Category: English

1 After relinquishing my seat as the billionaire’s wife to a penniless university student, my former mother-in-law compensated me with fifty billion euros and promptly shipped me off to Eastern Europe. During those years in Eastern Europe, I opened a small flower shop in a quaint seaside town. I found a new social circle, fell in love with a new boyfriend, and was on the verge of getting married and starting a family. Then one day, the door to my flower shop burst open. An old friend stood there, her face a mask of shock as she blurted, “You’re still alive? Why didn’t you go back to London to find Aaron Britton? Do you have any idea how frantically he’s been searching for you all these years?” I simply offered a faint smile, holding up the ring on my finger. “But I’m already married and have a child.” The words hung in the air, instantly chilling the atmosphere to an unsettling silence. At my friend’s urgent, silent prompting, I turned my head. Aaron Britton stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his noble, frosty eyes fixed on me. But my mind drifted back to our third year of marriage, when Aaron confessed he’d fallen for a university student named Alice. He asked for a divorce, offering to leave with nothing. I cried, I raged, I even begged him, casting aside all my dignity. Yet Aaron merely looked at me with cold indifference. “Mora, I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore.” I ran to Alice’s university like a madwoman, creating a scene that solidified her reputation as the other woman. Alice, in turn, hated me enough to run me over with her car. Lying in a pool of my own blood, my first thought was to send Alice to jail. But Aaron rushed back that very night, kneeling by my hospital bed, pleading. “Mora, please, let her go. She’s so young. I won’t divorce you; I’ll come back to the family. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” In that moment, watching him beg so humbly for another woman, I felt my heart twist into a knot of agony for the first time. But I loved him too much, loved him enough to agree to his terms. For the next three years, Aaron indeed cut all ties with Alice. Everyone said he’d turned over a new leaf. He came home punctually every day, remembered all my preferences, brewed me ginger tea during my period, and held me tight when I had nightmares. But once, while we were dining at a restaurant, he got into a furious brawl defending a harassed waitress. The moment I recognized her face, a chill colder than ice spread through me. He pulled a business card from his inner pocket and handed it to Alice, his voice low. “Go see this person. He’ll arrange a decent, easy job for you.” Alice suddenly looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and knocked the card to the floor. “I don’t want any of this. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, is just you. Aaron Britton, only you.” Alice’s tears streamed down her face. “For three years, I thought about you every single night, unable to sleep.” “I secretly went to our old dating spots and just sat there all day long.” “Aaron, why can’t we be together when we clearly love each other?” Her sobs were heart-wrenching. Aaron looked at her anguished face, his eyes swirling with profound pain and struggle. “How do you think I feel? But only by returning to my family could I protect you.” “Alice, please listen.” He turned to leave, but Alice suddenly lunged at him from behind, kissing him fiercely, heedless of their surroundings. Hidden behind a planter, I watched, transfixed, as Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobbed, making a final, desperate struggle. Then, he cupped the back of her head with one hand and passionately, fiercely, returned her kiss. I stood there, my blood seeming to freeze in my veins. I thought my heart had died three years ago, that it couldn’t ache anymore. But I was wrong. A dead heart could still be tormented. Now, seeing the undisguised passion and adoration in his eyes, I suddenly felt like those three years of steadfastness had been a colossal joke. 2 I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I turned and stumbled towards the elevator. A large hand suddenly reached out from the side, clamping over my mouth. It was the drunk man Aaron had beaten. “That was your man, wasn’t it? He beat me up, so I’m going to make you pay.” “Thump!” A heavy punch landed on my abdomen, followed by a rain of fists and slaps on my body and face. My consciousness slowly blurred, and I finally collapsed onto the floor like a broken rag doll. Just as I thought I was going to die there, passersby rushed in and saved me. The doctor’s expression was grim after the examination. “Multiple contusions, possibly fractured ribs. We need a family member’s signature.” The nurse in charge dialed the top contact on my phone. It rang for a long time before being answered. The other end was quiet, then came a series of sounds that made my cheeks flush. A few seconds later, Aaron’s voice, feigning calmness, came through the phone. “Hello, Mora, I’m sorry, the company has an urgent overseas video conference. Drive home safely yourself. I’ll be back once I’m done.” He didn’t even wait for my reply before hastily hanging up. Lying in the hospital bed, I forced a smile that was uglier than any cry, my voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t have family. I’ll sign myself.” With the final stroke, my vision completely blackened, and I passed out. When I awoke again, I was in a hospital room permeated with the smell of disinfectant. A familiar, concerned voice spoke by my bedside. “Mora, you’re awake. How do you feel? Does it still hurt?” Looking at his face so close to mine, at the distinct dark red mark visible on his neck, I felt a wave of nausea. Seeing no response from me, he took my hand, his eyes sincere. “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with the man who hit you. No one who harms my Mora gets away with it.” I looked at Aaron, this man I had loved for over a decade, who was now so unfamiliar that he chilled me to the bone. Some mistakes, once crossed, should have been corrected completely. Now I finally understood that some hearts, once they fly away, can never truly return. I slowly withdrew my hand, masking the surging pain and deadness in my eyes, and then nodded gently. Aaron immediately let out a sigh of relief. He thought I had, as always, chosen forgiveness and endurance. 3 After being discharged, I returned to the villa, opened the safe, and took out a yellowed divorce agreement. Aaron’s signature, made three years ago, was in the bottom right corner of the paper. At the time, he had said, “Sign it, Mora. Let’s part amicably.” I had torn the agreement to shreds like a madwoman, throwing it in his face, crying, “Aaron, I’d die before I’d sign this.” Now, looking at this agreement, which I had carefully pieced back together and preserved, I felt nothing but profound irony. With each stroke, I wrote my own name. Once done, I took a picture of the signed agreement and sent it to my lawyer. [Attorney Miller, please expedite my divorce proceedings. All terms as per the agreement, the sooner the better.] After sending the message, I started packing. It turned out that living in one place for so long, leaving only required one night. Aaron didn’t return until the next evening. He carried an exquisite gift bag, a gentle smile on his face. “Mora, look what I brought you. The limited edition bracelet from your favorite brand. I had someone bring it back from abroad.” He walked in and saw me sitting by the window, lost in thought. “You must have been bored from being in the hospital for a few days. There’s a business gala tonight; it’s a good chance to get some fresh air.” I didn’t take the gift, just raised my eyes to look at him. Only then did Aaron notice my suitcase by the wall. “What’s this?” “Just tidying up some old things. Planning to donate them.” I explained calmly, then stood up. The gala was held in the ballroom of a five-star hotel. When Aaron walked in with my hand in his, he attracted many glances. He introduced me to several important partners, behaving thoughtfully, chatting and laughing, giving the impression of a deeply loving couple. I smiled and nodded cooperatively, but my heart was utterly cold. Until a server carrying a tray of drinks approached. It was Alice. Suddenly, without warning, the crystal chandelier overhead detached and plummeted towards Aaron. In a flash, Alice, standing nearby, threw herself forward with all her might, pushing Aaron violently aside as if her life depended on it. “Crash!” The massive chandelier smashed down, landing squarely on Alice. She fell into a pool of blood, instantly losing consciousness. “Alice!” Aaron’s eyes widened with horror, and he lunged forward, kneeling beside Alice like a madman. He suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes roaring, “Call an ambulance, now!” He scooped up the blood-soaked Alice and rushed out, heedless of everything. In his panic and urgency, he even bumped into me, who was standing in his way. I staggered from the impact, hitting my forehead hard against a cold Roman pillar beside me. Sharp pain shot through me, and warm liquid trickled down my temple. I clung to the pillar, barely steadying myself, and when I raised a hand to touch my forehead, it came away scarlet. Aaron, meanwhile, cradling Alice, had vanished from the ballroom like a gust of wind, never once looking back at me. The surroundings were chaos – gasps, murmurs… Someone came over to ask if I was alright, but I felt as if I couldn’t hear anything. Clutching my bleeding forehead, I stumbled out of the chaotic ballroom. I didn’t go to the hospital, but found a nearby clinic for simple disinfection and a bandage. Back home, the villa was empty and still cold. I washed the blood from my face and sat on the sofa, opening my phone. The top trending video in the city was of Aaron. The video was filmed at the renowned St. Michael’s Cathedral on the city outskirts, known for its 999 steep stone steps. It was said that a truly devout person, climbing the steps on their knees, would find their prayers for safety answered most effectively. In the video, Aaron had shed his blood-stained designer suit, wearing only a thin shirt. His expression was solemn, his gaze resolute, as he arduously climbed towards the cathedral at the summit, one step, one kneel, one bow at a time. A reporter nearby held a microphone, asking, “Mr. Britton, who are you praying for? Is it for your family?” Aaron looked into the camera, his eyes tender and firm. “For the person I love most, praying for her safety.” The person I love most… I slammed my phone shut, but the suffocating pain in my chest refused to subside. 4 In the following days, Aaron never returned. Until one day, as I stepped out to throw away the trash, two police officers approached me. “Are you Ms. Mora Thorne? We’ve received a report from Ms. Alice Davies, accusing you of hiring someone to assault her, specifically instructing them to throw acid on her. We need you to come with us to assist with the investigation.” My pupils constricted. I couldn’t believe it. “I hired someone to throw acid on her?” Just then, Aaron walked over. Hearing the police’s words, his face instantly changed. “There must be a mistake, right? My wife couldn’t possibly do something like that.” The police officer’s expression was serious. “We have preliminary evidence: the suspect’s confession and relevant transfer records.” He handed a document to Aaron. Aaron took it, flipping through it quickly. The more he read, the darker his face grew, the colder his eyes became. Finally, he slammed the document onto me, the papers scattering across the floor. “Mora Thorne, tell me, what is this?” I looked down at the papers on the floor, which contained blurry screenshots of bank transfers and a handwritten confession. It stated that a woman named Thorne had instructed him to throw acid on Alice. Before I could explain, Aaron’s voice was icy and resolute. “Take her. Handle it as you see fit.” Then, he didn’t spare me another glance, turning and quickly walking away. He was rushing to see Alice. I spent an entire night in the cold detention center. The next morning, the police informed me that Alice had agreed to a settlement. I signed the papers and walked out of the detention center. Just as I was about to hail a taxi home, someone from behind covered my mouth and nose with a towel. When I regained consciousness, I felt myself stuffed inside a sack, my mouth gagged with a cloth, my hands and feet tightly bound. Faint voices reached my ears; it was Aaron and Alice. “Aaron, do we really have to do this to her? Isn’t it too much? She’s still your wife, after all.” Aaron’s voice was icy. “Too much? Did she think it was ‘too much’ when she hired someone to throw acid on you?” “You’ve undergone three skin graft surgeries, enduring unimaginable pain! I’ll use my own methods to give her a lesson she’ll never forget.” Lying in the sack, my blood seemed to freeze instantly. It was Aaron. He was the one who had me kidnapped, all to avenge Alice. The man I loved most, my husband of seven years, was doing this to me for another woman. Then, I felt the mouth of the sack tighten. Something heavy was then forced inside, pressing down on me. It was rocks. “Mmm… mmm…” I struggled wildly, trying to scream, but only muffled whimpers escaped. The sack was roughly lifted, and with a splash, I was thrown into the icy cold river. The river water instantly surged in from all directions, submerging my mouth and nose, filling my lungs. Suffocation, cold, despair. I thrashed desperately in the sack, but my hands and feet were bound, and the rocks dragged me down to the bottom. Just when I thought I was certainly going to die, the sack was suddenly pulled out of the water. I choked, greedily gasping for the freezing air. But a few seconds later, I was forced back under. This was repeated over and over. Pulled up, pushed down; pulled up, pushed down… a cruel game of cat and mouse. In the fear of imminent death and the extreme cold and pain, countless images flooded my mind uncontrollably. Sixteen years old, a blushing boy handing me a love letter under a cherry tree, clumsy handwriting, burning sincerity; Eighteen years old, at the departure gate of an international airport, he hugged me tightly: “Mora, wait for me to come back. I’ll definitely marry you.” Twenty-two years old, his first attempt at cooking for me; Twenty-five years old, at our wedding, the tears glinting in his eyes as he lifted my veil… Those beautiful, sincere affections and promises I thought would last a lifetime, it turned out they were all lies. Or perhaps they were once true, but later given to someone else. And I, like a fool, clung to the phantom of the past, unwilling to let go. The next time I was pulled out of the water, I finally couldn’t hold on any longer, and I coughed up a large mouthful of blood mixed with river water. Before my consciousness completely faded, I thought I heard Aaron’s cold voice from the bank. “That’s enough! Throw her ashore and let her fend for herself.” I don’t know how long I lay on the riverbank until a faint glimmer of dawn light stung my eyes. I struggled, using my last ounce of strength to open my phone. The screen lit up, and two unread messages popped up. The first was from Aaron: [Mora, since I chose to return to the family, I won’t do anything to betray you again. Please stop hurting Alice. She almost had her face ruined this time, and her mental state is very fragile. I’ll stay with her for a few days and then come back to you.] The second was from my lawyer: [Ms. Thorne, all divorce procedures have been completed. Your divorce certificate has been sent to your home by express delivery. I wish you all the best for your future.] I looked at these two messages and suddenly laughed. I laughed so hard I coughed up more blood, laughed until tears streamed down my face. I blacklisted Aaron’s number without hesitation, then, supporting my bruised and battered body, I shakily stood up. Every step felt like treading on knife blades, and the fractured part of my leg sent excruciating pain shooting through me. But I just bit my lip, moving forward with difficulty, one step at a time. Returning to that cold, empty villa, on the living room coffee table, there was indeed an express delivery envelope. I tore it open, and inside were two dark red divorce certificates. I picked up the one belonging to me and opened it. In the photo, I was wearing the white shirt from our wedding, smiling gently and serenely. I did not pick up Aaron’s. I gently placed the blank divorce certificate in the most conspicuous spot on the coffee table. Then, I turned and picked up the suitcase I had already packed. I took one last look at this place I had lived in for seven years, loved for seven years, and dragged myself through for seven years. No lingering attachment, no looking back. I opened the door and walked out.

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1 My brother was drugged, and I was forced to unbutton my own shirt. After I got pregnant, our parents told us we weren’t biological siblings and told him to marry me. My brother nodded, then went out street racing that same day and got into a terrible car accident. I didn’t care that both his legs were paralyzed; I was absolutely determined to be his bride. I thought he would be moved by my devotion, and that we would grow old together. On our wedding night, the villa caught fire. When I choked awake from the smoke, my very first thought was to drag him out of the inferno. Instead, he smashed a heavy vase over my head. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard his freezing, emotionless voice. “You and our parents destroyed my true love. I’ve already legally transferred all my assets to Chloe as compensation.” “Since you people ruined my life, you can all burn in hell with me.” … I was jolted awake by my brother, Arthur Sterling’s, agonizing, heavy panting. I opened my eyes to see my familiar old bedroom. There were no red wedding decorations, and there was no suffocating, rolling black smoke. I had been reborn. The sheer shock and overwhelming joy made me dizzy. “Mia, get me a glass of water.” Arthur’s low, raspy voice drifted through the wall from the next room, sending a violent shiver down my spine. I glanced at the watch on my wrist, a cold sweat instantly breaking out across my back. I had been reborn on the exact night my brother was drugged. The sticky, horrifying sensation of blood blinding my eyes from my past life, and the agonizing pain of burning alive, seemed to physically hit me all over again. My immediate instinct was to run. To get as far away from Arthur as possible. Before I could even put my shoes on, he was already standing in my doorway. “Mia, I just called Chloe Sinclair. I need you to drive over and pick her up right now.” Even though the drugs were heavily amplifying his lust, I still caught the distinct, unmistakable look of guarded disgust in his eyes when he looked at me. A terrifying, bold thought suddenly bloomed in my mind. My brother had also been reborn. I nodded frantically, grabbed my car keys, and squeezed past him, practically sprinting out the door. Even as I stepped out the front door of the villa, I could feel the intense discomfort of Arthur’s gaze burning into my back. The address Arthur gave me was an apartment near his company headquarters. So, Arthur and Chloe had moved in together this early on. When he said I ruined his true love, he actually meant it. The second Chloe saw my car, she yanked the passenger door open and slid in. “How is your brother doing right now?!” Chloe looked incredibly anxious, but I couldn’t tell if it was just my imagination or if there was a hidden, eager thrill of getting exactly what she wanted dancing in her eyes. “You’ll see when we get there.” I had zero desire to make small talk with Chloe. Not because I was jealous, but because neither my mother nor I had ever liked her. Chloe was an impoverished student whose education was sponsored by my family. Initially, my parents adored Chloe because she was incredibly hardworking, driven, and had phenomenal grades. She was the top scorer in her entire city’s college entrance exams. My parents personally drove her to the capital to start university. My mother was especially happy. Since Chloe was a year ahead of me and had exceptional grades, she could tutor me during my crucial senior year of high school. She was incredibly responsible with me. Every week after our tutoring session, she would give my father a highly detailed progress report. Even after I explicitly told her that my mother was the one managing my academics, she completely ignored me and kept reporting directly to my father. I always felt her eyes radiated a calculating, manipulative shrewdness, but at the time, I just assumed I was being overly sensitive. Until one night, she called my dad, sobbing hysterically that a drunk man was harassing her. When my dad rushed to the scene, she threw herself directly into his arms. My dad was so terrified he threw his hands up in the air, his face turning a sickly shade of green. My mother, who had just parked the car and arrived at the exact same moment, saw the entire thing. Chloe sobbed pathetically, claiming she viewed my dad as a father figure and was just so terrified that she reacted instinctively. My parents verbally comforted her, but after that incident, she was never allowed inside our house again, and my dad never personally handled any of her issues. After graduating college, she wanted to study abroad. She showed up at our house with a basket of fruit, looking incredibly pitiful, and begged my parents for a massive loan. My mother wasn’t stingy. She had her secretary wire Chloe fifty thousand dollars. Right before Chloe left, she came to say goodbye and ran straight into my brother, who had just returned from completing his master’s degree overseas. The very next day, Chloe returned the fifty thousand dollars to my mother. She claimed she had an epiphany: a person should be grounded and practical. She decided to work first and earn her own money to fund her studies abroad. My brother, who was just leaving the house at the time, looked at the plainly dressed but incredibly resolute Chloe. His eyes were entirely filled with deep admiration. 2 A month later, Chloe officially joined our family’s corporation and became my brother’s personal secretary. I warned my brother that Chloe had ulterior motives and was intentionally targeting him. “Mia, not everyone’s brain is completely consumed by childish romance like yours.” Yet, within a year, he moved Chloe directly into his private apartment. I drove like a maniac the entire way. Chloe gripped the “oh shit” handle with a death grip. “Mia, I know you’re upset, but please consider our physical safety!” When Chloe rushed into the villa, I didn’t follow her. Instead, I just sat in the car, zoning out completely. I knew exactly what was about to happen between my brother and Chloe better than anyone. I wasn’t jealous. My horrific, agonizing death in my past life—and the fact that my parents were dragged down to a miserable end because of me—made me realize with absolute clarity that my love for my brother was nothing but lethal poison to him. And the comment Chloe made in the car just now completely validated that brutal truth. “Mia, he’s your brother. Your twisted, disgusting obsession with him is what drove him to flee the country to study in the first place. Now that he has me, you need to give up.” So Arthur had known for a very long time that I was in love with him. He went abroad to study entirely to escape me. If I had known that sooner, in my past life, when I handed him that glass of water and saw him suffering so agonizingly, I never would have unbuttoned my own shirt. Before getting out of the car, Chloe threw one last sentence at me. “You’re a grown woman now. It’s time you found someone appropriate to date and marry.” She was probably terrified I would keep obsessing over Arthur. Don’t worry. I have absolutely zero lingering fantasies about Arthur Sterling. I sat in the car for the entire night. It wasn’t until dawn broke that I finally opened the front door and went upstairs. Arthur, wearing a bathrobe, was walking out of his bedroom. “Where the hell were you last night?” His neck was covered in undeniable, dark hickeys, and his voice was thick, raspy, and languid. “I went to hang out with Lily.” Lily was my best friend; Arthur had met her before. The fact that he still possessed the mental bandwidth to casually ask about my whereabouts made me feel a surge of relief. Maybe he had finally let go of his resentment, and we could cleanly revert back to a normal sibling dynamic. “I know you look down on Chloe’s background and think she’s poor, but let me make this incredibly clear: she is the woman I am absolutely going to marry. Show her some respect from now on.” When did I ever look down on her background? I couldn’t stop a genuinely confused frown from crossing my face. “Wipe that arrogant, superior look off your face. She literally sacrificed herself to clean up the catastrophic mess you caused.” I was even more confused now. “What are you talking about?” Arthur’s patience evaporated. “Are you honestly going to stand there and deny you spiked my drink last night?! Do you have any idea how pure and innocent Chloe is?! She wanted to wait until our wedding night to give herself to me, and you ruined everything!” “I didn’t do it!” I yelled back defensively. Yes, I had been in love with Arthur for years, but I would never, ever resort to such cheap, disgusting, underhanded tactics. “Chloe and I went out for dinner, came straight home, and the only thing I drank was the glass of milk you left on my nightstand! If it wasn’t you, who the hell was it?!” In my past life, I always wondered why my brother never investigated who drugged him. I always assumed he fell for a trap at some business dinner and was too ashamed to bring it up. It turned out he believed I was the one who drugged him. No wonder he hated me so intensely. Hated me so much that he dragged the very parents who gave us their blessing down to hell with him. Hated me so much that he refused to even let the six-month-old child growing inside me take a single breath in this world. My heart tasted like bitter ash, and my eyes burned. “Believe whatever you want, but I am telling you, it absolutely was not me.” Right at that moment, Arthur’s bedroom door cracked open. Chloe, wearing one of Arthur’s oversized dress shirts, peeked out like a terrified, fragile little rabbit. “Arthur, is Mia mad at me?” Arthur shot me a look loaded with intense warning. “Mia would never be mad at you. She’s going to offer us her full blessing.” “You’re absolutely right, brother. Sister-in-law.” I forced a bright smile onto my face. “You saved him. I’ll advocate for you both and convince Mom and Dad to agree to the wedding.” A flash of barely concealed triumph crossed Chloe’s face, while Arthur looked at me with intense, analytical suspicion. What was there to be suspicious about? He was literally willing to die for her. Even if I knew she was a manipulative snake, I absolutely refused to let my parents risk even a single hair on their heads. “Please don’t put Uncle and Auntie in a difficult position. I know I’m not worthy of Arthur. I just want to stay by his side.” Ah, so Arthur has a fetish for manipulative ‘green tea’ victims. No wonder he never loved me. 3 Arthur wrapped his arms around her, looking incredibly heartbroken for her. When he wasn’t looking, Chloe shot me a look of absolute, smug victory. “Mia, my clothes got… torn by your brother. Could I borrow an outfit from you?” Chloe asked with manufactured shyness. “Didn’t I buy you a dress last month? I haven’t seen you wear it once. Since you clearly don’t like it, just give it to Chloe.” That was the dress he bought me for my birthday. Did I not like it? He knew perfectly well I treasured it too much to actually wear it. He was actually taking back the gift he gave me. My heart gave an involuntary, painful squeeze, but it settled almost immediately. Chloe put on my dress and did a beautiful, dramatic twirl. Completely ignoring my presence, she threw her arms around Arthur, acting incredibly coquettish as she asked him if she looked pretty. But none of this triggered me anymore. This time around, my only goal was for my parents and me to stay alive and well. My parents were on a two-week vacation. The very first day they returned, Arthur aggressively and impatiently announced his intention to marry Chloe. When I walked through the front door, the floor was covered in the shattered remains of my father’s teacup. My mother’s face was dark as she rubbed my father’s back to calm him down. Arthur sat directly across from them, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Mom! Dad!” I ran over and threw myself into their arms, fighting with everything I had to hold back my tears. Their expressions instantly softened into absolute warmth and tenderness. “Why are you still acting like such a little kid? You’re all grown up and still throwing yourself at us like this.” My dad affectionately ruffled my hair, and my mom pulled me down onto the sofa next to her. “Your brother wants to marry Secretary Sinclair. What do you think, Mia?” My dad had always favored me, and Arthur immediately shot me a look that was utterly devoid of warmth. “I think it’s wonderful. Chloe and Arthur are a perfect match.” My mom’s brow furrowed deeply. “Do you honestly believe that?” “Mom, Arthur is 26 years old. He has the right to choose his own happiness. All we need to do is support him.” What was the point of not supporting him? We couldn’t stop him anyway. Seeing that my parents still refused to relent… “It doesn’t matter if you like Chloe or not. Arthur likes her. After he gets married, we can just live separately. I’m going to stay with you and Dad forever.” My words visibly softened their expressions. I quickly shot Arthur a pointed look. This was our unspoken, childhood routine. Whenever Arthur wanted to do something my parents disapproved of, it was my job to butter them up and put them in a good mood before he asked. “Mom, Dad, after Chloe and I get married, we will be incredibly filial to you. I am begging you, please agree to this marriage.” Seeing Arthur drop solemnly to his knees, I piled on the persuasion as hard as I could. Realizing there was no room for negotiation, my parents finally nodded and agreed. Arthur got exactly what he wanted—he was going to marry Chloe. The tragedy of my past life definitely wouldn’t repeat itself this time. I slowly uncurled my tightly clenched fists. After my parents went to their room to rest, I went back to my own bedroom. I had just opened my diary, preparing to write, when the door suddenly swung open from the outside. I looked up. It was Arthur. He glanced at my notebook, his face instantly turning a dark, furious shade of green. I had barely stood up when his hand shot out and clamped violently around my neck. “Mia, are you writing down all your filthy, disgusting fantasies about me again?!” His hand was massive, and as his grip tightened, I felt like I was suffocating. “What the hell are you talking about?!” I struggled to force out a few syllables. Arthur snatched my diary off the desk. “When you were a teenager, didn’t you use a diary exactly like this to document your sick, incestuous obsession with me?!” So he really had read my diary. What right did he have to violate my privacy like that?! A mixture of absolute fury and profound injustice exploded in my chest. I used all my strength to violently pry his fingers off my throat. I snatched the diary back and slammed it hard against his chest. “What exactly is your problem?! I gave you and her my full blessing, isn’t that enough?!” “Yes, I used to have feelings for you, and that was my mistake! But I absolutely do not like you anymore! What more do you fucking want from me?!” I rarely ever lost my temper with him. He looked completely stunned. “You love reading my diary so much? Then look at it! I did write about a man in here, but it absolutely isn’t you!” With that, I shoved past him and sprinted out of the house. Sitting in the coffee shop with Lily, she was vibrating with absolute excitement. “Did you really agree to date my brother?! Are you actually going to be my sister-in-law?!” In her overwhelming joy, her voice spiked, drawing stares from the other tables. I quickly reached over and clamped my hand over her mouth. “I… randomly ran into him a couple of days ago, and we just really hit it off.” My face felt incredibly hot. Lily excitedly rubbed her hands together. 4 “Confess right now! My brother asked you out six months ago and you rejected him! How did you guys hook up again?!” Lily’s older brother, Julian Thorne, had indeed confessed his feelings for me six months ago. At the time, my entire universe revolved around Arthur, so I rejected him. After being reborn and desperately trying to fix my mistakes, Chloe and Arthur started aggressively flaunting their relationship in my house every single day. Chloe took every available opportunity to aggressively mark her territory and assert her dominance over him. Even though I backed down completely and repeatedly swore I had absolutely zero interest in Arthur, it didn’t matter. I had no choice. I had to avoid them. Feeling incredibly depressed, I went to a bar to drink. After downing a few too many and feeling incredibly dizzy, a random guy cornered me outside the restrooms and tried to get handsy. I was terrified, tears springing to my eyes, when Julian suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He threw a single, brutal punch that dropped the guy to the floor, completely unconscious. When Julian pulled a literal handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe my tears, I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into laughter. “Julian Thorne, are you an ancient relic? Who even carries a handkerchief anymore?” He helplessly shook the expensive piece of plaid fabric. “Do you have any idea how much this tiny square of fabric costs?” “I don’t care how much it costs, it’s definitely not as convenient as a tissue.” He nodded in reluctant agreement and tossed the outrageously expensive handkerchief straight into the trash can. “Whatever Mia says, goes.” Lily always complained that her brother wasn’t as aloof and aristocratic as my brother. She said he acted like a cynical, irresponsible playboy. But that “irresponsible playboy” had become a terrifying, ruthless titan in the city’s business world. Since taking over the Thorne family corporation three years ago, he had nearly doubled its market value. A tiny handkerchief instantly bridged the gap between us. Whenever I was in a bad mood, I would text him, and he always managed to say something incredibly bizarre and weird that hit my exact sense of humor perfectly. Since being reborn, the only times I actually felt completely relaxed were when I was texting Julian. “I thought elite CEOs were supposed to be swamped with work. How do you have the time to text me all day long?” Julian replied almost instantly. “Because it’s you on the other end, and I absolutely refuse to make you wait a single second. I’ve basically had my phone glued to my hand 24/7 for the past few weeks.” Is this what it feels like to be loved? Arthur never, ever made me feel this way. This time, I wanted to experience what it actually felt like to be loved. I agreed to give it a shot with Julian. I’ve kept a diary since I was a little girl. Lately, the man filling its pages was him. I had no idea if Arthur had actually read it, but the next time I went home, the diary was sitting perfectly aligned on my desk. Arthur hadn’t been home for days, so I took the opportunity to finally tell my parents about me and the Thorne family heir. I held their hands and made them promise that they would always live with me. My parents smiled and nodded, treating me like a child. I didn’t care; they nodded, which meant they were officially bound to stay by my side. That evening, Arthur brought Chloe home for dinner. Dressed head-to-toe in luxury brands, she actually managed to project a decent aura of high society elegance. At the dinner table, my parents weren’t exactly thrilled, but thankfully, they didn’t make a scene. After dinner, we all sat together in the living room. “Arthur, Chloe. We absolutely do not oppose your marriage, but there are a few fundamental things we need to establish upfront.” Arthur had been occasionally glancing at me all evening, his eyes carrying an unreadable, deeply uncomfortable weight. Chloe sat perfectly straight, her eyes practically shining as she stared at my father. “Arthur is getting married, and Mia has a serious boyfriend now too. To avoid any future conflicts, I am telling you both right now: regardless of who is getting married or moving out, our family’s assets will be split exactly 50/50 between the two of you.” Before Arthur could even open his mouth, Chloe blurted out: “That’s completely unreasonable! Mia is a daughter; she’s going to marry into another family! Giving her half is literally just handing your wealth over to outsiders!” My mother hadn’t looked Chloe in the eye the entire night. “You haven’t even married into this family yet, and you’re already trying to dictate our finances? Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?” I looked at Arthur. He looked back at me, the corners of his mouth suddenly curling up into a smirk. “Mia, is your new boyfriend only with you because he’s after our family’s money?” He pulled Chloe into his side. “I agree. Splitting it 50/50 is completely unreasonable.” Chloe leaned heavily into Arthur’s chest. “Mia is just an adopted daughter. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind supporting her financially for the rest of her life. She can just find a random guy to marry and they can both keep living here.” My parents’ faces turned terrifyingly dark. Looking closely, I could see my father’s shoulders trembling slightly. “Who the hell told you Mia was adopted?! You are the one who was adopted!”

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I was reborn on the exact day I originally confessed my feelings to my childhood crush. Surrounded by the cheering crowd, he looked at my tear-stained face and asked coldly, “Mia Harrison, do you really find this pathetic attention-seeking fun?” Then, he turned to the girl standing next to him—his perfect ‘unattainable ideal’—and his voice softened entirely: “Wait for me a minute. I’ll come find you as soon as I deal with this.” He turned back to me, lecturing me impatiently: “Why are you always crying?” “If you have free time, you should try reading a book. Stop obsessing over this romantic nonsense all day…” I was so incredibly annoyed. I shoved him hard, stumbling past him, and threw myself directly onto the notorious school delinquent who was standing behind him, watching the drama. “Hubby…” I buried my face in his chest, sobbing hysterically. Eighteen-year-old Liam Vance was still alive. Everything could still be fixed. 01 Before Liam died, he made me pinky-promise that I would live to be a hundred years old before I came to find him. I promised him, and then I turned around and lied. On the third day after his death, I followed him. Right before I closed my eyes, I even found a convenient excuse for myself. When I saw him, I’d tell him I had a nightmare that he was flirting with other ghost girls in the afterlife, so I had to come check on him. The truth was, I hadn’t slept at all. Without him, I literally couldn’t sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in my 18-year-old body. I was standing in the middle of a crowd, holding a bouquet of flowers, surrounded by relentless chanting and cheering. “Confess! Confess!” The crowd was massive, but my eyes instantly locked onto that blinding head of bleached blonde hair. He was standing in a corner no one was paying attention to. His gaze swept over me—seemingly casual, but incredibly intense. Looking at him, I instantly lost control of my tears. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Arthur Sterling’s voice cut through the noise. “Mia Harrison, do you really find this pathetic attention-seeking fun?” In my daze, I finally noticed the person standing right in front of me. His brow was slightly furrowed, his expression freezing cold. The lively atmosphere instantly died. The awkward silence stretched until Chloe Sinclair finally broke it. “Arthur, we need to finalize the draft for the award acceptance speech.” Arthur turned to look at her. “Wait for me a minute. I’ll come find you as soon as I deal with this.” His expression held a rare, genuine tenderness. Chloe was a top-tier academic prodigy, just like Arthur. People constantly joked that the valedictorian and the salutatorian were a match made in heaven. Chloe would just scoff and reply dismissively: “I’m not one of those pathetic little girls who only has romance and boys in her head.” When she said that, Arthur looked at her with a rare, profound admiration. He had told me the exact same thing once—that he despised girls who only cared about romance. But back then, my brain was exclusively occupied by him. I was actually delusional enough to think that if I confessed to him on my birthday, he wouldn’t embarrass me in public. It was only much later that I realized how deeply he despised feeling emotionally manipulated. Just like he did right now. He snatched the flowers from my arms, looking incredibly impatient. “If you have free time, you should try reading a book. Stop obsessing over this romantic nonsense all day.” 02 I froze. Whispers erupted from the crowd. “Look, Mia is crying.” “She’s been trailing after Arthur for years. Looks like the school beauty just became the school joke.” “Ugh, I feel second-hand embarrassment just watching this.” In my past life, I definitely cried hysterically because of the sheer humiliation. But right now, the only thing I could see was that blonde guy standing in the corner. I stared directly at him, my mouth opening and closing. I was trembling so hard I couldn’t make a sound. The tears just kept streaming down my face. Seeing my reaction, Arthur frowned deeply and let out a heavy sigh. “Mia, why are you always crying?” I was so incredibly annoyed. He wouldn’t stop talking, and he was physically blocking my view. I forcefully shoved Arthur out of the way, sprinting forward and throwing myself onto the boy I had miraculously gotten back. “Hubby…” “Hubby, you’re still alive… thank God, waaaahhh…” His chest was burning hot, radiating that familiar, sunny scent. I held onto him, sobbing so hard I was hiccuping. The body in my arms went completely rigid. “Uh… sis… I think you’ve got the wrong guy?” His face was flushed bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. 03 “Mia Harrison, who the hell are you calling ‘hubby’?!” Arthur’s voice rang out from behind me, laced with unmistakable anger. “How many times are you going to pull this exact same stunt?” Oh, right. In my past life, to make Arthur jealous, I frequently pretended to be overly intimate with other guys. He would get slightly annoyed and then offer some half-hearted coaxing. Except, this time, the guy I chose was the delinquent thug he despised more than anyone else in the school. I ignored Arthur, clinging to Liam and crying even harder. “Waaaah, hubby, you really are still alive…” I couldn’t believe it. My hands instinctively dove under his shirt, desperate to feel his chest and confirm the fatal stab wound from my past life wasn’t there. Liam was absolutely terrified by my actions. “Holy shit! What are you doing?!” I sobbed through my hiccups, “Take your shirt off. Let me see.” His face instantly turned a dark, explosive red. “I am a respectable man!” I cried even harder. “Waaaah, hubby, I need to see it, please, just let me see…” His hands hovered in the air, completely unsure of where to put them. Finally, he lowered his voice in sheer desperation. “Hiss… wait… can we wait until there’s no one around, please?” Watching this spectacle, Arthur’s eyes filled with absolute disgust. “Mia, aren’t you humiliated putting on this kind of show in public?” “I am not going to coddle you this time.” He turned on his heel and stormed off. Without the main attraction, the crowd quickly dispersed, grumbling in disappointment. 04 “Princess, the show’s over. Aren’t you going to let go?” The voice above my head carried a heavy dose of sarcasm. I just shook my head violently, burying my face in his neck, sobbing and hiccuping. “Never. I am never letting go for the rest of my life…” Eighteen-year-old Mia Harrison didn’t have shattered legs. She wasn’t consumed by clinical depression. Eighteen-year-old Liam Vance hadn’t jumped in front of a knife for her yet. Everything could still be fixed. Liam stared at me in disbelief and threatened, “I’m going to walk out of here right now, you know that?” “Mm…” He scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the classroom. The moment we stepped into the hallway, the booming voice of the Dean of Discipline echoed toward us. “Hey! Liam Vance! Instead of being at practice, you’re out here holding a female student?! Are you sexually harassing her?!” I continued to cling to him like a koala, completely unbothered. Seeing my absolute refusal to move, Liam’s face flushed red as he frantically explained: “Reporting to the Dean! The female student broke her leg! I’m carrying her to the nurse’s office!” The Dean’s tone softened considerably. “You little punk. Didn’t know you had a caring side.” Suddenly, the memory hit me. In my past life, Liam had done exactly this. Carrying me all over the world to see specialists for my legs, staying by my side through every grueling physical therapy session. Once the Dean was out of earshot, Liam looked down at me, looking like he was about to lose his mind. “Seriously, Princess, what exactly is your endgame here?” I kept my arms locked tightly around his neck. “Hubby…” He shuddered, his scalp literally tingling. He gritted his teeth. “Do not call me ‘hubby’!! Who the hell is your hubby?!” “You are…” I pouted, looking incredibly wronged. “You’re my favorite, sweetest hubby…” His brain looked like it was about to short-circuit. He reminded me through gritted teeth: “Princess, do you remember who literally threw my love letter in the trash yesterday?” I felt a sudden, massive wave of awkwardness. My timing couldn’t have been worse. Liam had confessed his feelings to me yesterday. And I had viciously stomped his letter into the dirt. “I absolutely despise meathead sports jocks like you. All brawn and zero brains.” Ironically, I was an arts student—all flexibility and zero brains. Honestly, I didn’t actually hate Liam. I only hated him because Arthur hated him. Arthur despised anyone he considered stupid, especially someone like Liam, who had terrible grades and threw his weight around the school. I blinked innocently, offering my most sincere, earnest explanation: “Um, yesterday was actually… a test. I was testing you.” I quickly added a solemn vow: “Hubby, I promise, from now on, I will only ever like you.” The corner of Liam’s mouth twitched violently. “Hiss… can you please stop calling me ‘hubby’?” I shook my head firmly. “No.” He gritted his teeth, finally accepting his fate. “Ugh, whatever… call me whatever the fuck you want…” He looked down at me, still clinging to him like a monkey, and sighed heavily. “But seriously, Mia… “You are a human being, not a primate. Can you please get off me now?” “But I want to hold you a little longer, hubby~” His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. The tips of his ears were burning bright red. Eighteen-year-old Liam was trying to act tough, but he was actually just a soft, easily flustered puppy. 05 Liam ended up carrying me all the way to his Second Great-Uncle’s house. The old man sat in an alleyway, doing fortune-telling and mystical readings, acting cryptic and bizarre every single day. “Uncle, I think she’s possessed.” The old man stroked his beard, taking one look at my tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. “Hmm. Eyes blood-red. She’s definitely got something dark attached to her.” He pulled out a piece of yellow paper and hastily scribbled a talisman on it. “Stick this talisman on her. It wards off evil spirits and demonic attachments.” Liam set me down outside the door and ordered me: “Wait here for a second. Do not follow me. I’ll be right back.” I completely ignored him and stealthily crept right up to the doorframe. I heard him asking in a hushed, secretive whisper: “Uncle… what I actually want to know is… do you have a talisman that will make her stay ‘possessed’ like this forever?” I secretly rejoiced in my heart: You little idiot. You’ve been madly, hopelessly, dangerously in love with me this whole time. Liam, in this life, it’s my turn to run to you. 06 I actually lived with the Sterling family. Our families had been close for generations, and Arthur and I had an arranged marriage setup since we were babies. When I was ten, my parents died in a sudden accident. Arthur had gripped my hand tightly. “Mia, you still have me. I will always stay by your side.” I moved into the Sterling estate, and his parents treated me incredibly well. Since I started dancing at a young age, his mother hired the absolute best instructors for me. My closet was overflowing with beautiful clothes she bought for me. But no matter how good they were to me, I wasn’t their actual child. They were raising me to be their future daughter-in-law. It wasn’t until my legs were shattered and I couldn’t walk normally that they decided a “crippled” daughter-in-law was too humiliating for their family image. They told me: “Mia, we’ve always loved you like our own daughter, and Arthur sees you as his own little sister. Don’t worry, we will definitely find you a good husband.” At the dinner table, Arthur’s parents put food in my bowl and asked about my studies. Remembering what they said in my past life, I found the whole scene incredibly ironic. I set down my chopsticks. “Uncle, Auntie, I want to move into the school dormitories. It’ll help me focus better on my studies, and you both know my academic grades aren’t very good.” They looked visibly surprised. “The dorm environment is so rough, how could you possibly live there?” “Mia, don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Arthur’s grades are excellent; just have him tutor you.” I shook my head calmly. “No, he’s been really busy preparing for academic competitions lately. I shouldn’t bother him.” Arthur’s mother seemed to pick up on something. “Did you two have a fight?” Arthur remained silent. I just smiled. “Not at all. He treats me very well, and I’ve always seen Arthur as my own older brother.” “I’m sure that in the future, he’ll find a daughter-in-law for you who is just as brilliant and exceptional as he is.” Arthur’s gaze snapped to me, pausing for a long moment.

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The daughter I raised with my own two hands stood in the center of the ballroom at my husband’s sixtieth birthday gala and announced to the three hundred guests: “Starting today, my son’s legal surname has been changed to Miller. He’s officially a Miller now, just like his father!” A tomb-like silence swept through the hall. Beside me, my husband, Arthur, gripped his wine glass so hard his knuckles turned a ghostly white. Our daughter, Mia, seemed utterly oblivious to the atmospheric shift. She leaned into her husband, Nathan Miller, clinging to his arm with a saccharine smile. “Dad, Mom, you aren’t upset, are you? Nathan is an only child. The Miller legacy needs an heir, too.” Nathan—the man I once thought was a humble, steady soul—looked at us with a glint of predatory triumph in his eyes. It wasn’t an explanation; it was a coup. I slowly set my silverware down. The clink of porcelain against the table sounded like a gunshot. “Mia,” I said, my voice as steady as a deep, dark lake. “Are you absolutely sure you’ve thought this through?” She flinched slightly under my gaze but quickly puffed out her chest. “Of course! Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. Does it really matter whose name the kid carries?” [Does it matter? Of course it matters.] [She was telling me that my grandson no longer belonged to our family.] [She was telling everyone in this room that the legacy Arthur had built from nothing—a name that stood for integrity and power—stopped with us. She was declaring us a dead end.] 1 The atmosphere of the gala plummeted from celebratory to sub-zero in the span of a single sentence. Around us, our friends and business associates exchanged looks. The whispers began to swarm like hornets. “Wait, what’s happening? Wasn’t the boy named after Arthur?” “How incredibly disrespectful… to do this in public, on his sixtieth? It’s a slap in the face.” Arthur’s face had gone from a flushed red to a sickly, ashen grey. He was a man who had fought his way to the top of the tech industry, a man defined by his dignity. He had never been humiliated like this, let alone by the daughter he worshipped. His hand trembled, the red wine in his glass rippling dangerously. Mia, however, kept pouring gasoline on the fire. She nudged Nathan playfully. “Oh, Dad, don’t be like that. You’re acting like we committed a crime. Nathan and I talked it over—it’s what’s best for our little family. Besides, I’m still your daughter, and Leo is still your grandson. That never changes.” [Never changes?] [No. Starting tonight, everything changes.] Nathan finally spoke. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, the light reflecting off the lenses to hide his calculated expression. He addressed us with a performative respect that didn’t reach his eyes. “Exactly, Arthur, Evelyn. Mia is a Miller now. It’s only natural for our son to carry my family name. We’re all one family, after all. What’s mine is hers.” [One family?] [You live in a house we bought. You work a high-salaried “consultant” job at Arthur’s company where you do nothing. You drive a hundred-thousand-dollar Porsche that I signed for. And now you’re systematically stripping the “Arthur” name away from the next generation to claim the inheritance for your own bloodline?] I saw it clearly now. This wasn’t a discussion. This was an ambush. They had chosen his sixtieth birthday, in front of every influential person we knew, to nail us to the pillar of “the end of the line.” They gambled that we would swallow our pride to save face. They thought that because Mia was our only child, we would eventually roll over. They thought we had no other choice. My fingertips went numb with rage. A dizzying heat rushed to my head. But I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I took a slow, deep breath, pushing the tidal wave of emotion back down. And then, I smiled. It was a soft, thin laugh that sliced through the murmurs, silencing the room instantly. Mia and Nathan’s smug expressions faltered. I stood up slowly, raising my glass to the room. “Tonight is about celebrating Arthur’s sixty years of life and legacy,” I said, my voice carrying clearly to the back of the hall. “Thank you all for being here.” I paused, my eyes locking onto theirs. They were starting to look uneasy. “And just now, our daughter and son-in-law announced a ‘joyous’ development. They’ve decided to focus entirely on the Miller legacy. As parents, we are… enlightened by this news.” I leaned into the word enlightened. “Since you two have made such clear plans for your ‘little family’s’ future, it’s only fair that we start making clear plans for our own.” The color drained from Mia’s face. I didn’t look at her. I turned to Arthur. His eyes were a storm of fury and hurt, but beneath it, I saw him catch my drift. I gave him a small, resolute nod. “Arthur, dear? I think it’s time we took back the keys to that new Cayenne we got for Nathan.” The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioning hum. “Since Leo is a Miller heir now, destined to build the Miller empire, it would be embarrassing for him to be driven around in a car paid for by the family he’s disassociated from. People might think the Millers are struggling if they have to rely on their in-laws for a ride.” I paused for effect. “And we should probably deactivate the business credit cards. A grown man building his own dynasty shouldn’t be using his mother-in-law’s platinum card for his lunches, right?” Nathan’s polished mask shattered. He looked like he’d been stripped naked in public. His face turned a bruised shade of purple. Mia gasped, her voice trembling. “Mom… what… what are you saying?” What am I saying? I’m speaking English, Mia. Keep up. [You wanted the title? Fine. But you don’t get the perks that come with the name you just threw away. If you’re going to stab us in the back, don’t expect us to keep sharpening the knife for you.] I walked around the table until I was standing directly in front of them. Nathan was vibrating with suppressed rage. I held out my hand, my expression perfectly neutral. “The keys, Nathan. Now.” 2 Nathan froze. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, where the heavy fob of the Porsche sat. That car was his trophy. It was his ticket into the country clubs, his proof that he had “arrived.” Taking it back here, in front of everyone, was a social execution. “Mom…” Mia scrambled toward me, grabbing my arm, her voice thick with tears. “What are you doing? It’s just a name! Is it really worth all this? You’re humiliating him!” [Humiliating him? He spent weeks planning this “Red Wedding” of a birthday announcement. He humilated your father in front of his peers. Where was your concern for our dignity then?] I shrugged her hand off coldly. “I’m doing this out of respect for the Miller name,” I said. My eyes were twin needles, sewing Nathan to the floor. “Mr. Miller, do I need to call security to assist you?” “You—!” Nathan’s composure evaporated. The venom in his eyes was naked now. The guests were breathless. This was no longer a party; it was a televised war. I could feel the weight of their stares—some sympathetic, some hungry for the drama. I didn’t care. Reputation is earned, but respect is enforced. If they were bold enough to stage a coup at a birthday party, they would be bold enough to start counting down the days until we died so they could claim the estate. Arthur stood up. He walked over and took my hand, his grip a solid anchor. “My wife is right,” he said, his voice echoing with the authority of a man who had led thousands. “The keys. Give them back.” Nathan’s jaw worked, a vein throbbing in his temple. He looked like a cornered animal. Finally, under the crushing weight of three hundred pairs of eyes, he reached into his pocket. With a jerky, violent motion, he slammed the keys into my palm. I didn’t even flinch. I gripped the keys and turned to the room, giving a polite, shallow bow. “I apologize for the family drama. It seems the celebrations must end early. Arthur and I will make it up to you all soon.” I tucked my arm through Arthur’s, and we walked out of the ballroom without a single look back. Behind us, Mia’s hysterical sobbing and Nathan’s muffled roar of frustration echoed against the gold-leafed ceiling. We didn’t stop. The drive home was a haunting silence. Arthur’s hands were clamped onto the steering wheel, his knuckles white. I could feel the tremors of his heart through the seat. He was holding it in—the betrayal of his only child, the public shaming. I tossed the Porsche keys into the center console and pulled out my phone. “Mr. Higgins? It’s Evelyn. Deactivate every supplementary credit card under Arthur’s account immediately. Yes, all of them. Effective five minutes ago.” I hung up and turned to my husband. “Arthur. Let it out.” The light turned red. The car came to a halt. Arthur slumped over the wheel, his broad shoulders shaking. This man, who was a mountain to the world, let out a low, broken sound—a wounded animal’s cry. I didn’t try to stop him. I just rubbed his back. I knew that the house we had built—the home filled with laughter and memories of a “sweet” daughter—was gone. After a long while, Arthur looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Evelyn… I failed. I spoiled her until she turned into this.” “We both did,” I corrected him. “We thought giving her everything would teach her gratitude. We forgot that greed is a beast that only gets hungrier the more you feed it.” The light turned green. Arthur shifted the car into gear, but his expression had shifted, too. The grief was still there, but it was being paved over by a cold, hard resolve. “You’re right. If they want to play dirty, they’ve picked the wrong opponents.” He picked up his phone and dialed. “Mr. Whitaker? This is Arthur. I need you at the office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. My wife and I need to restructure everything—assets, trusts, the whole estate. We’re starting over.” [Plan B was officially in motion.] 3 The next morning, before we could even leave for the lawyer’s office, the doorbell started ringing like a fire alarm. I knew exactly who it was. Arthur’s face darkened. He started toward the door, but I blocked his path. “Don’t,” I said. “Let them ring. Let them wear themselves out.” [Opening that door would bring the battlefield into our sanctuary. I wasn’t going to let their hysterics stain my floors.] Through the heavy oak door, Mia’s muffled screams were audible. “Dad! Mom! Open up! You can’t do this to us!” “We made a mistake! Let’s just talk! Please!” That was Nathan, sounding significantly less like a conquering hero this morning. I led Arthur to the breakfast nook. We sat there, sipping coffee and eating toast with practiced nonchalance, as if the circus on our porch didn’t exist. Arthur looked at me, his nerves finally beginning to settle. He took a bite of toast, though I could tell he couldn’t taste it. “Your composure is terrifying,” he managed a weak smile. “It’s not composure, Arthur. It’s the coldness of a heart that’s finally seen the truth.” I took a sip of my latte. “Remember: as of yesterday, we are no longer their parents. We are their creditors. And they owe us a debt they can never repay.” My phone buzzed on the table—a number I didn’t recognize. I hit speaker. “Hello? Is this Mia’s mother?” A sharp, screeching female voice pierced the air. I frowned. “Who is this?” “This is Nathan’s mother! My son and daughter-in-law are standing on your doorstep in the freezing cold! How can you be so heartless? What kind of parents are you?!” Ah, the mother-in-law. The cavalry has arrived. I kept my voice flat. “Mrs. Miller, I think you’re confused. First, this is my home. Who I allow in is my prerogative. Second, they are adults. If they’re cold, they can go to a cafe. Third, and most importantly: your son has been living off my wealth, driving my cars, and occupying a ghost position at my husband’s firm for years. As his mother, you should be embarrassed, not indignant. Where did you get the audacity to call me?” There was a stunned silence on the other end. She clearly hadn’t expected me to bite back. A few seconds later, she shrieked, “How dare you! Nathan is a brilliant man! He’s the father of your grandson! So what if he changed the name? It’s just a name! You have so much money—why are you being so petty? You’re just trying to humiliate us because you’re bitter you don’t have a male heir of your own!” Clang. Arthur slammed his fork onto the table. That last line—”no male heir”—hit him like a poisoned dart. I squeezed his hand and leaned into the phone, my voice dropping an octave. “Mrs. Miller, thank you for the reminder. Whether or not our legacy continues is none of your concern.” “Furthermore, I’m giving you formal notice. Your son has forty-eight hours to vacate the apartment we provide for him. If he’s not out, I’ll have the sheriff’s department handle the eviction.” “And as for his job? He’s fired. Tell him not to bother showing up today. Or ever.” I ended the call and blocked the number. One clean motion. Arthur stared at me. There was shock in his eyes, but mostly, there was a sense of liberated relief. “Evelyn… you really did it.” “I did what we should have done years ago.” I stood up. “Let’s go. Mr. Whitaker is waiting.” We drove out through the garage, never opening the front door. In the rearview mirror, I saw Mia and Nathan chasing the car, their faces twisted in panic. Behind them stood a frumpy, middle-aged woman—presumably the mother—shaking her fist at our departing taillights. I looked away. [This is only the beginning.] At the law firm, Mr. Whitaker listened to our story with a grim expression. “Arthur, Evelyn… are you certain about this? Setting up a living trust, moving all assets into it, and leaving the primary beneficiary… blank?” “Yes,” Arthur said, his voice like iron. “My daughter has proven she isn’t fit to steward a single cent of what I’ve built.” “And the secondary beneficiary?” Whitaker asked. I looked at Arthur. He looked at me. We shared a silent, secret smile. I turned to the lawyer. “Mr. Whitaker, I also need you to contact the best reproductive health clinic in the city. I want an appointment with their head of department for a full evaluation.” Whitaker froze, adjusting his glasses as if he’d misheard. “Evelyn, are you saying…?” “I’m saying,” I said calmly, “that my husband and I are going to have another child.” “A child who will actually carry the name. A child who will be raised to know the value of a legacy.” 4 The silence in Whitaker’s office was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the HVAC system. He looked at us, his eyes traveling from shock to confusion, and finally to a strange kind of respect. “I understand,” he nodded, asking no further questions. “I’ll set everything in motion. The trust documents will be ready for your signatures by the end of the week.” When we stepped out of the office, the sun was blindingly bright. Arthur took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling a breath he seemed to have been holding for decades. “Evelyn… I never imagined we’d end up here.” “Neither did I,” I said, tucking my arm into his. “But now that we are here, we walk forward with our heads held high.” [Better to build a new world from scratch than to drown in the mud of the old one.] By that afternoon, the clinic had already called. They were efficient, which I appreciated. When we returned home, the porch was finally empty. Mia and Nathan must have retreated to lick their wounds. But the house felt different—hollow, echoing with the ghosts of yesterday’s screams. I went straight upstairs to Mia’s old room. It was still the “princess suite” we’d designed for her, filled with expensive gifts we’d brought back from every corner of the globe. Arthur followed me, his eyes dimming as he looked at the childhood mementos. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled several large packing boxes out of the closet. “Clear it out,” I told him. He blinked. “Evelyn… everything?” “Whatever doesn’t belong here needs to go.” I started grabbing designer dresses and handbags from her closet, tossing them into the boxes without looking at the labels. These things were worth a fortune. They were monuments to how much we had adored her. [Now I realize they weren’t gifts of love. They were just kibble for a parasite.] As I cleared her desk, I knocked over a stack of books. A pink leather journal fell to the floor. I picked it up. It wasn’t locked. Driven by a dark curiosity, I opened it. Arthur leaned in over my shoulder. The handwriting was unmistakably Mia’s. The most recent entry was dated two days before the gala. [Nathan’s mom is nagging again. She says Leo is almost three months old and we can’t wait any longer on the name change. She’s right. My parents only have me; everything they own will be mine eventually anyway. If we change it now, it’ll make Nathan and his mom feel secure. He’s an only child, too—he needs to feel like he’s providing a legacy.] [I’m a little worried Dad will be mad, but Nathan says, “What can they really do?” We have their only grandson. They won’t cut us off for real. They’ll throw a tantrum for a few days, and then we’ll bring the baby over, let them hold him, and they’ll melt. Then we can ask for the seed money for Nathan’s new firm. No one will look down on him then.] [Nathan has a plan. He’s going to announce it at the gala. In front of all those people, my parents will have to play along for the sake of their reputation. Nathan is so smart. He really knows how to handle them.] Every word was a serrated blade, sawing through what was left of my heart. It wasn’t a whim. It wasn’t a “misunderstanding.” It was a calculated siege. We weren’t parents to them; we were livestock to be harvested. They wanted our money, our status, and finally, they wanted to erase our name while keeping our gold. [Feeding on the legacy. The phrase turned to ash in my mouth.] Arthur was shaking with such fury he snatched the journal from my hands and ripped it into shreds. “Animals! They’re both animals!” His eyes were bloodshot, like a wounded lion. I didn’t stop him. I just pulled out my phone and took photos of the torn pages before they hit the floor. I sent them to Whitaker. [Mr. Whitaker, can these be used as evidence of “subjective malice” or intent to defraud?] He replied instantly. More than enough. Rest assured, I will handle this. I deleted the photos, tucked my phone away, and went back to packing. My movements were faster now, sharper. The last shred of maternal guilt had evaporated the moment I read those words. [Perfect. Now I don’t have to feel bad about what comes next.] [Mia, Nathan… you didn’t just close the door. You burned the house down yourselves.] 5 The next day, Arthur and I were at the fertility center. The lead specialist was a woman in her fifties, Dr. Chen. She was calm, clinical, and didn’t judge. She reviewed our medical histories and current physicals. “Arthur, Evelyn, based on your labs, you’re both in remarkably good health for your age,” Dr. Chen said, looking at me. “Specifically you, Evelyn. At fifty, your ovarian reserve isn’t completely depleted. That’s rare.” Arthur and I shared a look. A spark of hope ignited in the dark. “What are our chances, Doctor?” Arthur asked, his voice tight. “IVF at this age is a mountain to climb,” Dr. Chen said honestly. “The hormone cycles, the retrieval, the implantation—every step is a gamble. And a geriatric pregnancy carries significant risks. You have to be prepared for a war of attrition.” “We’re ready,” I said, not missing a beat. “Whatever it takes.” [I’d sign a contract with the devil himself for a fresh start. A medical battle is nothing.] Dr. Chen nodded. “Very well. Then we begin immediately. Evelyn, you’ll need to follow a strict regimen. Supplements, diet, no stress. We’ll start the first round of stimulation tomorrow.” The following weeks were a blur of needles and vials. Every day, I injected myself with hormones. I took a pharmacy’s worth of pills. My abdomen turned black and blue from the bruising. I was nauseous, exhausted, and my mood swung like a pendulum. Arthur cancelled every non-essential meeting. He was home every day by four, cooking specialized meals, rubbing my feet, and walking with me in the garden. We spoke less, but we were closer than we had ever been. we were soldiers in a trench, fighting for a common goal. Meanwhile, Mia and Nathan were spiraling. After being barred from our house, they tried the “family guilt” card. They started calling my extended family, my siblings, my cousins—anyone who would listen. “Evelyn, have you lost your mind?” my sister called to berate me. “Mia is your only child! How can you be so cruel over a surname?” “The poor girl is struggling! Nathan lost his job! They have a baby!” I didn’t engage. I gave everyone the same answer: “This is a private matter. If you wish to support them financially, feel free. Otherwise, stay out of it.” Then they tried to use the baby as a weapon. Mia sent me photos and videos of Leo every single day. [Mom, Leo smiled today. He misses his grandma.] [Mom, I’m sorry. Please. Don’t you want to see him?] [Mom, if you keep ignoring me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might just take Leo and jump off a bridge!] I looked at the photos of that innocent child—a child I once would have died for—and felt a wave of physiological revulsion. [Using your own son as a ransom note. You really are a piece of work, Mia.] I blocked her on everything. But they didn’t stop there. Since Nathan had been fired and the apartment had been seized, they had to move into Nathan’s parents’ cramped, dated house in a mediocre suburb. The transition from luxury to “normalcy” was brutal. When you’re used to spending without thinking, poverty feels like a cage. And the bars were starting to rattle.

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Preston said he would propose on our fourth anniversary. But this is our eighth year together. He claims to love me, yet he’s relentlessly pursuing a younger intern from his office. To please her, he even outbid everyone at a charity auction just to snatch away my mother’s only heirloom. “Misty has never seen anything nice; she’s obsessed with this. Just let her have it this once. I’ll make it up to you later.” “Fine.” This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. Instead, I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Elias, what you said last time… does it still stand?” He was silent for a second, then repeated it clearly: “Dump Preston. Marry me.” “Okay. I’ll do it.” 1 Elias was clearly stunned. We sat in silence for two full minutes. “Are you serious?” he finally asked, his voice low. “Yes.” He let out a deep, dark chuckle. “I’ll be waiting.” “Who were you talking to?” Preston suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, startling me. I quickly locked my phone and shook my head. “Still upset? Look, you know Misty doesn’t have the privileges you grew up with. You can afford to be generous.” “Right.” Preston’s phone wouldn’t stop vibrating. He looked down to reply, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips. It was a message from Misty. The photo was impossible to miss. My mother’s necklace was draped around her neck, resting right against her deep cleavage. The photo was a suggestive close-up, showing the lace of her lingerie. “Preston.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, mesmerized by the screen. He even let out a small, enamored laugh, completely ignoring me. “Preston!” I raised my voice, and he snapped his head up. “What? What is it?” “When are you actually going to propose?” Preston tucked his phone away, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Aren’t we… still young? There’s no rush.” “Youth is for having fun. Since you were so ‘generous’ today, the guys threw a party to celebrate my ‘gracious’ wife. Want to come?” His eyes told me everything. He was desperately hoping I’d say no. “I—” He cut me off, hugging me tightly. “Actually, I’ll tell them you’re tired. You hate the smell of smoke and booze anyway. Just wait for me at home, okay?” I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. Preston took it as a happy “yes.” Having achieved his goal, he didn’t waste another word. He grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As he left, I saw him zooming in on that photo of Misty. I took my robe and caught my reflection in the mirror. Average body. Average face. Misty and I were clearly from two different worlds, two different stages of life. At midnight, one of Preston’s friends, Jax, posted an update. It was a video. The music was deafening, the VIP lounge dripping with excess. Young socialites were cheering on the dance floor. Then, the music paused for a second. I heard a familiar voice. “Jax, I think I’m going to propose to Misty.” It was Preston. I set my phone down, stared at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. Our relationship survived the seven-year itch, but it couldn’t survive one cold winter. 2 I was about to sleep when I got a text from Jax. A simple line: Hey, can you bring some stomach meds over? Preston’s dying here. Preston doesn’t have stomach issues. Neither does Jax. Based on what I’d heard in the video, it wasn’t hard to guess what was really happening. I didn’t know if Jax sent that because Preston asked him to, or if it was a trap. When I arrived at the club, I leaned against my car for a long time. My legs were numb by the time I finally found the courage to walk inside. I definitely picked the wrong moment to enter. Preston was down on one knee. “Misty, I truly love you.” “Misty, will you marry me?” “Misty, I want you to be mine forever.” The love in his eyes was overflowing. Misty stood across from him, hands over her mouth in shock. She was beautiful—the exact kind of “innocent but sexy” girl that was Preston’s ultimate weakness. “Preston… yes! Yes, I will!” Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. The ring wasn’t the centerpiece. It was my mother’s heirloom necklace they were using as a “promise gift.” Preston, you really are a piece of work. The two of them kissed under the spotlight. A perfect couple. A beautiful scene. Except, out of the dozen people in the room—some drinking, some smoking, some on their phones—not a single person clapped. Preston noticed. His expression soured. “What’s wrong with you guys? Cheer!” His friends all looked down, suddenly very busy with their drinks. Preston scanned the room, his eyes turning cold. “You’re proposing to her? What about Claire?” Jax asked, breaking the silence. Preston licked his lips and patted Jax on the shoulder with a smirk. “Jax, do you even know what it feels like to have your heart skip a beat?” “Claire has been with you for eight years, man.” “Shh…” Preston hushed him. “Don’t ruin the mood. For the last eight years, I was blind. I thought that was love. But after meeting Misty, I finally know what real passion is. I’d give her the world! But Claire?” He looked around, trying to justify himself to the group. “Claire is high-born, wealthy. She doesn’t need ‘saving.’ But Misty? Misty only has me. Do you get it?” “Every time I go home and see Claire’s face, I just feel… bored.” “Sure, Claire is ‘good.’ But she’s not the one I want to marry.” Silence. No one backed him up. “Preston… maybe we should just… forget the cheers… it’s okay,” Misty whispered. Crash! Preston smashed a glass on the floor. “I said, cheer!” Normally, when Preston lost his temper, everyone backed off. But this time, no one moved. I felt a strange sense of irony. Eight years ago, none of them liked us together. They hated me, the “spoiled rich girl,” and told Preston to dump me. Eight years later, they all saw me as family. Everyone except Preston. Clap. Clap. Clap. I clapped three times, slowly. All eyes snapped to me. Preston’s pupils shrank; panic flickered across his face. “You… what are you doing here?” Then, his face hardened. “Who told her to come?” I walked up to him. Misty immediately stepped in front of Preston, arms spread as if to “protect” him. She looked terrified, yet “brave.” Every man’s hero fantasy. “Claire, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault… please don’t blame him…” I reached out and snatched the necklace from around her neck. “Preston, didn’t anyone ever tell you? Proposing with a dead woman’s jewelry never ends well.” 3 “Don’t scare Misty. We’ll talk about this at home,” Preston said, reaching for his jacket, desperate to escape. “Preston, do I even have a home anymore?” His hand froze. He turned back, grabbing my arm to pull me out. Misty tried to follow, but Jax blocked her. The hallway lights were dim. I couldn’t even see Preston’s face clearly anymore. “Misty is young. Her only birthday wish was for a proposal. I had too much to drink, Claire. I wasn’t thinking.” When I didn’t reply, he pulled me into a hug. This was his routine—whenever I was mad, he’d use sweet words and physical affection to make it go away. And every time, I had forgiven him. He breathed against my ear. “Babe, don’t be mad.” He didn’t realize that this time, there was no coming back. “Fine. Come home with me right now.” “Okay! Let’s go home!” He started pulling me toward the exit. Misty was standing right by the door. I knew she could hear us. Three, two… Thud! The door flew open. Misty “collapsed” in the hallway. Preston was by her side in a heartbeat. “Misty!” “Preston, I’m okay… is Claire still mad?” Misty grabbed a large bottle of 116-proof bourbon from a passing tray. “I’ll make it up to her.” She tilted her head back and began chugging the harsh liquor. She was willing to pay a high price to win back Preston’s attention. “Misty, stop!” Preston wrenched the bottle away, looking devastated. “Does she forgive me now?” Misty whimpered. Preston whirled around and screamed at me. “Say something!” The man who was just whispering “babe” in my ear was gone. The mask had slipped. “I never blamed you,” I said calmly. Misty coughed, reaching a hand out toward me. “If you’re not mad, can I have the necklace back? It was a gift from Preston.” I clutched my bag. “This is my mother’s heirloom.” “But it’s a gift from him…” Misty’s lip trembled. “I guess you still hate me.” She grabbed the bottle again. Preston went ballistic. “Claire, give it to her!” He lunged for my bag. “This belonged to my mother! Can’t you see she’s doing this on purpose?” Preston wouldn’t listen. He fought me for the bag like a rabid dog. “Can’t you stop being so cynical? Misty isn’t like you!” “She’s just a girl, Claire! Stop bullying her!” He was too strong. I lost the tug-of-war. He ripped the bag away, and as Misty reached for it too, the necklace snagged. The string snapped. Silver beads scattered everywhere, bouncing off the floor like rain. I stared at the two beads left in my hand. Misty looked up at me, a tiny, triumphant smirk on her lips that only I could see. “Claire, have you had enough?!” Preston roared. He blamed me for everything. He saw through the world, but he couldn’t see through her. Maybe he realized he’d gone too far. He looked at the beads on the floor and reached out to touch my hair. “I… I’m sorry. I drank too much.” “Tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, okay?” Misty started retching from the alcohol. Preston scooped her up and ran for the exit. “Tomorrow at noon! I’ll take you shopping! I promise!” He ran so fast the wind brushed past my face. I leaned against the wall and laughed. What was the difference between me and those silver beads? A seemingly “whole” life, scattered into the dust in a single night. I didn’t want the necklace anymore. And I didn’t want Preston. I couldn’t promise to forget him instantly, but I could promise he’d never find me again. “Hello? Is this the airline? I need the next available flight to Charleston.” 4 The flight was in three days. I went back and packed. I took everything that was mine. Everything I couldn’t take, I burned. Our photo albums were in the nightstand, but there was one on Preston’s desk. He hadn’t been home in a while, so the desk was dusty, but the album was pristine. He must have been looking at it often. I picked it up to throw it in the fire, but photos fell out. They weren’t of us. They were of him and Misty. I remembered when Misty first visited. She said our wedding-style photos were “so pretty.” I guess they went and took their own set. I closed the album and put it back. The clock struck 5:00 PM. Preston had missed our “noon” date. Ping. A voice note from Elias Vane. “I sent the marriage contract to your place via courier. Just sign it.” I replied with an emoji. I turned around, and Preston was standing there. “Who are you talking to? You look so happy.” I shook my head and tried to walk past him. “Move.” He held out a hand. In it was a perfectly restored necklace. My mother’s necklace. “You… you found them?” He scratched his head. “Spent hours looking. Nearly went blind.” “So you didn’t show up at noon because you were looking for the beads?” “Duh.” He hugged me gently. “I’m exhausted. My back is killing me from crouching all day.” “There are two beads missing, though. You won’t be mad I’m late, will you?” I held the necklace, my vision blurring. Tears hit my palms. “Preston… thank you…” “What are you saying? You’re my fiancée.” I ran into the bedroom to get the beads I had saved. But when I compared them… the color was wrong. The necklace he gave me had a fake “antique” patina, but it wasn’t the same as the beads in my bag. I collapsed on the floor, sobbing silently. Preston, how long were you planning to lie to me? What am I to you? A voice came from the door. “Package for Claire Miller. Signature required.” Preston walked in, already tearing open the envelope. “What’s this? Some legal document?” My phone lit up. Elias: Did you get the contract? I looked up, my eyes locking with Preston’s.

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My two children’s last wish before they died was for our family of four to see the ocean. But the day before we left, their father vanished. My children passed away with that regret. I later saw a photo of him and his childhood friend, Kate, on Kate’s social media. The caption read: “A special birthday, with a special someone.” I turned around, packed my bags, and left. Then, Jensen came crying, begging me to stay. 1 Jensen loathed me. And by extension, he disliked the two children I bore him. All it took was a single phone call from his childhood friend, Kate, and he’d travel thousands of miles. But I had begged on my knees, my forehead bruised and bleeding. Still, he wouldn’t return to see our children one last time. I returned home, utterly exhausted. The house was brightly lit. I pushed open the door, a flicker of hope in my chest. I expected to see my two children running to greet me. Instead, I saw Jensen pressed against the sofa by Kate, intimate and oblivious. My hope dissolved, replaced by instant disappointment. Jensen looked momentarily flustered at my appearance, pushing Kate away. Ha. I sneered. My children’s bodies weren’t even cold yet. Jensen, who had been missing for half a month, had returned. And he was so eager to bring another woman home. Jensen had already braced himself for a scene, expecting me to throw a fit. But I showed no expression, not even bothering to glance at either of them. I went upstairs to retrieve my packed luggage. I had planned to leave early that morning. After all, this house was a wedding gift from Jensen’s grandfather for us, but Jensen rarely set foot in it. Mostly, it had been just me and our two children living here. I quickly came back downstairs. They were still talking on the sofa. The man who was usually expressionless now wore a tender look. It was only with Kate that he softened this way. With me, there was only endless indifference. They hadn’t noticed me. With Kate around, I was always invisible to Jensen. I had grown accustomed to it. The sound of my suitcase wheels caught Jensen’s attention. He watched me, his voice stiff. “Summer Jiang, what kind of drama is this now?” Kate looked over, a smirk playing on her lips. “Summer, darling, my blood sugar dropped, and I was just in the neighborhood. Jensen said it was convenient here, so he brought me. You don’t mind, do you?” Low blood sugar? I watched Jensen pouring tea, fetching water, and even peeling a candy to feed it into her mouth himself. Her lips brushed his fingertips, neither of them seeming to notice anything amiss. I lowered my eyes, remembering a family dinner when I’d forgotten to use a serving spoon to dish food for him. He’d simply dropped his chopsticks and refused to eat. Thinking of it now, I found it laughable. Love and indifference were starkly clear. I spoke, my voice raw with bitterness. “Let’s break up, Jensen.” 2 Even though we had once shared two children and a half-finished wedding, we hadn’t legally married, so it wasn’t technically a divorce. Jensen, assuming I was merely being jealous of Kate, dismissed it with a wave. “Still using these old tricks? Aren’t you tired?” “You know you can’t threaten me with your kids anymore, so now you’re trying to leverage our engagement?” Because of extreme emotional fluctuations during pregnancy, our twin boy and girl were born with illnesses. Two years ago, our son was diagnosed with ALS, and a year ago, our daughter was diagnosed with polio. The hospital issued one critical condition notice after another. I signed them until my hand went numb. But my children were so well-behaved, so considerate; they never cried out in pain in front of me and would even try to comfort me. They envied other children who had fathers. They called Jensen constantly, just hoping their dad would spend time with them too. But Jensen… he never came, not once. It turned out he thought I was using our children to gain sympathy and keep him tied down. I found it utterly absurd and laughable. We had known each other for over a decade; how could he possibly think that of me? I wiped away my tears, unwilling to argue with him. “Think what you want. I’m leaving.” Kate spoke up, her voice laced with feigned innocence, “Jensen, honey, I heard you were planning to take the kids to see the ocean. Did you perhaps miss your date to celebrate my birthday, and now Summer is upset…?” Jensen’s voice was soft. “How can I blame you? We can go to the ocean any day, but a birthday only comes once a year.” At his words, I sneered. Ignoring them, I walked towards the door. Jensen, sensing something was truly amiss, stepped forward and blocked me, his anger rising. “Running away from home over such a trivial matter?” He noticed my haggard, gaunt face and paused. “You’ve lost so much weight?” Perhaps from recent insomnia, my head felt swimmy. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. “I’ll have my assistant clear my schedule for next week. We’ll take the kids to see the ocean, alright?” Next week? Leo and Luna wouldn’t have a next week! If he’d only shown a fraction of the thought he gave Kate to his own children, he wouldn’t utter such a foolish remark! I slapped his outstretched hand away. “No need.” Jensen looked at the faint red mark on the back of his hand, startled. He couldn’t believe that the person who used to cling to him now avoided him like the plague. Snapping out of his daze, he tried to follow, but Kate held him back. “Oh, Jensen, it’s all my fault. Even though I knew the kids were faking their illness, I insisted on you spending my birthday with me. Now Summer is angry with me. I really shouldn’t have.” Faking… faking illness? My mind went blank. By the time I regained my senses, I had already slapped Kate. 3 Jensen’s face, which had held a trace of guilt, instantly hardened. He shielded Kate behind him, watching me warily. “Summer Jiang, Kate has depression, and you still dare to hit her? Are you insane?” I ignored his reprimand, my gaze fixed on Kate. “You’d better watch your mouth, or I’ll hit you again.” Kate whimpered, sounding wronged. “Summer, darling, faking illness really isn’t right. Is this how you raise your children? No wonder Jensen says you’ve ruined them… I, I won’t say anything else.” I lunged to slap her again, but she darted behind Jensen. I looked at Jensen. “Do you also think Leo and Luna were faking?” He remained silent. I looked around the house, seeing no sign of the children. He asked, with a dismissive air, “Where have you dragged them off to now?” He truly didn’t believe me. If only he had come home, he would have seen the table covered with the children’s medications and medical records. But he hadn’t come home, not once. I remembered how, after learning they didn’t have much time left, my children had wanted our family to be together, to see the legendary ocean. I had pleaded with Jensen, even kneeling and bumping my head on the floor. In the end, I had clung to his trousers, promising him that this one time, I wouldn’t bother him again. I would set him free. At the time, he had paused, looking down at me from above. His eyes held both joy and a strange complexity. “Is that true?” “Yes,” I slowly closed my eyes, tears streaming down. My grandfather had saved his grandfather’s life, so we were betrothed since childhood. When I came of age, my grandfather asked if I still wished to marry Jensen. I nodded, saying yes. Because from a young age, I had loved this legendary prodigy, this unattainable figure. My grandfather arranged the wedding. It was my affirmation that forced him to watch Kate leave the country. On our wedding day, he ran away for Kate. I became the laughingstock of the city. Jensen’s grandfather was so enraged he ended up in the hospital, then forced Jensen to apologize to me and register our marriage. He dodged it. Turning around, he warned me, “This is all you’re getting. I won’t marry you legally.” “I won’t let Kate be ‘the other woman.’” Neither the position of his wife nor his unconditional love. He reserved it all for Kate. Kate, because of me and the children, had delayed accepting Jensen’s proposal. I was willing to give him up. Why wouldn’t he spend one last time with his children? He didn’t have to like me, but they were his children too. How could he be so heartless towards Leo and Luna? I gave Jensen a look of profound disappointment. I used to think his features were like a painting; now, I found them repulsive. Jensen was about to say something, but Kate interrupted him with a whiny complaint. “My face hurts so much. Is it swollen, Jensen?” 4 Jensen’s attention immediately snapped back to her. Kate leaned into his embrace. The slap I’d given her with all my might had left a clear, red handprint on her pale face. Kate was now shedding tears, and Jensen’s heart ached for her. He gently brushed away her tears with his fingertips. When we were kids, he used to be quite kind to me. If I fell, he’d help me up and wipe away my tears just like that. I couldn’t even remember the last time he’d looked at me kindly. Jensen’s tenderness vanished as he looked at me, replaced by a cold glare. “Summer Jiang, look what you’ve done! Apologize to Kate.” I turned my head away, refusing to look at him. “No way.” Jensen was taken aback that I actually had the nerve to talk back to him. Because I loved him, I had always been cautious and meticulous around him, carefully holding onto my sincerity, fearing his dislike. But no matter what I did, it was always wrong in his eyes. I could never measure up to Kate. Jensen merely showed a moment of surprise before carrying Kate back to the sofa. As I walked out, I heard Jensen’s voice from behind me: “Summer Jiang, do you really have to make a scene and make everyone look bad?” He knew I wouldn’t be able to step out that door. His bodyguards forced me back inside. Jensen’s gaze was heavy as he looked at me. “Kate’s condition can’t handle stress. You need to apologize to her.” Kate gave me a triumphant smirk, then looked at Jensen. “It’s alright, Jensen, Summer didn’t mean it.” Jensen looked at her with pity. “Kate, you’re just too kind, that’s why she bullies you. I won’t allow such things to happen.” Then, he glared at me again. “No one can harm Kate, or they’ll pay double.” His protective stance reminded me of when I was kidnapped and sold to a mountain village as a child. He was the one who, despite the dangers, held my hand and led me to escape. He had once been good to me, maybe he just didn’t remember. And now, perhaps my unyielding attitude had angered him. Jensen was determined to teach me a lesson. He gestured for his bodyguards to make me kneel before them. Seeing me humbled, he nodded, slightly satisfied. A sharp-eyed bodyguard stepped forward, raising his hand to strike me. Kate stopped him. “Jensen, Summer may have made a mistake, but she’s still a girl. I can’t bear to see her bullied by a man.” “If you truly want to teach her a lesson, let me do it.” Jensen, always compliant with her, naturally indulged her. Kate, without hesitation, raised her hand and slapped me twice. My face was snapped to the side, my lips bleeding, and my ears rang for a moment. Kate looked at Jensen, feigning distress. “Oh no, I accidentally hurt Summer. I didn’t mean to.” Jensen snorted coldly. “She deserved it. She hurt you first, yet you’re still worrying about her.” He then rubbed her palm. “Did it hurt your hand?” Kate blushed and shook her head. The bodyguards released me, and I stumbled awkwardly to the floor. Jensen looked at me. “Summer Jiang, you owe Kate this. Apologize to her.” I owe her? She was the one who slandered my children first! Jensen always sided with her, no matter right or wrong. I curved my lips, letting out a scoff. “Never!” “I hate you!”

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1 I was born with an extremely fragile body, yet I was bound to a “”Resurrection System.”” My foster mother slapped me, and my neck instantly snapped. Terrified, she dumped me in a mass grave that very night. To her surprise, I struggled back to my feet and was taken to an orphanage by a kind passerby. The director lightly kicked me, but my liver ruptured, and I died on the spot. I woke up again in the morgue in the middle of the night. From then on, no one dared to lay a finger on me. When my biological parents brought me home, the fake heiress, Olivia, was watching me with shifty eyes from the staircase. As I passed her, she deliberately leaned into me, then tumbled down the stairs. Tears and snot running down her face, she claimed I had deliberately pushed her. But suddenly, all the bones in my body fractured, and I collapsed to the ground. Olivia was terrified and flustered. “”I just lightly touched you! Don’t you dare try to frame me!”” The next second, I sat straight up from the ground. “”Oh, so you admit you touched me?”” …… Hearing my words and seeing my arm hanging unnaturally, Olivia’s eyes widened. “”Wha—what’s going on?”” My mother, Eleanor, beside me, jumped, rushing over to check my injuries. I wobbled my broken arm, feigning weakness. “”Mom, I’m fine, just a little pain. I’ll endure it.”” Seeing me like this, Mom was too scared to touch me. Olivia instinctively took half a step back. “”It really wasn’t me! Sister pushed me just now! How did this happen?”” My brother, Leo, shielded Olivia, glaring fiercely at me. “”Exactly! I saw it all; Stella deliberately pushed Olivia. She’s faking all of this!”” Hearing Leo’s words, my father, Arthur, frowned, looking at me. “”Even if Olivia touched you, it shouldn’t cause this. Stella, I know you lacked love growing up, but there’s no need to seek attention this way.”” Mom also gently touched my arm. “”It shouldn’t be anything serious. Although you’re now a young lady of the family, you can’t be too delicate.”” Olivia, seeing everyone taking her side, felt emboldened. “”That’s right, Sister. I know you’re jealous of me, but Mom and Dad aren’t stupid. Isn’t this method a bit too childish?”” Leo sneered, walked up to me, and grabbed my arm. “”Dislocated, isn’t it? I happen to know how to set bones. Let me help you.”” The words had barely left his mouth when Leo suddenly pulled my arm upward with force. He expected me to scream. But to his surprise, my body suddenly let out a series of “”cracks,”” and then, like a noodle, I collapsed to the ground again. I looked at the flustered Leo in front of me, gathering all my strength to softly utter a sentence. “”It’s… it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”” After saying that, my vision went black, and I passed out. When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed. Seeing me open my eyes, Mom quickly rushed to the bedside. “”Stella, you’re finally awake! You scared me to death!”” Leo snorted from the side. “”Still acting. It was just a light touch, wasn’t it? Why make such a big deal out of it?”” Dad also frowned slightly. “”Comminuted fracture. Doesn’t look fake. Do you have some innate illness?”” With that, Dad called the doctor again for a full body check-up. The results showed that, apart from that arm, all my other body parts were perfectly healthy, with no issues whatsoever. I ducked my head, timidly speaking. “”Mom and Dad, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. My bones are too fragile, I’ve caused you trouble.”” Dad shook his head, telling Olivia and Leo, “”Stella’s body is weak. Be careful with her; don’t hurt her again.”” Olivia nodded obediently, pulling a thermos from behind her. “”Sister, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your arm was so fragile. I made you some chicken soup; drink it to nourish your body.”” Leo sneered from the side. “”You pushed Olivia and ended up like this, yet Olivia isn’t holding a grudge and even made you chicken soup. How considerate. You should learn from Olivia.”” Mom and Dad smiled, relieved, seeing our harmonious scene. I took the chicken soup, thanking her repeatedly. “”Thank you, little sister. I’ll definitely get better and won’t cause any more trouble for the family.”” Saying that, I took the chicken soup and drank it all. But the moment the chicken soup entered my stomach, I suddenly felt a burning sensation. Olivia watched me from the side, a half-smile on her face. “”I specifically added extra black pepper, so sister can sweat it out and recover quickly.”” But the next second, I suddenly started coughing violently. Leo rolled his eyes. “”Look at you, so ungraceful, choking on chicken soup…”” He hadn’t finished his sentence when I spat a mouthful of blood onto his face. My vision went black, and I collapsed, unconscious. 2 When I next awoke, Olivia was kneeling before Mom and Dad, crying as if her heart would break. “”I—I really only put in a little black pepper! Nothing else!”” Leo was also flushed with urgency. “”You’ve been with Olivia for so many years! Don’t you know her character? How could she poison anyone? It must be Stella faking it!”” No sooner had he spoken than a heavy slap landed on his face. “”A broken arm can be faked, but can death be faked? Stella stopped breathing half an hour ago! The doctors declared her dead! How much more fake can it get?”” Mom cried, pulling Dad. “”Don’t blame the children. It can only be said that Stella had bad luck. The dead cannot be brought back to life; we can’t blame our living children for someone who’s gone.”” Dad covered his head, let out a deep sigh, and slumped to the ground. I lifted the white sheet covering me and slowly sat up. Olivia was the first to notice something was wrong, suddenly jumping up in terror, pointing at me and stammering. “”She, she…”” Dad hadn’t seen my condition yet, saying gloomily, “”Ultimately, I owe Stella. I…”” “”Mom and Dad, what’s wrong?”” As soon as I spoke, Mom and Dad simultaneously turned their heads, erupting in a chorus of screams. Leo’s eyes widened in terror, and he backed away repeatedly. “”It’s a zombie! Doctor, it’s a zombie!”” Hearing the commotion, the doctor rushed in, looking at me in disbelief. An experienced, white-haired old doctor quickly instructed the other doctors to take me to the operating room. After a thorough examination, the doctor joyfully told Mom and Dad that my body had fully recovered and was perfectly fine. The doctor didn’t know how to explain the phenomenon, so he simply said I had entered a state of suspended animation. Hearing this, Leo immediately cursed at me. “”I knew she was faking it! Stella, you’re such an actress, you can even fake death! Why don’t you go to a movie set and play a dead person?”” I, shedding tears, said weakly, “”Brother, I really don’t know what happened. After drinking the chicken soup, I felt a burning pain in my stomach and then passed out.”” The doctor also explained on my behalf that suspended animation wasn’t faked but a state of shock caused by physical injury. Dad sighed, stroking my head. “”You probably suffered too much hardship in your childhood, leaving you with this condition. Don’t think too much about it; go home and rest well.”” After that, Dad glared fiercely at Olivia and Leo again, warning them not to harm me further. Back home, I contacted a renovation crew and had surveillance cameras installed in every corner of the house. Mom stared at the pile of cameras, dumbfounded, asking what I was doing. I bit my lip, speaking softly. “”My body is too weak. If I accidentally die one day, the cameras can prove that my brother and sister didn’t harm me, so you won’t be implicated.”” Hearing my words, Olivia clenched her fists, her face red, unable to speak. That evening at dinner, Mom and Dad specially prepared a lavish meal to help me recover. Olivia and Leo sat several feet away from me, afraid of any physical contact. I proactively served Olivia a bowl of porridge, gently placing it in front of her. She suddenly smiled eerily, took the porridge, and drank it all. The next second, her face turned bright red, and she frantically scratched at her face. “”Did sister put peanuts in the porridge? I’m allergic to peanuts! I feel terrible!”” Olivia’s face broke out in a rash. She fell to the ground, screaming in agony. Mom and Dad were startled. They glared at me fiercely, then rushed to comfort Olivia, full of distress. Olivia, while screaming, stealthily glanced at me with a mischievous look. But unexpectedly, I suddenly covered my ears, breathing heavily. “”My—my heart hurts so much! I can’t breathe…”” No sooner had I spoken than I passed out again. 3 When I regained consciousness again, I was already lying in a funeral home. Surrounded by strangers, Mom and Dad stood in front of me, crying hysterically. Aunts and uncles kept comforting Mom and Dad. “”Stella’s passing was an accident. Don’t blame yourselves too much. You still have Olivia, don’t you?”” Dad beat his chest. “”If we hadn’t lost Stella when she was little, her health wouldn’t be this bad. I can’t imagine how much hardship she suffered as a child.”” Olivia and Leo knelt on either side, their faces pale, biting their lips without a word. A man in a black suit solemnly spoke. “”The hour has come. Rest in peace.”” Everyone around burst into tears. I blinked in confusion, then sat up from the coffin. “”Why are you all crying?”” As soon as I spoke, the scene fell silent for a moment, then erupted in screams. Everyone immediately scattered, even Mom and Dad backed away repeatedly in fright. But hearing the continuous screams, I again felt a sharp pain in my heart. I clutched my chest, groaning in agony. Seeing my condition, Dad immediately reacted, quickly grabbing the people around him. “”Don’t scream loudly! Stella isn’t dead! She’s still alive!”” Hearing Dad’s words, everyone immediately quieted down. My face was pale. I clutched my chest, speaking with difficulty. “”Mom and Dad, please don’t blame sister. It’s just my heart is fragile and can’t handle being scared.”” Saying this, I pulled out my phone and accessed the home surveillance footage. “”Look, sister didn’t touch me; it has nothing to do with her.”” But to my surprise, the surveillance footage clearly showed Olivia quietly adding a handful of crushed peanuts to her porridge. Seeing this scene, a hushed murmur immediately spread through the crowd. Dad’s face was extremely grim. He glared at a visibly embarrassed Olivia. Olivia’s face turned red. She stammered, trying to explain, but Dad cut her off. “”Enough! Aren’t you embarrassed enough? We’ll talk about this at home!”” Dad quickly directed the family bodyguards to rush me to the hospital. After an examination, the doctor said in disbelief, “”My goodness, this girl has nine lives! She was in suspended animation for three days and three nights, and now she’s perfectly recovered!”” Dad, still uneasy, put me through a series of tests. Only after confirming I had no issues did he cautiously take me home. As soon as we entered the house, Dad sternly admonished Olivia. “”I never imagined you would go to such lengths to frame Stella!”” Mom shook her head in disappointment. “”Olivia, Mom and Dad won’t abandon you, but why would you do something like this?”” Olivia quickly knelt on the ground, slapping herself hard. “”It’s all my own foolishness! I’m sorry, Mom and Dad! I’m sorry, Sister! Please forgive me!”” Leo quickly pulled her up, distressed. Dad snorted coldly, immediately laying down the rules. Olivia and Leo were strictly forbidden from touching my body, always maintaining a distance of at least three feet from me. Their voices at home could not exceed 50 decibels, and so on. Leo glared fiercely at me, then led a red-eyed, weeping Olivia back to her room. As Olivia passed me, she suddenly stopped, whispering in my ear, “”I know your secret.”” Hearing her words, I couldn’t help but frown. That night, I got up to use the restroom. Passing Olivia’s room, I suddenly smelled something burnt. Fire! I instinctively pushed open Olivia’s door but found she wasn’t in the room. I immediately realized something was wrong and quickly prepared to leave the room. But to my surprise, the door suddenly slammed shut. I forcefully twisted the doorknob, but the door wouldn’t budge. The door was locked! A cold sweat immediately broke out on my body. Sparks flew from the wardrobe, and thick smoke quickly filled the entire room. I immediately searched everywhere for something to extinguish the fire, but after searching for a long time, there was no water, not even a large piece of clothing! I quickly tried to kick the door open, but it was tightly shut; I couldn’t budge it. I hadn’t brought my phone when I went to the restroom. Helpless, I could only desperately pound on the door, shouting for help. But suddenly, a scornful laugh came from outside the door. “”Don’t waste your energy. Mom and Dad are fast asleep; they can’t hear you.”” It’s Olivia! I took a deep breath. “”Olivia, I advise you to open the door, or you know the consequences.”” Olivia sneered. “”Consequences? Haha, you appeared in my room, and then a fire started. There are no cameras in my room. Who do you think Mom and Dad will believe started it?”” So that’s what she was waiting for. I calmly said, “”Since you know my ability, you should also know that I don’t die easily. What’s the point of what you’re doing now?”” Unexpectedly, Olivia suddenly burst into laughter. “”Hahaha, your body is indeed special, but if it turns to ash, can you still revive?”” Hearing Olivia’s words, I couldn’t help but tremble. “”Stella, see you in the next life.”” With that, Olivia’s voice completely vanished. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. I felt a burning sensation in my lungs, almost unable to breathe. I covered my mouth and nose, bending down to the window, intending to jump. But Olivia had locked the windows too; I couldn’t open them. Soon, flames licked at me, and my arm instantly turned red and blistered. Outside, chaos erupted. I heard Mom and Dad loudly calling my name from outside the door. I immediately pounded on the door, shouting for help. But unexpectedly, Leo’s voice came from outside. “”Mom and Dad, I just checked Stella’s room; no one’s there.”” Olivia’s urgent voice also chimed in. “”The fire came from my room! Good thing I was in the bathroom just now; it scared me to death. I searched everywhere but couldn’t find Sister. She must have run out.”” I heard Mom and Dad’s footsteps receding, stamping my foot in frustration. No choice. I have to rely on myself now. I endured the intense pain, rummaging through boxes and drawers for anything that could save my life. Suddenly, I found a bottle of water in a drawer. Saved! This small amount of water wouldn’t put out the fire, but if I wet my clothes and covered my mouth and nose, it could significantly delay asphyxiation. As long as I could hold on until Mom and Dad rescued me, I would live! Thinking this, I immediately took off my outer garment, poured water on it, and placed it over my nose. But unexpectedly, I suddenly felt a dizzying sensation. Damn it, someone poisoned the water! Before I could react, my vision went black, and I passed out. Soon, a searing burning sensation spread to my face, then rapidly engulfed my entire body. I could distinctly feel the intense pain on my body; I felt as if I was melting, yet I couldn’t open my eyes at all. I had no strength left. I had experienced “”death”” so many times, but this was the first time I felt what it was like to be burned alive. Looks like this time, I was truly finished. Just as I plunged into despair, a crisp notification sound suddenly echoed in my ears. [Congratulations, Host, for successfully dying 99 times. You have now received the Indestructible Body reward. You will not die regardless of the damage sustained.]

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Chapter 1 It started as a simple dinner party game, but it was the moment I decided to divorce Ethan Sterling. During a round of “Two Truths and a Lie,” he absentmindedly blurted out how much he loved resting his head against a pregnant belly to hear the baby kick. The entire room went dead silent. Every single pair of eyes shifted to me. There was no shock in their gazes. Only pity, and the sheer panic of a dark secret being dragged into the light. I realized, right then, that they all knew. Ethan had gotten another woman pregnant. And every single one of our friends had helped him hide it from me. They did it because they knew I was Ethan’s entire world. If I found out, I would leave him. And if I left him, he would lose his mind. So, to speed up his descent into madness, I did three things. First, I took the silver wedding band he had custom-forged for me and had it melted down. Second, I saved the security footage of Mia Harper’s brazen provocations onto a flash drive. Third, I accepted an invitation to join a highly classified federal research initiative. My deployment date was set for our seventh wedding anniversary. On that day, I would vanish from his life as if I had never existed. All he would get from me was a single FedEx envelope. Inside would be the flash drive, a signed divorce agreement, and the confirmation paperwork for my scheduled abortion. I swallowed the bitter red wine in my glass, fighting to keep my composure. My voice was barely a whisper, but the question cut through the silence: “How many months?” Ethan looked like he had been violently shaken awake from a nightmare. The wine glass in his hand shattered under his sudden, white-knuckled grip. Jagged glass pierced his palm. Blood dripped onto the expensive rug. He didn’t even flinch. He just lunged forward, pulling me into a desperate, suffocating embrace. His voice shook violently. “Clara, it’s not what you think! The baby… it was just a mistake!” Hearing those words felt like my soul was being torn to shreds. Swallowing the agonizing lump in my throat, I forced out the words, syllable by syllable. “So you really… got another woman… pregnant?” Ethan fell silent. He couldn’t give me an answer. I closed my eyes. Two stray tears slipped down my cheeks. The thought that he had held another woman like this made my stomach churn. I pushed him away in disgust and turned to run. Ethan chased me to the front door, but his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and immediately answered. Through the quiet foyer, I could hear a whiny, sweet female voice on the other end. “Ethan, honey~ Your little baby keeps kicking your big baby. It’s torturing me~” A sharp pain stabbed my chest. I sped up my steps and fled out the door. He didn’t follow me. I let out a bitter laugh, unsure if I felt relieved or entirely hollow. Pulling out my phone, I dialed a secure, out-of-state number. “Professor Davis, I’m accepting the offer. I’ll join the DARPA research team.” The man on the other end sounded surprised. “Truly? That’s incredible news, Clara. We desperately need your brilliant mind on this project.” “But you understand this program is strictly confidential, right? Once you’re in, you will be entirely cut off from your family.” “Your husband is so protective of you he’d probably call the FBI if you went missing for an hour. Is he on board with this?” My eyes dimmed. My voice was hoarse. “I’m divorcing him.” The professor stayed quiet for a moment. He didn’t pry. He simply said, “Understood. I’ll fast-track your clearance. You deploy in three days.” The second I hung up, my eyes drifted to a massive billboard across the plaza. It was broadcasting a live financial interview with Ethan. The host sharply noticed him twisting the ring on his finger and smiled. “Mr. Sterling, you keep touching your ring. But… it looks like a very standard silver band. Is there a story behind it?” Ethan’s expression softened into total adoration. He held his hand up to the camera. “This is my wedding ring.” “Oh! My apologies, I just assumed a man of your net worth would have sprung for platinum or a massive diamond.” Ethan smiled. “I forged this ring myself, seven years ago, when I had nothing. I polished it by hand. It has our initials engraved on the inside.” “Wow, it really does. E.S. and… C.H.” “C.H.,” Ethan confirmed. “My wife. Clara Hayes.” “Wow. Your wife must have won the lottery of life to marry a man like you, Mr. Sterling.” Ethan gave a gentle shake of his head. “No. I’m the one who caught lightning in a bottle. I’m the lucky one.” “This year marks our seventh anniversary. Seven years ago, when I was a nobody, she stood by me. She even sacrificed our first child to save my life…” “Clara Hayes is the only woman I will ever love. In three days, on our anniversary, I’m throwing her the wedding of the century. I want the whole world to witness what she means to me.” Passersby on the street were cooing, praising him as the ultimate devoted husband. It was true. Everyone thought Ethan loved me more than his own life. Up until today, I thought so too. Looking down at the ring I had worn for seven years—the one Ethan never let me take off—I walked straight into a local jeweler. “I need this ring melted down, please.” The clerk looked at the ring, then at me, her eyes widening. “Wait… are you Clara Sterling?” Her coworker rolled her eyes and hushed her. “Please, it’s just a coincidence that it has E.S. and C.H. Mr. Sterling worships the ground his wife walks on. Why would she ever melt her ring?” Listening to them gossip, I laughed mockingly at myself, paid the fee, and walked out. I wandered aimlessly through the chilly streets until a familiar car parked at the curb caught my eye. It was Ethan’s SUV. It sat there, idling in the cold wind, as if waiting for something. My steps slowed. A complicated knot of emotions tightened in my chest. I hated myself for the tiny spark of hope that flared up inside me. What was I hoping for? That he had tracked me down? That he was waiting here to apologize? I didn’t know if I should confront him or run away again. Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked toward the car. Every step felt like walking on broken glass. Suddenly, the driver’s side door opened. Ethan stepped out and hurried to the passenger side. He opened the door and gently, carefully, helped a young, heavily pregnant girl step out onto the curb. Chapter 2 The girl giggled, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before holding up her left hand to admire it. On her ring finger sat a silver band. “Ethan, the ring you made is so pretty. If our baby knew how much his daddy loved his mommy, he’d be so excited to come into this world.” Ethan took off his designer overcoat, draped it over her shoulders with an adoring smile, and bent down to gently rub her swollen belly. “Daddy can’t wait for him to get here, either.” Watching this scene unfold from the shadows, I started to laugh. But as I laughed, the tears broke free and streamed down my face. For seven years, Ethan had kept every other woman at a strict ten-foot distance. There was a time the tabloids joked he was terrified of women. He brushed it off, stating it was the basic respect a married man owed his wife. He even bought books on “Setting Boundaries in Marriage” and treated them like gospel. I used to tease him for being so dramatic, but he’d pull me close and say he just wanted me to feel utterly safe. He told me his love was exclusively mine. But now, he had carved out a massive piece of that love for the woman carrying his child. I stood there in silence until Ethan finally sensed my burning gaze. Our eyes locked. He shot up instantly. Suddenly, the girl in his arms looked like a live grenade. He dropped his hand from her waist and sprinted toward me. His hands shook as he framed my face, then grabbed my freezing fingers, his eyes wide with frantic worry. “Clara, why are you out here? You’re freezing! And you’re crying—what’s wrong? Don’t scare me.” The panic in his eyes was so agonizingly genuine that, for a split second, my heart actually softened. But the girl standing behind him, proudly displaying her massive pregnant belly, was a glaring reminder that his concern was nothing but a sick joke. She didn’t look scared at all. She rested one hand on her bump, lifted her chin with a smug smirk, and stared me down. I ripped my hands out of Ethan’s grip and stumbled back two steps. As if draining the last ounce of air from my lungs, I asked him weakly: “Who is she? And the baby… is it yours?” In that single moment, I wagered our entire seven-year history on his answer. It was a desperate, final gamble. If he denied it. If he looked me in the eye and swore that baby wasn’t his. I would have believed him. I would have forced myself to forget the betrayal and the pain. But from a few feet away, the girl let out a soft, highly calculated whimper. It sounded like the universe laughing at my delusion. Guilt flashed across Ethan’s face. He closed his eyes in agony, and when he opened them, he delivered the kill shot. “It’s mine.” My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the concrete sidewalk. I threw my hands out to catch myself, scraping my palms raw against the pavement. Ethan dropped to his knees in a panic, his voice cracking with desperation. “Clara! Hit me, scream at me, whatever you want—just please, don’t hurt yourself!” He was practically begging. He grabbed my hands, desperately trying to wipe the dirt from my bleeding palms. Suddenly, he froze. The blood drained from his face. “Clara… where is your wedding ring?” I pulled my hands away, offering a bitter, hollow smile. I flicked my eyes toward the girl. “Isn’t it on her finger? One silver ring is enough for you, right?” Panic seized him. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Suddenly, he raised his hand and slapped himself across the face. Hard. Twice. The sheer force left bright red handprints on his cheeks. The girl gasped and rushed over, shielding Ethan behind her. Her voice trembled, but she spoke with a defiant edge. “Mrs. Sterling, I’m Mia. Ethan and I are both victims here! Please don’t blame him!” Tears pooled in her eyes as she bravely tried to protect my husband from me. Ethan’s face darkened, his voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Clara is my wife. Show some respect.” Mia shrank back slightly, but her chin remained high. “You have to believe me. I’m only twenty-three! If it wasn’t for Ethan’s mother… I never would have kept this baby!” The moment she said that, Ethan’s deadened eyes snapped toward her, and he blurted out, “Shut up!” And right then, I knew. There was no future left for us. Chapter 3 I didn’t waste my breath on another question. I let Ethan drive me back to our penthouse in silence. During the ride, he fed me the tragic backstory of his “mistake”: Nine months ago, during a business trip to Chicago, a corporate rival slipped something into his drink. In his drugged stupor, he stumbled into Mia’s hotel room by accident. After that night, he wrote her a massive check and told her to vanish. He didn’t expect her to get pregnant. And when his mother found out, she immediately flew Mia back from Europe and demanded the child be kept at all costs. I knew my mother-in-law’s obsession with the family bloodline. Seven years ago, Ethan and I took a cruise for our honeymoon. A freak storm capsized the vessel. As we were thrown into the churning ocean, Ethan shielded me from a falling steel beam, shattering his leg in the process. Using his last ounce of strength, he shoved the only life preserver into my arms and begged me to survive. But how could I let him drown? I stayed. I held him afloat, treading water to keep him from sinking. By the time the Coast Guard found us, I had been submerged in the freezing Atlantic for twenty-four hours. Ethan made a full recovery. But the hypothermia and trauma caused me to miscarry our first child, leaving my body permanently scarred. I was told I would likely never conceive again. From that day on, Ethan treated me like royalty. He said we had survived death together, swearing on his life that he would never leave me. But his mother despised me for failing to produce an heir. Now, with a surprise grandson dropping into her lap, it was obvious she would protect Mia with everything she had. In the quiet car, Ethan held my hand, his voice thick with remorse. “Clara, I swear to God, it was a terrible accident…” I looked him dead in the eye, forcing down the bile. “The baby or me. Pick one.” He fell completely silent. That silence was all the answer I needed. I pulled my hand out of his and turned to look at the glittering city skyline through the window. My marriage was just like those city lights. Dazzling and bright for seven years, but eventually, the morning always comes, and the lights go out. When we got home, Ethan reached for me gently. He brought out the first-aid kit to treat my scraped hands. “Promise me you won’t hurt yourself again. It kills me to see you bleed.” I didn’t say a word. I just pulled my hands away, walked into the guest bedroom, and locked the door behind me. A few minutes later, a soft knock echoed through the wood. “Clara, please,” he coaxed, his voice muffled. “Just say one word to me. I’m so worried about you.” I pulled the heavy duvet over my head and shut my eyes. The next morning, I woke up and dressed in head-to-toe black. I looked at the framed photo of my parents on the nightstand, my eyes welling up with tears. Five years ago, a drunk driver took their lives. Today was the anniversary of their deaths. I vividly remembered standing at the morgue, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe as the sheets were pulled over their faces. Ethan had held me tight, whispering into my hair, “Don’t be afraid, Clara. You still have me.” He had dropped to his knees before their graves and sworn he would love me forever. He promised he would stand by my side every year to honor them, to show them how perfectly he was taking care of their daughter. The bedroom door clicked open. Ethan walked in, looking like a ghost. His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. “You have the spare key. Why didn’t you come in last night?” I asked coldly. He knelt on the floor and gently slipped my feet into my slippers. “Consider it my punishment. I’m healthy; one night awake won’t kill me. If I came in, you wouldn’t have slept at all. Wear your slippers. The floors are cold.” My nose stung. I blurted out, “Do you even remember what day it is?” Ethan looked up at me, entirely serious. “Of course. It’s the anniversary of your parents’ passing. I would never forget.” He stood up, energetically gathering the flowers and items we needed for the cemetery visit. Suddenly, my phone on the vanity buzzed with a notification. He glanced at it, freezing as he read the screen. He picked up the phone. “You… canceled a flight?” I didn’t flinch. “I was looking into a vacation for us, but the timing felt wrong, so I canceled it.” He opened his mouth to ask more, but his own phone rang. “Ethan! I slipped! My stomach hurts so bad! There’s blood—what do I do?!” Ethan’s entire demeanor shifted to pure panic. The canceled flight completely vanished from his mind. He grabbed my hands, his eyes begging for mercy. “Clara, I just have to go make sure she’s okay. I swear on my life, I’ll meet you at the cemetery!” He turned, ran to his car, and peeled out of the driveway, disappearing around the corner. Tears fell rhythmically onto the hardwood floor. I wiped my face, but the tears just kept coming. I went to the cemetery alone. I sat there until the sun went down, talking to my parents. When I finally got back to the penthouse, I started packing my bags. Ethan didn’t get home until after midnight. He threw his arms around me, apologizing over and over again. I let him hold me. I didn’t say a word. That night, it felt like a massive fault line had cracked our world in two. His embrace was so familiar and warm, but in my heart, he had never felt further away. Chapter 4 When I woke up, Ethan’s side of the bed was already cold. He had left a sticky note on the nightstand: Emergency at the office. Had to head in early. Made you breakfast, please eat. What he didn’t know was that at the crack of dawn, I had heard his phone ring. It was Mia. She had called him away. Looking at the perfect breakfast he’d prepared on the kitchen island, a sudden wave of severe nausea hit me. A wild suspicion took root in my mind. I grabbed an Uber and went straight to a clinic. Staring at the ultrasound results, I actually laughed until I cried. The doctor looked at me with deep sympathy. “Are you a single mother? Do you plan to keep the pregnancy? Given your medical history and the severe scarring from your past trauma, if you terminate this pregnancy, you will absolutely never be able to conceive again.” Leaving the clinic, I hailed another ride and gave the driver the address to the $50 million Hamptons estate Ethan had bought me. Looking at the massive stone archway that read “Hayes Haven,” I felt nothing but irony. Below the name, Ethan had personally engraved a plaque: To hold Clara’s hand is to hold my future. This was supposed to be our sanctuary. Our exclusive escape. Aside from the cleaning staff, no other woman had ever been permitted to step foot on the property. Yet, as I walked up the driveway, Mia Harper was standing on the front porch. She looked at me with a victorious smirk. “The legendary Hayes Haven isn’t that impressive after all. I walked right through the front door.” “I heard this was your little love nest? But Mrs. Sterling said the ocean air here is the best for my pregnancy, so Ethan let me move in. You aren’t mad, are you?” “Oh, and just to be safe, Ethan had all the sharp-edged furniture thrown out and replaced. He let me pick out the new pieces. They’re much more my style~” I looked around the house. Everything was different. The suffocating bitterness rising in my throat made it hard to breathe. Memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. On our third anniversary, Ethan had dropped to one knee on this very porch, pressing the keys into my palm. “Clara, no one else will ever cross this threshold. This is a monument to us. Our private world.” This place was sacred to us. Now, he had gift-wrapped it for his mistress. My legs felt hollow. I leaned against the doorframe, stripped of the energy to even stand straight. Mia’s eyes bored into me, burning with jealousy and spite. And all I could feel was profound, bottomless grief. The place that held my best memories was now the graveyard of my heart. “So how much longer do you plan on squatting in the role of Mrs. Sterling? Can’t you see how much Ethan spoils me and this baby?” she sneered. Squatting? I forced a bitter smile, utterly exhausted by her theatrics. Then, my eyes swept the living room. The mantelpiece, where I kept the framed memorial portraits of my parents, was bare. “Where are my parents’ photos?!” I snapped, my voice finally cracking with real panic. “Oh, those gloomy things? Ethan threw them out. Bad vibes for the baby,” she replied breezily, admiring her manicure. I glared at her with pure venom until she rolled her eyes and begrudgingly pulled the framed photos from a trash bag in the corner. Then, staring right into my eyes, she smiled, struck a lighter, and set the photographs on fire. I lunged forward to smother the flames. The moment I moved, Mia conveniently threw herself backward onto the floor and began shrieking in pain. I ignored her completely, using my bare hands to frantically stamp out the fire burning my parents’ faces. Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed behind me. “Clara! Why the hell did you push her?!” Ignoring the burns blistering my hands, I finally put the fire out. When I looked up, Ethan didn’t even glance in my direction. He scooped Mia up in a frantic panic and carried her out the door. I looked down at my scorched, blistered palms. This seven-year marriage really was a spectacular joke. I went to the sink, ran my hands under the cold tap, and started cleaning up the burnt mess. Suddenly, my mother-in-law stormed into the room and slapped me across the face with everything she had. “You barren jinx! If anything happens to my grandson, I will destroy you!” Ethan, having rushed back inside, quickly intercepted her. He finally ran to me, grabbing my injured hands, his face twisting in agony as he pulled out a tube of burn ointment. When his mother started screaming again, Ethan barked, “Mom, her water broke.” His mother immediately bolted for the door. Once she was gone, Ethan carefully studied my face, trying to gauge my temper. Finally, he whispered carefully: “Clara… Mia is young and immature. I know she upset you, but you shouldn’t have shoved a pregnant woman.” “I pushed her?” I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I apologized to her for you. She won’t hold it against you.” With one sentence, he acted as my judge and jury. A heavy, suffocating exhaustion pinned me down. I didn’t even want to argue. Between me and Mia, he had already chosen who to believe. Seven years as husband and wife couldn’t compete with a shiny new toy he’d known for less than a year. I watched him gently blow on my burns, though his eyes were constantly darting toward the door. I remembered the brief, undeniable flash of joy in his eyes when he told his mother the baby was coming. I rested a hand on my flat stomach. Ethan, I thought. You just made the decision for me. Chapter 5 Ethan eventually left for the hospital. I called a car, went back to our penthouse, and finished packing my luggage for tomorrow’s flight. I scrubbed the apartment of any trace that I had ever lived there. I left nothing behind for him. Except for one massive, custom-framed wedding portrait, which I took a pair of scissors to, leaving it in shreds on the floor. I pulled the flash drive from my purse, slipped it into an envelope alongside the signed divorce papers and my scheduled abortion confirmation, and dropped it off at FedEx. The delivery address was the grand ballroom where Ethan was hosting our anniversary vow-renewal tomorrow. The recipient was Ethan Sterling. After dropping it off, I pulled out my phone and typed a single text to Mia. “You wanted to be Mrs. Sterling? Congratulations. You can have him, and you can have tomorrow’s wedding.” That night, Ethan didn’t come home. It was the first night in seven years he hadn’t slept in our bed. But he called the house relentlessly, asking the maid if I had eaten, and reminding her to make sure I dried my hair before bed. He always remembered that if I slept with wet hair, I’d get terrible migraines. Late at night, I woke up to find the maid quietly tucking the blankets around me. She smiled warmly. “Mr. Sterling called again. He said you always kick the blankets off and made me promise to check on you so you wouldn’t catch a cold.” She kept rambling about how we were the most envied couple in the city, how we hadn’t fought once in seven years. She gushed about how sweet it was that he was throwing a massive surprise wedding just to make me smile. I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes. The next morning, Ethan called to say he was sending the event planners to pick me up, and that he would head straight from the hospital to the venue. I was already in a taxi headed to the airport when I answered his call. The driver confirmed the destination out loud. “Clara, why are you in a cab?” Ethan asked, confused. “I decided to take a cab to the venue,” I lied effortlessly. Ethan went quiet for a moment, then spoke with deep, emotional sincerity. “Clara, the baby was born. But I need you to believe me. You are the only woman I will ever truly love.” His exclusive, one-and-only love was suddenly becoming very crowded. How could a man split his heart down the middle and still have the nerve to play the devoted husband? I hung up the phone and told the driver to step on it. From today on, I was flying toward a brand-new life. Meanwhile, at the hospital, Ethan felt a bizarre, creeping anxiety in his chest, as if something priceless was slipping through his fingers. But a newborn’s cry broke his train of thought. Looking at his new son, a flicker of joy crossed his face, but he refused to hold the child. He was terrified that if he smelled like the baby, Clara would be upset when he saw her. By noon, the grand ballroom was packed with high-society guests. Ethan stood proudly at the altar, beaming with anticipation. The grand double doors swung open to the majestic swell of the wedding march. A bride in a breathtaking white gown slowly walked down the aisle. But when the bride lifted her veil, Ethan’s smile instantly died. It wasn’t me. It was Mia. And in her arms, she held her newborn baby. The whispers in the ballroom escalated into a shocked uproar. Ethan’s face went pale. He stormed down the aisle, grabbing Mia’s arm forcefully. “What the hell are you doing here? Where is Clara?!” Mia flinched, tears welling up as she struggled against his grip. “I don’t know! She texted me and told me to wear the dress today!” Before Ethan could process the madness, a FedEx courier stepped into the ballroom. “Ethan Sterling? I have a priority package from Clara Hayes.”

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Arthur Sterling wanted to divorce me for his delicate, white-lotus first love. Even our child had taken a special liking to her. When I heard him carefully call that woman “Mom,” my heart went completely cold, and I signed the divorce papers. Years later, I returned to the country for a gathering. A strange young boy timidly called me “Mom.” My daughter asked curiously, “Is he Evelyn’s big brother?” I shook my head. “Mom only has one child in this life, and that’s Evelyn.” 1 Everyone was thrilled to see the little blonde girl by my side. Madison nudged me with her elbow. “Where’d you kidnap her from? She’s so cute.” Someone chimed in, “Yeah, seriously. Chloe, I didn’t expect you to become a human trafficker after a few years abroad.” I unceremoniously flicked them both on the forehead. “What kind of nonsense is that? This is my daughter.” I squatted down. “Don’t we look alike?” Evelyn played along, obediently pressing her little cheek against mine. The private room instantly went dead silent. I knew this news was a bit too shocking for them. My marriage to Arthur had only ended a few years ago. And my intense, high-profile pursuit of him back in the day was something everyone here had witnessed; many had even helped me strategize. I had kept my life abroad very private, so they all assumed I was still single. Or at least, not married with a kid. Madison looked like she wanted to swear, but seeing Evelyn, she swallowed the words. She turned around and made a phone call. “Yeah, tell the guys they don’t need to come over. Tonight’s not the right vibe.” I held back a laugh, looking at my old friends. “What? Are married women not welcome here?” My friends recovered from their shock and bombarded me with questions: “Who’d you marry? Is he handsome?” “Chloe, how could you snag a hot foreign guy and not tell us?!” “What’s your name, little one? Want Auntie to play with you?” “Hannah, stop talking in that gross baby voice.” “Screw off, leave me alone.” … I rubbed my temples helplessly. A decade later, and they were still just as noisy. Thankfully, Evelyn wasn’t shy. She happily played with my old friends. Madison pulled me aside for a drink. “Are you really over Arthur?” I smiled, showing her the ring on my finger. “What do you think?” She smacked her forehead. “Right, stupid question.” “Arthur was so dead-set on marrying that fragile little flower back then. Now he’s regretting it.” I raised an eyebrow. “He regrets it?” I hadn’t kept tabs on them since I went abroad, but Arthur regretting it was genuinely surprising. He loved Lily Evans to death back then. He was willing to fight the whole world to marry her. Madison nodded. “The white lotus is pretty, sure, but being Mrs. Sterling is too much for her to handle.” The title of ‘Mrs. Sterling’ didn’t just mean being Arthur’s wife; it carried significant responsibilities. “The Sterling family has a massive empire. It’s not easy to manage,” I said. “You have no idea. When the white lotus first married Arthur, she couldn’t do anything right. She messed everything up. Arthur was patient at first, but patience doesn’t equal time. Eventually, he just got sick of it. Men, right? Typical.” Madison’s tone dripped with sarcasm. She never liked Arthur to begin with. Ever since she took over her family’s business, she had cut off many of their partnerships with the Sterlings. In her eyes, a man who couldn’t keep his personal life straight couldn’t possibly run a corporation well. Madison waved her hand. “Whatever, let’s not talk about that dog.” Just as she finished speaking, the door to the private room suddenly opened. A strange boy, looking to be around ten or eleven, walked in. Madison looked toward the door impatiently. “Who’s that?” “Whose kid is lost?” The boy scanned the crowd frantically before his eyes locked onto me. Those beautiful eyes gave me a strange sense of familiarity. Someone in the crowd murmured, “Isn’t that Arthur’s oldest son?” Madison reacted faster than I did. “Oh, it’s Chloe’s kid! Arthur… Arthur what again?” A friend reminded her, “Arthur James Sterling.” Evelyn, who was playing happily, seemed to sense something. She looked left and right, her big eyes darting around. The boy walked toward me and called out timidly, “Mom.” 2 That single word, “Mom,” pulled me back several years. When Arthur brought up divorce, he didn’t give a reason. Madison did some digging for me and uncovered his first love, Lily Evans. I took the evidence and confronted Arthur. During the argument, a truth accidentally slipped out of him: “Yes, I love Lily! Even if I have a child with you, that child must carry the mark of her existence!” Only then did it all make sense. No wonder when we were naming our son, Arthur insisted on changing “Julian” to “James.” He said he hoped our son would be “Just,” noble, and righteous. But it wasn’t about justice. It was an anagram. “James” was for J-A-M-E-S. Just Always Miss Evans Secretly. Unlike what Madison and the others thought, from that day forward, my feelings for Arthur died completely. I loved Arthur, yes, but not enough to lose myself. I loved him, but I loved my dignity more. However, our marriage involved too many people. Just separating the assets took a massive amount of time. Arthur cheated first; I had to make sure I got the larger share. Back then, my biggest concern was my son, James. But from the very beginning, he didn’t want to leave with me. Maybe it was pity from above that made me suddenly stubborn, wanting to persuade James, wanting to fight for full custody. If it hadn’t been for that stubbornness, I never would have discovered that my dear son had already accepted Lily as his mother. If I hadn’t discovered that, I wouldn’t have left so cleanly, and I wouldn’t have started my new life so easily. After I confronted Arthur, he immediately moved Lily into our house under the guise of being James’s private tutor. Surprisingly, James adored ‘Ms. Lily’ and defended her at every turn. I heard him praise Ms. Lily more than once, saying she was gentle and pretty, understanding, considerate, and kind. But James was just a little kid back then. I thought Arthur had hidden the affair well, so I didn’t overthink it. Until I heard it with my own ears. He carefully asked Lily, “Ms. Lily, can I call you Mom?” After getting a yes, he happily called her “Mom” several times. He added, “Ms. Lily needs to become my new mom quickly. I hate my mom right now. I hope she and Dad get divorced soon.” Lily asked him why. “Because Mom won’t let me eat candy.” Lily sounded surprised. “Just because of that?” “Yes.” James’s decisive answer completely shattered me. I thought about a lot of things. I thought about my parenting style. I thought about my past. In the end, I signed the divorce papers without any lingering attachments and left the country. 3 Seeing that I wasn’t responding, James called out again, “Mom.” His eyes were red, and he looked incredibly pitiful. Evelyn suddenly threw herself into my arms. She stared at him with wide, curious eyes and asked, “Is he Evelyn’s big brother?” James froze, then quickly shifted his gaze back to me, his face filled with unconcealed hope. I smiled gently at Evelyn and shook my head. “Mom only has one child in this life, and that’s Evelyn.” “This brother is… the son of a friend of Mom’s. But of course, you can call him ‘brother’.” Half-understanding, Evelyn reached out a hand to James. “Hi brother, I’m Evelyn.” But James just stood there, frozen, ignoring her. Evelyn awkwardly pulled her hand back and rubbed her little nose. “Mom, why does he look like he just got struck by lightning?” I chuckled and rubbed her head. “Go play with your aunts and uncles.” “Okay!” The little girl ran off, cheering happily. James looked at me pitifully. “Mom, do you not want James anymore?” His tone was exactly the same as when he was a toddler, seemingly trying to awaken my maternal instincts. I smiled faintly. “You have your own mom.” James grew a bit agitated. “She’s not my mom.” “Why not?” He looked down and didn’t answer. I didn’t bother pressing him. My tone was gentle but distant: “James, you were the one who didn’t want me first.” James looked up, his eyes incredibly complex. It was the first time I had ever seen that look in his eyes. It wasn’t a look a boy his age should have. James lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Mom.” He found a corner to sit in by himself and didn’t bother me again. Madison sneered. “And here I thought the kid loved his fragile little stepmom.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “When the white lotus first got married, a lot of people looked down on her. Your son defended her everywhere, treating her like royalty. Didn’t you always say he was a good kid? So good he actually got into fights defending the white lotus.” “Raising a son is worse than raising a dog.” I smiled and took a sip of my drink. Madison didn’t say anything else, just drank with me. After so many years, seeing the son I barely recognized, it would be a lie to say I felt absolutely nothing. But our mother-son bond was thin, and this was James’s own choice. Besides, too many years had passed. The emotion faded as quickly as it came. When the party ended, James was still sitting there, refusing to leave. I tried to call his dad, but realized I had deleted the number. I tried to call his mom, but realized I never had her number to begin with. Madison boldly patted her chest. “Let me handle it.” She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts for a long time. “…He blocked me.” Evelyn was getting sleepy. She yawned. “Mom, let’s just leave him here, he won’t die. I want to go home and sleep.” Madison laughed. “Your kid is fierce.” I picked Evelyn up. “Takes after her dad.” Thankfully, a friend who had forgotten something came back and made the call for us. “James is currently at…” “No time? What should we do?” “Okay, I’ll have Chloe call him a cab.” “Yeah, she flew back today.” “Oh? Suddenly you have time?” 4 By the time Arthur arrived, Evelyn had fallen fast asleep. She was nestled in my arms, her little cheeks flushed. “Chloe. It’s been a long time.” Arthur didn’t look much different from before. He was always handsome, and even time seemed to have treated him kindly. His dark eyes were deep, unreadable. I replied softly, “Long time no see.” Madison gestured toward James with her chin. “Mr. Sterling, hurry up and take your son home. He’s been refusing to leave.” James sat in silence, making no move to get up. I don’t know if I imagined it, but he seemed to exchange a look with Arthur. I turned to Madison. “Let’s go. It won’t be good if Evelyn wakes up.” Just as I stood up to leave, Arthur suddenly called out, “Chloe, have you been well lately?” I frowned. “Keep your voice down.” Evelyn stirred in my arms, a bit restless. Arthur lowered his voice, making forced conversation. “Whose child is this? She’s beautiful.” His words praised Evelyn, but his eyes were fixed on me. “Mine.” I had only been holding her for a little while, but my arms were already getting sore. Kids really do grow fast. Arthur’s smile froze. “What?” He stared blankly at Evelyn for a long time, then smiled again. “She’s adopted, right?” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Biological.” Evelyn looked so much like me, a perfect copy of my excellent genes. She obviously looked like my biological daughter. Adopted? You’re the one who’s adopted! Madison sensed my annoyance. She stepped between Arthur and me, separating us. “It’s late. Mr. Sterling should take his kid home to sleep.” With that, we left. Madison looked back. “That old dog Arthur is still staring at you.” “Yeah. I’m staying at your place tonight.” “Stay as long as you want. What’s mine is yours.” “I want the master bedroom.” “? Don’t push your luck!” “The master bedroom is bigger. I have a kid to raise. Do you have a kid to raise?” “Hmph. You win.”

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Seven months pregnant, stuck at home on bed rest, and drowning in anxiety, I did what anyone in my spiral would do: I doom-scrolled. A thread on a forum caught my eye. “Should I take my husband to a labor pain simulation experience?” One reply, accompanied by a photo, stopped my thumb in its tracks. “Absolutely. My boyfriend did the simulation and swore he’d never let me go through that pain. But, joke’s on him—I’m about to become a mom anyway.” The comments were confused. “Wait, if he won’t let you go through labor, where is the baby coming from?” The original poster replied, the smugness practically radiating off the screen: “His wife has been trying to conceive for five years. She finally got lucky. But once that baby is born, it’s coming home to me.” She added, “She’s seven months along, sitting at home like a nesting hen, completely clueless that the baby she’s carrying isn’t hers.” Five years of infertility. Seven months pregnant. I knew the weight of that journey—the bruises from injections, the crushing hope. My blood boiled. I wanted to reach through the screen and strangle this woman for her cruelty. I kept scrolling. Then, I froze. She had posted a 4D ultrasound photo. My breath hitched in my throat. The air left the room. That was my baby. 1. I wasn’t crazy. I pulled the printout from my last appointment out of the drawer, my hands trembling. I placed it next to the screen. Every shadow, every contour. It was identical. No wonder. I had spent hours staring at that grainy face, searching for a trace of my nose, my eyes, and finding nothing. I clicked on her profile, desperate and terrified. I opened her most popular post. “Photo dump: Taking the boyfriend to the labor pain sim.” The boyfriend’s face wasn’t visible, but I didn’t need a face. I needed only a detail. And there it was. The man’s left hand, clenched in pain, bore a ring-finger tattoo. It was a small, stylized script. It was identical to Grant’s. My heart didn’t just break; it stopped. I clutched my heavy, swollen belly, gasping for air like a fish thrown onto the dock. It all made sense. Whenever I mentioned childbirth classes or labor simulations, Grant would shut down, acting strangely resistant. Because he had already done it. With her. He knew the bone-splitting pain of a level-ten contraction. And he had decided to let me be the vessel so his mistress wouldn’t have to suffer. The comments section was in an uproar. “Someone find the wife! You can’t let her hand that baby over to a homewrecker.” “Even if she gives birth, she won’t give up the kid. Once a side-piece, always a side-piece.” “God, I feel for that poor wife. Seven months… she can’t exactly walk away now.” The poster—this Ivy—was replying to them, unbothered. “Let her see it. Who cares? She’s older. It’s a high-risk geriatric pregnancy. If she terminates now, she’ll never have another kid.” “Don’t worry about us. My boyfriend says she’s unemployed and useless. Once the baby is weaned, he’s serving her papers.” “She has this thing about emotional purity—she’s fragile. She’ll probably get postpartum depression and leave on her own.” The arrogance was suffocating. But she was right. I did have a thing about emotional purity. I couldn’t stand lies. And because my third trimester had been a nightmare of nausea and fatigue, I had quit my job as a marketing director. The loss of identity had already frayed my nerves. Postpartum depression wasn’t just a possibility; it was a roadmap they had drawn for me. “Don’t be jealous, ladies,” she wrote. “The only reason it took five years is because I wasn’t ready to settle down yet.” “The fertility meds she thought she was taking? My boyfriend swapped them for birth control years ago.” I ripped open the nightstand drawer. The leftover bottles from our “trying” phase rattled as I grabbed them. Could it be true? Had I been poisoning my own dreams at his command? I called a courier service, my voice shaking as I gave instructions to run the pills to a private lab across town. I stared at the screen, waiting for her to post again. The thread went silent. Dinner time. I rubbed my belly, the skin tight and itchy. I had endured hundreds of needles for this life. My feet were so swollen they looked like rising dough. Could I destroy this life based on an anonymous internet post? My head buzzed with static. If I confronted Grant now, without hard proof, he’d gaslight me. He’d say it was the hormones. He’d call me hysterical. Then, a notification. A new reply. “Quit the hate, guys. My boyfriend just made a five-course meal. He stole away from work to feed me. He doesn’t have time for you trolls.” She posted a picture. The dishes—braised short ribs, garlic kale—looked exactly like Grant’s cooking. I called him. Straight to voicemail. Then, a text. “Norah, babe. Just finished overtime. I picked up your favorites. Home in 30.” I watched the clock on the wall, counting the seconds. Thirty minutes later, the digital lock beeped. “Norah? Come eat. I got the good stuff.” I walked into the kitchen. There, on the counter, were takeout containers. Inside was cold, leftover food. It wasn’t fresh takeout. It was the leftovers from the meal he’d cooked her. The tears came then, silent and hot. 2. “Norah? Is the baby kicking? Just hang in there a little longer.” Grant knelt before me, his hands warm as he massaged my edema-swollen ankles. He looked so concerned. So loving. “It’s all your favorites,” he crooned. “Sorry it’s late. Got stuck on a call on the drive home.” “Sit tight. I’ll heat it up.” He took the containers toward the microwave. My phone pinged. A new comment on the thread. “He made way too much, so he packed the rest for later. I picked out these cute Hello Kitty boxes myself. Can’t let my son go hungry.” I looked at the counter. The pink, childish Hello Kitty container sat there like a neon sign. It pierced me. The woman in the thread—the foolish, high-risk, unemployed incubator—was me. “All hot,” Grant said, returning with a spoon. “Open wide.” I looked at his gentle face. The handsome jawline I loved. I still didn’t want to believe it. How could the man who held my hair back when I vomited, who worked double shifts for our future, be this monster? We met through a matchmaker. He was steady, earnest. It wasn’t fireworks at first, but a slow burn. When the IVF finally showed two pink lines, he had cried harder than I did. I thought our love had moved the universe. I was wrong. I had just walked into a trap. I pushed the spoon away. “Grant,” I said, my voice trembling. “Do you think the clinic made a mistake? With the embryo transfer? I want to get checked.” The spoon froze in mid-air. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “Norah, honey, have you been reading those trashy novels again? It’s a top-tier hospital. They don’t make mistakes.” “But I’m scared. I read that an amniocentesis can prove paternity. Grant, please. Let’s just check.” He set the bowl down, the concern in his eyes hardening slightly. “Norah. It’s invasive. It’s risky for the baby. Trust me. There is no mistake.” He tried to talk me down, but I was immovable. His phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Work crisis. I have to take this.” He went into the bathroom and turned the faucet on full blast. Five minutes later, he emerged, looking relieved. “Okay, Norah. If it will give you peace of mind, we’ll do it. Let’s book the appointment.” “Really? But you just said—” “I love the baby,” he interrupted, gripping my shoulders. “But I love you more. If this anxiety is hurting you, we fix it.” I wondered what had changed his mind so quickly. On the way to the hospital, I refreshed the thread and found the answer. 3. “The old hag suddenly wants a DNA test. Maybe she saw the post.” “But I’m not scared. Let her check. A little piece of paper won’t stop me.” I gripped my phone until my knuckles turned white. “Norah? You okay? You look pale.” As the car pulled up to the hospital entrance, I grabbed Grant’s sleeve. “Let’s go to a different hospital. I don’t want to do it here.” Grant looked at me with genuine confusion. “Why? Dr. Keller has been with us since day one. It’s too late to switch now.” “You picked Dr. Keller,” I said. He squeezed my hand. “You’re just anxious. It’s the hormones. I’m just trying to secure a big year-end bonus for you and the kid. Look at me. I’m doing this for us.” In the past, I would have melted. Now, every word was a dagger. “Everywhere else is booked, Norah. Let’s just get this over with.” The needle pierced my abdomen. I was shaking so hard the nurse had to hold me down. Grant held my hand, smoothing the hair back from my forehead. “Patient needs to lie flat for observation. Results in 48 hours,” the doctor said. The stress must have knocked me out because I drifted into a black, dreamless sleep. When I woke up, Grant was gone. The elevators were packed, so I waddled to the stairwell to walk down a flight. At the landing, I saw him. He was standing with a girl—younger, petite, glowing. “Why are you here? It’s flu season,” Grant scolded, but his voice was tender as he pulled a mask from his pocket and placed it over her face. “I was worried about the baby. When are the results coming?” The girl pressed herself against his chest. “Don’t worry. It’s handled. The results will say what we need them to say. You’re going to be a mom.” “You need to go home,” he added. “No,” she stomped her foot playfully. “I want to be with you. The old lady is asleep anyway. I’m hungry. Take me to dinner?” Grant laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard in years, and brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “Fine. Whatever you want.” The look in his eyes—it was adoration. Pure, unfiltered love. Something he had never given me in five years of marriage. She whispered something in his ear, and he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her down the stairs. A sharp cramp seized my belly. I slid down the wall, sitting on the cold concrete floor. I called Grant. He answered, breathless. “Norah? You up? Big issue with the project—I had to rush to the office. Stay at the hospital, I’ll pick you up when I’m done.” “Grant, my stomach hurts. Can you come back? Please?” “Don’t be difficult, Norah. It’s almost year-end. If I lose this bonus, it impacts the family. Be a good girl.” I heard the girl’s voice in the background, a low whisper: “Hurry up, my hands are cold.” The line went dead. I stood up. I walked to the nurse’s station. I asked for Dr. Keller. “Norah? You want to induce labor? Now?” Dr. Keller looked horrified. “Do you understand what you’re asking? You’re seven months along. Your uterus is fragile. If we terminate this pregnancy, you might never conceive again.” I looked into her worried eyes and nodded. “I understand. I want it out. Schedule the surgery for tomorrow morning.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I pulled up the forum post on my phone and shoved it in her face. Her jaw dropped. 4. “This… this can’t be real. People make things up online, Norah. That is a human life.” Dr. Keller was my best friend’s neighbor. I trusted her. Before I saw Grant in the stairwell, I would have trusted the hospital with my life. But watching him nuzzle that girl destroyed my capacity for faith. “Wait for the DNA results,” she pleaded. “Just wait.” She started listing everyone who handled the samples during our IVF cycle. “If this is our mistake, the hospital will take full responsibility. I put a rush on the DNA test. We’ll know tonight.” Grant, meanwhile, was still playing the role of the devoted husband via text. He sent a car to pick me up. “Pulling an all-nighter, babe. Ordered you delivery. Eat well.” He hung up before I could speak. “Grant, I really need you,” I whispered into the dead line. “I don’t care about the money.” He texted back: “Stop being childish. The bonus buys the best formula for our son.” I took a deep breath. “Grant, have you ever done a labor simulation?” A pause. “Norah, I know you’re mad I’m not there, but why waste time on useless things when I could be earning for our future?” I heard the girl giggling in the background before he hung up. I sat on the sofa in the dark. My private investigator sent the file. Her name was Ivy. Grant’s high school sweetheart. The one who got away. She was from a broken home, “not good enough” for Grant’s parents. They forced him to break up with her after graduation. But they never stopped seeing each other. Ivy was a “lifestyle influencer” on Instagram. Scrolling through her feed, I saw a stranger wearing my husband’s face. A man who laughed, who cooked, who hiked. A man I didn’t know. While we were on our honeymoon, she was there. Ten days in the Maldives. She was in the room next door. It was her first post. A photo of Grant, wearing the wedding band I bought him, kissing her on the beach at sunset. And suddenly, the tattoo on his finger made sense. The scribble wasn’t abstract art. It was her initials. I watched all 349 of her videos. The latest one was filmed in a hotel room near the hospital. Grant’s clothes were draped over a chair. His belt—the one I gave him for our anniversary—was hanging off the back. Ivy commented: “Boyfriend’s cooking skills are elite. So full.” I typed a comment. “That belt belongs to my husband.” I attached a photo of Grant wearing it from that night. The comments section exploded. “Homewrecker!” “Wait, is this the pregnant wife?” My phone rang. Dr. Keller. Her voice was grave. “Norah. I booked the operating room. Tomorrow, 9 AM.”

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