver blinked, reminding him: “You told us to kick Madam out. She had nowhere to go.” John’s eyes darkened slightly. He knew it was indeed too much to leave me no money and no house. But he insisted on using this to ward off anyone who might try to approach me during those six months. How could an ordinary woman like me, without money, attract anyone to sleep with a widow? The comments exploded with excitement: [Serves the second female lead right! I’ve been annoyed at her spending the male lead’s money for ages!] [Never mind the second female lead, what’s up with the male lead? What happened to falling in love over time?] [On the island, the female lead almost fell for the male lead’s dog and still couldn’t get a word in with the male lead.] [Instead, the male lead kept staring at the female lead, actually thinking she was trying to steal his dog.] [But the male lead is definitely not used to the female lead ignoring him.] [That’s his dog that’s not used to it. The female lead stopped bringing food, so the dog has to eat the male lead’s awful cooking. The male lead has no doubt about his own culinary skills, only that the female lead wants to steal his dog.] [On the island, besides protecting his dog from the female lead, the male lead was just flipping through the calendar every day, waiting to see his wife. He finally came back, and his wife ran off with someone else.] [There’s still hope! The male lead found out the second female lead cheated, so the female lead, darling, has a chance!] The luxury car pulled into Felix’s garage, and John went upstairs. The door was ajar; he slipped in sideways. This feeling of sneaking around made him inexplicably annoyed. He was here to find his wife. But the thought of catching her cheating plagued him, doubling his irritation. The master bedroom was empty. As he expected, Felix himself hadn’t even lived in this apartment. My suitcase was in the guest bedroom. He looked up and saw a brand-new men’s shirt on the table, with a half-written greeting card beside it: “Happy Anniversary, John—” He remembered that day he decided to trick me, so he hadn’t received an anniversary gift. But this shirt looked like something Felix would wear. Too youthful a style. He had always been dismissive of the things I gave him, mocking my taste, calling them cheap junk. But when I pushed open the guest room door, I saw that “junk” on him. John leaned against the window, and the first thing he asked me was, “Why didn’t you come to pick me up?” He and Felix did resemble each other, but their temperaments were strikingly different. When I first met John on our blind date, I instantly fell for him. But now, that face didn’t attract me as much anymore. I dodged his hand. He froze. Before, whenever he returned from a mission, I would always excitedly rush to hug him, and he would always wear a disgusted expression. Now I was avoiding him. “Mad?” “Didn’t I come back?” I pulled my hand away. “Give me back the shirt.” He wouldn’t let me dodge, gripping my wrist tightly, his tone turning cold. “That’s enough.” I said, “It’s not for you. I bought it for someone else.” The room was silent for a moment. He gave a soft chuckle, but his eyes were mixed with frost. “Who did you buy it for?” “I’ve only been dead for half a year, and you’re already buying clothes for other men?” I said, “When you died, I became single. I wanted to buy it the day of the funeral.” His mouth twisted. “You didn’t even wait for the memorial week. You’re something else.” John turned to leave. “Hey—” He paused, then heard me say, “My clothes.” His face darkened further, and he laughed, infuriated. He slowly undressed, revealing his sculpted abs. I turned my face away. He seized my hand, and the more I struggled, the tighter he held, forcibly pressing my hand against his firm muscles. “Do you touch others like this too?” With that, he disgustedly flung my hand away. “You sicken me.” He smiled like a bastard: “I’m incredibly glad that no matter how long you tried, you never made me fall in love with you.” “With your terrible taste, just like you, who’d want it?” He threw the changed clothes at me and slammed the door as he left. After that day, John never contacted me again. I heard he threw several parties to celebrate getting rid of me. Before, I used to try to control him; his popularity made me insecure. But the more I tried, the more he went out. He never comforted me when I was jealous. He even deliberately played mean, half-joking, half-serious, saying he’d seen too many women prettier than me, that I didn’t even rank with him. “Can you control me? Jealousy is useless.” Good thing, I wasn’t trying to control him anymore. John, who rarely posted on social media, posted a photo of himself eating at home, a party of over a dozen people. The girl holding a small dog behind him was exceptionally pretty. [Tears in my eyes, the female lead finally got into a group photo.] [Finally, the second female lead gets to see a photo of the male and female leads. Regret it now!] [Does anyone know who the second female lead cheated with? Is he so ugly he doesn’t even have a name, haha?] [Second female lead, just disappear. Does she think the male lead will still look back?] A few days later, I ran into John at a private club. He was in the private room next door. Amidst the clinking glasses, I avoided his gaze, and he didn’t spare me a single glance either. Men, when they fall out of love, truly move on quickly. That’s for the best. I just didn’t expect to run into him again at the restroom entrance. He leaned against the wall, dressed in a black silk shirt, a trench coat draped over his arm, his expression cool and nonchalant. Like he was waiting for a lady. He watched me go in, saying nothing. When I came out, he was still standing there. I walked straight past him. He let out a faint scoff. A long, slender hand gripped the back of my neck, pulling me back with a sudden force. Behind me was another dark, empty private room. He ignored my struggles, slamming the door shut with a “thud” that made me jump. He lowered his head, pressing against me with extreme aggression, grinding his lips against mine. I dodged, he pursued. The more I struggled, the more he recklessly tried to mold me into his body. His Adam’s apple bobbed; he had been holding back for a long time. There was a sense that he wanted to suffocate me, then suffocate himself. This was the real him, a total jerk. Blood seeped from his lips, his breathing was ragged, the corners of his eyes flushed. He raised a hand to wipe my mouth. His voice was low, hoarse, and chilling: “I forgive you for cheating.” “Tell me, who is that shameless mistress?” I glared at him. “He’s not a mistress.” John froze slightly; he was familiar with this expression of mine. It was the expression I used to instinctively protect him in front of outsiders. It belonged only to him. Now, he was the outsider. John’s heart gave a jolt, and he laughed, infuriated: “Is he worth defending so fiercely?” “Did my kiss feel better, or his?” Although I had never kissed Felix, I answered without hesitation: “His!” John’s face instantly became cold and sharp. “Don’t mention him!” I sneered, “You’re the one who asked.” Before I could finish, he grabbed my jaw and kissed me again. I slapped him hard. He was stunned. He knew I loved his face most. “You’re my wife,” his voice held an unmistakable note of grievance. “He seduced you, what else is he if not a mistress?” “I’m not your wife anymore. I’ve remarried.” I said, word by word, “You’re the one acting like a mistress.”

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After Luna died, Damon hated me for four years. So, when I was reborn back to the night of the fire, I deliberately stepped deeper into the choking smoke, calling out to my husband, the Special Operations Fire Captain: “Don’t look for me. Save Luna first.” In my previous life, Luna, my best friend, and I were trapped on different floors of the towering inferno. As the blaze raged, Damon only had time to save one person. He rushed to me. I was carried out of the burning building, unharmed, but Luna was incinerated alive on the twenty-third floor. Damon, once an elite firefighter, developed pyrophobia, a crippling fear of fire, and could never again step into a burning building. Then, on New Year’s Eve, he smiled as he tied a crimson string bracelet around my wrist. I thought he had finally moved past it, but the string had been soaked in an accelerant. As the fireworks ignited my wrist, I asked him why. Damon only stared at the flames licking my skin, his eyes reflecting a cold, dead light. “Luna burned to death. Why do you get to live, completely untouched?” I opened my eyes again, back to the moment the fire alarm blared. 1 “Damon! Trapped civilians on the seventeenth and twenty-third floors! The fire is spreading upwards!” The dispatcher’s voice crackled, hoarse with urgency through the walkie-talkie. Thick smoke billowed, turning the entire high-rise into a dying beast, groaning with the metallic shriek of twisting steel. Damon turned back to look at me, his eyes bloodshot. I stood at the end of a corridor on the seventeenth floor, behind me a fire door already scorched through. In the last life, he hadn’t said a word. He’d just charged forward, slung me over his shoulder, and carried me out. Luna, on the twenty-third floor, had screamed for forty-seven minutes, unanswered. The autopsy report later read: “Ninety percent full-body burns, found in a curled, self-protective posture.” Damon hadn’t spoken for three days after reading that report. From then on, he never looked me in the eye again. This time, I wouldn’t let him make that choice. “Damon, go to the twenty-third floor first. Save Luna.” He froze. “I’m fine. This floor still has a buffer zone. I can hold on.” “You…” “That’s an order.” I offered him a small, wry smile. “Captain’s wife’s orders – still good?” Damon’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He wanted to say something, but another urgent call came over the radio. “Twenty-third floor civilian in distress, suspected heavy smoke inhalation!” Damon clenched his jaw, then finally turned and sprinted towards the emergency stairwell. The moment his silhouette vanished into the smoke, I took two steps back. The floorboards beneath my feet were already soft and scalding. Leaning against the wall, I doused my wet towel with more water, clamped it over my mouth and nose, and crouched down. Last time, I’d emerged without a scratch. This time, I likely wouldn’t be so lucky. It didn’t matter. The crimson string burning through my wrist in the last life had hurt far more than this. The smoke grew thicker, my consciousness blurring. The last voice I heard wasn’t Damon’s. It was an unfamiliar, raspy male voice. “Seventeenth floor, trapped civilian found! Female, disoriented, extensive burns to face and arms!” Someone lifted me from the floor. The rough fabric of a protective suit brushed against my face. Dazedly, I opened my eyes and saw a face mostly obscured by a mask. Not Damon. The man looked down at me, his voice steady. “Don’t move. I’ll get you out.” I lost consciousness amidst violent jolts. When I woke again, I was on an emergency stretcher. An oxygen mask covered my mouth and nose, and a tearing pain flared in my right arm. I turned my head and saw another stretcher nearby. Luna lay on it, only faint smudges of smoke on her face. She was alive. Damon stood by her stretcher, one hand still gripping her wrist, as if checking her pulse. I couldn’t clearly see his expression, but his back was to me. Just like in the last life. No, in the last life, his back had been to Luna’s corpse. Suddenly, the burns on my arm didn’t hurt so much anymore. The firefighter who’d rescued me removed his mask and knelt by my stretcher, filling out an injury report. His face was mostly smudged with ash, revealing only his eyes. “Name?” he asked. “Audrey.” He paused his pen, glanced towards Damon, then back at me. Without a word, he resumed writing. His name tag read “Lucas.” The lights in the ICU were blindingly white. I spent eleven days in the burn unit, undergoing two skin graft surgeries on my right arm and back. Damon visited three times. The first time was to sign off on the surgery; his hand trembled as he wrote his name. The second time, he dropped off a bag of clean clothes, leaving them on the nightstand before walking out. The third was the day my bandages were removed. He stood at the doorway of my room, his gaze lingering on the winding scars on my arm. His lips moved, but he ultimately only managed to say, “I’m stepping out to take a call.” He never came back. Luna, on the other hand, was a frequent visitor. She was discharged on the third day and came to see me daily thereafter, carrying flowers and fruit, her eyes red-rimmed. “Audrey, I’m so sorry, it’s all because of me…” “You’re so hurt, I feel incredibly guilty…” “Did Damon… did he only save me because you told him to?” As she spoke, her tears fell in perfectly spaced drops. I used to think Luna’s crying was beautiful. Now, looking at it, each tear seemed precisely measured. “It’s okay. We’re sisters. Your safety is what matters,” I said. She lunged to hug me, directly pressing against the fresh skin graft on my back. I gasped in pain. She immediately pulled back, her face a picture of alarm. “Oh my goodness, I forgot about your back!” But the speed with which she withdrew her hand was half a second faster than her apology. This was a detail I wouldn’t have noticed in my last life. This time, I saw it clearly. That afternoon, Damon came to pick up Luna. He said he was “passing by,” but the hospital was in the east of the city, our home in the west, and the fire station in the north. Three different directions, not a single one “on the way.” As Luna left, she glanced back at me, then naturally slipped her hand onto Damon’s forearm. “Captain Reid, I’ve been having terrible nightmares lately, dreaming of the fire…” Damon didn’t shake her off. He turned his head slightly to look at her, saying, “It’ll get better. Try to rest.” He had never spoken to me in that tone. I looked down at my bandaged arm, and a small smile touched my lips. Just then, Lucas came in for a follow-up. He pushed the door open and paused when he saw me smiling alone at the ceiling. “Any discomfort from the wound?” “No.” He flipped through my medical chart at the foot of the bed, frowning slightly. “There’s a risk of infection in the grafted area. Dressing changes cannot be missed these next few days.” “I know.” “Your husband?” “Busy.” Lucas didn’t ask further, putting down the chart and turning to leave. He stopped at the doorway. “Family signature is required. If he’s busy, you can find me for the next dressing change.” “You’re a firefighter, not a doctor.” “But I’m the one who carried you out of the seventeenth floor.” He didn’t turn back. “See things through.” The door closed. Silence returned to the room. I slowly tightened my grip on the bedsheet. That night, after the nurse’s rounds, I opened my phone and found a post on social media. Luna had just posted it. The accompanying picture was a bouquet of white roses, geotagged to this hospital. The caption read: “After surviving the ordeal, grateful for everyone who fought to pull me through.” The first comment below was a like from Damon. The second was from an unfamiliar account, leaving a message: “Luna, you’re so brave.” Luna replied with a hugging emoji. I put my phone face down on the bed and closed my eyes. Good. The drama of this life was unfolding even faster than the last. On the day of my discharge, Damon came to pick me up. The car was quiet; he didn’t say a word the entire drive. It wasn’t until the car pulled into the neighborhood parking garage that he spoke, his voice muffled. “Why did you tell me to save her first?” My hand, clutching my discharge bag, paused. “Because she was on the twenty-third floor, six levels higher than me, and in greater danger.” “But you almost died in there.” I looked at his profile, unable to tell if his words held concern or accusation. “But she lived, didn’t she?” I pushed open the car door. “And you didn’t become a broken firefighter.” He whipped his head around to look at me, his gaze complex. I didn’t explain, taking my things and heading upstairs on my own. In the days that followed, I used my recovery as an excuse to cut back on all social engagements. But Luna wouldn’t leave me in peace. She came to the house two or three times a week, bringing soup and dishes, portraying herself as the most dedicated best friend in the world. Each visit, she would subtly bring up Damon. “Audrey, Damon’s under so much pressure lately. You should pay more attention to him.” “I heard he was criticized by the higher-ups because of the fire. There’s an investigation into the collapse of the fire escape.” “When he saved me that day, he carried me down four flights of stairs… he truly fought so hard.” Every one of her sentences emphasized the same thing: Damon had fought for her life. I listened with a smile, pouring her a cup of tea. That night, I found Damon’s work phone. He never took this phone on missions, and the password was still our wedding anniversary. Luna was pinned at the top of his messages. The most recent chat history began the day after the fire. Luna: “Captain Reid, I had nightmares again tonight. I dreamt I was trapped in the fire, unable to escape.” Damon: “Don’t be scared. That fire is out.” Luna: “But every time I close my eyes, I see the flames. I’m so afraid.” Damon: “Would you like me to recommend a therapist?” Luna: “No, just talking to you makes me feel better. You’re the one who saved me. Hearing your voice makes me feel safe.” I scrolled down, message by message. The conversations grew longer, more frequent. They talked about nightmares, childhood, work, and life. The patience and tenderness Damon displayed in these messages were something I had never witnessed from him. I scrolled to the latest message. It was a voice note from Luna. I tapped it. Her voice was soft, gentle, with a hint of deliberate tremor. “Captain Reid, Audrey is truly so brave. She told you to save me first… But sometimes I wonder, if you had gone to the seventeenth floor first that day, maybe she wouldn’t have been hurt?” Damon replied with four words: “Don’t overthink it.” But he didn’t say, “I should have saved her first.” I turned off my phone and put it back where I found it. The next day, I invited Luna for coffee. I chose a window seat, where the sunlight perfectly illuminated her face. She wore light makeup, her complexion healthy, not at all like someone tormented by nightmares. Halfway through our conversation, she took a call and walked to the entrance. Through the glass, I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but when she returned after hanging up, her expression seemed off. I pretended not to notice, stirring my coffee. She sat down, silent for a few seconds. Then, she looked up and spoke in a tone I had never heard from her before. “Audrey, you don’t have to work so hard.” “What do you mean?” “The situation between you and Damon… you don’t have to force it.” She took my hand, her fingertips cool. “You deserve better.” The words sounded like concern. But the fleeting something in her eyes wasn’t. I lightly patted her palm. “Thank you, Luna.” When I got home, I made a call. “Is this the Fire Department Headquarters? I’d like to obtain the accident investigation report for last month’s commercial building fire.” Lucas helped me get the report. He didn’t ask why I wanted to see it, simply handed me a manila envelope. “Are you sure you want to look?” “Yes.” “Some things, once seen, you can’t unsee.” I met his gaze. His expression was calm, but as he spoke, his eyes lingered on my face for a second, as if to confirm I was ready. I tore open the envelope and flipped to the fire cause analysis page. Origin: Twenty-third floor, unit 2307, east storage room. Cause: Initially determined to be a short circuit from aging electrical wiring. I continued reading. In the on-site investigation remarks, there was a handwritten line: “Trace amounts of unusual chemical residue detected in unit 2307 storage room; components await further analysis.” My finger stopped on that line. Unit 2307. That was next to the conference room where Luna had her meeting that night. I kept flipping and found the attached chemical analysis report. Residue components: High-concentration isopropyl alcohol mixed with paraffin-based accelerant. This was not something aging electrical wiring would produce. This was human-made. A sudden image flashed in my mind. New Year’s Eve, last life. When Damon tied the crimson string on me, there was a faint, sweet smell in the air. I’d thought it was the scent of fireworks. Now, I realized it was the distinctive smell of paraffin-based accelerant when heated. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. A thought formed, absurd and terrifying, yet utterly clear. That crimson string in the last life wasn’t Damon’s own preparation. A week before New Year’s, I’d seen an unmarked small package in the courier locker outside our home. When Damon opened it, I’d glimpsed it – a red braided string bracelet with an attached card. I hadn’t paid attention to the handwriting on the card then. But now, recalling it, it was Luna’s handwriting. Rounded, with a little flourish on the tails of the letters. I recognized it. She used that same script every time she wrote me a birthday card in college. The crimson string was sent by Luna. The accelerant was soaked by Luna. And that fire, the one that gave Damon pyrophobia, the one that made him hate me for four years— It was also started by Luna. I snapped my eyes open. The chemical analysis report before me contained cold, precise data. The same formula as the crimson string that had burned through my wrist in the last life. The sunlight outside was blinding. I slowly closed the report, my fingertips tracing the paper. No trembling. In the last life, Damon asked me, “Why do you get to live, completely untouched?” Wrong. From beginning to end, the one who wanted me dead wasn’t him. He was merely a sharpened blade. And the one who handed him the blade was Luna, the woman I’d called my best friend for twelve years. I put the report back into the envelope and took out my phone. Scrolling through my contacts to Luna’s name, the profile picture was an old photo of us from college. She had her arm around my shoulder, smiling brightly. I stared at that smiling face for a long time. Then I exited the contacts and opened a new memo. The title read: “Evidence Chain.” I didn’t tip my hand. For the next two weeks, I acted more subdued, more silent than before. In front of Damon, I was a wife self-conscious about her scars. In front of Luna, I was a poor soul gradually losing faith in her marriage. They both bought it. Because that’s exactly what they expected to see. Wednesday afternoon, I placed a divorce agreement on the dining table. When Damon came home and saw it, his car keys dropped to the floor. “What does this mean?” “It means exactly what it says.” I leaned against the kitchen doorway, my voice flat. “Just sign it.” He picked up the keys and walked over. “Audrey, can you please not be like this?” “I’m not.” “Then tell me what’s wrong?” I looked at him, and a sudden urge to laugh welled up. I’d asked him the same question in my last life. He’d answered me with a crimson string soaked in accelerant. “Damon, have you ever considered something?” I said. “After that fire, you saved Luna, but I was disfigured. Did you secretly feel a sense of relief?” “What are you talking about?!” “I’m not talking nonsense.” I unbuttoned my cuff, revealing the still-healing scar on my arm. “Every time you see this, you look away.” His gaze indeed shifted. Even if it was subconscious, he didn’t realize it himself. “I don’t want to make things difficult for you anymore.” I pulled my sleeve back down. “I haven’t asked for anything in the agreement that isn’t mine. Just sign it.” I turned and started towards the bedroom. He suddenly grabbed my wrist from behind. My right wrist. The place where the crimson string had burned in my last life. My entire body stiffened as if electrocuted. That memory of pain was too deep, so deep that even across a lifetime, it made me instinctively tremble. Damon felt my trembling and let go. “Audrey…” “Don’t touch there.” My voice was hoarser than I expected. “You can’t touch there.” He didn’t understand why I reacted so strongly to my wrist—there were no burns there. But he didn’t know what happened in the last life. He wouldn’t know in this one. I closed the bedroom door, leaned against it, and slid to the floor. It took a long time to steady my breathing. My phone lit up. Luna’s message. “Audrey, how have you been lately? Captain Reid said you’re not doing well, I’m so worried.” I stared at the screen. Damon had told her about our impending divorce. How interesting. Having an argument with his wife, his first confidante was another woman. It was just like that in the last life. Step by step, she had transformed herself into an indispensable part of his life. And I, from wife, became enemy. I replied: “I’m fine, just the wound hurts a bit, being dramatic.” Luna instantly replied: “You’re not dramatic at all! You suffered such a terrible injury, it’s normal to have emotions. How about I come over and keep you company soon?” I typed: “Sounds good, I actually have some things I want to talk to you about.” After sending that message, I opened my memo. Seven items were already listed under “Evidence Chain.” But it wasn’t enough. I needed concrete proof. Ironclad evidence that would leave her no room to maneuver. I started digging into Luna’s past. It was easier than I expected. Because she never imagined anyone would investigate.

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Everyone said I married into the Thorne family purely on the strength of a pretty face and a well-timed bout of amnesia. That was until Professor Kyle Gilbert, A-University’s genius, invented a time machine and publicly suggested to my husband: “Aren’t you curious, Mr. Thorne, what your immaculately backgrounded wife looked like at eighteen?” My face paled. I forced a smile: “Don’t we all look a bit rough at eighteen? Nothing worth seeing. Let’s go, Sebastian.” I assumed Sebastian Thorne, with his usual composure, would flatly refuse such a farce. But the man simply didn’t move. His gaze swept past Kyle, finally resting on my stark white face, and he nodded: “Alright.” 1 Sebastian Thorne’s agreement caused a considerable stir in the room. I paused, slightly stunned. Then, I tried to lift the corners of my lips. “These newly invented machines, don’t they carry some potential risks? Maybe we should wait a few years until they’re safer to try…” My words were cut short by the genius’s calm interjection. “Mrs. Thorne, are you questioning my expertise?” Kyle Gilbert, A-University’s most brilliant graduate in recent years. Young, yet he had published numerous top-tier papers, at the forefront of various research fields. The time machine was his passion project, an invention he had poured years of effort into, presented to the public only after multiple tests. I breathed out a small smile: “Not at all.” “I just feel it’s unnecessary.” I looked at Sebastian, my voice soft: “You know, my parents passed away early, and I’ve finally gotten through that tough time. Of course, I don’t want to revisit those painful memories. Besides, all those forgotten memories between us, you’ve already taken me to relive them, haven’t you?” Sebastian was actually a calm and somewhat languid person. Five years my senior, he rarely forced me to do anything. But at this moment, he remained still. His eyes were fixed on my face, then calmly dropped to observe the tense lines on the back of my hand. He spoke with a casual air: “Eighteen-year-old you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her.” I was momentarily stunned. Eighteen. The image that flashed in my mind wasn’t carefree youth. It was the spinning fan in the classroom, under which I could never comprehend the problems. The lewd jokes of boys, the teacher’s disdain, my boyfriend’s indifference. And my cousin’s cruel, beautiful face. What Sebastian wanted to see was my cousin, his vibrant young fiancée. The pretty girl who occasionally did unkind things, but with a sweet smile, she could win everyone’s affection. I never liked dark chocolate. Sebastian once asked me why. I just said I’d eaten too much as a child and grew tired of it. The truth was, when I was ten, my cousin had poured a whole cup of hot cocoa over my head in the bathroom, sweetly laughing: “Didn’t you tell Mom and Dad you wanted chocolate? Can’t let it go to waste!” Her followers held my head down. That was my first taste of chocolate, scalding hot and melting. It was sickeningly sweet, choking my throat, making me unable to utter a sound. Only tears streamed down. Looking up, all I could see were the four walls and her dazzling, radiant smile. My eyes looked very much like hers, so much so that even the small mole at the corner of my eye was in the exact same spot. This was why I later succeeded in impersonating her. Sebastian, after the fact, most loved to kiss the redness at the corner of my eyes. He always said that even though I’d been lost for so many years, those eyes were still as beautiful as when he first saw them. For five years of marriage, I had never been exposed. I composed my emotions, took a deep breath: “Just eighteen, we have photos at home, don’t we? I’ll dig them out for you when we get back.” “But I want to see for myself,” the man’s gaze shifted from the miniature time machine back to me, his voice slightly rising at the end, as if genuinely curious, “A well-behaved, studious girl, sounds quite appealing.” 2 “Well-behaved, studious.” I smiled, watching Sebastian Thorne’s Maybach drive further and further away towards his company, then my expression completely crumbled. Every single word of that description was utterly unlike me. Turning around, I saw the A-University genius. His silhouette was even more imposing than before, dark, messy hair covering his prominent brow. Only that cold, detached aura remained unchanged. This machine was clearly aimed at me. I followed him to a secluded spot. The man’s tall frame completely blocked the last ray of light in the corner. “What exactly do you want?” I pushed him hard, but couldn’t budge him. Instead, he grabbed my wrist and pressed me against the wall. Kyle Gilbert’s gaze traced every inch of my features, his eyes churning with dark, unreadable emotions. After a long moment, he coldly uttered two words: “Get back together.” For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant. He deigned to repeat it, his voice clear and cold: “I said, break up with him, and then we get back together. I can accept you standing by my side.” I found it absurd. “Kyle Gilbert, do you know what you’re saying?” “Of course,” he stared at me, emphasizing calmly, “Iris Hayes, only I know who the real you is. As long as you break up with him, I can guarantee that the time machine won’t expose your secret.” In the silent, breathless staring match, I abruptly pushed him away. “Kyle Gilbert, what do you take me for?” I glared at him, my breath slightly trembling, confirming each word: “Wasn’t it you who coldly said we should break up back then?” He pressed his lips together, silent, his dark eyes showing little emotion. That same indifferent expression, just like ten years ago. Back then, when my cousin and I tied for first place in the English competition, as the student council president, he gave the scholarship to my cousin. He said Olivia Thorne had just lost her parents, and her family was penniless; she needed that money for college. And my grades were so poor that I was destined not to stand at the same level as him. “Iris Hayes, neither I nor anyone else has an obligation to bear your useless and wasteful life.” “If your college entrance exam results come out and you don’t get into the same university as me, then we’re destined not to be on the same path.” At that time, I truly hated Kyle Gilbert, so much so that whenever I thought of it later, I wanted to loudly question him. If the definition of a partner was a like-minded fellow traveler, then why did he pursue me, the bad student? Seeing me bring up old matters, Kyle Gilbert’s eyes merely flickered, his voice still showing little fluctuation: “I just made the best choice at the time. That money, even if I gave it to you, would only be thrown into your mother’s exorbitant medical bills. What would be the point?” He was still so rational to the point of cruelty, stating his reasons so openly, as if certain I wouldn’t care. “Get back together with me, and all my money can be yours. I’ve achieved enough; I don’t need a partner to stand by me. I just need you.” The man’s gaze was fervent and dark. But I only found it amusing, so amusing that my heart didn’t even ache. I pushed his hand away, and through the haze of tears in my eyes, stubbornly told him: “Then you’re wrong, Kyle Gilbert. That scholarship, I cared about it deeply. I’ll never get over it.” I pushed him away and turned to leave. The man stared at my retreating back and suddenly spoke: “What if I gave you the justice you wanted?” People always romanticize the path not taken. Kyle Gilbert always believed that was the best choice back then. But since I found it so hard to accept, he wouldn’t mind letting that event replay, letting me get what I called “absolute fairness.” 3 Back at the mansion, Martha had already filled the bathtub with hot water. When Sebastian returned, I still had my head submerged in the now-cold water. The man’s distinctly veined hand gripped the back of my neck, pulling me up, a hint of amusement in his narrow eyes: “Trying to drown yourself?” I didn’t speak, so he asked, “Still mad?” I turned my face away awkwardly. “No.” “Then why are you so resistant? After all, aren’t you curious what kind of person you were before you lost your memory?” Seeing that I still wouldn’t utter a sound, he simply good-naturedly ruffled my head, casually reminiscing: “Speaking of which, the first time I saw you at nineteen, you also used to sulk like this often, willful and unrestrained. You insisted on fulfilling our family’s engagement and marrying me, and even wanted to follow me to study abroad. If it wasn’t for later—” He stopped there. If my cousin hadn’t fallen into the ocean on our engagement day. They would have already walked down the aisle. It wasn’t until a few years later, while he was on vacation on a small island, that he unexpectedly found me, disguised as his amnesiac cousin. The bathroom was filled with mist. The man’s palm gently rested on the back of my head, drawing us closer. His voice was low: “Do you know, Olivia, I can never quite connect the current you with the you before your memory loss.” “I’ve always wondered what kind of trauma made you such a careful and gentle person, so gentle that I can no longer read your heart.” He gently rubbed his forehead against mine, almost a whisper: “Was your former personality a pretense?” “Perhaps by understanding more of your past, I can know which version of you, the former or the present, loves me more?” The miniature time machine lying in his palm glowed red. My pupils constricted. I had no time to stop him. The next second, his long finger moved. Click. We both plunged back ten years. 4 How did that time machine end up in Sebastian’s hands? I gazed at my own delicate, childlike face in the mirror, closing my eyes in despair. Taking off my wedding ring, I walked out of the restroom. Two or three students in school uniforms chatted and joked in the hallway. I pursed my lips and walked through them, inevitably hearing the boys’ lewd whistles. “Iris, class is starting! Hurry!” The class president called to me from the door of Class 18. —Iris Hayes. My mind wavered. My mother gave birth to me in the lush midsummer. She hoped I would always be as vibrant as the grass and trees. How long had it been since I heard someone call my name? It seemed to have started when I decided to impersonate Olivia Thorne and marry into the affluent family. But life with Sebastian Thorne wasn’t actually too bad. He was assertive and unyielding at work, but at home, he was a lazy, aloof cat. On slow afternoons, he loved to curl up with me to watch movies, tend to the balcony plants, or nap on my lap. Sometimes, he was even willing to learn a dish I wanted to eat, step by step, following a tutorial. I truly couldn’t say anything bad about him. Except, the person he loved wasn’t me. Outside, the sunlight was blinding. I suppressed the slight bitterness in my heart and walked into the classroom. The oppressive, narrow space carried the sweaty smell of boys who had just finished gym class, and even the cicadas outside sounded particularly monotonous. This was my most hated eighteen. In English class, I wasn’t paying much attention, just propping my head up, annoyed, trying to figure out how to avoid meeting Sebastian. A few girls in the back row were whispering, discussing how the organizer of this English competition was a young, wealthy, repatriated entrepreneur who had even visited our school that morning. “I just passed by and glanced. He’s really an expat, so tall and handsome. The principal arranged for him to be given a tour by a school history guide, and as soon as he got the list, he picked Olivia Thorne’s name.” “Why not Iris? Didn’t those two tie for first in the English competition?” Someone snorted, disdainfully: “Olivia Thorne is so excellent, isn’t it logical to pick her? Unlike this one in our class, who attracts too much attention, she really thinks getting high scores qualifies her as the top student.” I slowly blinked, finally realizing the exact time period. It was precisely when Olivia and I had participated in the English competition, tied for first place, and were deciding who should get the scholarship. But in my memory, this entrepreneur never appeared. 5 In the VIP lounge. The principal was pouring tea for the distinguished man before him, apologizing with a smile: “Mr. Thorne, you didn’t notify us of your early arrival; our preparations are quite inadequate.” The man’s gaze was fixed on the tea leaves floating in his cup, as if deep in thought: “It’s nothing. I only came to see someone, to confirm something.” Soon after, the class president brought back news, saying that Olivia Thorne was resting in the dorm due to menstrual cramps and couldn’t serve as the school history guide. The principal apologized, asking, “Would you like to choose someone else?” Sebastian Thorne looked at the two high-scoring exam papers on the table, then reached out and flipped over the other one, noticing the boldly written name. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Iris Hayes?” “Yes, Iris Hayes,” the principal quickly smiled. “Although she’s in the lower-achieving class, her English is excellent. She even tied for first place with Olivia Thorne in this competition.” “And according to other students, she’s been memorizing vocabulary in the hallway every morning at 5:30 AM for the past few months! A very diligent child; she won’t disappoint you.” The man pondered for a moment: “Two first-place ties, but why did only Olivia Thorne receive the scholarship?” “This… this… to be honest, we were just about to address that matter.” Seeing the principal hesitate, Sebastian lost interest in pressing further. After all, he wasn’t someone who particularly liked to meddle. Three days, for him, was still too short. Sebastian glanced at his wristwatch and suddenly asked his assistant, “What’s the date today?” “August 1st, Mr. Thorne. Is there something wrong?” Early August. Not quite the same time as his wife’s menstrual cycle. But she had fallen into the sea and suffered shock-induced amnesia. Sebastian didn’t dwell on such details. The man paused in thought, then instructed, “Go buy some brown sugar water and heat patches.” “You mean to say?” The principal asked hesitantly. The man tucked in his long legs, stood up, and politely nodded: “I won’t tour the school history museum. You have important matters to attend to, so I won’t disturb you.” “I’ll meet the scholarship recipient, and then I’ll leave.” 6 The bell for class dismissal rang, and I was hesitating whether or not to go find Kyle Gilbert. After all, just sitting around waiting wasn’t an option. He had promised me he wouldn’t expose my secret. Suddenly, the class president tapped me, asking me to go to the office. As soon as I entered, all the teachers and students were there—the principal, the homeroom teacher, the invigilator, the students who sat around me at the time, and Kyle Gilbert. The young man wore the student council president’s uniform, his shoulders broad, his legs long, as cold and aloof as I remembered. He merely glanced at me, then brought up the surveillance video from that day on his computer, displaying it for everyone. “Since Iris Hayes has an objection to this scholarship evaluation, we will re-evaluate it, with no favoritism towards anyone.” With just one look, I recognized him—Kyle Gilbert, also from ten years in the future. The fairness I had tearfully demanded years ago, he was now specifically giving me with a time machine. In the office, the young man’s voice was not loud. He looked at me, questioning me clearly, word by word: “After the listening portion of the recording ended, the invigilator had already announced to stop answering. Iris Hayes, why didn’t you put down your pen?” My breath caught; I froze. 7 Under everyone’s piercing gazes, I slowly, inch by inch, clenched my fingers: “I was checking if I had filled in the answer sheet incorrectly.” “And if you had found a mistake, what then?” Kyle Gilbert’s voice was flat, yet his words were almost accusatory, “Were you going to violate exam rules and make alterations?” “No,” I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, Kyle Gilbert expressionlessly tossed my answer sheet onto the table, pointing at the still-unwiped pencil marks, and said: “For the last question of the listening comprehension, you originally chose A, but the moment before the invigilator collected the papers, you glanced to the left front, then secretly changed it to B, just like Olivia Thorne.” “Iris Hayes, do you admit this point?” The bit of ignoble secret in my heart had nowhere to hide under the bright, fervent sunlight outside the window. I remained silent, unwilling to speak. Kyle Gilbert asked me one last time, his gaze scrutinizing: “Yes, or no.” In the quiet, spacious office, my gaze was fixed on the floor, and I painstakingly uttered: “No.” In the face of such evidence, any defense seemed pale. But I still slowly and stubbornly spoke: “I didn’t peek at Olivia’s paper.” “I was just looking at the clock. The exam room clock was half a minute fast, and I was checking if there was still time to make changes.” “Looking at the clock? Iris Hayes, how much credibility do you think that excuse has?” Kyle Gilbert sneered, pressing closer, as if he wouldn’t stop until this accusation was pinned on me. Even the principal, at this moment, sternly spoke: “Malice will only harm yourself in the end, Iris Hayes. I hope you’ll be honest.” “I didn’t, the exam room clock was half a minute fast, you’re being unfair!” My voice was loud, my eyes red-rimmed, as if I wanted to vent all the years of indignation. Again, the word “fairness.” Kyle Gilbert beside me impatiently closed his eyes. But where in the world is there absolute fairness? “Then is that half-minute you overran fair to Olivia Thorne? And fair to the other students? The surveillance now shows you cheated in violation of regulations. Do you want to tell me what ‘fairness’ even means?” The young man’s questions came one after another, so sharp they left me speechless. I stared at him blankly, my eyes slowly welling up. I suddenly found I couldn’t understand him anymore. “Didn’t you say it, Kyle Gilbert?” My voice was very soft, stubbornly confirming this with him. “Our school clock was half a minute fast.” The atmosphere dropped to zero. The young man’s thin lips gradually tightened into a cold, flat line. The homeroom teacher hesitantly spoke: “Didn’t Kyle already have someone adjust that clock?” The silent air was broken by that sentence. My face went pale, my body rigid. I couldn’t utter another word. The fairness I had desperately pursued suddenly seemed ridiculous at this moment. Just then, a student suddenly ran in, breathless. “Principal, Mr. Thorne is back. He said he wants to see you again.”

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At the engagement party, just to cheer up a junior I knew who was battling cancer, Julian snapped off every single one of my freshly manicured nails. “Girls are vain and have short tempers; they can’t stand anyone else stealing the spotlight,” he said, a patronizing smirk playing on his lips. “She saw your nails and threw a fit, demanding the same design. But she’s in a critical phase of chemotherapy; we can’t just let her do whatever she wants.” My fingertips throbbed, a searing pain that brought tears streaming down my face, smudging my makeup. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he pointed at my streaked eyeliner, chuckling, and snapped a picture. “From wedding to funeral! Thanks for your cameo as the zombie bride, [redacted for localization]!” His junior, Kate, then posted the photo online, mocking me and turning me into a laughingstock. Julian actually tried to tell me to be more understanding. “It’s just a joke, why are you arguing with a sick person?” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “It’s rare for Kate to be so happy. I’ll give you a thousand dollars. Tomorrow, shave your head too.” I stared at his self-righteous face. No tears, no outbursts. I simply canceled the engagement and arranged my studies abroad, all in one swift motion. “Just because I smiled a few times, you want to break up?” Julian asked, utterly bewildered. I nodded. “Yes, exactly because of that.” 1. For years, as childhood sweethearts, I never imagined it would come to this. Julian, who had always treated me like a precious treasure, would brutally break my nails for a junior who meant nothing to him. “This is what you deserve.” He loomed over me, his voice dripping with disgust. “Did you really think I don’t understand women’s petty games?” “Kate’s delicate, her face swollen from her illness, unable to wear makeup or dress up. You knew she had body image issues, yet you insisted on having her as a bridesmaid, deliberately standing beside her, radiant and beautiful. Weren’t you just trying to humiliate her, to push her to her death?” Stage lights flickered, illuminating my bleeding fingers. Tears fell silently. This meticulously planned engagement party was supposed to be the celebration of my love. But because of Kate, I had to appear barefaced, without any makeup or elaborate hairstyle. The custom-made gown I’d chosen months ago had been replaced, seemingly as a cruel prank, with a somber black dress. “Kate is seriously ill; you need to be patient with her.” This was Julian’s constant refrain. He knew I was suffering immense injustice. He knew Kate wasn’t as innocent as she seemed. Yet, he indulged her every whim, letting her cross my boundaries again and again. Even when Kate slipped something into my drink before the ceremony, he excused it as youthful mischief, a momentary impulse. “Why would a living person compete with someone who’s dying?” he’d pleaded. “Considering Kate might not have many years left, be generous, just let her have her way.” I was deeply disappointed and wanted to storm out right then and there. But Julian softened his tone, taking my hand and promising, “My kindness to Kate is purely out of a mentor’s responsibility. I’ll keep anyone who offends you far away. After the engagement, I’ll send her to a hospice. After that, her life or death will be none of my concern.” He spoke with such apparent sincerity. I couldn’t abandon two decades of shared history. So, I swallowed my pride, looking disheveled and worn, as I toasted the guests. When we reached Kate’s table, she stared at my freshly done manicure, then suddenly covered her face and burst into tears. “Oh, Julian, I wish I could be healthy!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Even someone as plain as her has the right to look nice. And I’m still so young, yet I can’t even use skincare products, let alone get a manicure!” She sobbed pitifully, her small frame shaking as if she might collapse at any second. “Kate!” Julian’s face darkened, his gaze filled with hatred as he looked at me. “Alice, I truly misjudged you. To secure your position as Mrs. Sterling, you’ll stoop to any dirty trick.” “What good does it do you to drive Kate insane? She’s already suffered enough, orphaned and alone, working her way through college, only to be struck down by a terminal illness just as her life was beginning!” he ranted. “Life is unfair. If only it were you who was dying!” His vicious words pierced my chest like a thousand blades. I stood frozen, my blood running cold. “Julian, you are my fiancé,” I said, gripping my trembling hand, trying to suppress the stinging in my eyes. “You’re siding with an outsider, humiliating me in front of everyone. Is this what you call love?” Julian froze. He saw my tears, heard the guests’ whispers. Instinctively, he wanted to soothe me, but Kate clung to him, stopping him. “Julian, if you choose her, I’ll stop my medication and leave the hospital tomorrow!” she wailed. “You promised you’d never abandon me, no matter what!” In the silent tension, Julian hesitated, his expression shifting from internal struggle to cold resolve. “I’m sorry, Alice.” He had made his choice. He grabbed my hand, avoiding my reddened eyes. In front of all the guests, without even a pair of scissors, he snapped off my nails. “I told you, no showing off at the engagement party,” he muttered, his voice cold. “You were in the wrong here. If I don’t teach you a lesson, Kate will resent me.” The sharp pain spread through my entire body. Looking at Julian’s determined profile, I distinctly heard something shatter within me. “Twenty-two years,” I said, staring at him. “Twenty-two years we’ve known each other, and this is how you treat me.” He pretended not to hear, showing no sign of softening. Instead, amidst the teasing cheers of his friends, he let out a couple of strained laughs. “Don’t be mad, they’ll grow back. Just think of it as making Kate happy. You haven’t really lost anything.” Kate, camera in hand, also leaned in, smirking. “Good women don’t need manicures. Julian’s doing it for your own good. Come on, let’s take a group photo! Such a dramatic moment, everyone should see it!” The crowd erupted in laughter, aiming their cameras at my bare, mangled fingers, snapping pictures relentlessly. My heart had completely turned to ice. I didn’t cry. I simply watched everything with a blank stare. Then, I pulled off my engagement ring and threw it at Julian’s face. “The engagement is off. From this day forward, you and I are strangers.” 2. With the main character gone, the much-anticipated engagement party ended abruptly and chaotically. I went back to my dorm alone, bandaged my fingers, and started packing. Many things were already prepared, meant for moving into our shared home after graduation and the engagement. Now, it was all unnecessary. Kate even posted on social media: “Julian, my hero, saved me! I can only repay him by giving myself to him.” The accompanying picture showed her wearing my silk pajamas, sitting on the bed I’d picked out for our home, embracing Julian with her face pressed against his. Someone commented below: “Isn’t Julian with Alice from the finance department? Did he switch fiancées?” Kate immediately replied: “Good men are for the taking. Alice couldn’t hold onto him, so he fell into my lap, didn’t he? Just to be clear, I’m not a home-wrecker. I’m just doing what’s right.” I refreshed the page, and the post was gone. I had no desire to argue with her. But as I packed away a framed family photo from my desk, Julian’s relentless defense of Kate brought a wave of sorrow. Julian always talked about how pathetic Kate was. But he forgot that my parents died young, my relatives moved in, and I lived like a ghost for years, scrubbing laundry for an entire family in the dead of winter, my fingers raw and bleeding, the scars etched deep into my bones. It was Julian who pulled me from that hell. He fought for my inheritance, battled for custody, and when he tended to my wounds, his tears fell like rain on my palms. “As long as I live, no one will dare mistreat you.” Such a precious promise from our youth. I believed in his sincerity, believed I was irreplaceable. Now, it seemed, I was nothing more than a fleeting distraction. “Are you still mad?” Julian asked, finally calling me after I hadn’t come home for days. He clearly felt he’d pushed things too far. “It was just a joke. You’re not going to be this petty, are you?” “Kate is young and hot-headed; she gets carried away. I was afraid of making a scene, and even more afraid she’d have an accident if she got too upset. That’s why…” Blood rushed to my head, and I slammed my phone down, unable to control my shout. “Just because she’s sick, I deserve to be walked all over?” “Don’t make excuses. I can see it. Kate likes you, and your feelings for her are more than just a mentor’s concern.” Caught red-handed, Julian became enraged. “So what if it’s true? Kate is innocent and sweet, never fighting for anything. She doesn’t have long to live, and her last wish is just a little affection from me. Why shouldn’t I give it to her?” “Alice, you’re so selfish. Haven’t I been under your thumb for over a decade? Do I need your permission to care about someone now?” My heart bled. I blinked through swollen eyes, wanting to say something, but in the end, I just fell silent. I mailed back all the love letters and gifts Julian had given me over the years. Along with the dust-covered house we’d planned to share, I transferred it to a real estate agent. “You’re really cruel.” Julian’s anger turned into a mocking laugh. “Alice, you’re an orphan. You haven’t had a real home in years. I was willing to marry you, to give you all the security you needed, materially and emotionally. It’s just one Kate, what’s the big deal?” Seeing my unwavering resolve to cut ties, Julian’s temper flared. “Fine, break up! Am I begging you to marry me?” He tossed the engagement ring down the drain, demanded I reimburse him for all our shared expenses, and then blacklisted me from every company in the city. “Come back when you realize your mistake,” he said coldly. “Without me, who’s going to care about you?” I didn’t back down. I struggled to make a life for myself under the immense pressure, watching coldly as he took Kate on trips around the world, indulging in lavish escapades. “Julian says he doesn’t want me to have any regrets in life,” Kate’s social media feed updated daily. She flaunted their affection, making sure I saw it. “A chapel in Switzerland, with the priest as our witness. I’m the most beautiful bride in my lover’s eyes.” “Even though we don’t have a marriage certificate, Julian is willing to humor me, and that’s enough.” No one liked her posts. Everyone knew that this doting “mentor” had once been my fiancé. Only Julian’s comment hung there, solitary and exposed: “Illness can’t take away memories; you are my eternal moonlight.” Thanks to these two, I became the laughingstock of the entire university. Everywhere I went, I was pointed at and whispered about. “She hasn’t even married into money yet, and she’s already been cast aside.” “She doesn’t have the fortune to match her airs, but she acts like she’s too good for everyone.” “No wonder Julian didn’t want her. You wouldn’t even take a woman like that if she were free.” The rumors swirled around me, but I pretended not to hear them. It wasn’t until the list for graduate school admissions was posted, and my name was replaced by Kate’s, that I realized the full extent of Julian’s malice. He was truly trying to destroy me. “Kate wanted this spot, so I gave it to her,” he said, looking down at me condescendingly. “You weren’t exactly kind to her before, so consider this your apology. From now on, coexist peacefully and don’t stir up trouble for me.” 3. I stood there, stunned and disbelieving. “You reported me for academic fraud?” Julian’s eyes darted away, unable to meet my gaze. “Studying for her master’s was Kate’s dream. She worked so hard, from early mornings to late nights, she barely even ate.” “And you know, she’s a cancer patient. If she keeps pushing herself like that, how will her body cope?” Apparently convinced of his own logic, Julian straightened his posture. He pulled out a black credit card and threw it at my face. “Anyway, you don’t have anything to do, so why don’t you go to the hospital and take care of Kate?” “Your parents also died of cancer, so you have experience. Being a caregiver would suit you. There’s a thousand dollars on the card; I’ll add more if it’s not enough. And remember to cut your hair. Kate can’t stand anyone prettier than her.” Julian’s tone was self-righteous. I felt like I had plunged into an ice-cold abyss. The last flicker of hope in my heart completely extinguished. “Julian, you treat me with such contempt. Is it because you think I have no way to retaliate, or because you’re so sure I’m soft-hearted and will always give in to you?” I stared at him coldly, my voice like ice. “Asking me to care for your mistress? Aren’t you afraid that in my anger, I might add something to her medication, ending up with two deaths?” Julian’s face went pale, his eyes filled with a guilty flicker. “How did you know Kate was pregnant…?” I curled my lips into a cold smile. Julian thought I was too stupid. I had seen him when he loved me, so when he became distant and distraught over someone else, I was the first to notice. “Stop pretending to be so devoted. It’s disgusting.” I slapped the ultrasound report onto Julian’s face. The evidence was undeniable, leaving no room for argument. “You two got together years ago, when I recommended Kate for that work-study position in the lab.” “You used to tell me I was too suspicious, checking your phone and questioning your whereabouts constantly, treating you like a child.” “But honestly, was I wrong to check?” My nose stung, and I fought back tears, sneering. “You cheated first, driving me to the brink of madness, and now you blame me for not being magnanimous enough.” Julian was speechless. “It’s not what you think.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “That day, the hospital sent a chemo notification, Kate was upset and had too much to drink. She insisted on experiencing what it was like to be in love, and I just couldn’t refuse her.” Even he seemed embarrassed by his own words. After a moment of stammering, he finally promised, “If it bothers you, the baby doesn’t have to exist.”

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My company clawed its way up from a back-alley workshop to an industry titan, and it was all thanks to me – the cornerstone who raked in billions. The entire company treated me like royalty. My boss, overflowing with gratitude, publicly promised me free rein over any resource I wanted, no questions asked, no corporate red tape. But the new agent didn’t get the memo. She didn’t just reassign all my high-end endorsements to a rookie; she even made me hold the train of her new favorite starlet on the red carpet. Her reasoning? “Washed-up old-timers should make way for new talent. You’re just a background player now.” I nodded, posted a quick message on social media, packed my bags, and walked out. The next day, my boss rushed back overnight, bringing her along, and they both knelt outside my door. My social media post had been liked and pinned by the CEO of a rival media company, rocketing to the top of the trending topics. 1 “V&G’s global ambassador for this fall’s collection? The company’s decided to sign Lily next month.” Eliza Braga. A golden-ticket agent who’d parachuted into the company three days ago. She slid a termination agreement across the table towards me. V&G – a top-tier luxury brand I’d represented as their Asia-Pacific face for five years. And Lily? She’d only just made a tiny splash after two web series. A fresh face the company had just signed. Eliza saw I was still leaning back in my chair, unmoving, and lifted her chin. “Summer Hayes, you’ve peaked. But for the company to grow, we need to cultivate new talent.” “Lily has immense potential. This endorsement will help her quickly gain national recognition. As a member of this company, you have an obligation to cooperate.” I finally lifted my gaze to meet hers. “Is this Arthur’s decision?” Arthur Price. The company’s CEO. Back when Starlight Entertainment couldn’t even make payroll, I worked grueling shifts for zero pay, filming countless projects back-to-back, pulling the company back from the brink of bankruptcy. I alone was responsible for ninety percent of the company’s revenue. It’s safe to say Starlight wouldn’t be where it is today without me, Summer Hayes. Just last year, at the annual gala, Arthur had publicly declared to the entire company that I could use any resource I wanted, with no one to interfere. But Eliza, seeing me invoke the CEO’s name, merely scoffed. “Mr. Price is a busy man. For trivial matters like this, I, as an agent, can decide. He entrusted your contract to me, which shows his faith in my professional judgment.” She pulled out a rather simple script from her bag and placed it on top of the endorsement termination agreement. “Of course, the company won’t mistreat you. There’s a short series project here; you can pick any role you like. While it’s a short series, the production team is quite competent. Do well, and you could still make waves.” Me, a top-tier, multi-award-winning actress, starring in an unknown short series? The audacity. I couldn’t be bothered with her. I just picked up my phone and dialed Arthur’s number. It rang five or six times before he picked up. “Summer, why are you calling so early?” I cut straight to the chase: “The new agent has pulled my high-end endorsement, saying she wants to use it as a stepping stone for Lily. I just want to confirm, is this your decision?” There was a noticeable pause on the other end. After a moment, Arthur cleared his throat. “Summer, Eliza mentioned this to me yesterday. You know, the company needs to nurture fresh blood. You’re not short on endorsements, are you? It’s not worth arguing over a little piece of the pie with a young girl.” The back of my hand, gripping the phone, tensed, veins protruding. “Arthur, are you really going with this?” He chuckled awkwardly. “Eliza’s new; you should give her some respect, don’t always act like the untouchable star. Let’s think about the bigger picture. I’m still with some investors on the golf course. We’ll talk when I get back to the office later, alright?” The call was abruptly ended. Eliza watched me, perfectly composed, a smirk playing on her lips. “Hear that?” “Your track record used to be impressive, but this year’s just begun. You need to face reality and stop thinking the company can’t function without you. Mr. Price handed me your full contract, so I have the authority to plan all your work. This endorsement, you will give it up today. And this series, you will join the cast.” Eliza and her entourage stormed out. I stared at Arthur’s name on my phone, then removed him from my starred contacts. Afterward, I instructed my assistant, Ashley: “Find my contract and all associated agreements from over the years. Every single one.” 2 The next day, at the Starlight Gala red carpet. In previous years, my gown would be the top design of the season, flown in and attended to by personal stylists. But this year, my dressing room was still empty moments before it was time to leave. Ashley was frantic, making countless calls, only to get the same reply: “Agent Braga is arranging it; please wait.” Just then, the dressing room door swung open. Eliza walked in, her heels clicking, followed by Lily, resplendent in a shimmering, starry gown. I recognized that dress—it was the very same top-tier haute couture piece confirmed to me in photos, a global exclusive. Lily smiled at me, her face brimming with smugness. “Summer, isn’t this dress just gorgeous? Eliza said I’d shine on the red carpet tonight.” Eliza eyed her creation with satisfaction, then pulled out a garment bag. “Considering Lily’s commercial value, the company decided, after careful deliberation, to give the haute couture to her. This is your gown. Time’s almost up, hurry and change!” Ashley took the bag and opened it. Inside was a black, long dress, outdated in style, and utterly unremarkable. It had even been worn before by some third-rate actress. Ashley’s eyes welled up with anger. “Agent Braga, what is this? Summer can’t wear this!” “And why not?” Eliza’s face immediately darkened. “The company treats everyone equally. Given her current status, this is perfectly suitable. What’s wrong with an older design? It’s still haute couture, paid for by the company. Smaller companies would kill for it! The red carpet is about to start. If you don’t change, the damage to the company, you won’t be able to afford even if you’re all fired!” “You—” I pulled back a fuming Ashley, merely gazing at my reflection in the mirror. Fifteen minutes later, I had changed into the black dress. Eliza scrutinized me, then sneered. “Not bad. This color will be perfect for accentuating Lily.” I ignored her. But unexpectedly, just before we were about to go out, she grabbed me again. Eliza pointed to Lily’s gown. “Lily’s train is too long. The red carpet will be crowded, and it wouldn’t do for someone to step on it. You’re just a plus-one today, so you can help her hold up her train. Taking care of junior colleagues is also something you should do.” At her words, the room fell silent. Ashley’s face flushed crimson, her fists clenched. “Eliza Braga, don’t you dare go too far! Make a top-tier star hold the train for a rookie, in front of everyone? You’re deliberately trying to humiliate Summer!” I stopped Ashley from exploding. Looking at Eliza, I asked, each word deliberate, “Is this Arthur’s decision too?” Eliza smirked, her triumph evident. “Mr. Price specifically instructed that all red carpet arrangements tonight are to be handled by me. Your job is to be a background player, to fully support the new talent. The company’s PR statements have already been sent out. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll have no choice but to freeze all your endorsements and contracts for insubordination. Summer Hayes, everything you have is currently in the company’s hands. I don’t care what privileges you had before; from now on, you must comply with all company decisions.” I clenched my jaw. I dialed Arthur’s number again. The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered. This was the first time in all these years that he hadn’t picked up my call. Meeting Eliza’s triumphant gaze, I lowered my eyes and nodded. “Alright.” As soon as the red carpet event ended, the topic “Washed-up Star Summer Hayes Holds Train for Rookie” soared to the top of the trending topics. On social media, my fans and Lily’s fans were engaged in a fierce war of words. Yet, the company’s PR department did nothing, allowing the controversy to escalate. In just one short hour, Lily’s followers surged by several million! 3 The red carpet drama was still unfolding. The next morning, Eliza called me into her office again. She was in excellent spirits and even offered me a cup of tea. “Last night’s event was quite effective. Lily’s national recognition skyrocketed overnight.” Next, she pushed another script towards me. “Strike while the iron’s hot. This series, I want you to mentor her through it.” The script’s cover bore two bold words: Chasing Light. The author, Clara Vance, was a dear friend of mine for ten years, and now one of the hottest literary sensations in the online fiction world. Every story she penned became a hit, making her work incredibly valuable commercially. Chasing Light was her passion project, and also a gift she wrote for my thirtieth birthday. She explicitly stated that the film and TV rights would only be sold to my company, and only I would play the leading role. Eliza clearly knew the weight of this series, a smile playing on her lips. “Clara’s team has confirmed; the rights will be signed to Starlight. The company has decided to make this series a top-tier, S+ project this year.” She paused, tapping her finger on the script. “However, for the leading lady, the company has new considerations. Lily’s image aligns very well with the character’s early stages, so the company plans to cast her. As for you, you can play the supporting female lead. It’s a very likable character, and it shouldn’t be too challenging for you.” I almost laughed at her audacity. Using a gift from my friend to promote a rookie, and then expecting me to play second fiddle to her? “Eliza Braga, you’re dreaming.” “This is the company’s decision,” she said, unfazed. “As a member of the company, for the company’s growth, you must comply.” Soon after she left, my phone rang. It was Clara, her voice filled with barely suppressed fury. “Summer, is that Eliza Braga at your company insane? She just called me, saying Chasing Light is for Lily to play the lead, and for you to play the second lead! I refused on the spot, told her no one but you would play the lead in this script, or I’d rather let it rot on my computer! And then guess what that woman said?” “She said I’d already sold the rights to Starlight, so Starlight calls the shots now. And that I’m just a writer, I shouldn’t think too highly of myself!” Clara was panting with rage. “Not only did she insult me, she also said you’re a washed-up actress now, lucky to even get a role, so I shouldn’t be picky! The worst part is, I called Arthur, and he actually played coy with me! Said it was all for the company’s development??? Has he forgotten how the company started? What an idiot!” I gripped my phone, my knuckles white from the pressure. I remembered years ago. Back then, I was a nobody. The company was on the verge of bankruptcy. I landed a cosmetics endorsement and excitedly called Arthur to share the good news. That day, he was even more thrilled than I was, getting completely drunk at the celebration dinner. He grabbed my hand, his eyes red-rimmed, repeating over and over: “Summer, you’re the savior of our company! From now on, the company is your home, and I’m your big brother! Do whatever you want, and if anyone dares to give you a hard time, I’ll be the first to go after them!” His excitement and sincerity back then felt like yesterday. But now, it had become so alien. At this moment, the last shred of sentiment I held for him was completely severed. “Clara, don’t be angry yet. Chasing Light was just a verbal agreement back then; I deliberately delayed the paperwork. Since they’re being dishonorable, don’t blame us for finding another company to work with!” After hanging up, I scrolled through my contacts to another name: Danny Vance. The CEO of Stellar Media, and Starlight Entertainment’s biggest competitor. For three years, he’d tried to poach me no less than a hundred times. The phone was answered almost instantly, Danny’s deep voice coming through. “Summer Hayes? What a rare treat.” I got straight to the point: “Mr. Vance, I’m bringing Clara and all the rights to Chasing Light to sign with Stellar. There’s only one condition: I must be the lead actress in this series.” Silence on the other end for three seconds, followed by a soft chuckle from Danny. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for three years. I agree to all your conditions. Just come, without worry.” 4 The next morning, the news of Chasing Light officially announcing Summer Hayes as its lead actress, personally released by screenwriter Clara Vance, instantly captivated the entire internet. My fans celebrated, overjoyed to tears. The general public also expressed immense anticipation for this explosive combination. The topic quickly climbed, directly topping the trending charts. Arthur Price, on a business trip in a neighboring city, saw the news—my photo with Clara and the overwhelming praise. He immediately messaged me: “Summer, such great news about Chasing Light having a press conference, why didn’t you tell me in advance? As your boss, I must be there to support you.” I looked at the message, didn’t reply, and just turned off my phone. The next morning, at the press conference. I was holding the microphone, thanking Clara for her trust and the company for its support, when the back door of the venue suddenly opened. Arthur, with Eliza Braga in tow, strode in confidently, beaming. He walked directly onto the stage and naturally took the microphone from the host. “Hello everyone, I’m Arthur Price from Starlight Entertainment. Summer is our company’s most outstanding artist, and Chasing Light is our most important core project this year. Starlight will spare no effort to invest all resources to present the best possible work to everyone.” He spoke with grandiloquent enthusiasm, but the media in the audience exchanged bewildered glances. Finally, a reporter couldn’t help but raise a hand and ask, “Mr. Price, aren’t you mistaken? As far as we know, the production company for Chasing Light is Stellar Media. And today’s press conference is also hosted by Stellar Media.” Arthur’s smile froze. He stared blankly at me, then at the massive Stellar Media logo below the stage. Just then, Danny Vance slowly emerged from backstage and stood beside me. He took the microphone, offering Arthur a slight smile. “Mr. Price, I believe you are mistaken. Today, Stellar Media is holding a welcome ceremony and new series launch press conference for our newly signed actress, Ms. Summer Hayes.” Danny paused, his gaze sweeping across the entire room. It finally settled on Arthur and Eliza’s pale faces. “Oh, and by the way, I’d like to extend a special thanks to Mr. Price. If it weren’t for your short-sightedness, your self-sabotage, in handing over such an excellent actress and such a top-tier project to us, Stellar would never have had the chance to pick up such a massive bargain.”

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