Category: English

After I died, I discovered that my husband, Carter, could still see me. He wept tears of joy, saying we could be together forever. Later, he started coming home less and less. Even later, I saw the girl trailing behind him. She looked exactly like I used to. One day, that girl suddenly came down with an incurable, mysterious illness. The occultist said a dark, unclean entity was trying to harm her. Carter slowly turned and looked at me, while I stood there entirely lost. 1 I couldn’t process what was happening. I shook my head frantically at him. No one else could hear our conversation, nor could they see me. “Carter, it’s not me. You know me better than anyone.” At the same time, Lily, lying weakly on the bed, began to whimper. “Carter… it hurts so much…” Carter didn’t speak. He just kept staring at me floating in mid-air. His eyes were filled with scrutiny and dissatisfaction. I remembered what the occultist had just said: “This young lady might be entangled by a dark entity.” Lily looked terrified, shrinking into Carter’s embrace while crying. “Carter, I’ve never done anything bad in my life. Why would a dark entity want to haunt me?” Carter comforted her, “Lily, this isn’t your fault.” At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant by that. Now I do. He meant it was my fault. I was the “dark entity.” Lily asked the occultist, “Sir, is there any way to suppress this thing?” The occultist pulled out several warding sigils and a carved ashwood dagger. Lily took the dagger, waving it around fearfully. Whether intentional or not, the tip of the blade pointed directly at me. In an instant, I felt an agonizing, tearing pain rip through my soul. I couldn’t dodge. I was practically pinned in the air. Even without a physical body, the torment made me feel like I would dissipate in the next second. And Carter just kept looking in my direction, completely indifferent. Lily dropped the dagger, then picked up the warding sigils and looked at Carter. “Carter, could you help me put these sigils up?” I watched Carter. Watched him walk over and take those pieces of paper. Then, he smiled and patted Lily’s head. “Okay.” Once the sigils were plastered in all four corners of the room, the holy energy blasted my already exhausted soul straight out of the house. This was my marital home with Carter. The home we had shared for seven years. I scrambled up pathetically, trying to phase through the front door, only to find it was utterly futile. The residual pain from the ashwood dagger lingered. After my failed attempts, I collapsed and curled up in the corner of the porch. The front door opened. I scrambled up, overjoyed. “Carter…” Carter looked at me, his expression incredibly complex. “Hazel, from now on, don’t come inside anymore.” “Maybe you didn’t do it on purpose.” “But her health is truly fragile. Don’t hurt her anymore.” I didn’t know what to say. It’s hard to describe how I felt hearing those words. The man in front of me no longer seemed like the Carter who once swore he would love me for the rest of his life. A year ago, when I died, he had cried so heartbrokenly. Why had everything changed? “But this is my home. Our home. Why can’t I go inside?” “Because you’re dead!” “Because you are a wandering spirit now. You fear nothing, but she can’t handle it. Your presence affects her, makes her sick.” “Hazel, you never used to be this unreasonable.” As Carter turned to go back inside, I could only murmur to myself. “I didn’t hurt her.” His footsteps paused, but then he closed the door. He was wrong. I wasn’t entirely fearless. I wondered if he had noticed that my soul was fading, becoming more transparent. 2 I used to watch horror movies and thought that when people died and became ghosts, they possessed strange, terrifying powers. That they were truly afraid of nothing. They could even haunt the living. But after my own accidental death, I realized I wasn’t one of them. I had no powers whatsoever. Aside from Carter, I couldn’t make anyone else see me. In the very beginning, I even felt like I could dissipate at any moment. Because my body would often flicker and turn transparent. Whenever Carter noticed, he would cry and beg me not to leave him, and my condition would vastly improve. Today, he probably didn’t notice. I curled up in the corner, laughing bitterly. I wasn’t the only wandering spirit in this neighborhood. There were many other strange, hostile things. Right now, I couldn’t even keep my form solid. I didn’t know how I was going to survive tonight. When did things get this bad between Carter and me? Probably starting from when he stopped coming home at night not long ago. I used to be able to follow him wherever he went. But that night, I suddenly found I couldn’t. Maybe it was because of his parting words: “Don’t follow me tonight.” I remembered his friends had tricked him into visiting a psychiatric ward. They thought he was losing his mind from grief over my death, because he frequently talked to thin air. Later, paparazzi caught photos of Carter Sterling, the billionaire CEO, visiting a psychiatrist for “talking to himself.” It caused a huge scandal. For days, Carter felt like he was being mocked behind his back. I still remember how devastated he was by my death. When he first realized he could see me, he wept with joy, nearly going crazy with happiness. He said heaven was moved by our love, allowing us to stay together in this way. But now, it seemed this “heaven-moving” love had become a burden to him. He didn’t want the world to view him as abnormal anymore. So he drastically reduced the times we went out together, and even our conversations dwindled. Soon after, he brought Lily home. I didn’t know who she was. I only knew she sweetly called him “Mr. Sterling,” and they could communicate openly in the sunlight. While I could not. Even before she fell ill, it had been a long time since Carter and I had a proper conversation. “Well, well, isn’t this the little canary from the big mansion?” “What, you got kicked out?” “I told you long ago, the living and the dead don’t mix. Why don’t you come play with me—” There weren’t many wandering spirits in this area, but the few that existed were vicious. I had personally witnessed one of them tear another newly deceased soul to shreds. I stood up in terror, calling out to Carter. “Carter, I’m so scared…” A pale, rotting hand reached out to grab me. “Aren’t your man and his new toy madly in love? I saw them making out in his car not long ago. Tsk, the guy has no spine—he had to put on his ‘respectable’ mask the second he stepped out.” “You’re a dead woman. Why keep bothering him? Let him find true love!” I refused to believe the spirit’s words. I only knew that Carter had sworn he would never betray me. But the harder I pounded on the front door, the louder the soothing music inside became. They were dancing to the music, Lily laughing joyously in his arms. Maybe he would post it on social media. Maybe his friends would congratulate him on finally stepping out of his grief. Then he would become a normal person again, rather than a lunatic deemed insane because his dead wife’s ghost refused to leave. 3 When dawn broke, the dark things finally retreated. I wasn’t afraid of the sunlight. It was just that right now, I was so incredibly weak I couldn’t even twitch. Those hostile spirits enjoyed tearing souls apart for fun. But I was different from the others. Every time I was torn to shreds, I would miraculously piece myself back together. They found it fascinating. In the past, I spent every night in Carter’s bed, where they couldn’t enter. From now on, that probably wouldn’t be the case. I felt so lost, wondering how I would survive all the nights to come. The door finally opened. Carter rushed out, carrying Lily in his arms. I stayed curled in the corner, watching him quietly. My body seemed even more transparent. “Hurry, to the hospital!” He didn’t acknowledge my gaze. Only after placing her in the car did he turn his head, frowning as he shot me a glance. That one look contained so many emotions. Mostly, it was blame. But I didn’t even understand what I had done wrong. I wanted him to stay with me, to ask me if I was in pain. But maybe that was never going to happen again. When Carter returned from the hospital, I was still curled up in the corner. “Hazel, let’s talk.” My voice was hoarse. I gave a faint laugh. “Out here?” He had no intention of letting me back into the house. “Let’s just talk here. If you go inside, she might feel sick again when she gets back.” “Some things need to be made clear right now.” Before he could continue, I cut him off. “I have never harmed her.” But Carter exploded in sudden fury. He stood up, throwing a punch that passed right through my ethereal body and slammed into the wall behind me. “Then you tell me why, ever since she moved in here, she’s been coming down with all these bizarre, unexplainable illnesses!” “Don’t tell me it’s all a coincidence! Hazel, I’m not a fucking idiot!” His eyes were red, his emotions wildly volatile. “You know perfectly well that people think I’m mentally unstable. To help me, she threw away her own reputation.” “She’s the only one willing to believe that I can actually see you.” I sat up abruptly. “You told her you can see me?” Carter didn’t think that was the main issue. “If she wasn’t willing to believe me and stay by my side, my reputation and the company’s stock would tank, do you understand?” “Everyone would think I’m a clinically insane psychopath!” I looked at him calmly, feeling a mix of helplessness and resignation. “Carter, you fell in love with her, didn’t you?” I was just laying the truth out in the open. But that made him even more agitated. “Why is your mind so filthy?” “I said I would never betray you, and that won’t change. Is your wild paranoia the reason you decided to hurt her?!” I didn’t have the energy to repeat myself. “So what do you want me to do?” He let out a heavy breath. “Leave this place for a while. Stay far away from me for now.” I asked him, “If I leave, and she still gets sick, proving it wasn’t me, will you let me come back?” He fell silent. He didn’t speak. I think I had my answer. 4 If I was going to leave, I had to do it now. Once night fell and those things came out again, I might never be able to leave. I knew that once Carter made a decision, begging him was useless. And I wasn’t going to beg him anyway. Avoiding his gaze, I struggled to my feet and began to walk away. “You’re leaving just like that?” “Honestly, you were probably getting sick of this too. I just gave you a convenient excuse.” I left decisively, and ironically, he was the one unhappy about it. Unwilling to say another word, my soul felt unimaginably heavy. Every step was agonizingly difficult, but I refused to linger even for a second. I heard his footsteps behind me. But then they abruptly stopped. Followed by a fit of violent, violent coughing. “Mr. Sterling? What’s wrong?” “We’re about to take you to the hospital to visit Ms. Evans anyway, you should get a checkup too.” “Could it be… that dark entity wasn’t satisfied with hurting Ms. Evans, and now it wants to hurt you too?” At this point, I had no desire to defend myself. It was all pointless. Whatever Carter said next, I didn’t care. If he chose to believe it, defending myself ten thousand times wouldn’t change his mind. After leaving the estate, I was completely lost. This was my first time being a wandering ghost. I didn’t know why I ended up like this. I was dead, yet unable to pass on. Before Carter told me to leave, I physically couldn’t move far from him. Was it really like he said? Did his love move heaven, allowing me to stay by his side? Thinking about it now, that theory was hilariously absurd. So where could I go now? I didn’t know. I only knew my body was becoming increasingly transparent. It hadn’t actually been that long since my death. Yet I had already forgotten so many things. Suddenly, I lost consciousness in a split second. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself inside a temple sanctuary. Although I had no clear memory of it, standing there gave me an inexplicable sense of familiarity. There was no one else in the temple. Just me, and a single, burning lamp. The wick was weak; the candlelight was no longer bright. But when the wind blew, the flame remained entirely motionless. Memories suddenly flooded my mind, scrambling to the surface. “I ask for nothing else. I only hope my wife finds peace and safety, that she survives this ordeal, recovers quickly, and returns to me.” “If it’s permitted, I want to live with her, and die with her.” “I refuse to live in this world alone.” The man had climbed to the highest peak, taking one step and bowing his head to the ground with every single stride. When he stood up, his forehead was swollen and bleeding. I remembered now. That was probably the year Carter loved me the most. During the company’s annual gala, he went on stage to give a speech. A heavy crystal chandelier above him came loose, and no one noticed. I was the one who rushed forward and shoved him out of the way, taking the crushing impact myself and falling into a deep coma. While I was unconscious, I could only faintly hear Carter’s desperate murmurs. He said if I didn’t pull through, he was ready to die with me. In my unconscious dream state, I learned that because of Carter’s absolute devotion, the sanctuary had quietly lit a “soul-bound lantern.” It used both of our souls as the wick. If one soul disappeared from the other’s side, the other would die. I thought, I can’t let him die. That sheer will to live woke me up. Back then, I thought that having a soul-bound lantern was a wonderful thing. As long as we loved each other, nothing could ever tear us apart. But today, floating in this temple, I learned another secret. The reason I was anchored to this world wasn’t because Carter’s love had moved heaven. It was simply because, right after I died, I begged the Warden of the Afterlife to let me return.

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My best friend and I just got hit with the ultimate plot twist. We’re both pregnant. Unexpectedly. She’s carrying the child of an A-list movie star ex, and I have the baby of a terrifyingly powerful billionaire tycoon. Given that neither of these men seems to have “fatherhood” on their bingo card, my bestie suggested the impossible: “What if we just dump the dads and keep the kids?” I didn’t hesitate. “I’m in! Where you go, I go!” So, we grabbed our positive tests and fled the country, kicking off our happily ever after in paradise. Until two years later. Her baby went viral on TikTok because he looks exactly like the movie star father. And the camera caught me and my daughter in the shot. That very night, my bar was surrounded by a fleet of black SUVs. Before I could dial 911, my hands were pinned behind my back with a leather belt. He grabbed my waist, his voice raw with terrifying fury: “Go on. Call them. But guess how many times I’ll ruin you before the cops even show up?” 1 Heartbroken and single, my best friend Avery dragged me to a high-end bar to forget. She was just about to run her hand over a male model’s abs. When Oscar-winning actor Ethan Cole slammed through the bar doors. Ethan didn’t bother with a disguise. He stalked over, furious, pointing at the model who looked remarkably like him. “Who is he? Avery, are you using him as a substitute for me?” Avery looked up, a cold smirk playing on her lips as she stood up. “What? You used me as a substitute for Chloe St. James. Why can’t I find someone to replace you?” “Besides, your family’s heirloom diamond necklace is already on someone else’s neck.” Ethan choked on his own words. His voice went pale as he tried to explain, “I told you, I didn’t give her that necklace.” Avery: “Fine. Go get it back.” Silence fell between them like a roaring river, making the bar’s noise seem even louder. Ethan stood frozen for a long moment before finally sighing out, “I’m sorry. I can’t.” Even though she expected that answer, the expression on Avery’s face shattered. Her eyes were red. She grabbed her purse, gave me a look that said call me, and strutted out of the bar on her high heels. Ethan nodded to me, then chased after her. Thinking about the last few times Ethan had easily coaxed her back. I panicked and yelled, “Ava! Don’t you dare soften! This is a matter of principle!” “Break up! You absolutely have to break up this time!” My throat was raw from shouting. Suddenly, a hand with long, elegant fingers handed me a slice of watermelon. I looked at the hand, my heart fluttering a bit. Damn, I thought, this male model really knows how to treat a girl! I turned around, smiling: “Hey sweetie, what’s your name?” The second the words left my mouth, I froze solid. The male models in the booth were gone. Only Dominic Sterling was standing behind me. Chiseled features, a sharp jawline, and eyes looking at me like they were filled with ice. Terrified, I took a step back, but he grabbed my wrist. Dominic Sterling looked at me, a dangerous half-smile on his face: “You like ‘sweeties’?” “Fine. Let’s go home! I’ve got something sweet for you to see all night long!” 2 That night, Dominic Sterling had me pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window until dawn. The view overlooked the entire city skyline from a penthouse in one of the most expensive zip codes in the country. If it weren’t for Dominic, I wouldn’t even have the right to be in this neighborhood. But of course, I wasn’t Dominic Sterling’s girlfriend. At best, I was his high-end kept woman. During my first year trying to make it as an actress, I met a director who tried to impose the “casting couch” rules on me. Even though I rejected him at the dinner table multiple times, he kept pushing. Just as his hand was about to slide under my dress, Dominic appeared. He defused the situation with a single, careless sentence. He was the powerful, untouchable billionaire mogul, and I was just a fresh-faced, struggling nobody. Dominic’s pursuit wasn’t obvious. No massive, public displays of affection or gifts. But he took care of me everywhere, plus he had that face that could put any Hollywood leading man to shame. Over time, it was a lie to say I wasn’t smitten. But I knew my place. A kept woman is a kept woman. There’s a world of difference between that and a real girlfriend. I understood completely: we were never destined for a happy ending. I was always going to leave. “You’re still distracted?” Probably to punish me for not focusing, Dominic’s movements behind me grew harder: “What are you thinking about? Thinking about your ‘sweetie’?” I gasped out loud, my fingernails digging into his arm. I bit my lip and shook my head. But my response clearly didn’t satisfy him. He flipped me over: “Don’t worry. I’ll give you something to think about.” A long time later, after the storm calmed down, Dominic carried me to the bathtub and held me in his arms. While I was recovering, I suddenly asked, “I heard your older sister, Eleanor, is back?” “Yeah.” Dominic had always been close to Eleanor. She practically ran the entire Sterling family’s affairs. Most importantly, I heard Eleanor brought a woman back with her this time. A woman who was supposed to be Dominic’s arranged fiancée. Thinking about this, I cautiously asked, “Can I meet her?” Dominic’s eyes snapped open. He scrutinized me for a moment before coldly saying, “No need.” Of course. A kept woman wasn’t worthy of meeting the family. I hid the disappointment in my heart and smiled at him: “Okay.” That night, Avery, who said she would call me, never did. It wasn’t until noon the next day that she finally sent a message. [Relax, we didn’t get back together.] 3 I thought my life would just go on like that. Until a month later, when Avery and I realized Aunt Flo was late for both of us. We agreed to go to the doctor together. The moment the ultrasound results came back, we both stared at the words “Pregnancy Confirmed” on the paper, falling into a collective silence. Avery grabbed my ultrasound results and criticized me for failing to protect myself. “You said you were going to ditch him after getting some acting roles! You didn’t use protection?” “I did!” I protested loudly. But then I thought about the intensity against that window that night. My voice dropped: “But… it might have broken.” Avery rolled her eyes, too tired to even roast me. Now it was my turn to grab her results. I yelled, “You’re roasting me? What about you! You don’t even have a boyfriend! Whose kid is this? Some random hookup?” Avery’s eyelashes fluttered. She shot me a guilty look and muttered, “It’s Ethan’s.” “Whose?” I thought I heard wrong, my face turning into a confused mess. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and yelled in my ear, “My ex! Ethan Cole!” My ears were ringing. I mumbled, dissatisfied, “Okay, okay, Ethan Cole. You don’t have to yell!” Avery was broken up, and Ethan still had his ‘white moonlight’ ex, Chloe St. James. And me? I was Dominic Sterling’s hidden mistress. His fiancée had just returned to the country. Thinking about this, we looked at each other and sighed. Clearly, neither of these men would want to claim these babies. After a long silence, Avery grabbed my hand and said hesitantly, “What if… we just dump the dads and keep the kids?” I thought about it: “Fine. Dominic has been pretty generous over the years. Plus, with the money I made acting, it should be enough to buy a nice place in Australia.” “We can get a dog, a cat. One villa, two moms, two kids.” This is our retirement plan! 4 Let’s go! Even though Ethan was still hounding Avery, they were broken up and not living together, so she could leave anytime. But my situation was much trickier. During that time, I was trying to figure out how to propose ending this relationship, but I couldn’t find the right opportunity. Until one night, Dominic staggered home, completely wasted. The moment the door opened, the smile on my face completely froze. Dominic was half-collapsed on a beautiful woman. And this woman… I had seen her in the media photos taken the day Eleanor returned to the country. Dominic’s fiancée—Isabelle Reed. “Hi, you must be Seraphina Vance. Dominic is drunk. I brought him home.” Her eyes were kind as she looked at me. Different from what I imagined, Isabelle Reed seemed to know everything about me and Dominic. I managed a forced smile, took him from her, and put him on the sofa. Isabelle didn’t leave. She looked around the penthouse, smiled, and asked, “Can I have a glass of water?” I walked to the kitchen island without a word. Her casual chatter followed me. “I heard that while I was abroad, you were the one taking care of Dominic. Thank you.” “I’ve seen your movies. It’s really not easy for a woman without a background to make it in Hollywood.” “Eleanor mentioned it. She said she wanted to meet you at the Sterling family dinner soon. Did Dominic mention it to you?” The hand pouring the water froze mid-air. I turned around and calmly met Isabelle’s eyes. In her gaze, there was no mockery of my hidden status, and no arrogance about her own background. The only thing there was the sheer confidence that belonged to the true, future Mrs. Sterling. The kind of confidence I could never feel, no matter how long I stayed by Dominic’s side. In that moment, the massive stone hanging in my heart finally crushed down. I knew, without a doubt, it was time for me to go. That night, after Dominic fell asleep, I packed up my belongings. Because I always suspected this day would come, I didn’t have much in Dominic’s apartment. I left all the expensive jewelry Dominic had given me. I only took one woven rope bracelet. Dominic and I had gotten them together years ago at a spiritual retreat. We each have one. It was a wish for safety and happiness. I had been trying to think of how to say goodbye with dignity, in person. But perhaps, an in-person goodbye wasn’t necessary. On the gray silk sheets, Dominic’s face was still as breathtaking as the first day I met him. He always thought he chased me. He didn’t know that I fell in love at first sight, too. My heart was filled with bitterness and sadness. I sent him one last message on his phone: [I’m gone. Don’t look for me. Have a nice life.] Before I left, I blocked his number. Dominic Sterling, I hope your life is safe and happy… 5 Avery and I have been living in Melbourne for three years now. We both gave birth to healthy babies. Avery’s son is named Leo, and my daughter is named Maya. When Leo and Maya turned three, Avery started a social media account showing off the kids, but without showing her own face. I opened a high-end bar in Melbourne. Life was great. We had money and free time, and my bar had plenty of hot young bartenders to look at. Until one day, a comment appeared on one of Avery’s videos. [Is it just me, or does this little kid Leo look a lot like Oscar-winning actor Ethan Cole?] Since Ethan had posted childhood photos of himself online before. As soon as this was said, netizens immediately dug up old photos for comparison. Without comparing, you wouldn’t know. Once you compared, it was a total shock. You couldn’t even say they looked alike. They were identical! Leo became an overnight viral sensation! A ton of people started tagging Ethan Cole on Twitter, joking about it. Netizens also asked Avery: [Who’s the dad?] Avery gave a sarcastic reply: [He doesn’t have a dad. Self-cloning.] Seeing netizens questioning if she was a mistress and if the child was illegitimate, she just got sarcastic again. [If you knew who his dad was, you’d think I was incredibly unlucky.] However, the very next second after she posted that, an account named Ethan Cole replied below. [Are you sure about that? Avery Vance.] The account name was Ethan Cole. The profile picture was Ethan Cole. Most importantly, he directly called her Avery Vance. Saying this was just a crazed Ethan Cole fan was a stretch. So Avery was terrified and immediately deleted all her replies and set her account to only allow friends to comment. That night, she came to my bar to complain, terrified that Ethan would find her and take Leo’s custody away. I told her to stay calm. Australia is a massive country. Even if that person really was Ethan Cole, he couldn’t find her exact address just from a few viral TikToks. Seeing her still worrying herself sick, I suggested taking her out to clear her head the next day.

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1 After three years abroad, I finished my studies just before the holidays. I chartered an overnight flight home to surprise my parents. Instead of calling them, I dragged my suitcase, eager to see their faces. But when I reached my old home, I froze. The grand villa was gone—replaced by a shabby mud shack, its windows patched with paper. The swimming pool had become a smelly pigsty, and our champion Golden Retriever was now a scruffy, flea-covered mutt. For a moment, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn. Then Mom appeared, tanned and carrying pig feed on her shoulder. She stared at me. “Well, look who’s back!” I rushed to ask why she hadn’t told me we’d gone bankrupt. She gave me a blank look. “Studying abroad made you daft, did it? Bankrupt? When were we ever rich?” “Your dad earns barely three dollars for a hundred pounds of pig feed! A year’s work only brings in three thousand! Now that you’re home, you better help, or we’ll starve this holiday!” My jaw dropped. If we’d always been poor, then who bought me all those limited-edition luxury goods? … “What happened to our villa that used to be here? And the swimming pool? And Buster? Our big Golden Retriever!” I’d video-chatted with Mom just a few days ago, and Buster had been right there by her feet! Mom flinched, then spat right on my face. “Villa? Swimming pool? Golden Retriever? Your father’s always been a pathetic excuse for a man. Marrying him was the worst mistake of my life; I’ll never amount to anything!” “And you—” Mom’s eyes raked over me, then she rolled them. “Dressed to the nines, looking like you’re too good for us just because you’ve seen a bit of the world?” “You’ll still end up shoveling pig waste with me!” I stood there, completely numb. My home was gone, and Mom… she was a stranger. My mother, famous in the socialite circles for her impeccable cleanliness and demanding tastes, who insisted everything she touched be screened and disinfected by her staff, was now unrecognizable. Where was the elegant, refined woman I remembered? Had the shock of losing everything caused her to have a breakdown? It couldn’t be! Just as I was about to call Dad to get to the bottom of this, a worn-out middle-aged man hobbled out of the mud shack. His face was identical to Dad’s, but ravaged by time and hardship. “Dad, you’ve changed too—” My gaze dropped, and the words caught in my throat. His right leg was gone, just an empty space below the knee. Dad had been golfing with friends last week when we video-chatted. How could he have ended up like this? Trembling, I knelt and pulled up his pant leg. Gnarly scars crisscrossed his thigh, ending in a distinct amputation site. My voice was barely a whisper. “Dad, what happened to us?” A thousand possibilities flashed through my mind. Our family business was vast; had some formidable enemy driven us to this desperate state? Mom slapped me across the face. “You come home and start asking all these ridiculous questions! Your father’s been a good-for-nothing his whole life. Ten years ago, he got his leg cut off for stealing pork fat and didn’t even dare utter a word!” My face stung, but I felt no pain. Mom had never laid a hand on me since the day I was born! Something was definitely wrong here! I quickly pulled out a video of us surfing at the beach last year. I pointed at the screen, showing it to Mom. “A year ago, Dad’s leg was perfectly fine—” Mom’s eyes flickered across the screen for just a second, then she exploded, pointing at me. “You slut! Wearing so little, trying to tempt your own father, are you?” “I sent you to school, worked myself ragged, and this is what you learn to bring home?” It was a swimsuit! She’d bought it for me herself! Had she forgotten? Mom was now a complete shrew! What on earth had happened to our family? Why had she become like this? Almost fleeing, I stumbled out of the house and turned into the convenience store across the street. There, I bumped into my younger brother, Caleb, his hair dyed bright yellow, arms draped around two gaudily dressed girls. Caleb stared at me, dumbfounded. “Elara? You’re back?” Like a drowning person finding a lifeline, I clutched at him. “Caleb, tell me, what happened to our family? Why are Mom and Dad like this?” But then, Caleb’s expression turned strange. A chill crept down my spine. He said, “Our family has always been like this.” “Have you been away so long you’ve forgotten, Elara?” He gestured vaguely towards our house. “That mud hut, Mom built it the year she got married. And that pigsty, Mom fenced it in. Even our three hundred dollar monthly income depends on Mom.” “And me, your brother. I never went to school, never learned to read. Not like you, who got to see the world after finishing high school!” For a moment, my mind reeled. What did he mean he never went to school or learned to read? And what was with that bitter, resentful tone? He had won the national math competition three years in a row by his freshman year of high school! During the awards ceremony, he’d even given me his trophy, saying it was a gift for me. I still had the award video on my phone. But now, when I opened my gallery, I couldn’t find it anywhere. Even the video I’d shown Mom just moments ago had vanished. I frantically tapped on my chat history with Mom and Dad, only to find their profile pictures grayed out. A creeping coldness slowly ascended my spine. I felt as if I’d stepped into the Truman Show. Why? Was there some catalyst? Or was it just our family that had changed this way? But I’d lived in that house for twenty-five years! And from the moment I stepped off the plane until now, I’d been perfectly lucid. Nothing unusual had happened on the way. I desperately replayed every moment in my mind, feeling like I’d missed something crucial. Suddenly, a message from my best friend popped up. “Elara, I’m almost there! I’ve got a surprise for you!” In an instant, my heart settled. My best friend, Maya, was the daughter of the wealthiest man in the city. We’d met seven years ago at a party thrown by our parents and instantly clicked. We even planned to go to college together, and we’d stayed in close contact even when I went abroad. As soon as I told her I was coming home, Maya declared she’d spend the holidays with me! As soon as she arrived, it would prove my memories were right! They were definitely up to something! Watching the shared location with Maya get closer and closer, my heart quickened. Then, I saw a tricycle approaching. Maya was on it, her clothes old and baggy. She dismounted clumsily. A bad feeling coiled in my stomach. Only when Maya stood before me, greeting me, did I notice how swollen she looked. I forced down the strange sensation in my chest, about to ask her, when Maya, looking slightly smug, lifted her shirt. Her enormous belly swayed precariously with her movements, covered in red veins and stretch marks. “Elara, look. I’m married.” “Quintuplets, four boys. Surprise?” My worldview shattered again. Maya, my best friend with whom I shared everything, was a staunch DINK (dual income, no kids). She’d never even gone to one of the arranged marriages her father tried to set up, always causing a huge fuss. She’d even gone on a hunger strike to make her father give up on the idea of her marrying. My legs felt like jelly. Dad was a pathetic man. Mom was a shrew. My brother was a yellow-haired hooligan. And now, my long-unseen best friend was pregnant with quadruplets. Everyone seemed to be moving in the opposite direction of my memories! It was all wrong, everything was reversed! I was absolutely certain now. I was in another world! I no longer cared why this was happening. All I wanted to do was one thing: I wanted to go home! But my hand was gripped tight. Maya’s strength was incredible, pulling my hand towards her pregnant belly. “Elara, where are you going? Didn’t we say we’d spend the holidays together?” “Don’t you want to see my babies? Didn’t you say you’d be their favorite aunt?” My fingertips trembled. When had I ever said that? But when my palm actually touched Maya’s belly, the babies inside seemed to sense it, kicking me gently. That kick shattered the last sliver of hope in my heart. It was real! I almost spun and ran, my legs so weak I could barely stand. Run away, just run away! It felt like I was the only anomaly in the world. I needed to go home! Seeing I was actually trying to flee, Mom’s face contorted with fury as she chased after me. I cried out in panic, “I’m not your daughter! You’ve got the wrong person!” “I’d recognize you even if you were ashes! You go out and see the world, and now you’re too good for us? Get back here! I’ll sell you to the old beggar by the village entrance!” My best friend, Maya, also called out to me, clutching her pregnant belly. “Elara! Didn’t we say we’d spend the holidays together? Why are you running? Come back!” I bit down hard on my tongue, forcing myself to stay clear-headed. Then, a sharp pain shot through the back of my head. My brother had caught up and struck me hard with a stick. As I lost consciousness, I saw a flicker of sorrow and reluctance in his eyes. He said, “Elara, just bear with it. We’re doing this for your own good.”

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“My mother is the person I hate most, and I am the person she hates most.” She hated me for being conceived after a brutal assault by a street thug. Even when I topped my class, she had me expelled because, due to health issues, she had no choice but to carry me to term. I hated her for being a terrible mother, and because of her, I developed a twisted, possessive need for maternal love. When I was four, she threw me into a river to drown. After I was rescued, I blackmailed her, threatening to make her streak naked down the street if she didn’t sign the non-prosecution agreement. When she was hospitalized after a car accident, I used a stone to carve my name into her body while she was immobile. After she was discharged, she uncharacteristically bought me an ice cream, but secretly sprinkled a powder on it that attracted bees, causing them to sting my mouth raw. No matter what, she would only ever call me a bastard, and even shoved me into a cabinet, nailing the door shut. Yet, through the crack in the door, I saw my thug father. And through the same crack, my mother looked at me, making a ‘shush’ gesture. … My mother, a ‘distinguished parent,’ had just taken the stage to give a speech at my senior year commencement rally. But the moment she opened her mouth, the audience began to murmur. “This little bastard of mine, I know her rotten character better than anyone. There’s no way she earned these grades honestly; she must have cheated.” “This school, honestly, it’s senior year. Can you please stop deluding yourselves?” The principal’s face instantly darkened, and he gestured for a teacher to pull her off the stage. The students were already buzzing, marveling at my mother’s audacity. But my mother, ignoring the teacher’s attempts to stop her, continued her ‘speech’ on stage. “What a joke of a school! And you, you little bastard, weren’t you supposed to have me here to collect a prize? Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered coming. Do you know how much I make in a day? You’ve got some nerve, trying to fool me!” Her voice trailed off as she was finally escorted away. I stood below the stage, not a trace of shame on my face. Instead, I felt a thrill of victory for having successfully tricked her. The speech was the last item on the agenda. Afterward, everyone could go home. I saw a crowd forming ahead and immediately recognized what was happening, pushing my way forward. It was my mother, of course. A student asked her, “Who is the ‘bastard’ you were talking about?” My mother blurted out, “My daughter.” Another student asked her what she did for work. My mother glanced at me, then grinned as she replied, “Me? What do you think someone as pretty as me does?” Lila Bright, who always had it in for me, chimed in, “I bet you’re a prostitute!” The surrounding chatter instantly died, followed by a burst of laughter. My fists clenched, my gaze fixed on Lila, wishing I could burn a hole through her with my stare. But Lila seemed unfazed, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked at me. “What are you staring at? I’m not wrong. Every day I go home, I see your mom coming out of that massage parlor. My mom said the jobs there aren’t reputable, and it’s even been reported before!” Everyone turned to look, and the crowd grew larger. But my mother remained unconcerned, showing no intention of refuting it. Instead, she grinned at Lila. “Oh, little girl, you know quite a lot. Tell you what, send your dad to my shop sometime, mention my name, and I’ll give him a ten percent discount. I guarantee he’ll leave feeling completely satisfied!” It was an indirect admission of her profession. Lila’s face turned scarlet, speechless. Just then, a teacher arrived and dispersed the crowd. Furious, I grabbed a plastic stool meant for parents and slammed it onto my mother’s head. She, in turn, angrily swung her own stool at my head. “Your brain must be rusted, you can’t even hurl an insult! Are you happy listening to others curse your mother every day?!” We practically clawed at each other, fighting all the way home. Many people on the street stared, whispering behind their hands. My chest felt constricted, a knot of frustration I couldn’t untangle, fueling the force of my blows against my mother. As punishment, the moment we got home, she locked me directly into a wooden cabinet in the kitchen, nailing the door shut. Memories, like a busy street, flashed through my mind. Before I was four, my grandmother raised me. After she passed, I returned to my mother’s side for the first time. The first night living with my mother, I lay in bed, anxious, clutching a small paper flower I had folded, sweating with nerves. In the darkness, my mother fumbled her way to the bed. The rehearsed words caught in my throat, my eyes wide with shock. My mother lifted me with one hand, then, as if casually discarding something unimportant, dropped me onto the floor. “Who told you to lie there? If my mom hadn’t forced you on me before she died, do you think I’d take in a little bastard like you?” “So filthy, and you dare get into my bed? Don’t you know I hate children more than anything?” After she spoke, she spat on me again, her disdainful gaze practically nailing me to the ground. I had never seen such a fierce mother, completely unlike little Timmy’s mom in the village. Trembling, I sat on the floor, my round eyes wide with terror. I was ordered to leave, but I shamelessly huddled by the bed, sleeping there all night. I woke up many times in the middle of the night, terrified my mother would vanish again if I opened my eyes. Overwhelmed with fear, I didn’t even notice a blanket had been placed over me. But when I finally opened my eyes, my mother was gone. I ran barefoot through the streets, searching everywhere for her, finally finding her in a massage parlor. Her hands held something I didn’t recognize, tapping repeatedly on a man’s body. The man’s hands roamed freely over my mother’s thighs. I might have been mistaken, but my mother seemed to glance my way, then quickly averted her eyes. She then slapped the man’s hand irritably, yelling, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?! What are you groping for?! Don’t you believe I’d chop off that hand right now?!” I thought, the man so intimate with my mother must be my father. I immediately ran up to him and called out “Dad.” When my mother turned and saw it was me, the fury in her eyes finally broke free. She ignored the man, chasing me all the way to the river. I had a bad feeling. Sure enough, the next second, seeing no one around, she picked me up and threw me into the river. As I fell, I saw murderous intent in my mother’s eyes. It was a cold day, and I was only wearing thin clothes, flailing desperately in the water. She walked away, without a backward glance. Eventually, a passerby found me and took me to the police station. I didn’t hesitate for a second, looking at the officer intently. “My mother threw me into the river!” My mother was arrested, and the first thing she said when she saw me chilled my heart even further: “You have such a strong will to live, you actually didn’t die!” My soaking hair was still dripping water. I didn’t understand why my mother, whom I had only known for two days, would throw me into the river. Grandmother had always said that only disobedient children would be eaten by the river monster. My mother forced me to sign a non-prosecution agreement, saying she had important things to do and couldn’t go to jail yet. In that moment, words beyond my years came out of my mouth. “If you want me to forgive you, then you’ll have to streak naked down the street. Otherwise, I won’t forgive you.” She raised her hand to hit me in anger, forgetting she was at the police station, and couldn’t follow through. The officer asked if I wanted to go to an orphanage. Before I could refuse, my mother became agitated! “What for? What if I have to pay? Besides, if she leaves, who will serve me?!” The officer looked at me with sympathy, trying to explain that orphanages were free, but my mother impatiently refused. From then on, a seed of wickedness was sown in my heart. I developed a pathological possessiveness over maternal love. No matter what my mother did to me, it only fueled my desire for revenge. I was locked in the cabinet, but I didn’t struggle. Instead, I thought about how I could ‘get back at her’ later. Should I deliberately arrange a car accident to cripple her, or simply disfigure her with acid? Distracted, I saw my face reflected in something shiny. It was a knife! I jumped, instinctively wondering if someone had broken in. The knife drew closer and closer, finally pressing against the crack in the cabinet door. I panicked, my heart racing. The person outside kept pounding on the cabinet door, making loud thudding sounds. I huddled in the corner, praying they wouldn’t find me. Until I saw the person’s face—it was my thug father! I had seen his picture at home before, marked with several angry red crosses by my mother. Suddenly, his face disappeared! Then my mother appeared, looking terrified, and made a ‘shush’ gesture with her finger. I instantly realized something and started pounding on the cabinet door frantically. Through the crack, I could see my mother’s body slowly falling, until she lay still. I even cried out inside the cabinet, but the door had been nailed shut, impossible to open. My mother could only be killed by my revenge; no one else was allowed to kill her! I started to search for a tool on my body, and when I looked up again, my mother was standing on the ground. She then stood there, laughing loudly, looking at me as if I were a clown. “You bastard, are you stupid? Reading a couple of books really made you an idiot! Let me tell you, someone like you, going to school is useless! Starting tomorrow, you’re not allowed to go to school anymore, and I won’t give you a single penny!” I felt like an absolute fool, thoroughly played by my mother. She stood there like a madwoman, holding the knife—the very knife I had seen earlier. So, everything just now had been her own elaborate act. I swore at her, which only angered her. She made a small hole above the cabinet and threw a snake inside from somewhere. I remembered someone saying there were snakes in the neighborhood, but the property management hadn’t done anything. The cabinet was pitch black, with only a sliver of light coming through that hole. “You little bastard, still daring to curse me? You can sleep with the snake in the cabinet tonight!” My mother left with a harsh threat, and the room grew so quiet I could hear the snake’s hissing. I grabbed the snake’s head, trying to bite it to death, but it still bit me unexpectedly. My consciousness blurred, and I could barely see anything. A figure reappeared at the crack in the door. I wanted to call out to my mother for help. This snake was venomous. Before I could even speak, the person lunged at me with that same knife, stabbing me fiercely. One stab, two stabs, three stabs… Blood continuously gushed from the knife wounds, staining the body of the snake I had just killed. Because the venom was so potent, I couldn’t even scream. In the second before I lost consciousness, I clearly saw the person’s face. It wasn’t my mother, but my thug father—he had broken in and attacked me! The man finished his assault and quickly left. I clutched my wounds, trying to slow the blood loss. My consciousness drifted, and I could clearly see my own body lying in a pool of blood. My mother didn’t notice anything amiss. She packed her things and left for her night shift at the massage parlor. Halfway there, she suddenly remembered she’d forgotten her electric scooter keys, so she pulled out her phone to call me. The call didn’t connect. She seemed to have forgotten the fact that I was locked in the cabinet and couldn’t answer. So she frowned, cursing at her phone, “This little bastard, how dare she not answer my call.” She had no choice but to go back for her keys. As she passed the cabinet, she saw the blood spreading out from it. Annoyed, she kicked the cabinet hard. “So, you’re quite capable, huh? You actually killed the snake!” She quickly grabbed her keys, but then turned back, holding a snake she had seen in the hallway. She casually threw it into the hole above. As she threw it, she taunted, “Afraid you’re bored, so here’s another one. Hope you just die already!” Seeing no response from me, a flicker of doubt crossed her face. “That snake has no patterns. Is it even venomous? What are you playing dead for?!” I stood beside her, watching this scene, a bitter smile on my face. How I wished I could tell her that I was already dead, and that the snake’s belly did have patterns. She no longer had to think about how to humiliate me every day, or how to get rid of me. All I hoped for now was that my spirit would cling to her for the rest of her life. If she knew that the person she hated most, even in death, would haunt her forever, she would be furious! This was my first time seeing my mother work the night shift at the massage parlor. But strangely, no matter how much those men took advantage, she didn’t get angry and stop them, or yell at them like before. Yet every time I had caught her, she had been furious. It wasn’t until three in the morning that she finally got to rest. My soul, beyond my control, hovered around my mother. I couldn’t see the state of my body, but I imagined it must have been bitten dozens of times by the newly introduced snake. My mother received a call from a teacher asking why I hadn’t been to school. But my mother, upon hearing the teacher’s voice, immediately hung up and blocked the number. “She didn’t go to school, so go find her! What does it have to do with me?!” After returning home, she immediately collapsed onto the bed and slept soundly. How I wished I could pour a bucket of cold water on her! Even if she didn’t love me, she should at least come collect my body! She was my mother, after all… My mother usually slept until evening after her night shift. But this time, for some reason, she woke up suddenly as if from a nightmare, her eyes fixed on the direction of the kitchen. She walked with heavy steps towards the cabinet, towards my corpse, and called out my name. “Bastard?” I didn’t respond. It had been almost two hours; my body must be ice cold by now. My mother paused in front of that pool of blood, reaching out a trembling hand to touch it. She suddenly realized it wasn’t snake blood, but human blood! She called my name again, her voice trembling. I had never seen her like this, not even when she had thrown me into the river with her own hands. She looked terrified, and immediately grabbed tools, pulling out the nails one by one. Finding the tools difficult to use, she started pulling them out with her bare hands, even using her teeth to bite them. Finally, her fingers were bloody and raw, half a tooth broken, but all the nails were removed. But when she trembled and opened the cabinet door, she screamed in horror! Inside the cabinet, my chest had a gaping, bloody hole. The blood had dried on my chest, already soaking through my shirt. Two snakes lay beside me. One I had already killed, while the other slithered nearby, occasionally hissing. I had expected her to be happy when she saw I was dead, even clapping and cheering with joy. After all, she had disliked me from the very first day she knew of my existence. To my surprise, she stood motionless before me, as if her spirit had been sucked dry by a monster. I floated beside her, thinking she was scared by my appearance, and instinctively blurted out a taunt. “Hey, is that all the guts you have? Can’t you see I’m dead? Aren’t you going to collect the body?!” The sarcastic words escaped my lips, and I almost forgot that the dead person was me. And my mother couldn’t hear me. She stood there for two minutes, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the blood-soaked hole in my chest. She slowly knelt, reaching out to check my breath, but her hand stopped abruptly in mid-air. Then she began to shake me violently. “Bastard, do you think playing dead will make me feel sorry for you?” “It’s just a few snakes, what’s the big deal? They can’t actually kill you, can they?” “Didn’t you used to eat snake meat when you were little? How come you can’t even kill a snake now?!” That’s right, my mother was so confident throwing snakes in because when I was little, she starved me for three days and nights without food. I happened to find a snake, so I simply ate it. But no matter how much my mother shook me, I wouldn’t wake up again. I watched her from the side, wondering how much she truly hated me. I was dead, and she still treated me this way. So I became even more determined in my idea: I would float by my mother’s side in spirit form, until my consciousness faded. Didn’t she hate me? Then I would stick to her and haunt her! Seeing that I still hadn’t woken up, she seemed to confirm the fact of my death and turned and ran. My heart sank a little. I didn’t follow my mother’s spirit. Instead, I began to calculate how long it would be before my body started to smell, and how long until someone discovered me. But I was too far from my mother, and was forcibly pulled back to her side. I was shocked to find she was on the phone. But she was too nervous, her fingers trembling, constantly dialing the wrong number. I clearly saw a tear on the phone screen. Then, two drops, three drops… My mother was actually crying. I stopped, looking at her in disbelief, my mind a jumble. This was the first time I had ever seen her cry. For whom? She finally got through to the emergency services! On the phone, my mother screamed, frantically urging them to hurry. The emergency operator’s routine questions, in her eyes, were just delays. The operator on the other end told my mother to calm down, saying that being anxious wouldn’t help. My mother suddenly roared, screaming hysterically, “If your family member died, would you be so calm?!” Not only did the operator fall silent, but even I was stunned. My face froze, then softened with relief, a gentle smile gracing my lips. Could I be hallucinating after death? Medical personnel quickly arrived, but after only a brief look, they told my mother there was no need for treatment. I had lost too much blood and had long since passed. “Who said there’s no need for treatment? Why not treat her? Do you think I can’t afford it?!” She rushed over agitatedly, grabbing a medic’s collar, the ferocity in her eyes even more resolute than when she’d thrown me into the river. The medic initially wanted to explain, but seeing the emotion in my mother’s eyes, they agreed to take me away. How I wanted to stop her, to tell her there was no need to treat me, it would just be a waste of money. But my hand passed directly through my mother’s body, causing me to stumble. The hospital issued a pile of examination forms, again asking my mother if she wished to continue treatment. My mother, annoyed, snapped at the doctor, “How many times do I have to say it?! Are you doctors deaf, or what? I said, treat her!”

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My childhood sweetheart lost his sight in a car crash. Out of the goodness of my heart, I donated one of my corneas to him. He, however, firmly believed I had orchestrated the accident. He was convinced my donation was just a manipulative ploy to force him into marriage and tear him away from his first love. He hated me for the rest of his life. Right before he died, he spat that he would rather be blind than ever have to look at my face again. When I opened my eyes next, I was back in the moment right before he sped off in his car to chase after his first love. I pretended I didn’t know a thing. In this life, I don’t ever want to look at his face again either. 1 In the dead of night, my mother yanked me out of bed. While pulling on her coat, she said grimly, “Get up, quickly. Your Aunt Sarah just called. Arthur was in a terrible car accident. We need to get to the hospital immediately.” My heart hammered in my chest. It wasn’t until we arrived at the hospital and I saw Arthur’s parents pacing frantically outside the operating room that reality finally set in. This wasn’t my life flashing before my eyes right before suicide. I had actually been reborn. My mother rushed over to ask for updates on Arthur’s condition. The adults were in an absolute panic. Ironically, I became the only person calm enough to speak with the doctor. “The family needs to prepare for the worst. The patient sustained severe facial trauma from a massive impact. Both corneas are completely detached. It’s highly likely he will be permanently blind.” Just like in my past life, Aunt Sarah nearly fainted upon hearing the news. I let out a silent sigh, my heart completely devoid of any emotion. I simply asked, “The corneas detached, but can the actual eyeballs be saved?” The doctor gave a noncommittal “We’ll do our best” before shoving a clipboard and pen into my hand. “What is your relation to the patient? Please sign this quickly.” The word wife almost slipped out, but I bit it back hard. I handed the pen to Arthur’s father, who was holding it together slightly better than his wife. “I’m just the neighbor. I don’t have the authority to sign.” In my past life, when I heard Arthur was going to be blind, my reaction was just as hysterical as Aunt Sarah’s. After all, he was the boy I had secretly loved for ten years. The thought of someone as vibrant and arrogant as Arthur never being able to see the world again broke my heart, so I volunteered to donate one of my corneas. Arthur regained his sight. After a few days of depression, he proposed to me right there in the hospital room. He held my arm and said, “Hazel, from now on, we will be each other’s light.” Ten years of unrequited love finally felt validated, but I still hesitated. “What about Chloe?” Arthur scoffed, pointing at his own eye. “If she hadn’t thrown a tantrum and broken up with me in the middle of the night, this never would have happened to me…” He sounded so resolute back then, but less than two years into our marriage, he completely changed. By chance, I saw his search history on an AI app. [How to detach someone’s corneas] [Help me design the perfect car accident] [Can someone who died of carbon monoxide poisoning still donate their corneas?] Seeing those queries felt like plunging straight into hell. I had given him one cornea out of decades of loyalty, yet he was plotting to take my other one. So, I sealed all the doors and windows in our apartment, lit charcoal briquettes, and shared a drink with Arthur for the first time since our wedding. When we were both buzzed, I asked him, “Do you regret marrying me?” The alcohol stripped away his filter. The look he gave me was like a physical blade. “If I didn’t marry you, how could I ever repay you for the magnificent car accident you so carefully orchestrated?” He pulled out my old diary from God-knows-where and slammed it violently onto the table. “Hazel Vance! You’ve been obsessed with me since we were kids. You couldn’t have me, so you staged that crash to blind me, didn’t you?!” “When I went blind, you used your cornea donation to blackmail me into marrying you.” “You destroyed my health, you destroyed my relationship with Chloe, and you thought you could force me to feel indebted to you for the rest of my life. You are absolutely vile! I would rather be blind forever than have to look at your face!” Every word he spat left me in utter shock. With red eyes, I desperately tried to explain it wasn’t me, but he slammed his hand on the table and interrogated me: “Then why else would you willingly become a disabled freak just to give me your cornea?! Don’t tell me you actually bought into that ‘childhood sweethearts’ garbage! We’re just neighbors! We don’t have that kind of deep connection!” I was completely stunned. So this was how Arthur had maliciously analyzed my actions all along. As the oxygen depleted and the carbon monoxide took over, my mind grew hazy. He and I both died in that room. It wasn’t a particularly painful death. 2 This time, I stood back with cold detachment as both families desperately searched for a donor cornea. I had absolutely no intention of getting tangled up in Arthur’s karma again. Aunt Sarah wept continuously, and my mother looked deeply troubled. “Sigh, Arthur’s a good kid. Why on earth would he be speeding in the middle of the night?” “What could possibly be so urgent that he’d risk his life? He was such a bright young man, and now…” A flash of pure hatred crossed Aunt Sarah’s face. “I checked Arthur’s phone. I found out he had secretly gotten a girlfriend named Chloe.” “That girl was throwing a fit. She told him that if he didn’t make it to the train station in ten minutes, she was leaving the city forever. Arthur panicked, and then…” I kept my eyes lowered and said nothing. Logically, this accident had absolutely nothing to do with me. Yet in my past life, Arthur managed to pin the blame entirely on my shoulders. Just as Aunt Sarah finished her sentence, a loud crash echoed from the hospital room. Before I could even react, Aunt Sarah and my mother sprinted inside. I followed them to take a look. Arthur had knocked his water glass off the nightstand and tumbled out of bed. He had violently ripped the bandages off his eyes and was currently reaching out, blindly grasping at the air, his eyes bloodshot and unseeing. “Arthur!” Aunt Sarah’s voice cracked with heartbreak. “Get up, the floor is freezing.” “You just woke up, you can’t thrash around like this! You have a fractured leg, be careful!” Arthur gripped Aunt Sarah’s hand like a drowning man clutching a lifeline. “Mom, what’s wrong with my eyes?” “Why can’t I see anything?! Why?!” Aunt Sarah’s heart broke for her son. She opened her mouth several times but couldn’t force the words out. She covered her mouth, sobbing silently, her shoulders shaking violently as she suppressed the sound. Unable to see where anyone was, Arthur looked around wildly, panic radiating from his blind eyes. Finally, my mother couldn’t bear it anymore. She pulled me forward to help lift him back onto the bed. “Hazel? Is that Hazel?” “Tell me, what happened to me…” I shot a complex look at Aunt Sarah. Receiving her subtle nod of permission, I said: “The car crash caused your corneas to detach. You are permanently blind.” Arthur froze, instantly blurting out, “Impossible.” I didn’t say another word. Aunt Sarah immediately stepped in to comfort him. “Don’t be scared. Your father and Mr. Vance are already looking for donor corneas.” “You’ll get your sight back soon.” Arthur, who had lived his entire life with arrogant, reckless freedom, was completely unequipped to handle this devastating blow. It took the attending doctor coming in on rounds to finally issue a stark warning: “You must take exceptional care of your eyes right now. If your condition deteriorates any further, even a donor cornea won’t be viable for transplant.” I smiled silently. If donor corneas were that easy to come by, Arthur wouldn’t have been plotting to steal my remaining one in our past life. But wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? In this life, at the very least, he would never have to look at my face again. 3 Arthur’s father exhausted every connection searching for a cornea but failed repeatedly. His hair turned white in a matter of days. Unable to accept the reality of his blindness, Arthur radiated a toxic, volatile anger. Within three days of his hospitalization, the stress caused Aunt Sarah’s blood pressure to spike so severely that she ended up admitted to the hospital herself. I actively avoided Arthur, which earned me a harsh lecture from my parents. “Hazel, our families have always been close. You have to step up and help out right now.” Unable to find a valid excuse, I finally went to see him. The moment I stepped into his room, Arthur turned his head toward the door. “Is that you, Hazel?” I was slightly surprised, but then heard him let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I recognized your footsteps.” “Why haven’t you come to visit me? Do I look like a monster now?” I sat down a safe distance from his bed and replied coolly, “I’ve been too busy lately. Couldn’t find the time.” The ten years of unrequited love had been thoroughly incinerated by the psychological torture of our marriage in my past life. In this life, I was finally thinking clearly. Arthur was right. We were just neighbors. He seemed to be waiting for me to comfort him. When I remained silent, he started blindly reaching around his bed for his phone. After struggling to find it, he thrust it toward the opposite side of the bed, speaking to empty air. “Check if Chloe has called me.” “I can’t even unlock my screen. She must be terrified that she hasn’t heard from me in days.” I sighed in exasperation. “I’m over here.” Arthur froze, a flash of humiliating defeat crossing his face. I took the phone and checked. Zero missed calls. I opened his texts. Their last conversation was from days ago. I glanced at him. Driven by a morbid curiosity to understand why he blamed me for his accident in my past life, I opened the chat log. “Arthur! My mom said if we’re getting married, the dowry has to be a shopping mall. This is non-negotiable.” “Your family is loaded, giving up two malls is nothing to you. If you’re not willing to show your commitment, we’re breaking up.” Arthur’s replies were incredibly subservient. “Let’s just talk this through, okay? I promise I’ll discuss it with my parents.” Chloe responded with a photo of a high-speed train ticket departing in thirty minutes. “Then come find me when you’ve discussed it with them.” Arthur begged her not to leave. Finally, she relented, but issued an ultimatum: he had exactly ten minutes to get to the station. Reading the texts, I couldn’t help but sneer in disgust. They got into a fight over a dowry extortion attempt, which had absolutely nothing to do with me. Yet in my past life, simply because I was kind enough to donate my cornea to him, he projected all his rage and resentment onto me? “Well? Did she text me?” Arthur asked anxiously. I shook my head and placed the phone on his lap. “No.” “Impossible!” He blindly fumbled with the phone, trying to hand it back to me. “Is it dead?” “Or maybe it broke in the crash, and it’s not receiving messages?” “Hazel, go buy me a new phone, please?” Watching his desperate panic, a spark of vindictive satisfaction flared in my chest. I spoke with deliberate, retaliatory cruelty: “Chloe hasn’t contacted you. Not a single time.” 4 From that day forward, Arthur made me check his unread messages every single day. As the days passed, his panic became palpable. “It’s been so long. Why isn’t she contacting me?” “Do you think something happened to her?” I just stared at him with zero expression. But then he suddenly demanded, “Call her for me.” The second the call connected, Arthur’s eyes widened with hope. It was the first time he had smiled in days. “Chloe…” The voice on the other end was icy. “Why are you calling me? I told you I’d only wait ten minutes, and you never showed.” “I figured that meant you agreed to break up. Stop bothering me.” Arthur frantically tried to explain, “I’m sorry, Chloe! Don’t hang up!” “I… I didn’t mean to be late, and I definitely don’t want to break up! It’s just… I got into a car accident. I’ve been in the hospital.” I stood up and walked out of the room, terrified that if she rejected him, he’d somehow find a way to blame me again. But witnessing his subservient, pathetic groveling made me finally realize: he truly did not love me. We grew up together, and I had never seen Arthur act this pathetic before. When Aunt Sarah arrived, I tracked down his attending physician. If the crash was so severe, why was the rest of his body only mildly bruised, while his eyes took the absolute worst of the impact? The doctor looked sympathetic but resigned. “When the paramedics found him, his face was covered in blood.” “It turns out he had glued raised, hard plastic bedazzled decorations onto the steering wheel logo. When the airbag deployed, it essentially launched those hard objects directly into his eyes.” “It’s a tragic shame…” I raised an eyebrow and walked back home, the puzzle finally pieced together. In my past life, my entire heart was devoted to Arthur. It wasn’t until the moments before my death, reviewing my life, that I realized how spectacularly I had ruined a winning hand. This time, I took two-thirds of my life savings and bought physical gold bars. My mother looked at me suspiciously. “Are you opening a jewelry store?” I smiled brightly and shook my head. “Just an investment for the future!” That night, my father came home looking miserable. He sighed heavily at the dinner table, his eyes constantly darting toward me. “There are simply no donor corneas available. I’m afraid Arthur might…” I met my father’s gaze steadily. “You did everything you could. Even if they never find one, his family won’t blame you.” Both my parents snapped their heads toward me, probing cautiously. “I’m just worried you won’t be able to handle it.” “We know you and Arthur have been incredibly close since childhood, and as you got older…” “If you’re absolutely determined to stay with him, your mother and I won’t oppose it.” Hearing the implication behind their words, I set down my chopsticks, my expression deadly serious. “Mom. Dad.” “I don’t like Arthur anymore.” “It’s not because he’s blind. It’s because he already has a girlfriend. He’s not the right person for me. We’re just casual friends. Neighbors.” “Please, never bring this up again.” My parents looked stunned for a moment, but quickly nodded in agreement. “Hazel, don’t worry. Whatever you choose, we support you 100%.”

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After being lured into an overseas cyber scam compound, I became their top-performing scammer. I worked like a machine—no food, no sleep, opening my eyes every day solely to scam. The other victims trapped with me all said I had lost my mind. “Don’t you realize we’re in a living hell? Run with us!” But not only did I refuse to run, I turned around and reported everyone who tried to escape. Everyone thought I was just a brainwashed, broken lunatic. But only I knew that this was just one piece of my master plan. 01 “Anyone who dares to betray this organization ends up like this!” Marcus, the compound’s ruthless boss, shot a dark look at his enforcer. The massive guard immediately raised a whip soaked in saltwater and brought it down viciously on the woman lying in the center of the dirt courtyard. No, you couldn’t even call her human anymore. She was just a corpse whose chest was still faintly rising and falling. There wasn’t a single patch of intact skin left on her body. Her back was covered in blackened, bloody brand marks, and her face was slashed so brutally it was terrifying to look at. The whip cracked sharply through the air. When it struck her, she didn’t react, her body only convulsing purely out of involuntary reflex. The onlookers surrounding the courtyard showed expressions of sheer terror. Some who knew the story whispered with their heads bowed. “I heard she was an undercover informant. She infiltrated the compound on purpose and got caught trying to run with a flash drive of data.” “Marcus is ruthless. Every time a new batch of victims arrives, he drags her out to torture her publicly. He’s just keeping her alive, refusing to let her die.” “Dying isn’t that easy here. Making her wish she was dead is the perfect way to make an example out of her.” Hearing this, the others were so terrified they didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly. The woman was roughly dragged away. I silently dug my nails into my palms, but my face remained completely expressionless, as if I had seen this a thousand times. Marcus nodded in satisfaction and waved me over. I walked toward him obediently. “This is last year’s top performer, Riley.” After a brief introduction, he looked at the terrified, anxious faces of the new arrivals, smiling sinisterly. “Since you’re here, don’t even think about running. Here, performance is everything. Do well, and you’ll enjoy endless privileges. But if you fail to meet your quota…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the threat in his voice was clear. The compound was massive, surrounded by high, electrified fences. Heavily armed guards patrolling with attack dogs were everywhere. A look of profound despair settled on the faces of the newly lured victims. “Riley, train them well.” He was about to leave when I suddenly called out to him. “Marcus. I’d like to report a few people. They’re planning to run.” My words instantly sent a ripple of commotion through the quiet crowd. After all, the horrific image of that tortured woman was still fresh in their minds. “Who?” Marcus’s face darkened, a completely undisguised, freezing chill rolling through his eyes. “Them.” I pointed at the three people who had just been whispering. “Riley, don’t you dare frame us!” One of them panicked for a second before flying into a rage, shouting at me. A massive guard beside him instantly rushed forward and slapped him brutally across the face twice, his expression lethal. “Watch who you’re talking to.” The man’s mouth bled, his face swelling up immediately. He didn’t dare speak again. I smirked, completely unfazed. As the top performer, I had earned this level of privilege. “Proof.” Marcus stared at me intensely, a probing look on his face. I knew that having only been here for a year, despite my best efforts to act completely brainwashed, a seasoned cartel boss like him would still harbor some suspicion. But that didn’t matter. After today, his doubts would be completely erased. I pulled out my phone—which had its signal blocked and could only be used for offline entertainment—and played a recording. “Riley, don’t you know this is a scam operation? Wake up, run with us!” “You want to run? Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” “Afraid of what? We’re just pretending to be brainwashed. We’ve actually secretly planned an escape route! If you want to go, meet us in the small garden tonight at midnight…” The recording ended, and the three of them looked ashen. “Looks like we really have some people who aren’t afraid of dying.” Marcus seemed to find it highly amusing, a slow smile spreading across his face. 02 “Marcus, we lost our minds for a second! Please have mercy, give us one more chance! We’ll never do it again!” The three of them sobbed pathetically, crawling to his feet and kowtowing desperately until their foreheads bled profusely. “Pardon you? If the rules are broken, how can I keep order? Drag them away!” Marcus kicked them away forcefully, a bloodthirsty glint in his eye. “Riley, you ungrateful bitch, betraying us like this! I’m dragging you down to hell with me!” Just as they lunged toward me… A deafening gunshot rang out in my ear. The man leading the charge was killed instantly. The sight of his brains splattering across the dirt was horrific. The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly plunged into dead silence. Marcus raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. Clearly, compared to killing a man, wasting a bullet bothered him much more. “Riley, you did well reporting them. I’ll let you handle these last two rats.” I smiled on the surface, but my eyes were filled with murderous intent. “Wolves that can’t be tamed are better off fed to the dogs.” Marcus was highly satisfied with my answer and personally ordered his men to bring in a ten-foot steel cage. Inside were massive, aggressive Mastiffs specially bred by the compound. Just one look was enough to inspire terror. Not to mention, these dogs had literally been raised on human flesh. “Bark! Bark! Bark!” I kicked the two pale-faced men directly into the cage. As expected, the hunting dogs inside immediately began tearing into their “delicious” prey. The scene quickly turned into a gruesome mess. The blood seeping into the ground was mixed with the agonizing screams of their final moments. Eventually, two eyeballs rolled over to my feet, and I crushed them directly under my boot… Everyone watching was trembling in fear. They clearly couldn’t understand how I, a fellow victim, could be so unimaginably cruel. Even if those three wanted to escape, I could have just turned a blind eye. Especially since they were intending to save me, too. What they didn’t know was that from the very moment I entered this compound… I had abandoned my conscience and my moral bottom line. I would never trust another person again! As the top performer, even if I didn’t escape, I didn’t have to be bought and sold like regular “pigs” (the compound’s term for victims). Furthermore, to maintain control over the internal staff, Marcus frequently showed me blatant favoritism. That alone was enough to make me a massive target in everyone’s eyes! It was true that those three wanted to take me with them. But if I hadn’t secretly overheard them planning to rape me and kill me out of pure jealousy over my performance and commissions… Maybe I really would have let them live… “From today on, you will all take orders from Riley!” “Anyone who dares to cross her, crosses me!” The moment Marcus finished speaking. Under the shocked and terrified gazes of my peers, I finally secured the explicit endorsement of top management. Compared to the scam division, my physical appearance would have easily allowed me to make a fortune for them in the compound’s “entertainment” sector. But Marcus deeply admired my talent for scamming, which was why he intentionally kept me here. Under my ruthless management, even the newly arrived “pigs” managed to close small deals worth ten grand. If things kept going like this, becoming a scam supervisor in the compound wasn’t out of the question. After my promotion, I moved into a single dorm room, no longer having to sleep in the mixed-gender barracks. Here, it was heaven for some and hell for others. Even when separated by only a single wall from the agonizing screams of “pigs” being electrocuted or scalded with boiling water… I had long grown accustomed to falling asleep with complete peace of mind. 03 Over the next few days, I locked onto my next target: an elderly woman in a rural town back in the States. When Marcus heard about this, he was highly dismissive. “Riley, what is there to scam out of an old country woman? Your time is money!” His face showed a harsh, impatient scowl. If it were anyone else, they probably would have switched targets immediately, but I shook my head. “Marcus, this old woman is different.” I had the tech department build a “Miracle Doctor” website and swapped my profile picture to one promising a cure for all ailments. Once that was done, I sent out a mass message offering a free health consultation. The moment the user [Spring Arrives Late] clicked the link, I initiated the chat. [Hello, how can I help you today?] [Can you really cure any disease?] Perfect, the fish took the bait. But just doing this was far from enough. I used AI deepfake technology to initiate a live video consultation. Not only did I not charge any fees, but participating in our raffle could even win them physical prizes shipped to their doors. At the same time, our backend system connected me with countless, non-repeating AI patients. There was an older woman with terminal cancer who claimed to be full of energy after just one treatment cycle. There was a child born disabled who claimed I restored their sight. The chat log of the livestream was flooded with feedback and gratitude from patients, and everyone started sending digital gifts. I stated that I was doing these consultations voluntarily, that I was already at retirement age, and that continuing to treat patients was solely for the greater good of humanity. In less than three days, [Spring Arrives Late] was logging over a dozen hours of watch time every single day. Finally, the moment I went live again, Mrs. Miller couldn’t wait to request a call! “My friend, please tell me what’s bothering you.” Using a voice changer, my speech slowed down significantly, deliberately adopting the authoritative tone of an expert. It made her believe me implicitly. “Miracle Doctor! You have to save me!” Before Mrs. Miller could even explain her situation, I accurately listed off the chronic illnesses that had plagued her for years. “You are truly amazing! You can tell just by looking through the screen!” I sighed, dropping a heavy, meaningful hint. “People your age need to start treating themselves better. If you don’t take care of your body, I’m afraid you won’t even live to see your grandchildren.” Mrs. Miller was terrified by this. Following my suggestions, she placed several massive orders for “health supplements” right there in the livestream. In reality, these were just cheap, useless herbal scraps. Forget curing illnesses; drinking too much would just give her diarrhea. “After a few cycles, although your vitality has improved, the purple tint to your lips is not a good sign. “Why don’t you buy another liver-protecting longevity supplement? It’s only fifty thousand dollars.” I painted a grim picture, suggesting she could drop dead at any moment. In truth, the purple lips were just a symptom of severe sleep deprivation from staying up 24/7 to watch my livestreams. On the other side of the screen, Mrs. Miller was highly conflicted. Fifty thousand dollars for a rural woman… It was an astronomical figure. Besides, the family savings didn’t belong to her alone. But that didn’t matter. I helpfully introduced her to a “health supplement loan program.” I tricked her into mortgaging her house online, instantly securing a loan of five hundred thousand dollars! She followed the process step-by-step, guided by my gentle coaxing. “Riley! The money cleared!” It was time to reel in the net… Mrs. Miller: “When will I receive these supplements?” I sneered and replied: “You can collect them in hell.” 04 Marcus couldn’t help but clap his hands. “I didn’t expect you to squeeze half a million out of an old rural woman! Impressive! “I wonder if her family will even acknowledge her after this.” I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “She’ll be lucky if they don’t kill her themselves.” I knew that better than anyone. Years ago, my parents, favoring boys over girls, tossed my sister and me aside like garbage after my little brother was born. That was when Mrs. Miller from our village reached out her sinful hands toward us. She gathered the most “worthless” girls in the village. On the surface, she claimed she was taking us to the city to find work, but behind the scenes, she used a mix of manipulation and threats to force us into selling our bodies. And she, acting as the middleman, took a cut from both ends. When she encountered girls who refused, she simply hired thugs to force them. Orphaned, rootless girls like us had no choice but to be manipulated. My sister, heartbroken over my weak health, willingly sacrificed herself to buy my survival, even after learning the horrific truth. She used the money she made from selling herself to buy me medicine and pay for my treatments. My sister was forced by Mrs. Miller to meet quotas, working day and night. At night, looking at my sister’s bruised and battered skin, besides fear and endurance… My heart was filled with pure, unadulterated hatred! When I got a little older, my sister used my education as an excuse to send me to the city. Relying on a steady stream of girls lured from the village every year, Mrs. Miller’s business boomed. Although she was just a rural woman, in the end, she even stooped to the vile business of human trafficking. [You scammer! I’m calling the cops! [Give me my money back… [I’m begging you, you’re driving me to my death!!] Looking at the texts flooding the account, I smiled easily. [Then go die.] I couldn’t guarantee if Mrs. Miller’s son would actually drive her to suicide. But I had heard that she did have an unfilial son who, unable to find a wife, beat his elderly parents daily. Now that his “wife fund” had been completely wiped out, that old hag probably had nothing left to pay with but her life… Maybe because she had done so many evil things over the years, she always felt her days were numbered. And in her desperate panic for a cure, she finally sent herself straight to the grave. Seeing me handle the situation so cleanly, without a shred of shame or moral hesitation… Marcus sighed in admiration. “Riley, a talent like you would get rich no matter where you went. “I heard you were a top university graduate.” I didn’t avoid the topic, just smiled. “Marcus, the big cities are full of top graduates.” From the moment I handed over my “initiation fee”… My background had been thoroughly investigated. “I’ve been poor, and I never want to live that miserable life again.” The ambition in my eyes was undeniable. As the saying goes, wealth is found in danger! Since I had ended up here, it was naturally to chase fame and fortune. There was no logic in being a worthless, disposable “pig.” Marcus stared at me intensely. After a long gaze, he patted my shoulder. “Keep up the good work. Your best days are still ahead of you!” After shift, the “pigs” who met their quotas returned to their eight-person dorms. The remaining few who didn’t meet their targets had to undergo the daily, mandatory punishment. This was also the rule here! “Riley, I’m begging you, let me off this once! We’ve known each other! “You’re a woman, but you’re a vicious snake! “If you dare touch a hair on my head, I swear I’ll…” Before he could finish his sentence, the enforcer standing nearby stepped up and brought a machete down with a sickening thwack! 05 The man’s toes were chopped off, one by one. Every time the skin was severed but still clung to the bone, it was brutally ripped away. The reason they didn’t chop off hands was, of course, because hands still had value. Once all ten fingers were chopped off and ruined, they would be sent for blood testing. The younger ones could be sold off piece by piece for around eight hundred thousand dollars. The older ones, at the very least, could be drained of their blood for a few thousand. At this moment, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t terrified. But since I had already descended into hell, fearing death was the most ridiculous thing of all… “Alright, he’s the only one taking the punishment for you all today. Tomorrow, you might not be so lucky.” I waved my hand dismissively. As the scam champion, I had that much authority. The enforcer nearby looked at me with a fawning expression. He had stepped up for me earlier naturally hoping for a reward. I casually pulled fifty thousand out of the bonus Marcus had given me and tossed it over. Here, money was only considered yours if you lived to spend it. Otherwise, there were plenty of people who earned fortunes but never lived to enjoy them! The man whose toes had just been chopped off was released. The excruciating pain caused his face to spasm uncontrollably. “Riley, you’ll die a horrible death!” “Oh? Is that so? You want me dead?!” I deliberately raised my voice, having already noticed Marcus lurking in the corner. I leaned in closer on purpose, putting myself within his reach. I watched helplessly as he opened his mouth and bit down hard on my carotid artery. Suddenly, an explosive roar erupted from the corner. “What are you standing there for?! Save her!” This was the first time I had ever seen the cold, calculating Marcus lose his temper. How rare. But a boss is a boss, and his intimidation was undeniable. Even though the man in front of me desperately wanted me dead, the moment he heard Marcus’s voice, his jaw instinctively loosened. The next second, Marcus forcefully pulled me into his arms! Seeing the look in Marcus’s eyes—a look that wanted to swallow the man whole—I quietly let out a sigh of relief. “Marcus, what should we do with him?” “Sell him!” After the situation was handled, I clutched my neck, pretending to be in immense pain. “I’ll take you to the compound clinic.” “No need, Marcus. I can go myself… I don’t want the lower-level staff to see.” There was an unspoken rule in the compound: romantic relationships between staff were strictly forbidden. Especially between a high-level manager like him and a disposable “pig” like me. If we were caught getting too close, not only would I be sold off to another compound… Even a leader like him would face severe beatings and public punishment. Hearing this, Marcus gave me a deep, meaningful look. He grabbed a hundred thousand from the desk and shoved it into my arms as compensation. My eyes instantly lit up, and I smiled, giving him a deep bow. “Thank you, Marcus!” As I walked out the door, I slowed my pace and overheard the enforcers next to Marcus joking around. “That Riley really is obsessed with money.” “Tsk, trash like her will be sent to the brothels sooner or later.” “You’re right. I’ve been wanting to play with her for a while…” I quietly looked back. And saw Marcus standing perfectly still, his gaze sweeping inexplicably over the enforcers who were just talking. The men immediately fell silent, shutting their mouths tight. Early the next morning, I was the first to boot up a company computer. After thinking for a moment, I typed in a number I knew by heart. [Hello, are you interested in a brushing scam for cash back? Paid per order!] The message was sent, but there was no immediate reply. The “pigs” slowly filtering in to start their shifts glared at me with absolute hatred. “Riley, nobody falls for that ancient scam tactic anymore. You think you’re going to land a big whale with that? “Keep dreaming!” Lin Shan, the “sales” runner-up, mocked me endlessly. He only scurried back to his assigned workstation and nervously swallowed when Marcus appeared. “Brushing scams? How much do you think you can pull this time?” I thought for a moment before dropping a number. “Not much. Maybe five million.”

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After marrying Silas West, the world’s most idolized rock star, I became the most envied “civilian” wife on the internet. Silas was the ultimate anomaly in the industry. He avoided scandals, never chased clout, and lived entirely for his music. His chart-topping single, January Embers, was a hauntingly beautiful ballad he wrote for me. It played in every coffee shop and car radio from coast to coast. In a recent Rolling Stone interview, he said: “My heart has only ever beat for one person: Rose.” But there was a secret I kept buried deep, one I would never dare tell him. Rose… was actually my sister’s name. 1 Backstage at the Staples Center. I was staring, lost in thought, at the new lead guitarist. “See something you like?” Silas appeared behind me out of nowhere, his voice a low, melodic vibration. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. “Is he better looking than me?” “Impossible,” I said, tilting my head back to smile at him. “He doesn’t even have a tenth of your charm.” Silas’s expression remained mock-stern. “Only a tenth?” I softened my voice, leaning into him. “He’s not even a shadow of a single hair on my husband’s head. Satisfied?” That finally coaxed a smirk from him. He picked up a strawberry from a nearby fruit platter and held it to my lips. “Since you’re being so sweet… I’ll have to give you your real reward tonight. All night.” I felt the heat rush to my cheeks instantly. Just then, his assistant rolled in a small cart with a cake. The topper read: TO ROSE. I froze. He had been in rehearsals for ten hours straight, yet he still remembered. “Happy birthday, baby.” Silas’s eyes held a galaxy of tenderness. I stared at the flickering candles, at the man who loved a woman who didn’t technically exist, and closed my eyes to make a wish. When the lights came up, Silas reached out and wiped a smudge of frosting from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, then naturally licked it off. “Oh, come on!” the bassist groaned from across the room. “West, the cake is for everyone, but I guess the frosting on Rose’s face is your private reserve?” Silas just arched an eyebrow and pulled me closer into his side. The room erupted in laughter. Outside, the muffled roar of forty thousand fans chanting his name vibrated through the floorboards. As Silas turned to head toward the stage, he ruffled my hair, leaving it a mess. My manager, sitting across from me, couldn’t help but chime in. “To think, the man who’s notoriously impossible to handle—the Silas West—is actually just a golden retriever for you. Honestly, Rose, I don’t think anyone else on this planet could have tamed him.” I forced a smile, my heart heavy. When no one was looking, I quietly took the TO ROSE topper and dropped it into the trash can. They didn’t understand. Rose was my sister. And I was just a ghost inhabiting her life. 2 My sister, Bianca, was the legitimate heiress of the Sterling corporate empire. I, Tess, was the family’s dirty secret—the illegitimate daughter kept in a drafty apartment on the outskirts of the city. We weren’t from the same mother, but we looked enough alike to be twins. My father had forced me to spend years mimicking Bianca’s cadence, her posture, her every move. At first, it was just to fill in for her at boring charity events or press junkets she didn’t want to attend. But then, they pushed me in front of Silas West. The reason was as absurd as it was cruel. Years ago, when Silas was first asked about his “dream girl” in an interview, he had mentioned how much he admired Bianca’s poise. At the time, my sister was having a public spat with her billionaire boyfriend, Preston Whitlock. To spite Preston, she flirted with Silas through the media, causing a firestorm of speculation. But a week later, she and Preston made up. The Sterling Group’s stock had skyrocketed during that brief “romance.” My father wasn’t about to let that profit margin slip away. He ordered me to keep the flame alive, sending me on dates with Silas in her place. And that was how, by a series of tragic accidents, I ended up married to the man. Silas was a god among men. He was devastatingly handsome, with a sharp, arrogant edge that softened only for me. In an industry full of players, he was a ghost; he had never been in a serious relationship before us. I felt like I had won the lottery, but the ticket was stolen. During the first few months of the marriage, I lived in a state of constant terror, waiting for the moment he’d realize I wasn’t the girl he thought I was. But slowly, I let my guard down. He was too good to me. He loved me with a ferocity that made me feel that, even if the truth came out tomorrow and he ended up hating me, it would have been worth it just to have known this version of him. My only wish was for Bianca and Preston to stay locked in their toxic, high-society bubble forever. If they stayed together, I could stay with Silas. I could keep being “Rose.” The concert reached the encore. The jumbotron cut to the VIP section. The camera was supposed to land on me, but for a split second, it lingered on a couple a few rows back. In the midst of the deafening music, my sister’s boyfriend, Preston, was passionately kissing a woman I didn’t recognize. 3 The giant screen magnified every detail. The way Preston’s hand gripped the back of the woman’s neck. The unmistakable shimmer of a massive pink diamond on her ring finger. I remembered that diamond. It was the rare stone Bianca had been obsessed with for months. She’d seen it in a Christie’s catalog and talked about nothing else. My world went black. Knowing Bianca’s temper, if she found out Preston was keeping a woman on the side—and giving her that diamond—she would burn the whole world down. The camera finally found me, and I quickly looked down, pretending to reach for a tissue. But in that last second, I caught Preston’s reflection in the screen. He looked stunned, realizing he’d been caught. I spent the rest of the night in a haze of anxiety. On the ride home in the darkened SUV, I clung to Silas, burying my face in his neck and refusing to let go. I was terrified that if I loosened my grip, this stolen dream would finally shatter. 4 The night was intense. I was more desperate, more active than I had ever been, and it pushed Silas to a point of near-losing control. “I have to be in the studio all day tomorrow,” he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. “I’m going to miss you.” “I’ll miss you too,” I whispered. “You say it like you’re already gone,” Silas said, his eyes searching mine in the dark. “Say you’ll be here when I get back.” “I’ll be here.” He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear, then handed me a black card from the nightstand. “If you get bored, go buy something pretty. Anything you want.” I didn’t care about shopping. I planned to stay home and learn how to cook his favorite meal—honey-balsamic glazed ribs—the way my mother used to make them. I wanted to give him something that was truly mine. But the next day, it wasn’t a text from Silas that arrived. It was a call from my sister. 5 Preston’s affair hadn’t stayed a secret for long. Bianca demanded I meet her at the family estate immediately. I hadn’t seen her since the wedding. She looked haggard, her usual polish cracked. “He’s cheating,” she spat the moment I walked in. “Who?” I played dumb. “Preston. He’s been sleeping with some new assistant for three months.” I didn’t understand how she found out. I had made sure the concert footage was scrubbed from the internet, and Preston wasn’t stupid enough to tell her. Seeing my confusion, she laughed bitterly. “You remember that pink diamond? The one from the magazine? I finally decided to buy it for myself as a birthday gift. The jeweler told me it had already been sold… to Preston.” She took a shaky breath. “I tracked the delivery address. It wasn’t our house. It wasn’t the office. It was some condo I’d never heard of. I went there. I saw them.” Her eyes suddenly snapped to mine, sharp and predatory. “I’ve changed my mind, Tess. I want it back.” My breath hitched. “What?” “I thought I had it all figured out,” she said, her words like a chisel hitting stone. “Silas was a star, sure, but he’s an orphan. No family connections, no old money, too much risk. Preston was stable. He was one of us. We grew up together.” She sighed, pacing the room. “I always liked the bad boys, the ones I thought I could tame. I thought fifteen years of history meant something.” She stopped and looked me dead in the eye. “I was wrong. Preston is a pig. Silas, on the other hand… he’s become the biggest name in the world, and he treats you like a queen. I want my place back.” My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. “Tess, that life belongs to me. It’s time to switch.” 6 I stood there, trembling. “But we’ve been married for a year. He… he knows me.” Bianca laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “Does he? He fell for me. You’re just the stand-in. A body double.” Her words tore open the box of memories I’d tried so hard to bury. I thought of the glass case in Silas’s study. Inside was an old, cheap hair clip that Bianca had thrown away years ago. I thought of his new album title, The B-Sides. I had tried to convince myself it was just a musical term, but I knew Bianca’s middle name started with B. And then there were the lyrics to January Embers: The way you looked in the falling snow, a grace I’ll never let go. Silas and I had never seen the snow together. I’d also found an old book of poetry in his nightstand with a letter tucked inside. The opening line was: To my golden girl. I hadn’t had the heart to read the rest. He had always been in love with the radiant, untouchable Bianca. Every ounce of tenderness he showed me, every soft touch, was meant for the girl he thought I was. Bianca watched the color drain from my face and softened her tone, though her eyes remained like ice. “You feel guilty, don’t you? Living a lie? Be a good girl and give it back. You can go deal with Preston for a while—keep him distracted while I settle back in with Silas. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.” “No,” I whispered. “I won’t do it.” “No?” Bianca’s voice rose. “Tess, let’s be real. Your mother’s medical bills? The dialysis, the imported meds? My father paid for all of it. Your mother was a homewrecker, and we still kept you both fed. You owe us. You know your place. Don’t make me remind you of it.” Every bit of defiance I had was crushed under the weight of the truth. Silas didn’t love me. He loved a phantom. I lowered my head, my voice cracking. “Fine. We’ll switch.” 7 I brought Bianca back to the villa late that night. Before I left, I tried to give her the details. “He can’t have dairy for two hours before a recording session. It messes with his vocal cords.” “The water in his thermos should never be over 120 degrees.” “His stomach is sensitive; don’t let him drink black coffee on an empty stomach.” “And he hates sleeping in total darkness. Always leave the dim light in the hallway on…” “Ugh, shut up!” Bianca snapped. “Are you his wife or his nanny? Does he not have people for this?” She checked her reflection in the hallway mirror. “He needs a woman, Tess, not a maid. Trust me, I won’t need to do any of that to keep him obsessed with me.” She was so confident. As we reached the front door, I saw Silas coming out of the house. I instinctively ducked behind a stone pillar, watching from the shadows. He ran toward her, a bright, genuine smile on his face. He took her hand and pulled her into his arms. Bianca buried her face in his chest, hugging him tight. Silas froze for a second, a look of mild surprise on his face. But then he softened, resting his chin on her head. “Back so soon? And empty-handed?” I had told Bianca about the shopping trip he’d suggested. She played it cool. “I’ll go tomorrow, babe. I just wanted to come home to you. Why don’t you hold onto the card for now?” Silas looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “That’s the first time you’ve called me ‘babe.’” Bianca lowered her gaze, acting shy. “Is it? Sorry. I won’t do it again if you don’t like it.” Silas immediately tightened his grip. “No, I like it. Keep doing it. I love hearing it from you.” Bianca said something else, her voice a flirtatious purr, and Silas’s laugh drifted through the night air. They walked into the house together, arm in arm. My heart hit rock bottom. The fake could never compare to the original. Bianca was clearly better at being the woman he wanted than I ever was. I had been greedy, wanting every bit of sweetness he offered, but I was never the intended recipient. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. That night, back at my father’s house, I didn’t sleep. My mind was a loop of every moment I’d spent with Silas over the past year. I cried until my pillow was soaked, finally drifting into a fitful sleep at dawn. The next morning, a loud, aggressive knocking at the door woke me. I opened it to find Preston Whitlock, looking like he’d been on a three-day bender. 8 “What do you want?” I stood in the doorway, blocking him. “I fired the assistant,” he said, his voice raspy. I expected him to beg for forgiveness, to plead for Bianca to take him back. But his next words caught me off guard. “Bianca… let’s just call it. We’re done.” Done? He was breaking up with her? He wasn’t here to crawl back to his “golden girl”? I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for Bianca or just exhausted by the whole mess. I stayed silent. He looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What, no screaming? No throwing things?” When I still didn’t speak, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a check. “Here. This should cover… whatever. Let’s just make this a clean break.” If I took the check, it meant the breakup was official. If I didn’t, Bianca would lose her mind when she found out. I couldn’t make this choice. “Keep it,” I said. Preston went rigid. In his mind, Bianca was a woman defined by her appetite for luxury. She had never turned down a check in her life. This was new. Suddenly, he grabbed my arm. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk. We need to talk about this.” I didn’t have the energy to fight him, so I followed him out. We hadn’t gone a block when a teenager on a bike came flying down a steep driveway, straight toward Preston. “Watch out!” I yelled. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but he still tripped, his knee slamming into the concrete steps. His dress slacks tore, and blood began to bloom through the fabric. The kid on the bike didn’t even look back; he just sped off. I knelt down immediately, my brow furrowed. “Are you okay? Can you move it?” I couldn’t just ignore him, even if he was Preston. Preston looked down at me, his expression shifting from pain to something else. Something intense. “I’m fine. Thanks.” The way he looked at me in that moment was… strange. Like he was seeing me for the first time. 9 A few days later, I saw on the news that Silas had gone to San Diego for a three-night residency. Strangely, he hadn’t taken Bianca with him. In the past, Silas hated being away from home for more than twenty-four hours. If he had to travel, he always insisted I come along. My thoughts were interrupted by a call from Bianca. She sounded agitated. “Tess, what the hell is wrong with him?” “What are you talking about?” “Silas! He… he hasn’t touched me!” she hissed. “I’ve tried everything. Hints, lingerie, everything. He just looks at me like I’m a stranger and says he’s tired.” A tiny, wicked spark of joy lit up in my chest. But I kept my voice flat. “Maybe he’s just stressed.” “He was never too stressed for you,” she snapped. “Tell me. What did you do? How do you… you know, get him going?” I didn’t do anything. I just existed, and he couldn’t keep his hands off me. If I told her that, she’d think I was rubbing it in. “He likes it when things are simple,” I lied. “Simple? I tried simple! Before he left for San Diego, I even bought some of those ridiculous outfits you used to wear—the soft sweaters and the no-makeup look. You know what he said?” “What?” “He said I looked like I was wearing a costume. Then he went to sleep on the sofa!” I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “He’s probably just focused on the shows,” I managed to say. There was a long silence on the other end. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Anyway, what’s happening with Preston?” I told her Preston wanted to break up. She let out a string of curses. “Don’t you dare agree to it. String him along. And make sure you keep that check he tried to give you. I’m not losing both of them.” “Sure,” I said, dismissively. I didn’t care what happened to Preston. And I had a feeling Preston wasn’t going to be as easy to manipulate as she thought. 10 Two weeks later. Preston asked to meet me at the Grove. He said he had something important to discuss. I arrived early. The mall was packed, the central plaza buzzing with people. Huge digital screens were flashing an ad for a luxury watch brand. I suddenly realized why the brand sounded familiar. Silas was their global ambassador. And he was here. Today. For a promotional event. Panic flared in my chest. I pulled my hat down low and adjusted my face mask. I should leave. I should turn around and run. But I missed him. The longing was like a physical ache in my bones. Just one look, I told myself. From a distance. He took the stage. He looked thinner, his jawline sharper, but under the stage lights, he was still the most captivating thing I’d ever seen. I meant to leave after a minute, but I was rooted to the spot. Then came the “fan interaction” segment. The host announced they would pick a few random people from the crowd to play a “compatibility game” with Silas. The crowd went wild, everyone screaming and waving. I turned to push my way out of the throng, but at that exact moment, a spotlight swung across the plaza and stopped dead on me. I froze. Every eye in the vicinity turned toward me.

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After getting accepted into an Ivy League university, I immediately cut all ties with my destitute father. A year later, he made a massive comeback in the business world and adopted a daughter who was sweeter and more obedient than I ever was. During a live New Year’s Eve broadcast, I called in to send him my blessings: “Happy New Year, Dad. I wish you health, peace, and happiness.” My dad scoffed coldly. “Don’t call me Dad. I don’t have a daughter like you!” I lowered my eyes, choking back a sob, but kept a smile on my face. “I’m sorry. This is the last time I’ll ever call you Dad.” He sneered. “The last time? I hope you mean it’s the last time before you drop dead.” Hearing this, the host looked absolutely shocked and asked: “Mr. Sterling… you didn’t know? This was pre-recorded by your daughter.” “And she really is… just as you said… dead.” 1 “Dead?” My dad’s sneer froze on his lips, a flash of unease crossing his eyes. But he quickly regained his composure. “Is this some kind of stunt for the broadcast?” The host tried to explain, but my pre-recorded message continued: “Next, I’d like to sing a song for my dad.” Clearing my throat, I fought down the urge to cry and began to sing: “I wish I could be like before~ holding your warm hand~ But you aren’t by my side~ so I ask the wind to bring you peace… Thank you for everything you did~ holding up our home with your two hands~ Always giving your all~ giving the best to me…” I choked on the final notes, barely finishing the song. The moment the tears fell, I scrambled out of the camera’s view. Only my tearful, shaking voice could be heard on the recording: “Dad, being your daughter in this life was my greatest luck.” The broadcast call ended there. My dad’s face remained impassive. “Hmph. What a fake, hypocritical act.” The live chat, however, was filled with a barrage of mockery: “LMAO, why is Chloe Sterling trying to stay relevant right now?” “A good education filters out bad students, not bad people!” “Did her Ivy League school find out she’s a terrible person and kick her out? Is that why she’s coming back to play the victim now that Mr. Sterling is rich again?” “I know, right? It feels like reading a satisfying revenge novel. The evil daughter abandons her poor dad for glory, does every terrible thing imaginable, and ends up with a miserable ending.” My ending was indeed miserable. I died in excruciating pain. But I clearly never did any terrible things. I used to give my dad massages when he was tired. I did the laundry and cooked for him. In my short nineteen years of life, the only “terrible” thing I ever did… Was cutting ties with him the year he was at his absolute lowest. But I didn’t want to do it. I was sick. If I didn’t do it, I would have dragged my dad down with me… The host finally spoke up to explain: “Mr. Sterling, this is not a stunt for the broadcast. Please, look at the main screen…” 2 Quickly, my figure appeared on the large screen in the studio. The background was outside an oncology ward. But the very next second, I held up a medical file to block the camera lens, my tone incredibly impatient: “I said I’m not filming! Can you stop following me?!” From off-camera, a mature and very sincere woman’s voice replied: “Little girl, my name is Sarah. I’m not a scammer. I’m from the production crew of the documentary series Screw Cancer. I can help you.” I pulled the medical file away, revealing my gaunt, bloodless face to the camera. But quickly, I shoved the file right back in front of the lens, pointing to the diagnosis: “Do you know what wild-type colorectal cancer is? “Do you know what a fetal-differentiated adenocarcinoma is? “This is a cancer I was born with. It’s an ultra-rare disease. There are only 5 cases in the entire country. “There is no targeted chemotherapy protocol for it. “The doctor said I have a year to live, at most.” A heavy silence fell over the video. I just offered a weak, bitter smile: “Helping me is useless. It’s a dead end. You should find someone else.” With that, I turned to walk away. “Our production offers a very high appearance fee. If you agree to film, you’ll have the money for treatment.” The woman grabbed my arm. I shook my head, smiling bitterly. “Proton therapy. It’s currently the only chemo that has a slight effect on me. Do you know how much one session costs?” I held up five fingers. “Fifty thousand dollars.” I pulled her hand off my arm, turned, and walked away. But the very next second, I suddenly collapsed to my knees, falling hard onto the floor. The camera shook violently, and from off-screen came a panicked scream: “Little girl!” 3 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 2 – September 10, 2023 – Everyone Goes Bald] “You’re this year’s top liberal arts student in the state, the Chloe Sterling who got accepted into an Ivy League, right?” I had just sat down in the salon chair and looked visibly annoyed: “What are you doing here again?” Sarah’s voice was as gentle as an older sister’s: “You’re trending online. Everyone is calling you an ungrateful brat. They’re saying your dad worked himself to the bone to put you through school, but you abandoned him because he’s broke and ‘beneath you’ now. “But they don’t know you have cancer. If we film a documentary about you, you can clear your name.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror and offered a very ugly smile: “I want them to think I’m an ungrateful brat. Especially… my dad.” After saying that, I ignored her. I just touched the ends of my hair, lowered my eyes, and smiled bitterly. My voice was so quiet it was barely a whisper: “I’m sorry, Dad. I couldn’t protect your favorite hair.” When I looked up again, my eyes were red. “Tony, please shave it all off.” Hearing this, the stylist looked at me in absolute disbelief: “Are you sure? Your hair is so long and beautiful, and it looks like you take really good care of it.” I did take good care of it. Just a few days ago, my dad was the one helping me condition it. He loved washing my hair the most. I nodded firmly, speaking as if it were the most normal thing in the world: “I have cancer. Even if I don’t cut it now, it’s all going to fall out once I start chemo.” The stylist didn’t say another word. With shaking hands, he began to shave my head. Two minutes later, I was completely bald. I stood up, thanked him, and prepared to pay, but the stylist stopped me: “It’s on the house. You don’t have to pay.” I moved his hand away anyway and scanned the QR code to pay. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.” But the very next second, the stylist took the clippers and started shaving his own head. “Then I’ll keep you company. I think a shaved head actually looks pretty cool.” I stood frozen in place. Before I could even process what was happening, Sarah spoke up too: “Shave mine too. I’ve always wanted to try the bald look.” Before I could stop her, her beautiful, shiny hair fell to the floor. Two streams of tears rolled down my cheeks. “You guys really didn’t have to do this… I’m honestly… okay…” But neither of them spoke. They just looked at me and smiled—a goofy, earnest smile. Stepping out of the salon, I turned and faced the camera: “I agree to film. I don’t want to owe anyone anything.” 4 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 3 – September 11, 2023 – Silent Fatherly Love] “Why did you cut ties with your dad? Wouldn’t it be better to face this together?” Sarah’s voice came from off-camera. I smiled bitterly. “No!” “Why?” Sarah looked confused. I didn’t answer. I just took out my phone and pulled up a news video I had saved in my photo album from three years ago. Soon, my dad’s face appeared on the phone screen. It was 2:00 AM. He was wearing a food delivery uniform, squatting on the curb, eating a bowl of plain noodles. He was only in his early forties then, but his temples were already graying. The reporter asked him: “Sir, why are you just eating a plain bowl of noodles?” My dad was eating like it was a feast. He just replied: “It’s enough.” The reporter asked again: “You’re holding a bag of meat, why aren’t you eating that?” My dad looked at the bag of meat, a massive smile on his face: “Saving it for my daughter’s breakfast tomorrow, hehe.” The reporter asked a third time: “Why work so hard? Delivering food in the middle of the night?” My dad seemed to think of something. The exhaustion vanished from his face instantly, replaced by overwhelming pride: “My daughter got into a really good high school. It’s the best high school in the state, so it costs money, hehe.” A moment of silence in the video. My dad kept his head down, quickly finishing his noodles, and hopped back onto his electric scooter. The reporter encouraged him: “Keep going, sir!” My dad waved his hand. “Just gotta get the job done!” The video ended there. Even though I had watched it countless times, my tears still flowed uncontrollably. I sniffled and smiled: “When I got home from school during the day, ‘Comrade’ Sterling would always have a hot meal waiting for me. But one day, school let out early, and he wasn’t home. I asked him where he was, and he lied, saying he was out at a fancy dinner with friends. But he was actually out delivering food.” “At night, while I was asleep, he would sneak out to do deliveries. He thought I didn’t know, but I knew everything…” “That was when I secretly swore to myself that I would study as hard as I could, get into the best university in the country, and repay him.” “Later on… I did get in, but now I don’t have the chance to repay him anymore…” I finished my sentence with a smile, but why? Why do people cry when they smile? I tilted my head back to wipe the tears away, my voice cracking as I asked Sarah: “Sarah, guess what Comrade Sterling would do if he knew I had cancer?” Sarah looked at me, speechless. “He would sell his blood. He would sell his kidneys.” My heart trembled as I said it: “Actually, to save up for my senior year tuition and living expenses, he tried to secretly sell his blood and his kidney. Thank god I found out and threatened to kill myself to stop him…” I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye: “Before I left, his startup project finally caught the eye of an angel investor. “They say when one person gets cancer, the whole family suffers. “If an angel investor found out a family had a sickly burden like me, do you think they’d still be willing to invest?” Sarah’s voice trembled: “Chloe…” I shook my head, signaling that I was okay. “The cancer will take my life, but a $50,000 chemo session… that would take my dad’s life.” Sarah pressed her lips together, her eyes starting to turn red. I sniffled, smiling: “The day I left, I used the most vicious words possible to absolutely destroy Comrade Sterling. “He got on his knees and begged me. He said he was going to make a lot of money soon, and asked me to just wait one more year. In one year, he would make me the happiest princess in the world. “Do you know? I wanted so badly to stay. To wait for him year after year, to grow old with him. “But… I don’t have the time to wait…” The tears fell like broken beads, splashing down one by one. I frantically wiped the tears from my face and pleaded: “Sarah, can you promise not to release these videos until after I’m dead?” The camera started to shake. Sarah choked on a sob: “Chloe, you’re not going to die. You can be cured…” In the video, I swallowed hard, tears shimmering in my eyes. “If you don’t promise me, then I won’t film anymore.” Her crying became more audible: “Okay. I promise…” 5 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 4 – November 3, 2023 – A Little Chemo? Handled!] In this video, I was visibly much thinner than in the previous ones. The slight baby fat I used to have was gone, my cheeks completely hollow. The cancer cells were spreading rapidly. The pain was so agonizing I could only lie flat on the hospital bed like a dead fish. “Can you give me a painkiller injection?” My voice was incredibly weak. I pulled $1,340 out from under my pillow and handed it to Sarah. It was my entire life savings. Sarah sniffled and took the money. But the very next second, she shoved the money right back under my pillow. “What painkiller injection? You need to start chemo immediately. “I asked the doctor. If you don’t start chemo, at the rate the cancer is spreading, you won’t even make it past the end of the year…” I offered a weak smile. “That’s fine too. Better to get it over with quickly than to suffer for a long time…” But Sarah wasn’t having it. “I already paid for your first chemo session. The doctor will be here to take you in shortly.” “Where did you get the money?” I forced myself to sit up despite the excruciating pain. She gently pushed me back down, her eyes darting away. “Our production crew applied for a grant for you. It’s your appearance fee. Just use it, don’t worry about it.” I wanted to ask more questions, but the doctor arrived to wheel me into the chemo room. Very quickly, I was hooked up to countless tubes, and an oxygen mask was placed over my mouth. The doctor didn’t allow filming for the actual treatment. Sarah pointed the camera at the closed door of the chemo room. A few moments later, my agonizing, blood-curdling screams echoed through the camera. It was horrifying. The doctor lied to me! Didn’t he say the soundproofing was great and I could scream as loud as I wanted?! Zero stars! Half an hour later, the chemo was finally over. I was wheeled out of the room. Seeing Sarah’s camera, I immediately turned my face away. But the camera still captured my pathetic state—my face completely covered in snot, tears, and drool. I quickly wiped my face clean, met Sarah’s deeply worried gaze, and flashed a massive smile. “A little chemo? Handled!” I made a pinch gesture with my hand. Sarah covered my hand with hers, her voice hoarse: “You did so great!” “I made lunch for you. I cooked it myself. I don’t know if you’ll like it.” On the hospital table, there were three dishes and a soup. It looked and smelled amazing. My eyes sparkled. “Wow! These are all my favorites! Thank you so much, Sarah.” I looked at the camera and started imitating those Mukbang streamers. “Let me show everyone what a colorectal cancer patient eats after a chemo session.” I held up each dish to the camera to show them off. Then I ate with immense relish, actually eating half a bowl more rice than usual. From off-camera, Sarah kept praising me, telling me I was doing great. I exaggerated my expressions to respond: “It’s all because your cooking is so good, Sarah! It tastes just like my dad’s cooking. I want to lick the plate clean.” I picked up the plate, pretending I was about to lick it. Sarah stopped me sternly. “No licking the plate.” She set the camera down on the table and packed up the thermos containers. The moment Sarah walked out of the room, my expression instantly turned to pure agony. I scrambled out of bed, hugging the trash can, vomiting uncontrollably. When my face appeared on camera again, it was covered in tears from vomiting so violently. “Please don’t misunderstand… “Sarah’s food really is incredibly delicious. “It’s just that the side effects of the chemo are getting worse, that’s why I’m throwing up…” 6 [Goodbye to the Rest of My Life, Part 5 – December 31, 2023 – The Last Day of the Year, The Last Day of My Life.] “Chloe, what do you want to do on the very last day of 2023? I’ll make it happen.” The scene cut. I was busy picking out a pretty hat for myself. Hearing her, I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You said it, not me.” I mysteriously dragged her into a car. In the car, she couldn’t help but ask me again: “Chloe, where exactly are we going?” I grinned. “To pick out a grave.” Sarah almost dropped the camera, her eyes instantly turning red. “Chloe…” But I acted like it was no big deal. “Sarah, I did my research. Picking a grave with good Feng Shui is super important. “They say if you’re buried in a good spot, it guarantees a healthy, disease-free next life. It’ll guarantee I get to be Comrade Sterling’s daughter again…” When it was time to get out of the car, the smile on my face became stiff. Because by this point, I could no longer walk. Sarah helped me into a wheelchair. After looking around and being picky, I chose the cheapest plot and said very seriously: “I did the calculations. This plot is the best. If I’m buried here, I’ll definitely be reincarnated into a great life next time.” Sarah pressed her lips together and nodded, looking up at the sky, avoiding my eyes. By the time we got back to the hospital, I was hooked up to an oxygen tank again. At this moment, there were only five minutes left in 2023. Fireworks were going off non-stop outside. A huge crowd had gathered in front of the massive screen on the mall across from the hospital, waiting for the countdown. The TV on the wall was playing the New Year’s Eve gala. Sarah sat by my bed, keeping me company. I spoke first: “Sarah, after I die, will you remember me forever?” Sarah choked back a sob. “Absolutely.” I shook my head. “No. After one year, you have to forget me.” Sarah didn’t answer. She just asked: “Then can you promise me that you’ll keep living well in the new year?” I smiled. “How about we play Rock-Paper-Scissors? If I win, we do it my way. If you win, we do it your way.” In the end, I lost. At that moment, the New Year’s countdown started playing on the TV. On the big screen outside the window, the numbers flashed: 10, 9, 8, 7… Feeling a premonition, the exact second the clock struck midnight, I looked steadily at Sarah and said: “Happy New Year, Sarah.” “Happy New Year to you too, Chloe. You have to honor our bet.” My lips curved into a massive, wide smile. “Okay… “Sarah, I have a secret to tell you. I miss my dad so, so much…” The next second, the heart monitor let out a piercing, continuous alarm. My heartbeat flatlined.

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In our past life, Chloe and I were adopted on the exact same day. Chloe, the bubbly little sunshine, was taken into a cold, strict, and unforgiving family, eventually driven to depression and suicide. And I, the gloomy, cynical one, was taken by a warm, loving family… only to be returned. After being sent back to the orphanage, I was severely isolated and eventually met the same tragic end as Chloe. Reborn into a new life, Chloe asked, “Should we…” Without hesitation, I said, “Switch.” 1 When the two couples came to choose, I noticed Chloe’s hands were trembling non-stop. It was entirely different from the eager anticipation she showed in our past life. I knew immediately: Chloe had been reborn too. As for me, I maintained my usual gloomy, apathetic expression. To my surprise, Chloe actively came over to comfort me. “Don’t worry, they’ll definitely pick you.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll just send me back anyway.” Hearing my words, Chloe’s eyes went wide. In that momentary eye contact, we rapidly communicated our shared memories. In our past life, Chloe was adopted by the wealthy and powerful Sterling family. However, when she enthusiastically threw herself into her new home, the freezing reality of the Sterlings left her bruised and broken. The Sterlings adopting a daughter from an orphanage seemed like nothing more than fulfilling a quota. They had no love for Chloe. They only offered programmatic, perfunctory care, along with a mountain of strict rules to control her. Chloe tried. She tried using her lively, obedient nature to earn some warmth, but all she got was severe self-doubt. Under that suffocating atmosphere, Chloe sank deeper into depression every single day. Finally, she took a leap from a high building, finding her only release. As for me, I was adopted by the Miller family. Mr. Miller was a middle school principal, and Mrs. Miller ran a kindergarten. Both of them possessed an endless, overflowing enthusiasm for children. They desperately wanted me to respond with that same level of enthusiasm. But no matter how hard I tried to fake it, I couldn’t. In the end, the Millers were disappointed and returned me to the orphanage. After returning, I became the ‘ungrateful brat’ in everyone’s eyes. Many of the other kids resented me for wasting a precious adoption opportunity, leading to severe isolation. Coupled with the news of Chloe’s death, I lost all will to live. I never expected we would both be reborn. 2 Just like in our previous life, both the Sterlings and the Millers wanted Chloe. Just standing there, she radiated the vibrant energy of a sunflower. Who wouldn’t like her? Being chosen by both meant one family had to give her up. In our past life, the orphanage director stepped in to smooth things over. She pushed Chloe toward the Sterlings and suggested the Millers take me instead. The Millers, noting that I looked somewhat similar to Chloe, agreed. In this life, the exact same stalemate occurred. But this time, without waiting for the director to step in, I proactively walked toward the Sterlings and said, “Choose me. I can become exactly what you want.” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling were stunned. Meanwhile, Chloe sprinted to the Millers’ side, smiling sweetly. “Thank you so much for wanting to take me home.” The Millers joyfully accepted her. And just like that, the Sterlings had no choice but to agree to my request. So, in this life, Chloe went to the Millers. And I, Ava, went to the Sterlings. 3 The Sterling family currently consisted of three people. With me, there were four. Arthur Sterling was the father, Victoria was the mother, and Julian was the older brother. All three were entirely consumed by their work, so the house was usually cold and empty. We only saw each other during dinner. Honestly, I loved the quietness of the day. I could read my manga in perfect peace. When the maids asked, “Miss Ava, would you like [insert food] for lunch today?”, a simple nod was all it took. As for their muttered complaints of “Why doesn’t she speak all day?”, I just pretended I didn’t hear them. Dinner time, however, wasn’t nearly as relaxing. Even when Arthur put food on my plate, it sounded like an order. “Eat this piece of fish.” I immediately held up my bowl to receive it, replying with equal seriousness, “Understood. Thank you, sir.” An eerie, awkward silence instantly fell over the dining table. Even Julian, who had treated me like thin air since I walked through the door, shot me a glance. Victoria finally spoke up. “You don’t need to be so formal at home.” Except, her expression was freezing cold when she said it. I nodded. “Understood. I see.” Victoria sighed. She looked at Julian and said, “Starting today, remember to teach your sister some proper etiquette and rules.” Julian rolled up his sleeves and gave a low, dark “Okay.” 4 The next day, Chloe rushed over to meet me. After jumping out of the car, she enthusiastically waved at the driver’s seat. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” “Bye, sweetie!” A warm laugh echoed from the car. I knew Chloe going to the Millers was exactly the right choice. The first thing Chloe asked when she saw me was, “How are things at the Sterlings’?” Before I could answer, she sighed. “Actually, asking is pointless.” However, Chloe told me a lot more about the Sterling family. It turned out the reason the Sterlings went to the orphanage in the first place was because their biological daughter had died in an accident. They wanted to adopt a girl of a similar age to fill the void. This was entirely Arthur and Victoria’s idea. Julian was vehemently opposed to it. He believed that his sister was gone, and she shouldn’t be replaced by a new one. That’s why, in our past life, Julian’s attitude toward Chloe was always abysmal. Chloe warned me repeatedly, “No matter how Julian treats you, absolutely ignore him.” 5 But it was impossible for me not to interact with Julian. Per Victoria’s orders, he had to teach me the rules of high-society living. Julian called me into his study. The moment I stepped inside, his handsome face instantly radiated pure ice. He frowned and snapped, “Don’t you know how to knock?” I replied rigidly, “I apologize. I will try again.” I stepped out, knocked several times, and only went back in after. Julian continued to scrutinize me. “In a few days, it will be your Aunt Victoria’s birthday. Many people will be here. What will you say when you meet them?” I said expressionlessly, “Hello, I am Ava. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Julian looked at me. “Do you not know how to smile?” “I am not naturally inclined to smile.” Julian: “…” Finally, he said to me, “Being like this will make it very hard for people to like you.” That’s fine. I don’t really care about that. However, Julian seemed slightly shocked to see a faint, disdainful smirk ghost across my lips. “A dead pig doesn’t fear boiling water,” he scoffed coldly. Keep insulting me. What if I actually start enjoying it? 6 Since Julian declared I was too difficult to teach, Victoria decided to take over personally. Aside from when I was at school, Victoria would make time to supervise me during my other activities, like piano and tennis lessons. While I was playing the piano, Victoria sighed repeatedly. “Why do your hands look like chicken claws?” “In the past, every time it was my birthday,” Victoria continued, “Lily would come out and play the piano. Making you do it right now is like trying to teach a pig to sing.” Lily was the Sterlings’ deceased daughter. I looked at Victoria and said, “I can do it next year.” “Next year?” Victoria said casually. “That depends entirely on your performance.” Even though I was impervious to most things, when Victoria said that, my sharp instincts picked up on the key information. So I said, “I will perform well. Please don’t send me back.” “So you are afraid of that.” A slight ripple appeared in Victoria’s usually cold expression. “Ava, I recall you saying you were willing to become whatever we wanted you to be, correct?” I nodded. “Yes.” “What if I want you to become just like Lily?” I remembered the family portrait hanging in the villa. The Lily in the photo looked gentle and elegant. I had learned a little bit of drawing in the past, so I imagined myself as a model mimicking Lily, and successfully produced a soft smile. Victoria was instantly captivated. She looked at me critically. “Not bad.” That day, I practiced in the soundproof piano room until the early hours of the morning, eventually falling asleep on the bench. The nanny found me there the next morning. When Julian found out, he was disgusted by how desperately I was trying to flatter them. But Victoria was very satisfied. 7 Victoria’s birthday arrived. As the banquet approached, the Sterling family dressed impeccably. As for me, I was wearing a snow-white cocktail dress that Victoria had prepared, with a beautiful ribbon clip fastened in my styled hair. But after I put it on, a fully suited Julian walked in, ripped the ribbon clip from my hair, and demanded of Victoria: “What right does she have to wear the same clothes as Lily?!” Victoria: “Because she is your sister now.” Julian pointed at me and said, “How is she my sister?! My sister is dead!” Victoria’s face darkened. “You are not the master of this house yet. Not unless I’m dead too.” “Fine. Perfect.” Julian sneered. He turned to me. “Ava, listen to me. You do not deserve this.” I didn’t say a word. Julian locked onto me with a piercing glare. “Ava, do you have absolutely no self-respect?” Hearing that, I froze for a moment. I sort of understood why Chloe had found the Sterling household so suffocating. I could imagine that if she were here, she would be drowning in a tidal wave of grievance and injustice right now. But I seemed to have been born missing a crucial sensitivity chip. No matter how harsh the words were, when they hit my ears, it was like dropping a coin onto a pile of cotton—it didn’t even make a muffled thud. “I apologize. I will be more mindful next time.” Julian turned to Victoria. “Mom, look at her. Look at how pathetic she is.” Victoria said in dissatisfaction, “Ava, have you forgotten what I told you?” Oh, right. Be like Lily. I held my hand out and said gently, “Brother, please give the hair clip back to me.” I just needed to follow orders. Julian shuddered violently. He immediately threw the butterfly clip back at me and ordered, “Do not ever call me that again.” Sorry, but Victoria makes the rules in this house. 8 Chloe also attended the banquet because the Millers and the Sterlings were acquaintances. Chloe stealthily pulled me aside and pulled out a wallet. She said, “Ava, I get so much allowance now! Did you buy Aunt Victoria a birthday present? You absolutely cannot skip the present. If you don’t have enough money, I’ll give you some.” “No need, I have money. Just save yours. What if in the future…” I paused. I originally wanted to say, what if the Millers don’t want you in the future? But then I remembered Chloe wasn’t me. The Millers would adore her. I continued, “I already gave Aunt Victoria her present.” “What was it?” “Aunt Victoria likes watercolors, so I painted her a picture.” Chloe: “Then she must love it.” Before giving it to her, I wasn’t sure if Victoria would like it. But this morning, when I saw that watercolor painting sitting in the trash can, I knew she didn’t really like it. Oh, she disliked it very much. While Chloe and I were talking, Victoria came over and pulled me away, telling me to go greet the guests.

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1 Amy had lost her memory, every trace of me erased. Her mind was stuck in the year she loved her ex-husband most. No matter how much everyone around her pleaded, she remained convinced that I was the one who had come between them. The doctors offered a glimmer of hope for her memory, and I clung to it, refusing to let go. Three years. We divorced, then remarried. It became a well-known joke throughout the whole of New York society, people even placing bets. They wagered on when I’d finally give up, and when Amy would finally remember. Until the news of our eighth divorce hit the tabloids again. Reporters, cameras poised, stormed into my law firm. They shoved microphones in my face, their voices laced with provocation. “Mr. Covington, as a divorce attorney, you’ve been divorced eight times yourself. Any thoughts on that?” My firm’s nameplate had been vandalized, and the commendation plaques I’d earned were trampled underfoot. Before I could even respond, my boss fired me, citing damage to the firm’s reputation. “Larry, take some advice. Have some self-respect. Stop hounding Ms. Amy Vance.” My hand trembled as I clenched it, and a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me. They were right. This time, I really should give up. … It was pouring rain when I left the firm. Clutching a box from my desk, I walked home in a daze. The front door hadn’t been fully shut, and I could hear Amy and Julian’s laughter drifting out occasionally. I glanced around. The living room was a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, the rug stained… The TV news still played the day’s firm drama on a loop. Amy’s smile faded a little when she saw me. “Still have the nerve to come back?” Her sarcastic words cut through the air, clear and sharp. Julian chuckled, kissing the corner of Amy’s lips. “Alright, you two were together for seven years. Let’s keep some decorum.” He then looked up, raising an eyebrow at me, his smile suggestive. “It’s Amy’s ovulation day today. She really wanted me. You don’t mind, do you?” Rainwater dripped from my hair, landing on the floor, one drop at a time. A surge of weariness washed over me. I didn’t look at the two undressed figures on the couch, turning instead towards the bedroom. But when I pushed the door open, I froze. “Oh, right, I forgot to tell you.” Amy’s voice was casual. “This house is also registered under my mother’s name. It has nothing to do with you. I threw all your stuff out.” She paused, then added, “Probably still in the trash can by the street.” Amy’s lips curved upwards, a jacket loosely draped over her. She leaned against the wall, watching me. It was as if seeing me in such a state brought her immense joy. A sharp pain shot through my chest. My soaked shirt made me shiver with cold. “You bought today’s trending topic too, didn’t you?” I demanded, my voice raw. “We’re already divorced. Why did you have to make me lose my job?” In response to my question, Amy simply raised her hand and swiped, knocking the box out of my hands. Documents and papers scattered across the floor. They were the fruits of nearly seven years of my work. “Three years of pestering me isn’t enough? Even if I really did have something with you before, I have amnesia now.” Her voice was cold, dismissive. “I’ve forgotten you, which means you mean absolutely nothing to me!” Those words, undoubtedly, ripped open old wounds. Three years ago, her sudden amnesia had erased everything about me. Just the day before she lost her memory, she’d told me she was pregnant. She’d dragged me excitedly to decorate the nursery, dreaming of whether it would be a boy or a girl. But then she forgot. She only remembered Julian. She’d terminated our child, and even undergone a hymen repair for Julian. “You just forgot! You have no idea what Julian did back then…” Anguish and fury threatened to consume me. Amy’s face turned ashen. She grabbed my arm fiercely and shoved me out the door. The heavy rain instantly drenched me again. “I don’t care what Julian did,” she declared, her voice ringing with finality. “I only remember that I love him, and that’s all that matters.” I opened my mouth, but all my questions and grievances suddenly felt meaningless. Amy irritably avoided my gaze, then reached up and tugged off her wedding ring. The edge of the diamond scratched her finger. She threw the ring at my feet, slamming the door shut as she yelled, “Don’t be so pathetic, begging me to remarry you!” I stood there for a long time, then finally crouched down and picked up the wedding ring. Amy had designed it herself before we got married. She’d worn it for seven years, never taking it off. By the roadside trash can, I saw our shattered wedding photos, the scarf she had knitted for me with her own hands, and all the photo albums filled with our memories. My phone suddenly rang. I looked at the caller ID and answered. Amy’s mother’s excited voice came through. “Larry, I just got Amy’s medical report! The doctor said her memory is starting to loosen up. If she continues treatment, there’s an eighty percent chance she’ll recover!” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. The “good” I wanted to say died in my throat. Finally, I whispered, “Mom, no more treatment. Let her forget. It’s better that way.” The next day, I went to the Vance family estate. I laid the eight divorce certificates before Amy’s mother. “Mom, Amy and I are divorced again.” Amy’s mother looked at me with pity, then sighed deeply. “Amy has truly wronged you. You two were so happy back then.” She pushed a business card towards me, her eyes filled with hope. “But this time it’s really different. I’ve contacted several doctors, and they all say the chances of recovery are high.” She pleaded, “I’m getting old, Mom just wants you two to have a good life together. She’s also been remembering a lot of things from before…” Her persuasion was cut short by my interruption. “But she’s never remembered anything about me.” I lowered my head, avoiding her pitying gaze. The atmosphere grew silent until she spoke again. “If you leave, and Amy remembers you but can’t find you, she’ll go mad.” For three years, every time we divorced, Amy’s mother would say those exact words. And every time, because of those words, I would soften, remarrying again and again. Before I could reply, there was a commotion at the entrance. Amy strode in, high heels clacking, carrying several shopping bags. Her brows immediately furrowed when she saw me. “Larry, are you here to complain to my mother again?” she sneered. “I already kicked you out. Why are you still haunting me? Can’t you really live without me?” Amy’s mother’s chest heaved with anger. She abruptly stood up, raised her hand, and slapped Amy hard across the face. “Have you caused enough trouble? How much more do you intend to push Larry? If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be alive right now!” I sat on the sofa, my hands clenched into fists. My mind drifted back seven years. Her marriage to Julian had been a nightmare. Julian had reveled in all her love, but secretly, he had other women. His infidelity had turned her into a laughingstock among the socialites overnight. When she’d gone to confront him, Julian had sold her private photos at an auction, absconded with ten million dollars, and vanished. After that, Amy fell into a deep depression. I was the one who saved her when she tried to jump into the river. “So what? All he wanted was money.” Amy stubbornly looked at her mother. “I don’t care what Julian did back then. I just love him, and I can’t love anyone else.” She added with defiant conviction, “And I won’t regret it.” Amy’s mother instantly looked as if all the strength had been drained from her. She turned back to me, her eyes filled with apology. Amy rubbed her temples, then finally looked up, as if in reluctant compromise. “Okay, Arthur. If you want to remarry, fine. We’ll just divorce again later, and you’ll be the one who looks foolish, not me.” Her voice dripped with disdain. “If you can’t live without me, let’s go to the registry office now.” She added, a cruel smile playing on her lips, “This would be your eighth divorce, wouldn’t it?” I forced a faint smile. I couldn’t reconcile the woman before me with the Amy I remembered. “I came here to clarify things with Mom, that’s all.” I looked directly at Amy. “You’re free, Amy.” Amy froze, her hand, hanging at her side, trembled imperceptibly. She stared at me, astonished, then quickly regained her composure. “Playing hard to get, huh? Too bad it won’t work on me.” She scoffed, “Fine. You said it. Just don’t come crawling back to me again.” Amy bit out the words, almost snarling. Ignoring her mother’s protests, she threw her bags to the floor and stormed out. Amy’s mother’s eyes went dark with fury. She yelled after Amy’s retreating figure, “You’ll regret this, I promise you!”

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